34

What's it like to fall into an ice cellar in the middle of summer?

A cold chill came from behind his ears and spread to his whole body in an instant. Eli shivered uncontrollably, almost convulsively.

At this moment, everything around seems to be pressed the mute button. It was as if he had been stripped of his sense of the world, isolated in a vacuum of glass, with people coming and going silently outside, like silent slow motion in an old black-and-white movie, while he stood alone in front of the screen and watched everything, the Lightning Phantoms on the other side had nothing to do with him.

He wanted to make a noise, to shout desperately, to get everyone in the station to run as far away as possible. The Dark Lord, who could not even mention his name, was standing right behind him. He was a Intolerance tyrant who treated life like dirt. And he stood in front of the devil, as if unwittingly became a guide to death. The scythe that is stained with the breath of death is so close that, with a single thought, the executor can mercilessly harvest away all that he holds dear.

He couldn't make any sound, his voice was full of ice and wind, and he could only make a hoot. His pupils were almost dilated, and he used all his strength to tilt his head back, but he was now like a rusty machine, with every part of his body making an overbearing, acrid sound, only the pupil turned to the maximum angle, with his rigid movements, and finally slightly backward a little bit.

He saw the corner of the hood.

"Take it easy, Eli Smith," hissed the man behind him, his voice slimy and cold, like the creamy feel of a cold cold-blooded crawling over one's body, making one's hair stand on end.

"I mean no harm, of course... ... gifted wizards are precious . If you choose the right path, this talent will help you to achieve extraordinary, fame, status, glory, and you can not imagine ... I have noticed that you are very good at using your talents. Yes, it is good and you should be proud of it. Don't worry, I've always admired talented wizards. God has chosen you and given you such a gift as magic. You should certainly use it fully, otherwise it would be a great waste."

It made Eli feel better not to be killed directly by Awada. His body temperature and heartbeat seemed to return to his own body, and he began to feel his beating heart and his almost-held breath. He tried to roll his eyes and look around in silence, seeing the children on the platform running towards their parents, the owl looking solemnly around in its cage, the Owl and the toad's calls mingling... People breathe a little heavy, but still happy in the long-lost reunion...

He realized that he could not act rashly, only in his own mind, the scene played here will be from the reunion of loved ones into a farewell.

"I am... a... Half-blood sorcerer." He heard his lips tremble with difficulty, his voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in years. He was so unfamiliar that he could barely recognize himself. "My father... is a muggle... I can't... discriminate against him..."

"Stupid idea," Voldemort whispered behind him, his voice laced with undisguised contempt, "Your mother gave you your royal blood, Your Brilliant Mind, the magic of your blood, and you give all the credit to your ordinary Muggle father. What does living in the Muggle world bring you? The moment you come into contact with magic, you realize that Muggles without magic are inferior. It is a sacrilege to be given magic to distinguish you from them, not to be conflated with them."

As the strength seemed to build up, Eli calmed down and looked down at her hands pushing her luggage. They clung to the handles of the trolley, their knuckles turning white and their palms chapped. The pain of this fear sobered him up a little more, and he exhaled a little quivering breath silently and slowly.

"I think what I learned in the Muggle world seems to have been of some use to the wizarding world," he said in a low voice, surprised that he could be in such a situation, little provocation to Voldemort. "If Muggles really are useless, I suppose... you wouldn't be here to notice me as a third-grader at Hogwarts."

Voldemort chuckled from behind.

His laugh was low and eerily shrill, and you could almost hear the cruelty in his voice. Eli listened intently to his cold, self-absorbed laugh, almost expecting a heart-wrenching blow the next second.

But it didn't. Voldemort's voice became softer, "AH, yes," said the chant, "Your little whimsy has caused a little trouble. You have the noble blood, the gift of the L^′Estrange family... ... I've been meaning to meet you ever since I found out about your funny little tricks . But Dumbledore's reaction was a bit too extreme, he has been trying to prevent me from finding you ... But it's no use. The Great Voldemort knows everything. He knows everything. Of course, he can see through all his stupid and useless decorations. I'm assuming you have the same sense of what it means to make an enemy of the noble Voldemort."

Eli stood still, not knowing how to react. His eyes were fixed on the trolley in front of him, and across the Owl's cage he saw Lynda waiting for his son to appear. Smith, who had waited until her son appeared, began to look around a little worriedly. Eli did not know if she wanted to be seen by her, and for a moment she felt very frightened.

Behind him, Voldemort spoke faintly, and his voice became softer and closer, almost to his ear.

"No secret can hide from Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort sees your deepest fears... ... Yes, yes, I know that you are not a mindless, reckless idiot, that you are afraid, that your actions will affect your family, your friends, everyone you care about, that you are afraid that because of the path you have chosen, innocent people will be implicated because of you ... Your Conscience will haunt you forever."

Eli's pupils were extremely constricted, and Voldemort seemed to really see into his heart, each word poking precisely at the part of his greatest fear that he could not speak of.

"You're a smart man. You should know... ... the best way to protect the people you care about is not to go too far down the wrong path . Follow Dumbledore can bring you what ? The days of running and hiding ? The grief of fear and bereavement ? Or have outstanding talent, but can only be hidden behind the scenes, with a variety of excuses to prevaricate, no return to extract value Dumbledore thought you could overcome all these difficulties and die for a noble cause . But you should know that if you choose to work for Lord Voldemort ... Then no sacrifice will happen."

Eli was silent. He didn't speak. His eyes finally met his mother's. Smith stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly his face changed and he charged at him like a madman.

"The supremacy of witches is not an unacceptable fantasy. It's the deepest wish of every witch." Voldemort's voice echoed in his ears like a magical voice that entered his mind, "There is always blood in the process of carrying out a will, and the journey of change is full of old fogies who are non-violent and uncooperative, and fools who are afraid to change reality. But think about it. When it finally wins out as a new universal idea, it will be necessary to reorder it. Whether this order is lax or strict is a matter of life for everyone, so why not take a hand in its making? We all know that order requires some brains, and maybe it's better for everyone to have some kindness... ... you should have discovered that you have an extraordinary gift, the ability to protect, and all it takes is the right choice to turn your back on the Dark Side."

Mrs. Smith, her face white, sprinted toward her son and ran through the crowd on the platform. Her pupils constricted as she pulled out her wand and pointed it behind Eli, shouting hysterically, "Faint!"

Her hands, which held the wand, trembled violently, and her face was pale, and she cried out the wand in a voice that was clearly frightened. Eli did not move, Voldemort did not move behind him, and the spell melted into the air like a mud cow into the sea, disappearing in an instant.

The sudden light of the spell startled everyone else on the platform, and they began to look around until they saw the cloaked, hooded One Hour Photo. In an instant, screams and cries mixed together, the phantom shape of the explosion mixed with people running away from the sound of footsteps, just a moment, peace and joy of the reunion, became a desperate escape scene.

Voldemort didn't stay. He turned into a black mist behind Eli, blowing away like a cold wind across everyone's chest. The inexplicable low pressure in the air disappeared with him, and it seemed to disappear without a trace. Only his voice was still echoing in the air, and everyone could hear it clearly.

"Nice meeting you, Eli Smith... I look forward to hearing from you."

Eli stood as if he had just woken from a nightmare. He regained strength in all of his limbs. The first thing he did was to look at his classmates and their families who he had just held his breath and did not dare to implicate. However, he only saw them looking at him with fear and suspicion, standing far away from him, he stood alone in the center of the circle, a vacuum around him, as if he were some kind of evil contagion, shunned by all.

Death had gone away with his sickle, and he was regarded as a calamity-beater, and the eyes of the world seemed eager to execute him.