Hogwarts: I am the White Demon King

The rustling sounds in the air grew louder and louder. Harry lay stiffly on the ground, watching helplessly as the hooded, masked wizards emerged one by one from the shadows.

They walked slowly and cautiously, as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Voldemort stood silently in the center of the courtyard, his red snake-like eyes burning in the night. Though he didn't say a word, the aura around him made it hard for everyone to breathe.

Behind him, Barty Crouch Jr. and Peter Pettigrew stood ramrod straight, their faces full of fanaticism, as if they had received some supreme honor. They looked down at their returning comrades with contempt and superiority in their eyes.

"Master..." With awe and fear, a Death Eater trembled as he knelt on the ground, crawling on his knees to Voldemort and kissing the hem of his black robes.

The remaining Death Eaters did the same, each repeating the same actions: kneeling, crawling, kissing, retreating, and then silently forming a large circle around Voldemort.

Voldemort slowly scanned the circle, his scarlet gaze sweeping over each person, as if examining their souls.

Although the night was still and windless, Harry still heard a slight rustling, the sound of cloaks rubbing against each other, the sound of the Death Eaters' uncontrollable fear.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort began, his voice low and cold. "Thirteen years have passed since we gathered together again."

His tone was devoid of emotion, but it made everyone feel a chill down their spines, and some of the black-robed figures trembled even more violently.

"I am pleased that you are still willing to accept the summons of the Dark Mark, and I am also pleased to see that you are healthy and your magic is strong."

Voldemort said in a slow, dangerous tone, "However, I can't help but ask... why? Why didn't those who swore allegiance to me come to help me when I needed them most?"

"Perhaps," he said softly, "you all thought I was finished, that I had been killed by the Boy Who Lived, and then you all rushed to proclaim your innocence, saying that you were controlled by the Imperius Curse."

"Or perhaps you found a bigger backer, such as the one who always protects Muggles and Mudbloods—Dumbledore."

"No one believed I could rise again, even knowing that I had a way to prevent death. This disappoints me greatly, or rather, it disappoints me very greatly."

Voldemort began to walk around, calling out the names of many Death Eaters one by one: Avery, Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr., Macnair, Nott Sr.

Finally, he stopped in front of one Death Eater and said casually, "Lucius, is the Marauder's Map useful? I heard that your son used the map to win the Triwizard Tournament. That must have been glorious."

"The map..." Lucius said, somewhat surprised, "I didn't know that was your arrangement, Master."

"It wasn't me, it was Barty Jr. He arranged for someone to secretly sell you the map, so that your son could lead the team to win the championship, in order to present the magical world with a top-notch performance in the end, and by the way, let the Savior experience despair from heaven to hell. To be honest, I am very satisfied with this arrangement."

"Master, you can trust me more. If I had known all of this was related to you, I would have done everything in my power to help bring the Savior out."

"Is that so?" Voldemort grinned. "You haven't completely forgotten your original intentions, and you are still willing to take the lead in torturing Muggles, just like you did at the Quidditch World Cup last year. But if you could learn from Barty Jr. and focus your energy on finding and helping me, that would be even better."

"Master," Lucius Malfoy said immediately, "I have always been paying attention to your news, but unfortunately, I have found nothing. Otherwise, I would have put everything down and rushed to your side."

"Is that so?" Voldemort said with a smile. "Although you have disappointed me, I am willing to give you a chance. I hope you will continue to offer your loyalty in the future."

He continued to walk around, looking at everyone and saying, "There are some people missing here. Some of them are locked up in Azkaban, like the Lestranges. When I break through Azkaban, they will receive supreme rewards."

"There are also some fools who don't have the guts to come and see me. They will be punished by me. Among them, Karkaroff is a fool. Since he can't even seize the last chance, then there is no need for him to live."

As he spoke, he slowly walked to Harry's side, a contemptuous arc appearing at the corner of his mouth. "You should all have noticed that there is a special guest here—the famous Savior, Harry Potter."

"The legendary Boy Who Lived. People say that he is my nemesis, that I can't even touch a hair on his head."

He bent down, and his slender, pale fingers slowly reached towards Harry's cheek.

"Before, I really couldn't touch him, because his foolish Mudblood mother used an ancient magic, a kind of magic that I should have remembered at the time, but I overlooked."

Voldemort's voice echoed in the night wind, with a sinister coldness, and then his fingers suddenly exerted force, pressing hard on the lightning scar on Harry's forehead.

In an instant, Harry felt as if an ice pick had pierced his nerves. The intense pain blurred his vision, and he could only grit his teeth, not allowing himself to make any sound.

"But now," Voldemort added with a sneer, his voice as low as a snake's hiss, "it doesn't matter, because I can touch him now."

"Moreover, I can torture him severely, Crucio!"

Harry had never suffered such torture. He felt like he was about to crack open. Even his paralyzed body couldn't resist the pain. He was somewhat glad that he was paralyzed, otherwise he would have twisted and turned in pain, making a complete fool of himself.

"You have all seen it with your own eyes," Voldemort turned around, facing the Death Eaters surrounding him, his voice filled with victorious satisfaction, "how ridiculous the rumors are that this boy is stronger than me."

"Barty, release his bonds and paralysis, and return his wand to him."

"I want to completely eliminate the misunderstandings in your hearts," Voldemort paced back and forth, his tone low but full of unquestionable authority. "Harry Potter escaped from my hands not because he was stronger than me, but because of luck."

"But tonight, that luck will no longer exist," Voldemort raised his voice. "Right here, in front of all of you, I will personally kill this so-called Savior!"

He looked down at Harry, who was being fed an antidote by Barty Crouch Jr., his tone full of mockery. "Harry Potter, pick up your wand. I will give you a fair chance to duel... After all, I am merciful."

Feeling the sensation slowly returning to his body, Harry supported himself with his hands and slowly sat up, slightly loosening his stiff wrists.

Just as Sebastian had predicted, Voldemort would indeed duel with him, that arrogant and conceited guy.

Don't rush to call for help. If I don't cast a single spell, I won't be able to swallow this anger. Besides, Voldemort will never let me die easily.

"Hurry up, Harry Potter! Don't tell me you don't even have the courage to pick up your wand. That would be very boring!"

The Death Eaters burst into wild laughter. Their eyes were full of cruelty and mockery, looking at Harry as if he were a pig to be slaughtered. They knew that the Dark Lord would never let Harry Potter die easily. He would make this child feel endless pain and humiliation until he finally collapsed.

Listening to Voldemort's sarcasm, Harry breathed out lightly.

Afraid?

How could I be!

I've been training so hard for this day.

He held the wand in his hand, and then suddenly stood up, casting the most powerful spell in his mind towards Voldemort like lightning.

"Sectumsempra!"