20demayo Chapter 377 Him in the Nightmare
Chapter 377 Him in the Nightmare
Chapter 377 Him in the Nightmare
In the gloomy forest, there stood a dilapidated mansion, and the cold moon hung in the sky, shivering in the biting wind.
In the dim light, a faint, yellowish light shone from the dilapidated mansion, twinkling alongside the stars that had gathered in the dark clouds, which involuntarily instilled a sense of dread.
Where is this place?
Harry looked around in confusion. His body seemed to be moving on its own, or rather, being moved by someone else.
He looked down slightly and saw a pair of broad arms embracing him—where was he?
He asked again, but all he could hear were empty footsteps echoing in the corridor.
He was carried step by step into the room in front of him.
The room was also dimly lit, but fairly tidy. The fireplace crackled and burned, and it even had a somewhat cozy feel, at least compared to the gloomy corridor from before.
"Pat-pat-pat".
In the shadows of the room, a person slowly rose. It was someone Harry had never seen before. His appearance was gloomy, but even though he was haggard, one could still see that he had once been handsome. And there was madness in his eyes. He bowed his head slightly and bowed to "Harry" in a very respectful manner.
"Great masters—" he whispered, the obsequiousness in his voice sending a chill down Harry's spine.
"You're still so loyal—" A somewhat familiar voice rang out, but it wasn't from Harry. He could tell it was from the person who was holding him.
After placing "Harry" on the sofa, he stood behind Harry, his tone slightly playful.
"Besides those who died, those who couldn't get out, those who betrayed, and those who couldn't come back—you're the only one, right?"
""
"I am the most loyal one—" the young man said slowly, then revealed a fawning expression: "I am willing to do anything for my masters—"
"Really?" The answer came from the person standing behind "Harry" again, his tone tinged with a hint of smirk: "Then how about you go and take care of that Hamilton?"
Hamilton?
Are you referring to Professor Hamilton?
Harry subconsciously felt a little nervous.
"If this is your wish—I certainly would," the young man said respectfully. "My life and everything I have are yours."
"I see—" the person standing behind "Harry" said slowly, "But killing her wouldn't solve anything—"
"She's nothing but a pawn," he said with a sneer. "Just a rather cunning one."
.
For some reason, his tone was full of dissatisfaction—anger, or perhaps murderous intent, but whatever the emotion, it sent chills down Harry's spine.
"Alright—let's stop wasting time on this boring conversation." Suddenly, "Harry" heard his own voice, or perhaps not his own.
The voice was hoarse and weak, carrying a deeper and more venomous emotion than the person behind him; it was filled with anger and resentment.
"Don't rush—I understand your thoughts—but now is not the time to rush, is it?" the person behind us said reassuringly. "We are currently in the shadows—in the shadows that he is far from aware of."
"So we need to operate more covertly—" he said, then suddenly let out a cold laugh, "Wouldn't it be better to leave this to our most loyal servants?"
"I am willing to serve my Lord." The young man before him lowered his head upon hearing this: "Whether it be my life or anything else."
"Then let's begin," the person behind him continued. "Enter Hogwarts—enter there—and get what we want."
"Finally—find an opportunity to kill them—"
"Whether it's her or him—the fall of either piece—will give us more chips in this game." The person behind him paused, then continued, "And then—watch yourself."
"I don't want to leave you now, do you understand?"
"Yes—Master—I will hide—they won't find me—" the young man said with a sneer, "Just like—just like a dozen years ago."
The same as more than ten years ago?
Harry felt his thoughts growing increasingly confused—who were they? Where was he? What were they saying?
Without giving Harry much time to think, the young man nodded slightly and left, walking out of the room without making a sound.
As he left, the room seemed to grow even colder, the burning fireplace gradually went out, and the dim light went completely dark—just then, Harry heard footsteps behind him.
"Pat-pat-pat".
The person who made the footsteps slowly walked to the front of "Harry," and then slowly crouched down.
"In the darkness, Harry vaguely saw his face—a face he knew all too well, a face he had seen countless times before—it was the one who had almost killed him, and then was killed by Professor Hamilton."
He was a young man with black hair, a playful smile on his handsome face, and eyes as deep as darkness.
He looked at "Harry" and whispered, "We will find him—"
"Find Harry Potter—"
"Then—get him—then—kill him." The young man winked as he spoke. "Isn't that our shared desire?"
Tom Riddell.
"Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!"
Harry woke up with a start, panting heavily. He sat up abruptly, took several deep breaths, and then calmed down a little.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
Seemingly having heard his movement, Ron got out of bed and mumbled a tired voice, "What time is it now? —"
"I—I had a nightmare—" Harry said softly, still a little shaken. "I dreamt about—"
"Ah—I know, you dreamt about Voldemort again—right?" Ron yawned and said, "Haven't you had that dream countless times?"
"I think it started during summer vacation," Ron said, seemingly a little more alert. He shook his slightly messy red hair and said, "It was just a nightmare."
"After all, wasn't that guy killed by Professor Hamilton a long time ago?"
Ron's words brought a slight sigh of relief to Harry—yes, yes, that person had already been killed by Professor Hamilton—it was just—a nightmare—
But the nightmare was so real—Harry still gets a chill when he thinks about it.
"Alright, alright, don't overthink it," Ron reassured him. "Aren't you going to participate in the competition soon?"
"You're the hero of Hogwarts, you should get some more sleep—didn't you have plans with Cedric today?"
"Hmm—" Harry nodded, then pulled the blanket tighter around himself and buried his head in it.
It was just a nightmare—it must be nothing more than that.