"Ah—"
Harry was slammed heavily onto the ground, instantly wide awake.
He squinted his eyes, his brain feeling like it had been churned by a hammer, turned into mush—these were the aftereffects of the Stupefy spell.
His vision was blurry, and his blood-drenched eyes could make out the short, fat figure.
"Peter Pettigrew!"
His limbs were numb, and he could only push his bottom up, trying to prop himself up with his chin against the ground, but he couldn't manage it.
"How dare you? How dare you show your face to me?!"
Hatred made Harry ignore his current predicament, feeling like he had swallowed a ball of fire!
"Why wouldn't I dare, Harry?" Peter's voice was very sharp, not much taller than Harry, with protruding front teeth.
Twelve years of living as an Animagus made him look more like a rat.
"My master will protect me. With him around, I needn't worry about anything. And you, hehehe when the master is revived, you will die."
His appearance showed no mercy.
The little bit of guilt he felt the previous night had melted away as easily as early spring snow.
"He can't protect you. He's just a failure! A cowardly waste. He fears Professor Dumbledore and is no match for Mr. Cyrus!"
Harry mercilessly exposed Voldemort's weaknesses, seemingly unaware of fear.
At that moment, another sharp voice, like a piercing blade, cut into their conversation.
"Is that so, Harry?" The grotesque "Ranrock" waddled over. Harry instantly recognized him as Voldemort. "But where are they? Do you think they can save you?"
"Mr. Cyrus will save me!" Harry glared at him as if he wanted to devour him whole.
"Dumbledore is the greatest wizard in the world, and I believe Mr. Cyrus will be too. But you, look at your pathetic state, you're like a bug. I feel ashamed for you!"
Probably because he had been under Snape's tutelage for several years, Harry's mouth wasn't exactly clean. His harsh words stabbed into Voldemort's wounds, and Voldemort had to endure it because he didn't want to lose his composure in front of Harry.
He wanted to appear as if those issues were mere trifles, like dust on him.
"No matter how you wield your tongue, it doesn't change one fact: you, Harry Potter, are insignificant to me. But rest assured, I'll keep you alive until I'm fully revived—" Voldemort said generously.
But in reality, he simply couldn't kill Harry just yet.
His revival required Harry's fresh blood, and it needed to be freshly extracted!
"Do you know? Many fools say it was you who defeated me. They think you're a savior, that you possess some unparalleled magic. Even that impostor believes it. But we both know it was never you who defeated me!"
"Mr. Cyrus is no impostor!" Harry shouted angrily at Voldemort.
In response, Voldemort casually cast "Crucio."
"AHhhhhhhh!!!"
Harry felt like his body was being sliced by burning knives, as if a saw was moving back and forth inside his limbs!
"So, you've become his disciple?" Voldemort sneered.
Seeing Harry's trust in Cyrus was both ironic and laughable to Voldemort.
He didn't believe for a second that another version of himself would be so kind to Harry Potter. He suspected Cyrus had some hidden agenda, which made his apparent kindness towards Harry even more suspicious.
And this foolish Harry had fallen for it.
Losing interest in further conversation with Harry, Voldemort turned and left without a backward glance.
"Watch him closely. Don't let him die!"
....
"Harry won't die, right?" Ron's teeth were chattering. At this moment, a large crowd had gathered around Harry's bed.
When Ron woke up in the morning, he noticed that Harry was missing. At first, he thought Harry had gone for a walk, but everyone said they hadn't seen Harry.
The twins even mentioned that "Ron" had left the Gryffindor Tower last night.
He immediately realized something was wrong.
Now, Dumbledore and several Heads of Houses were here, looking at him with serious expressions.
"I need to ask you, Mr. Weasley, has Harry encountered anything unusual in the past couple of days?" Professor McGonagall's lips were trembling.
"N-No..." Ron shook his head stiffly, but quickly remembered something and added, "I don't know if Malfoy causing trouble yesterday counts..."
But he soon fell silent.
What major thing could Malfoy have done?
"It wasn't Malfoy," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. His blue eyes searched the room.
At that moment, McGonagall noticed the gifts at the foot of their beds, and one item immediately caught her attention.
"Albus, it's something sent by Cyrus. Could it be him..."
"I don't think so," Dumbledore shook his head, but still took the gift to examine it.
Ron swallowed and began to explain, "Cyrus promised to give each of us a gift..."
"You wouldn't mind if I opened it, would you?"
"I think Harry wouldn't mind..." Ron replied.
So, Dumbledore opened the gift Cyrus had sent to Harry. Contrary to McGonagall's fears, it was just an old photo album, filled with many pictures of Harry's family.
Some of the photos were whole, while others were only partial.
"It seems it has nothing to do with him," Dumbledore said, as expected.
He carefully placed the album on Harry's bedside table, as if he were certain that one day the boy would return and open it.
"Dumbledore!"
Snape's deep voice echoed, drawing everyone's attention as his hollow eyes lifted slightly.
Under the scrutiny of several pairs of eyes, Snape bent down and fumbled around the foot of Harry's bed. When he stood up again, he held several strands of pale yellow hair.
"It was that despicable rat!"
"Peter Pettigrew!" McGonagall's body trembled suddenly, her face growing even paler.
They all knew Pettigrew's character.
He was a coward; he wouldn't act without absolute certainty.
If he had indeed taken Harry, it meant he had surely rejoined Voldemort and was following his orders.
Only Dumbledore seemed unsurprised. His gaze, behind his half-moon glasses, met Snape's eyes, which were as void and numb as black holes.
He said nothing, yet it felt as if a crucial exchange had taken place.
Ron watched Snape solemnly shake his head.
"In that case, I can confirm that Harry is still safe, at least for now," Dumbledore said with conviction.
"Albus, do you know something?" McGonagall asked urgently.
But Dumbledore shook his head. "Not much more than you, but I promise, by the end of this term, Harry will return safely."
He lied.
In reality, he knew everything about this incident. He had intentionally allowed Pettigrew to escape from the trial. How could he not know Pettigrew's whereabouts?
He was aware that Voldemort would inevitably choose Harry's blood for his resurrection, though he hadn't anticipated Voldemort would act so urgently.
'Perhaps the presence of Cyrus has put more pressure on Tom...'
Dumbledore led the professors away.
Ron looked around the dormitory, now empty again, and didn't know what to do.
He was worried, his eyes aimlessly scanning the room, blaming himself for not keeping an eye on Harry.
Suddenly, his gaze fell on a small package at the foot of the bed.
It was a letter, and the signature was: Cyrus.
Ron's breathing became heavy as if he had thought of something.
He jumped up from the bed. He didn't open the letter but hurriedly ran out of the dormitory.
"Why not ask the amazing Mr. Cyrus? Mr. Cyrus must have a way!"
____
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