Chapter 138

Hector stood in the modest graveyard, staring blankly at the cold tombstones before him. I merely mentioned in passing that I wanted to scatter Voldemort's father's ashes, that doesn't mean I actually wanted to do it! Hector scratched his head, as wicked ideas began to take root in his mind. The benefits of doing this were self-evident, the most direct being that it would completely disrupt Voldemort's resurrection plan. If he remembered correctly, the recipe for the Resurrection Potion in the original story should be "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son. Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your foe. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." The latter two conditions were easy enough; Voldemort was never short of servants, and enemies went without saying. But as for Voldemort's father—how should he put it? There should only be one, right? Even if Voldemort was some sort of deity descended to earth, he still had to obey basic biological laws, didn't he? If his father's ashes were scattered to the winds, could that bald head possibly conjure up another father? Putting aside whether Voldemort would stoop to a method as shameless as "If Your Excellency does not spurn me, Tom is willing to acknowledge you as his adoptive father," recognizing a thief as his father— even if he swallowed his pride, kowtowed, and called him dad, it remained to be seen whether that adoptive father's bones would still work. Come on,…