Chapter 178: Leveling Little Hangleton
Once the grandest home in Little Hangleton, the Riddle House now stood in complete ruin.
It was widely believed to be haunted.
Half a century ago, a mysterious murder had taken place there: the three members of the Riddle family were all found dead in a single night. The coroner’s final verdict was that all three had died simultaneously of sudden heart failure.
Nearly a year ago, another tragedy struck—a gardener died inexplicably in the house, the cause again listed as acute heart failure.
A few daring children had once ventured close... only to claim they heard terrifying whispers drifting from within.
From then on, the Riddle House and its surroundings grew even more steeped in mystery. No one dared to approach the manor again.
The only exceptions were a survey team that made two brief stops here—once in August last year, and again this past May.
And so, the mansion and the cemetery beside it remained desolate.
...
In a small grove less than half a mile from the Riddle House, eight figures with European features emerged. They wore camouflage and carried themselves with the ease of men well-versed in their trade—no flags, no insignias, just professionals focused on the task at hand.
Their ages varied greatly—the oldest was around fifty, while the youngest seemed barely past twenty.
At their head was a dark-skinned, short-haired man with a sullen expression.
“Captain Moreno, how much will each of us get once this is done?” the youngest asked softly.
“Seventy thousand dollars each… if we bring this off,” replied the man called Captain Moreno, his face grim. “Fifty on completion, added to the twenty you’ve already been given.”
“Seventy thousand dollars...” the veteran in his fifties sighed. “That’s more than enough to risk my life for.”
“What does seventy thousand dollars amount to in euros?” the youngest asked again.
“Five years ago, that would have been over forty thousand euros—you’d need ten years in a steady job to save that much,” Moreno muttered, lowering his head. “Seventy thousand now… that’s a fortune.”
“Seventy thousand...” The youngest looked stunned. “I couldn’t earn that much in a lifetime!”
“Seventy thousand is no small sum,” the older veteran muttered. “But money never feels like enough… So, what exactly do we have to do?”
“A very strange order...” Moreno’s expression hardened. “First, we need to watch out for a snake. Here, take these.”
He handed each of them two grenades.
“White phosphorus grenades?” someone exclaimed in surprise, recognizing the markings.
“Yes... a python as thick as a bowl. If you see it, use these to take it out,” Moreno explained. “The employer said if we kill it, there’s a ten-thousand-dollar bonus each.”
“A python in England...” the youngest muttered. “Can’t we just shoot it?”
“The employer instructed us to use the most destructive weapons possible,” Captain Moreno repeated grimly.
“Alright... what else?”
“Then we wait,” Moreno continued. “Wait until red and green lights appear over the cemetery. That’s when we move in.”
“We’ll detonate the gasoline drums buried in the cemetery, set the forest ablaze... Then, once the red and green lights vanish, we flatten the entire graveyard.” He spoke with the casual calm of someone describing lunch.
As he spoke, he lifted a heavy rifle and a shoulder launcher from the ground.
The others gathered their own rifles and launchers, checking the ammunition carefully.
“And after that?” the youngest soldier pressed.
“Then we run... split up and run.” Moreno’s gaze swept the grove. “As many as can get out, get out. The employer warned our targets are extremely dangerous—we could be killed at any moment. Once you’re clear, ditch your gear and head for Liverpool docks; from there you’ll fly to Marselha. I’ve arranged a contact to get you off the coast.”
“When I’m back in Marselha with the money, I’ll propose to Dunya!” the young said excitedly.
“This employer of yours—what kind of man is he?” the older veteran asked, his tone deliberate.
“He said his name was Sal...” Moreno shook his head. “I doubt that’s his real name. I know nothing about him... Probably he fears I’d give him away if captured alive. But the money is real—and that’s enough.”
“He also said that once this job is done, he’ll never contact us again,” Moreno added.
“And if we die?” the older veteran pressed.
“The money still goes into the account. That’s why I told you all to write your wills,” the leader said.
“Not bad,” the veteran sighed. “If I die and my son gets the money, he could keep teaching at the university instead of scraping by as a taxi driver.”
Everyone fell silent.
Apart from the youngest, who looked almost excited, the rest were grim-faced.
In the distance, a brilliant red flash and a brilliant green flash suddenly lit up the sky.
“Brothers!” Moreno called, rising to his feet.
“The time has come!”
...
“The bones of the father, unknowingly given, will renew your son!”
“The flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, will revive your master!”
“The blood of the foe, forcibly taken, will resurrect your enemy!”
Bound and helpless, Harry could only watch as Wormtail poured his blood into the cauldron beside the grave.
Then, the infant-like creature transformed into Voldemort’s true form—Voldemort was reborn!
Voldemort branded the Dark Mark onto Wormtail’s arm, then touched it, summoning the Death Eaters.
Harry heard many names—Malfoy, Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott...
Then Voldemort ordered Wormtail to return his wand, declaring he would duel Harry one-on-one.
Author's Note
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