94 Diagon Alley

    The boy was back at Hogwarts, all day long under the hooked nose of the Muggle-loving idiot. How can I get him? "

    "Ah...with information from Bertha Jorkins, of course. Use my loyal Death Eater lurking at Hogwarts to ensure that the boy's name is put into the flames Cup. Reuse my Death Eater and make sure that boy wins the game - guarantee his first touch to the Triwizard Cup - that cup has been replaced by my Death Eater for a portkey and it will take him Here, away from Dumbledore's help and protection, into my hands. Here he is... the boy you all think is my nemesis..."

    Voldemort stepped forward slowly, turned to Harry, and raised his wand.

    "Going out!"

    Harry had never been in such pain, his bones were burning, his head must have split along the scar, his eyeballs were rolling wildly in his skull, he I hope it stops soon... I hope I die...

    The torture ended abruptly. He hung limply on the ropes that bound him to Voldemort's father's gravestone, looking up at the glowing red eyes through a layer of mist. The laughter of Death Eaters echoed in the night sky.

    "I think you've seen how stupid it is to think this boy is better than me," said Voldemort, "but I'm going to clear everyone's head of misunderstanding. My escape was a fluke. Now I'm going to kill him to prove my strength, there's no Dumbledore here to protect him or his mother to sacrifice for him. I'll give him a chance, he can Fight with me so you don't doubt who is stronger."

    "Put him down, Avery, and give him his wand back."

    The Death Eaters approached Harry, and Harry tried his best to reach the ground with his feet to support himself before the ropes were untied. He pulled the rag from Harry's mouth, and with a wave of his hand, cut the ropes that bound Harry to the tombstone.

    For a split second, Harry considered running away, but his injured leg was shaking. He stood on the overgrown cemetery, and the Death Eaters came up close to him and Voldemort, crowding out the spaces where the missing Death Eaters should have stood. Thank goodness Avery didn't go up to Cedric to pick up the wand himself, and he was still a wizard, rudely shoving the wand into Harry's hand with the Flying Charm.

    "Did you learn to duel, Harry Potter?" asked Voldemort softly, red eyes shining in the darkness.

    Hearing this, Harry remembered that he had been in a short-term dueling club two years ago, as if it had happened in a previous life. There he only learned a disarming spell like "Remove Your Weapon". But even if he could take Voldemort's wand, what good would it be? Surrounded by Death Eaters, at least thirty to one. He didn't learn anything that could be used here. He knew he was facing the curse Moody had often warned to guard against, the unstoppable Avadasa. Voldemort was right, there was no mother to save him this time - he was completely unprotected.

    "Let's bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bowing, but his snake face kept looking at Harry, "Come on, etiquette is to be observed... bow to death Well, Harry..."

    The Death Eaters laughed again. Voldemort's lipless mouth smiled. Harry didn't bend, he wouldn't let Voldemort play with him before he killed him, he wouldn't let him get his way.

    "I said, bow." Voldemort raised his wand—Harry felt a bend in his spine, as if a large invisible hand was pressing his back mercilessly forward. The Death Eaters laughed even harder.

    "Very well," said Voldemort softly, raising his wand and the pressure on Harry's back was gone, "now you look at me like a man... hold your head up like you When my father died..."

    "Now—we duel."

    Voldemort raised his wand, and before Harry had time to defend himself, or even move, he was struck by the Cruciatus again. The severe pain took over everything, and he didn't know where he was... The white-hot knife pierced every inch of his skin, and his head must have been cracked in pain. He screamed and screamed, he had never made such a scream in his life—

    At this moment, he desperately hoped that someone could save him, but that Cedric lying not far away, plus himself, were no match for the thirty Death Eaters.

    "Pause," said Voldemort, his slit-like nostrils widening excitedly. "Take a break...it hurts, Harry? You don't want me to do it again, do you?"

    Harry did not answer, he would die like a warrior. Those cruel red eyes were telling him this...he would be killed and he couldn't do anything about it...but he wouldn't give in, he wouldn't be at the mercy of Voldemort...he wouldn't beg for mercy...

    Voldemort raised his wand, but this time Harry was prepared. With the agility he had acquired during the Quidditch match, he threw himself to the side and rolled behind the marble tombstone. The spell was missed, but he heard the tombstone being smashed.

    He felt faint movement under the cloak nearby. Harry said to Cedric in a mosquito-like voice, "Don't move, please, don't move."

    He didn't know if his voice had reached under the cloak, but at least there was no sound there now.

    "We're not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," Voldemort whispered, the grim voice approaching and the Death Eaters laughing. As Harry listened to Voldemort approaching, there was only one thought in his mind, which transcended fear and reason: he couldn't crouch down here and die like a kid in hide-and-seek; he couldn't kneel at Voldemort's feet...he wanted to be like his father Die standing.

    Without waiting for Voldemort's snake face to turn to the tombstone, Harry stood up... He clenched his wand, held it in front of him, and rushed out to face Voldemort. Voldemort is also prepared. While Harry shouted "Except your weapons!", Voldemort shouted: "Avada!"

    A green light shot from Voldemort's wand, and at the same time a red light shot out from Harry's wand - the two lights met in the air - Harry's wand suddenly vibrated as if it was electrified , he held it so tightly that he couldn't let it go even if he wanted to—a thin beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but dazzling gold. Harry looked down the beam in amazement, and saw Voldemort's pale, slender fingers also holding a trembling wand.

    Then completely caught off guard, Harry felt his feet off the ground, and both he and Voldemort rose into the air, both wands still connected by the twinkling gold thread.

    The money connecting Harry and Voldemort suddenly cracked, but the two wands were still tightly connected, and thousands of arcs of light appeared above Harry and Voldemort. The arcs of light interweave around them, culminating in a domed gold mesh, a cage of light.

    "Don't move!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters, Harry saw his red eyes widen in astonishment, and he could see that he was shocked by the scene before him, trying to think Break the spalling filament connecting the two wands. "Don't move without my orders!" Voldemort yelled at the Death Eaters.

    Suddenly there was a burst of ecstasy in the air - it emanated from every filament of the vibrating web of light around Harry and Voldemort. Harry heard it, even though he had only heard it once before. This is the song of the Phoenix.

    To Harry, the voice represented hope, the most beautiful voice he had ever heard in his life, and it reminded him of Dumbledore, almost like a friend in his talk in ear...

    "Don't disconnect!"

    I know, Harry said to the music, I know it can't be disconnected - but the moment he thought about it, the difficulty of maintaining the connection suddenly increased. He concentrated all his thoughts and worked hard to maintain the golden thread.

    Suddenly, there was a scream of pain from Voldemort's wand, echoing incessantly. Then - Voldemort's red eyes widened in surprise - a human hand made of smoke flew off the tip of the wand and disappeared - the severed hand he had made for Avery. There was another cry of pain, and a larger object emerged from the tip of Voldemort's wand, a large grey thing, as if made of the densest of smoke. First came a head, then a chest and arms—a witch, presumably Bertha Jorkins.

    "Don't let go!" Her voice echoed, as if it came from far away, "Don't let him hurt you, Harry, don't let go!"

    If Harry was going to drop his wand in shock, it was now. But he instinctively clenched his wand tightly, keeping the golden thread of light unbroken.

    Then an old man Harry had only seen in his dreams, squeezed out of his wand—this ghost or ghost, or whatever, leaning on his cane, looking with a little surprise Watching Harry and Voldemort, looking at the linked wand and golden net...

    "So he's really a wizard?" said the old man, looking at Voldemort. "This guy is killing me. You fight him, boy!"

    Now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Harry could see at a glance who she was because it was the person he thought about the most tonight.

    The ghost of a long-haired woman fell to the ground like Bertha, straightening up to stare at him, Harry's eyes on his mother's face, his arms shaking violently.

    "Your dad's here too," she said softly. "He wants to see you. It'll be alright, hold on."

    Other fruit