Chapter 166
Barty Crouch Jr. pulled himself out of Bertha Jorkins' mind breathless, shaken, and wide-eyed.
He turned to his master, voice trembling with excitement.
"My Lord! The Ministry… they're organizing a competition soon between three schools of magic the Triwizard Tournament!"
Voldemort's distorted, whispering voice wavered through the damp air.
"Is that… truly… what you say…?"
"Yes, my Lord!" Barty said eagerly. "My father is supervising the event himself! And Hogwarts Hogwarts will be one of the competing schools!"
At that, a thin, cruel hiss escaped the mass of jelly that was Voldemort's current form. He had heard enough.
"Kill her," the voice croaked. "She has… served… her purpose…"
Barty's grin widened. Without hesitation, he raised his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A brilliant flash of green erupted, striking Bertha squarely in the chest. She fell instantly, lifeless, her body hitting the ground with a dull thud.
Voldemort's single eye within the gelatinous mass flickered with satisfaction.
"Wormtail… lay me down… we shall begin… the living ritual…"
Peter obeyed, setting the quivering lump carefully upon the dirt.
Then Voldemort's rasping command filled the cavern once again.
"Nagini… give him… your venom… for the ritual…"
A long, heavy hiss echoed through the shadows. The serpent slithered forward, coiling around Wormtail. Her fangs sank into a small glass vial he held out, dripping venom thick and luminous as molten silver.
Wormtail, trembling, approached the corpse of Bertha Jorkins and murmured an incantation.
The air grew cold. Her body twitched and from her womb rose a lifeless infant, suspended by invisible force.
Voldemort's pitiful form quivered eagerly. Even a dead, tiny body was enough enough to anchor him, to keep his consciousness from dissolving completely.
He had said before: this gelatinous shell would not survive another dawn. He needed something, anything.
The infant's corpse floated gently in the air as Wormtail muttered another series of twisted, ancient words. He placed the child atop the jelly-like remnant of his master and began the dark rite.
He poured a few drops of his own blood over the body.
Then he spoke still more words syllables that made the air shudder.
Finally, he uncorked the vial and let Nagini's venom drip over the tiny body.
And yet… the flesh did not dissolve. The venom did not burn.
Ordinarily, Nagini's poison devoured both flesh and bone, like living acid. But now, the infant's body remained untouched preserved.
The protective spellwork of the ritual held firm.
A faint pulse of energy rippled through the cavern. The jelly-mass of Voldemort quivered then suddenly went still.
In the next heartbeat, his consciousness shifted.
Voldemort's essence his tattered soul slid into the body of the dead infant.
The reason for the venom became clear: Nagini was one of his Horcruxes. Her venom, infused with a fragment of his own soul and strength, acted as a bridge restoring a fraction of his lost power.
When the ritual ended, Voldemort lay motionless for several seconds. Then the child's body his new body drew breath.
Shallow, raspy… but alive.
He opened his red eyes.
He was weak, disgusted by the frail, temporary vessel but it was enough. Enough to walk, enough to speak, enough to plan.
Barty Crouch Jr. knelt low. "Congratulations, my Lord. You have returned."
Voldemort's voice, no longer broken or trembling, answered coldly,
"Do not congratulate me, Junior. This… is but a shell. A temporary form… until I reclaim what is mine."
His crimson eyes gleamed faintly in the half-light.
"Come," he said. "We go now… to my old home the house where my cursed father once lived."
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Meanwhile, elsewhere…
Inside Grimmauld Place, Albert Black lay asleep upon his bed.
But his rest was anything but peaceful. Sweat soaked his sheets. His body twisted violently, legs kicking, as if fighting some unseen force.
Then gasping he spoke aloud in his sleep, voice filled with horror:
"Vold
emort… Voldemort has taken… the baby's body…! The poor child…!"
---
To be continued...