Bellatrix put down the red bundle that hid Voldemort and pointed her wand toward Harry, making him levitate.
As he writhed in pain, she dragged him toward a marbled headstone.
From above, the clouds slid away, the full moon washing the ground in a silver-blue halo.
And, even through the pain, Harry saw a blurred na written on the headstone in bold letters.
Tom Riddle!
Bellatrix slamd Harry into the headstone and conjured ropes around him.
"How young..." She grinned, running her long nail down Harry’s cheek. Then, she licked the finger and grinned wider. "Hehe..."
"Hurry, Bellatrix!" the hissing voice from the red bundle slithered out.
The witch snapped her wand in the other direction and made a jerking motion, as if she were pulling on sothing.
A massive cauldron ca gliding out from the darkness and rested in front of Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry’s eyes reflecting a boiling solution with a rcury-like consistency as flas flickered into existence underneath.
From the other side, groaning madly, Barty Crouch Jr. appeared. "He’s dead, my lord..." he was saying. "Wormtail’s dead!"
"That’s the thing about rats!" Bellatrix took a jibe sadistically. "They die when they have no use left."
"Enough!" the hiss exploded again. "Do it!"
"Right away, my lord!" Bellatrix bowed, still unable to hide the smile.
She tugged the robes aside where they lay on the ground, uncovering what they had hidden within.
The mont Harry’s eyes landed on it, he almost vomited in disgust and repulsion.
It was like turning over a rock and finding sothing foul underneath—only far worse, far more dreadful.
Bellatrix was holding sothing like a small child, yet nothing about it truly resembled a child. Its skin looked bare and scaly, dark and raw, a reddish-black sheen in the firelight. Its limbs were thin and weak, and its face—no living child had ever worn such a face—was flat and snake-like, with bright red eyes that shone.
The creature appeared almost powerless.
It lifted its frail arms and wrapped them around Bellatrix’s neck as she raised it carefully.
Harry caught the look on her face in the glow of the flas—not disgust, but devotion—as she carried the creature toward the edge of the cauldron.
Bellatrix was just about to drop the horror clung to her neck into the cauldron, when a voice, full of disgust, echoed from behind.
"Whoa..." Harry’s entire body shivered, recognizing that voice. "... How did you even give birth to such an ugly thing, Aunt?!"
It was Black.
Harry couldn’t turn his face properly.
But, from the corner of his left eye, he noticed a figure walking toward them.
The halo of a blue armor still covered his face and his right arm, ancient, magical ruins dancing in his surroundings with his every step. But, now, Harry also saw the extent of injuries on Black’s body, bloody gashes glowing red under his torn Hogwarts robe.
Not only Harry, but Black’s appearance shocked the living breath out of Barty Crouch Jr., too, who had seen his Killing Curse hit the boy.
"Kill him!" Bellatrix shrieked.
There was a reason that they hadn’t called all the Death Eaters to this place.
With so many Death Eaters openly swearing loyalty toward Lord Yellow Warlock, it was hard to pinpoint where their true loyalty lay. If they learned of Voldemort’s feeble state, they might revolt at a mont’s notice in fear of retribution later.
Wormtail, who had been too much of a coward to do anything, and Bellatrix and Barty Crouch Jr were the only ones Voldemort had allowed to see himself in his deford state.
So, when Bellatrix saw the boy approaching them, her heart skipped a beat.
The upcoming ritual needed her utmost attention.
If the Dark Lord were to return, truly return, then nothing must go wrong with the ritual.
"Kill him, you fool!" She shrieked again, her voice gaining a higher, nacing pitch.
Barty Crouch Jr., holding his mutilated leg with one hand, raised his wand with the other.
At the sa ti, Black stretched out his entire left arm as if he were holding sothing, making the Death Eater pause.
And then, sothing did appear in Black’s hand.
It appeared like a glowing, blue mist at first, before becoming a large sword, its double-edged blade so thin that they could see the moonlight passing right through it.
"I slew a dragon with this sword," Black said, his voice lacking all sarcastic tone. "Do you think your neck would stand a chance... Mr. Crouch?"
Barty Crouch Jr stepped back involuntarily.
It was less to do with the boy naming him and more to do with the glow seeping from the eye slits of his helt. Bluish-white runes were bubbling in and out of existence around him, like motes of light. Because of these runes being barely discernible to the eyes, it felt like the boy was covered in stars, every point of flash radiating his intention.
Black took a step forward. "Let Harry go..."
He had just said those words when a large, furry hand, donning massive claws, rose behind him.
Then, as Black spun, sensing the presence, the clawed hand lashed out.
A tallic thud rang, and Black was sent rolling on the ground dozens of feet away.
With the knightly halo gone, the moonlight lit the entire creature to whom that claw belonged.
It was a massive Werewolf with a sword-like piece of wood lodged in its stomach.
It was — Professor Lupin!
Harry’s stomach churned, realizing what must have happened.
In the excitent of bringing light upon Sirius’ innocence, by revealing the matter of Scabbers being Peter Pettigrew, Lupin must have forgotten to take the Potion which Snape used to make for him during the nights of full moon.
Fortunately, it was this transformation that seed to have saved him from death.
Unfortunately, it also ant that, at this ti, Professor Lupin belonged to no side.
"Aooooooooooooooooo!" The Werewolf let out a painful howl and lunged in Black’s direction as it saw him getting up, both disappearing farther into the darkness.
"Now!" Voldemort hissed.
And Bellatrix imdiately dropped the Dark Lord into the cauldron, his body thudding at the bottom without a splash.
The dreadful ritual had finally begun!
****************
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