Chapter 318 Youth Wizard Representative?!
Damn it, that Karthus!
He actually intercepted a bunch of his former followers!
These damned dog-tails!
I should have killed them all earlier!
"Come here."
Lord Voldemort suppressed his anger and commanded coldly.
He picked up the wand beside him.
When Peter Pettigrew tremblingly approached.
He pressed the tip of his wand against Peter's left arm and slowly channeled his magic.
As magic surged in, the dark mark, a skull and snake, on Peter's arm instantly glowed with a dark red light. The gray-black snake-like pattern in the Mark seemed to come alive, writhing and twisting under the skin, occasionally flicking out its forked tongue.
Just then, Frank heard a whooshing sound from the room, as if something had pierced the air.
This was followed by a soft thud.
A strange male voice spoke, neither the previous timidity nor coldness, but a respectful low tone.
"Master, did you summon me?"
"It is I who called you, Barty."
Lord Voldemort spoke, his pale hand gripping the woolen blanket beside him, wrapping his frail temporary body more tightly.
The coldness of his body made him shiver involuntarily.
"You've been at Malfoy Manor for so long, what is Lucius's attitude now?"
Barty stood by the fireplace, his hands at his sides, his eyes flickering. He hesitated for a few seconds before answering truthfully.
"He... still seems to be hesitating, Master. I mentioned your request, and he said he must see you in person and confirm that your power has recovered before he is willing to truly exert himself."
Tonight was the last night of the Hogwarts students' summer vacation, and the new school year was about to begin tomorrow. Lord Voldemort's heart was filled with urgency.
He couldn't wait to use the school's resources to advance his resurrection plan.
Hearing Lucius's reply, he let out a cold snort from his nostrils.
"I knew it, the cunning old fox, never lets go of a hawk until he sees a rabbit."
He paused, his voice suddenly sharp, "Go to MalfoyCastle now and bring him here, immediately!"
"Yes, Dark Lord!"
Barty bowed, turned, and walked quickly out of the room, his footsteps so hurried they almost raised a wind.
For MalfoyCastle, this was destined to be a sleepless night.
"Hmm, go... go." Lord Voldemort watched Barty's back disappear outside the door, then leaned back in the chair, exhausted.
He had spoken too much tonight, and his already weak body felt even more fatigued. He gazed at the gradually shrinking flames in the fireplace, hoping to snatch a moment of rest with its warmth.
But no sooner had he finished speaking than his ears suddenly twitched. His previously relaxed body instantly tensed, and his voice abruptly became high-pitched and dangerous: "Peter, didn't you hear? Nagini is signaling."
A cruel smile played on his lips: "Oh, it brings interesting news. Outside our room, an old Muggle is pressed against the door, listening to our every word."
Frank's hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and a chill shot from his feet to his head.
He was about to turn and run when he heard a "rustling" sound of scales rubbing behind him. The sound was fragmented but clear, making his scalp tingle.
He stiffly turned his head, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest!
A golden snake, as thick as a bowl, was coiled on the stair railing. Its body gleamed coldly, and its blood-red vertical pupils, like two solidified rubies, were fixed on him. Its forked tongue kept flicking out, emitting threatening hisses.
Frank's mind went blank; his only thought was to escape back to his small room, hug a hot water bottle, and lie in his warm bed.
But his legs felt as heavy as lead, his knees trembled uncontrollably, his blood seemed to freeze in his veins, and even breathing became difficult. He could only watch as the snake slowly crawled towards him.
"Creak—"
The room door was pushed fully open, and a bald, short man stepped out.
He wore a tight black top, the muscles on his arms bulging against the fabric, and in his arms, he held something wrapped in dark purple cloth.
Upon closer inspection, it was a tiny infant, but the infant's appearance sent shivers down one's spine.
The infant's skin was an eerie reddish color, as if scorched by fire, covered in fine, dark scales that clung tightly to the skin, without a single hair.
Its round head gleamed greasily, like a peeled braised egg. What should have been a tender infant's face had adult features.
Its brow bones were prominent, its eye sockets deep, its lips thin as a line, and its blood-red vertical pupils were identical to the large snake's. Where its nose should be, there were only two small slits that would slightly open and close when it breathed.
In its arms, it clutched a yew wand longer than its own arm. Because its hands were too small, it could only hold it tightly with both tiny hands, the tip of the wand steadily aimed at Frank.
A hoarse voice, as if squeezed from rusted tin, carried the icy breath of death, echoing in the empty corridor.
"Avada Kedavra!"
On Platform 9 3/4.
Steam billowed, and the Hogwarts Express blew a long whistle on time, its wheels slowly turning.
Dylan put away his wand.
The umbrella that had suddenly popped out of the wand's tip was still wet with raindrops. He gently waved his wand, and the umbrella surface instantly vanished, leaving only the smooth shaft.
Then, he picked up the suitcase at his feet, its surface damp with the platform's humidity.
He cast a drying spell on the suitcase, and the dampness immediately disappeared, before he tucked the suitcase under the seat.
Harry sat opposite him, clutching his wand with both hands, and after some hesitation, spoke: "Dylan, I had a particularly strange dream last night."
His eyes were somewhat dazed, as if he hadn't quite escaped the vividness of the dream. "In the dream, I seemed to turn into a large python, crawling along the ground, and then I saw Lord Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew... They were talking about killing me, and they also mentioned attacking someone named Alastor Moody, but it seemed to fail in the end."
Harry recalled as he spoke, his words coming faster and faster, his hands even gesturing unconsciously, as if the dream scene was happening right before his eyes.
"The feeling was so real, I could even feel the sensation of snake scales rubbing against the ground, and that cold voice when Lord Voldemort spoke..."
"It's just a dream, Harry, don't think too much about it."
Dylan interrupted him, but secretly noted down the content.
It seemed that this year's Moody hadn't been swapped yet, but Lord Voldemort would definitely find other ways to lead Harry into the Goblet of Fire trap.
Go, go.
Let the righteous child deal with the evil Dark Lord.
Dylan looked at Ron beside him: "By the way, how was the Quidditch World Cup for you guys?"
Hermione, sitting next to Dylan, holding a History of magic textbook, also looked up at Harry and Ron upon hearing this.
"It was absolutely amazing!" Ron instantly became excited, leaning forward and describing it with animated gestures, "I was originally supporting the Ireland Team, and their teamwork was indeed impressive, but Krum... he's a genius!"
At the mention of Krum, Ron's eyes lit up, and he excitedly mimicked the Quidditch moves.
"When he flew in the sky, his movements were more agile than any Seeker, he was simply an aerial artist!"
"If I could meet him up close, I'd be willing to be single for ten years!" Ron grew more and more excited, even slapping the table, "If he could come to Hogwarts, even if it meant taking ten years off my life, it would be worth it!"
Dylan looked at Ron's fanatical expression and couldn't help but eye him strangely.
From Scabbers suddenly turning back into Peter Pettigrew last year, to now casually saying he hoped Krum would come to Hogwarts.
Ron's words always seemed to "come true" inexplicably, almost as if they were blessed.
Ron noticed his gaze, scratched his head, and asked in confusion: "Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?"
"Nothing."
Dylan picked up the pumpkin juice on the table, took a sip, then turned to everyone, "By the way, Professor McGonagall said earlier that she would arrange a placement test for us at the start of school. How are you all prepared?"
Hermione immediately frowned and closed her book: "I've only reviewed the textbooks twice, I don't know if that's enough. Dylan, do you think Professor McGonagall will make the test particularly difficult?"
Her fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the book pages, clearly a bit worried.
Harry immediately lowered his head and averted his gaze when he heard the words "test."
He had been worrying about the dream all summer and hadn't really reviewed much, so he was speechless for a moment.
"Oh my goodness! How could I forget about this!" Ron suddenly yelled, his face instantly turning pale, as if he had seen an Acromantula, filled with fear, "If I fail, my mum will definitely hit my head hard with her wand when she finds out my grades!"
"Relax, Ron, it's just a placement test, isn't it?" Harry tried to comfort him, but it had little effect.
Ron slumped on the table, his voice utterly dejected: "I can't relax! I haven't memorized the spells for Charms Class, I can only Transfigure a teacup into a mouse, I can't even brew a basic antidote in Potion Class, I've mixed up half the plant names for Herbology Class, I can't understand the star charts for Astronomy Class at all, and I completely slacked off in Divination Class..."
He looked up, despairingly at the three of them: "Do you think Professor McGonagall will kick me out of Hogwarts if I do too badly?"
"Let's not talk about this." Harry spoke, his voice a bit muffled.
He lowered his head, picking at the cuff of his school uniform.
He was reflecting on his summer days.
Every day he either played Quidditch with the Weasley children or went exploring the edge of the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. He played and had fun, and in a blink, the holiday was over, and he hadn't even opened his textbooks more than a few times.
He couldn't help but think to himself.
If he had another chance, he would definitely... have even more fun!
After all, studying isn't as interesting as flying on a broom.
Harry pulled a perfectly packaged pumpkin pasty from his backpack and handed it to the still sighing Ron, instantly silencing his complaints.
"Look, your Pigwidgeon is here." Harry pointed out the window. A brown and white owl was flapping its wings, clutching a rolled-up newspaper in its talons, and landed steadily on the compartment window sill.
This was Ron's new pet after losing Scabbers, and it had a lively personality.
Most importantly, it was just an ordinary owl, not an Animagus.
Ron could finally hold it in his arms and sleep peacefully.
Pigwidgeon gently pecked Ron's finger and placed the newspaper on the table.
"May I see it?" Hermione put down her History of magic textbook, her eyes on the newspaper.
Ron was taking large bites of his pumpkin pasty, too busy to speak, so he just nodded vigorously and mumbled a vague "Mmm."
Hermione carefully unfolded the newspaper, and the headline on the front page instantly caught her eye.
"Dylan Hawkwood Elected Seventh Wizengamot Youth Wizard Representative, Setting Records for Youngest and First Muggle-Born"
Below the headline was a photograph.
Dylan, dressed in a well-tailored custom suit, stood in the center of the Ministry of Magic's atrium, holding a silver "W" badge, a confident smile on his face, looking spirited.
"Dylan? When did you become the Wizengamot Youth Wizard Representative?!" Hermione's voice was filled with shock.
She put down the newspaper, looking at Dylan with disbelief.
"What? What representative?" Harry was stunned.
Unlike Harry and Ron, Hermione understood the weight of this title.
Hermione subconsciously explained: "Leaving aside the power this position brings, just looking at the history shows how rare it is. Before, there were only six youth representatives, and each one was a top figure among underage Wizards."
"And of the past six, four later became British Minister of magic or Chief WizengamotWizard, and the other two's achievements in magical academia are even worthy of being recorded in history!"
She paused, her tone becoming more serious, "It can be said that as long as you become this representative, it's equivalent to pre-ordering a Chocolate Frog card; you will become a figure known to all Wizards in the future!"
"It was just a few days ago. Dumbledore was my recommender, and the Wizengamot members were quite agreeable."
Dylan shrugged: "I still haven't figured out why Professor Dumbledore arranged this for me."
Harry and Ron, however, looked bewildered, completely unaware of the significance of the title.
In their eyes, they probably just thought it "sounded impressive," but didn't know exactly why, so they just nodded along.
Just then, the compartment door was suddenly pushed open forcefully, hitting the wall with a loud bang, making a harsh sound.
Dylan frowned, stood up to see who was so impolite, and as soon as he stood, he saw a head of light blonde hair peek in.
It was Draco Malfoy.
Behind him were Crabbe and Goyle, two burly figures. All three wore well-tailored Wizard robes, with arrogant expressions on their faces, looking as if they were looking for trouble.
A hint of confusion flashed in Dylan's eyes.
Had Draco not learned his lesson?
After being taught a lesson a few times, this guy usually avoided him. Why was he suddenly daring to confront him today?
He looked at Draco.
Draco met his gaze, his heart suddenly tightened, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.
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