A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts
Chapter 596: Pre-Exam - (2)

During breakfast on Sunday, Semo rushed into the Great Hall, shouting, "The examiners are here!" The lively atmosphere instantly turned somber, and a seventh-year girl burst into tears, comforted by those around her.

Harry kept one eye on the hysterical girl and the other on the entrance, trying to catch a glimpse of the examiners. In the process, he almost shoved food up his nose. As he coughed, he heard synchronized inhaling sounds from both sides. Raising his head, he saw Dumbledore escorting an elderly woman through the doorway.

"It's Professor Marchbanks!" Hermione's tone was oddly strained.

"I heard she's good friends with Neville's grandmother. Do you think we could—" Ron eagerly suggested, only to see Neville's stiff expression, prompting a sigh. "Well, maybe not."

Meanwhile—

"Dumbledore?" Professor Marchbanks exclaimed loudly to those beside her, with McGonagall and Snape silently trailing. "Dolores told me you've been neglecting your check-ups at the school—"

"We have an excellent school nurse," Dumbledore calmly replied. "She easily handles my headaches and fevers."

On the eve of the exams, Harry lay in bed, unable to sleep.

His thoughts were unusually active tonight. He remembered Sirius encouraging him earlier, the yet-to-be-savored taste of holding the Quidditch Cup, and even thoughts of Voldemort. Voldemort hadn't appeared in his dreams for a long time, confirming Snape and Dumbledore's speculation about Voldemort using Occlumency on him.

That explained why his scar hadn't been hurting.

Harry got up from bed and fumbled in the dark, eventually finding a small bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion that Dobby had given him. He opened the lid and took a sip.

"Give me some, Harry," Ron unexpectedly said.

Harry handed the open glass bottle to Ron, and their hands met in mid-air. The transfer went smoothly. Then came the sound of swallowing, and Ron contentedly smacked his lips. At that moment, another voice came from beside—

"Is there any left?" Neville asked in a low voice. He wasn't asleep either.

"Quite a bit," Ron said. Just as he finished speaking, voices from different parts of the dormitory were heard. "Great! Share some with me—" "Well... thanks?"

The bottle made a full circle back to Harry, now empty.

As drowsiness set in, Harry haphazardly placed the bottle on the bedside table, took off his glasses, and lay on his pillow. "Shouldn't we set an alarm?" he mumbled.

"What?"

"I said—ha—a—" Harry let out a big yawn and fell asleep.

...

At the same time, Bellatrix awoke from her coffin, sitting up bewildered, still tightly gripping the golden cup.

Voldemort was very pleased with Bellatrix's demeanor.

Bellatrix respectfully lowered her head, and that inexplicable fervor reappeared on her face.

"Crack, crack."

Bellatrix shook her stiff neck. It seemed she had been in deep slumber for a long time. As she climbed out of the coffin, her limbs felt unresponsive. Just as she was about to collapse, Voldemort lazily flicked his finger, and an invisible force straightened her up.

"Thank you, Master. I, I—" Bellatrix stared at her hands. They seemed to have lost their normal appearance, becoming wrinkled and pale, covered with some fine scales. She widened her eyes, frantically touching her face.

Then came a chilling, piercing scream.

"Don't worry, my dear Bella. This is only temporary," Voldemort said with satisfaction, observing his 'creation.' "Your body underwent subtle changes during sleep, and it needs time to recover." He held Bellatrix's hand.

With Voldemort's assistance, Bellatrix staggered out of the coffin. The graveyard around them was sinister, dilapidated, with the desolate grass making eerie sounds. The wind seemed to penetrate their skin, making her shiver.

A few minutes later, after Bellatrix had somewhat loosened her limbs, she followed behind Voldemort.

"During your slumber, significant changes occurred outside."

"In the accusations of the two traitors, the Ministry's Aurors attacked my loyal followers... Bella, you're one of the few still loyal to me."

"Master!" Bellatrix expressed her gratitude with tears, seemingly saddened by the diminished honor. "Thank you for your magnanimity, not holding my sister and brother-in-law against me—" Voldemort's eyes emitted dangerous red lights, and she abruptly shut up, the air falling into silence.

After a while—

"Not holding them against you?" Voldemort asked softly, Bellatrix lowered her head, and Voldemort paced back and forth in front of her. "What makes you think I would forgive others' betrayals? Lucius... Selwyn... Perhaps others. The Ministry's intelligence is closed to me now; I am blind, relying on newspapers to learn about the trial proceedings."

"I don't know when, but my name seems less effective now. Do you know what they're discussing in the newspapers?" Voldemort asked. Without waiting for Bellatrix to respond, he continued, muttering to himself, "Dumbledore, Hap, Potter, and even that woman... Amelia Bones."

A chilling wind swept through.

"They are discussing the Dark Lord's nemesis, not just one!" Voldemort raised his voice, and Bellatrix shuddered as if whipped across the face. She knelt down, and Voldemort ignored it, his mouth twisting into an evil expression. "In their eyes, I seem to be just a clown."

"Master, you are the supreme Dark Lord." Bellatrix sobbed, seemingly saddened by the diminished honor. "Things aren't so bad—"

Voldemort sneered twice.

"Of course, things aren't so bad." He said indifferently, "But we are at a critical moment. The duel with Dumbledore is imminent, and what I fear most is Felix Harper meddling—"

"Is it a trap?" Bellatrix held her breath and asked.

"No, Dumbledore dare not deceive me; he cannot afford the price." Voldemort said in a cold tone, and Bellatrix fully understood the bloodiness and cruelty in his words.

"Our duel location is a secret, and I will also set up protective magic around. I am worried about something else— he will come for you."

"Me?" Bellatrix exclaimed in surprise and excitement.

Voldemort stared at her pale face, making Bellatrix even more nervous and respectful.

"Bella," Voldemort said softly, "you have been loyal to me. Now it's time for me to repay you." He raised Bellatrix's hand, the long, pale fingers gently hooking the cup from her hand, carefully examining it.

"I will share with you the secret of my immortality."

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