novelcrest Chapter 605 Riddle's Speech
Chapter 605 Riddle's Speech
Chapter 601 Riddle's Speech
My friends.
"6
"My loyal followers."
"We stand at the threshold of a new era; the old order is crumbling, and a new order is on the horizon."
"Our order is about to be born!"
"You've seen it all these days."
"The Ministry of Magic cowers in lies and weakness, using the guise of peace to mask its corruption and fear, allowing filthy Mudbloods and traitors who betray their blood to lord it over us."
"They teach our children to forget their own glory, to forget the pure and noble magical blood flowing through their veins."
"They handed the scepter to worthless people, the law to cowards, and the future to insects who were not worthy of magic."
"All of this should end today."
At this point, Riddle let out a long sigh of relief.
The Death Eaters below the stage erupted in a thunderous cheer, like a powder keg that had been lit.
Voldemort looked at the man beside him, his eyes bloodshot, as if he had been injected with adrenaline.
He was about to retract his earlier assessment:
The other person is not a good person.
Some people were breathing heavily with excitement.
Some people looked up and laughed, as if they had finally received the greatest blessing.
Further back, there were some newly recruited Death Eaters.
The young man, a wizard who had recently sworn allegiance.
They were stunned at that moment, but their confusion was quickly swallowed up by their fervor.
They suddenly understood something.
It wasn't for the law, it wasn't for justice, it was for survival, for power, for no longer having to live on their knees.
They knelt down, kissed the black magic mark that was not yet fully visible on their arms, and offered a devout vow.
"We are willing to follow you, Dark Lord!"
"For purebloods—for victory!"
Cheers rose and fell, echoing densely throughout the night sky of the dense forest.
Riddle nodded in satisfaction and continued his speech.
"Tonight, we will face the Ministry of Magic head-on."
"We will tear apart their disguise, shatter their towers, and let the entire wizarding world know."
True power does not need consent.
"True rule comes not from votes, but from will!"
"I will walk before you; I will lead you to confront their puppets, their Aurors, and their so-called 'law' and 'justice.'"
"These words are meaningless in the face of absolute power."
"And you, my followers—"
"You will write down the names of this night, making it a mark in history, and from tomorrow onward, all the names that betrayed our bloodline will disappear one by one."
"Remember, we are not rebelling."
"We are reclaiming the world that rightfully belongs to us."
As Riddle finished speaking, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The jet-black magic symbol rose into the air, like a flag proclaiming destruction and rebirth, slowly burning with blood and green flames, illuminating every face with a sinister and ferocious appearance.
"For purebloods! For victory!"
"Let fear lead the way and let them know that the Dark Lord has returned!"
It's on fire!
Voldemort was also fired up, even though he didn't know why he was.
Perhaps—this imposter is doing the right thing?
He quickly shook the absurd idea out of his mind.
How could an imposter be better than the real deal?
Next, it was his turn to appear.
That's enough.
Voldemort raised his wand, and a pure, powerful Dark Mark shot into the sky.
"This farce should end."
He said this under everyone's gaze.
The man looked at "Tom," his pupils contracted slightly, and his heart skipped a beat.
What are you doing?
To cause trouble in this situation?
Tom—has he gone mad?
If Tom is falsely accused of being a spy, then he, who is inseparable from the enemy, will likely be severely punished.
The man's palms began to sweat profusely at the thought of this.
At that moment, he really wanted to grab "Tom's" sleeve, but he didn't dare:
Everyone's wands were subtly pointing in this direction.
He has no choice but to gamble.
He took a sudden step forward, knelt down at the edge of the firelight below the stage, and looked up at Voldemort, who was still standing.
"Master! Please—please don't blame him!"
Voldemort glanced at him but said nothing.
Perhaps—he's a good person?
He's just a bit slow and can't see the bigger picture.
The man forced himself to continue, "He's gone mad, he didn't—he didn't do it on purpose. He—he might have been cursed with a soul-stealing spell! It must be! He's never like this before, really, he's loyal, it's just—it's just today—"
"Shut up," Voldemort whispered.
The man seemed not to hear Voldemort's words, and, steeling himself, raised his head to continue explaining his "loyalty" to Voldemort to Riddle: "Master, I vouch for him!"
He spoke as if he wouldn't be punished later if he didn't vouch for Voldemort.
The room was deathly silent.
Riddle looked at Voldemort and suddenly chuckled softly.
It wasn't tension, nor was it compromise; rather, it was a long-awaited sense of relief.
He had been waiting for this day for a long time.
Finally, it's here.
The two stood facing each other, one on a high platform, the other in front of the crowd.
Although they are only a dozen meters apart, it feels like they are in two different worlds.
No one spoke, but the air froze instantly.
Even the man noticed something was wrong.
He slowly turned his head and looked at the two facing off, feeling a chill run down his spine.
—What's going on?
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