Chapter 262: Before resurrection

"Master, is this here?" A short man in a cloak leaned forward, holding a bag in his hand, muttering in his mouth. The reason for this is because there is no one in front of him that can be seen People.
Maybe he is talking to ghosts?
After all, there is a cemetery nearby.
There are desolate, long-to-be-cleaned tombstones everywhere, some even broken pieces, showing a sharp or smooth corner, standing here can be looked to the right, you can see a small church behind a tall yew Black outline. On the left is a hill with a delicate old house on the hillside
"That's right...Peter." The snake's hissing voice came out of the package, indicating that Peter wasn't murmuring, but talking.
"Master, you will be able to regain your body immediately." Little dwarf Peter said excitedly at this time, all his hope now rested on the strangely shaped flesh wrapped in his hands.
In the parcel, Voldemort, who had lost his body and was panting and gasping.
For Peter, Voldemort is also his last hope. If something happens to this man’s resurrection, he will not be able to escape forever. Sooner or later, he will be caught by the ghosts of Auror, who will be caught. Among Zkaban, because his Animagus was also exposed, he was no longer concealed.
"Don't shake your hands." Voldemort in the package said coldly.
"Yes...Yes, Master." Little Dwarf Peter forcibly controlled his hands shaking with excitement and calmed him down.
"It's time to start preparing...My "medicine" should be on the road now, and it's coming soon."
Hearing the words, the little dwarf Peter trembled and walked toward a fairly mound, waved his wand, and adapted to the local conditions, quickly transformed a huge crucible. This crucible looked very large, as if it could accommodate an adult. People sit in it,
Then Peter didn't know where to find a package, slowly opened it, and then began to add various reagents to the crucible and stirred it. Soon, the liquid filled the entire crucible, as if it would overflow at any time.
The splattering sound was endless.
"Hurry up," the man placed in the parcel on the ground said fiercely.
Voldemort's heart suddenly raised a rather unpredictable hunch, as if who was staring at it, and it was still a person who made him feel fear.
Little dwarf Peter stirred the crucible faster and faster, and his sturdy arm desperately stirred the liquid in it with his tools.
The faint unpredictable feeling spread more and more in Voldemort's heart, as if to penetrate into every corner of his body.
"Go! Take my father's ashes first!" The Voldemort in the package suddenly screamed hysterically, and his slender arm lifted from the package to a certain degree, breathing a thick smell.
"Yes, Master." Little Dwarf Peter gasped, throwing away the branch in his hand, and then dragging his chunky body towards Voldemort's direction.
Lifted the tombstone board, waved the wand, and took some powder out of it.
"Master, I got it." Peter, the little dwarf, walked back, bent down, and said respectfully.
"Well, I felt a humiliating smell." After seeing old Tom Riddle's ashes, Voldemort's emotions eased a little, but he began to ridicule his father without caring.
There seems to be a wonderful feeling between father and son. Even if he died for many years, Voldemort still has a faint connection with his father's ashes.
As for something mixed in it, he had no time to care.
"Go ahead, Wormtail." His lips twitched.
"But the master, the boy hasn't come yet, I still need to be responsible to bring him over, he will definitely resist." Little dwarf Peter looked hesitant.
"Are you questioning Voldemort's decision?" A cold voice came from the package.
"No, not at all, my esteemed master." Peter said with respect and fear.
"This is not suitable for a long stay, so we need to prepare in advance. Or, are you doubting my ability? Even if I look like this now, don't you think I can't even deal with the kind of kid who can only rely on luck? Old Crouch is always more useful than our savior, isn't he?" Perhaps it was the fear of this useless man messing up his affairs again. Voldemort rarely explained his intentions and dispelled his doubts.
"We prepared everything, just waiting for the boy's arrival." Voldemort said rationally, he would immediately regain his own flesh, restore his strength, and then logically kill the boy. As a symbol of scrubbing one's own shame and a symbol of declaring one's return.
Everything is so perfect.
Voldemort thought, fantasizing, that twisted satisfaction appeared on the snake's face.
Wormtail ripped the baggage on the ground to reveal what was inside.
A sticky, ugly thing without eyes-no, it was more terrible than this, a hundred times terrible. The thing held by the worm's tail looks like a curled-up baby. It had no hair, and it seemed to have scales on it, and its skin was dark and red, like a wounded tender meat. Its arms and legs are thin and soft, and its face-no living child has such a face-is a flat snake face with shiny red eyes.
The thing seemed completely incapable of self-care. It raised its thin arms and wrapped it around the neck of the worm's tail. Wormtail held it in his hand and walked towards the crucible.
Wormtail carried the thing to the edge of the crucible, UU reading www.www. The splashing water on the surface of the potion of uukanshu.com illuminated the evil flat face. Wormtail put the thing in the crucible, and with a hissing sound, it sank.
The soft body touched the soft noise from the bottom of the crucible.
Wormtail was talking, his voice trembling, as if frightened. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and said to the night sky: "Father's bone, inadvertently donated, can make your son reborn!"
The ashes spread out with black cloth rose into the air at the time of the call of the insect tail, and fell gently into the crucible. The diamond-like liquid surface burst, hissed, sparks splashed, and the liquid turned into a bright red blue, which was poisonous at first glance.
The ugly thing in the crucible screamed sharply: "Hurry, the next step, I can feel that our savior is coming soon."
Wormtail is sobbing. He drew a long, thin, shiny silver dagger from the cloak. His voice turned into a sobbing of extreme fear: "Servant-the flesh-self... Donate voluntarily to make-your master-reborn."