Chapter 379 - 380: Crucio!

Voldemort's voice echoed across the graveyard, carrying an almost tangible weight that seemed to press the breath from Harry's lungs.

"I! Voldemort! have returned!"

The words proclaiming his return seemed to carry a chilling magic of their own, seeping into the soil and awakening an even deeper darkness.

He walked slowly towards Harry, his movements graceful, like a venomous snake that had risen upright.

His scarlet eyes stared unblinkingly at Harry, swirling with complicated, unreadable emotions: deep-seated hatred, morbid curiosity, and even a trace of twisted gratitude.

"Harry Potter..."

He spoke softly, his voice a serpentine hiss carrying a bone-chilling intimacy.

"Look at us, face to face once again. The bonds of fate are truly remarkable, aren't they?"

He stopped a few steps away from Harry and looked down at him.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand tall. Even though the searing pain from his scar felt as though it would tear his head apart, and fear spread through his limbs like icy water, he still forced himself to stand as straight as possible.

"Thirteen years..."

Voldemort slowly spread his arms, his black robes unfurling like bat wings as though he were embracing the darkness itself.

"Thirteen years... I wandered through the shadows, lower than the lowliest ghost, forced to cling to the bodies of others just to survive... And all of it began that night in Godric's Hollow, with an infant!"

Harry's anger instantly overwhelmed his fear. His parents' warm smiles flashed before his eyes, followed by their vivid reflections in the Mirror of Erised.

"You killed them!" he hissed, his voice trembling with rage.

"Killed them?"

Voldemort seemed to find the accusation amusing and let out a short, cold laugh.

"Yes, I killed them. But cleansing the wizarding world of Mudbloods and traitors is a necessary part of purification."

His gaze settled on Harry's face again, his slit-like nostrils twitching slightly.

"But you see, I am a fair man. Although I killed your parents, I also personally ended the life of my pathetic Muggle father."

He turned slightly and gestured towards a gravestone not far away, an almost delighted smile appearing on his face.

"Look. That is his grave. Unlike your mother, my cowardly father chose not to accept his magical son and wife. Quite the opposite. He abandoned us when my mother needed him most."

"Oh, really?" Harry said coldly, a mocking expression on his face. "Then you're lucky. If I were your father, I would never have given you the chance to grow up. I would've ended your life with my own hands the moment you were born!"

Voldemort slowly turned back towards him.

Far from becoming angry, he let out a chilling, sinister laugh.

Still chuckling, he said casually, "Yes, what a pity... you are not."

He slowly walked over to Nagini and extended a pale hand to stroke the giant snake's festering head, his movements almost gentle.

"I find myself feeling a little sentimental..."

Voldemort continued in that cold, amused tone, as though discussing some distant matter that had nothing to do with him.

"Originally, the ancient magic your mother left upon you protected you and rebounded my curse."

His voice rose again, echoing between the gravestones.

"But look at us now! I have remade my body using your blood! Do you know what that means?"

He leaned closer, his scarlet eyes almost level with Harry's face.

"It means your mother's magic now flows in my veins as well! The magic that once protected you can no longer stop me! We are now profoundly connected, Potter. You and I..."

A bone-deep chill swept through Harry, as though his entire body had been submerged in ice water.

But sometimes, when fear reached its limit, it transformed into a kind of desperate courage.

Listening to Voldemort's cold, high-pitched voice proclaiming their connection through blood, Harry stopped trying to suppress his trembling. Instead, he raised his head and looked fearlessly into Voldemort's hideous face.

The corners of his mouth curled into a mocking smile.

"Connected?"

Harry's voice was not loud, but it reached Voldemort's ears clearly.

"Yes, through my blood... sounds impressive. But have you forgotten something, Voldemort?"

Harry took a deep breath, meeting those snake-like eyes without fear, and spoke each word clearly.

"In a sense, doesn't that make me your 'father' too? Shouldn't you be calling me 'Father'?"

"How dare you!" Barty Crouch Jr. shrieked, raising his wand.

Voldemort's scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, and with a subtle gesture, he stopped Barty.

"You are very brave, Potter," Voldemort sneered. "Is it because you fear torture and want me to kill you quickly?"

Harry was still smiling, completely unafraid.

"Come on. It wouldn't be the first time you've killed your own father."

Voldemort's flat face remained expressionless, but his slit-like nostrils seemed to twitch more rapidly.

After a moment, a cruel smile appeared on his face.

"Crucio!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Harry instantly collapsed to the ground, his body arching violently as an involuntary scream tore from his throat.

It felt as though his bones were burning, as if an invisible drill were boring outward from his heart, and even every strand of hair seemed filled with pain.

He had not wanted to scream, but he could not stop himself. How he wished Voldemort would simply end it quickly, but he knew Voldemort wanted to see him beg for mercy.

He absolutely could not give him that satisfaction.

He would not.

Whether only a second had passed or much longer, Harry finally felt the pain disappear.

He opened his eyes and saw Voldemort standing over him, wand in hand.

Voldemort had regained his air of complete control and was now looking down at Harry with a mocking expression.

Harry stared up at Voldemort's face for a moment before closing his eyes again.

"Ha... Look at your face now... You don't even have a nose. Were you always this ugly? I really don't want a son this hideous, but unfortunately, I can't drown you."

Wormtail was so terrified that even his sniffling stopped.

No one dared insult the Dark Lord's appearance like that.

After several seconds of deathly silence, Voldemort laughed.

"Very well... Potter..."

His voice was terrifyingly low, every word seeming coated in shards of ice.

"You are just like your father. You face death without fear. Then, as you wish..."

He slowly raised his wand, the yew wand pointing steadily at Harry's chest.

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