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"My Lord... you.. this...."
Inside a crumbling old house, Bellatrix Lestrange finally tracked Voldemort down through the signal of the Dark Mark after escaping those curse-breakers. But the mont she saw him, her face drained of color.
This was her lord and master, the man she served with all her heart. Deep down, she had always believed he was invincible, that he would one day conquer everything just as he had conquered death before.
But now... Before her stood a Voldemort as pale as death itself. Both of his arms were gone, and dried blood stained what remained of his body.
Bellatrix had never seen her Dark Lord in such a miserable state before.
Even back when he had existed as little more than a wraith, she had still believed him invincible. His downfall then had only co because Harry Potter had sohow reflected the Killing Curse back at him.
That was not Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord.
It was the Dark Lord defeating himself.
And his earlier loss to Tom Riddle had not seed strange either. At the ti, Voldemort had not been at full strength. That body had rely been a temporary shell, crudely pieced together through dark magic.
But today...
Today she could no longer find excuses for him.
The all-powerful Dark Lord had actually lost?
Had the ruins been rigged with so terrifying trap?
"Silence..." Voldemort forced out coldly through clenched teeth. "Get out. Don’t let anyone near . Without my permission, even you are not allowed inside."
"Yes, my Lord."
Bellatrix shuddered and hurried from the room, still dazed.
...
"Co in."
Only late into the night did Voldemort’s hoarse, weakened voice finally drift from inside. Bellatrix, who had been anxiously standing guard the entire ti, instantly perked up and pushed the door open.
"My Lord... are you feeling better?"
She spoke softly while carefully studying his condition.
He certainly looked better than before. His severed arms had regenerated, and the blood-soaked green robes had been replaced with clean clothes.
But Bellatrix still noticed sothing wrong.
Voldemort had always been pale, but this pallor was different. It looked drained... almost hollow.
"What are you staring at?"
Voldemort suddenly opened his eyes while leaning against the wall. Bellatrix nearly jumped in fright and quickly lowered her head.
"My Lord, I was only concerned for your condition."
"Concerned for ?" Voldemort let out a cold laugh. "What could a re flesh wound possibly matter to soone like ? You have no understanding of the greatness I possess."
That was pure bravado.
Andros’s attacks had not carried the sinister corruption typical of dark magic. They had been straightforward, overwhelming spells cast head-on.
But the final strike had contained divine power, a force that crushed him on an entirely higher level.
Fortunately, Andros had only just awakened that power.
If it had been Tom delivering that blow instead, Voldemort would already be searching for another body again.
"My Lord, of course I know how powerful you are."
Bellatrix hurried to reaffirm her loyalty, "It must have been the creator of the ruins. They used despicable thods, filthy traps, and cursed tricks to harm you."
"No. The ruins weren’t what injured ."
Voldemort slowly raised his hands, revealing the golden apple he had guarded so carefully. "It was a person. A living wizard."
"A wizard?" Bellatrix cried out in shock. "Was it Grindelwald and Dumbledore?! But aren’t they at Hogwarts right now? Riddle is there too... this... who else could it be?"
Voldemort moved stiffly as he climbed down from the bed. His steps were slow as he walked to the window and stared into the pitch-black night outside.
Only a thin crescent moon hung in the deep sky, faint and barely visible, much like his own heavy mood.
"A wizard calling himself Andros. He belongs to a cult that calls themselves the Sun-Chasers, followers of the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl," Voldemort said, his voice dropping.
"Andros... He’s very powerful... This world is far more complicated than I imagined."
Then a cold smile spread across his face.
"This is becoming more and more interesting."
"Bellatrix, I suspect Barty Jr may be a traitor. Sound him out carefully over the next few days when you contact him."
"Yes, my Lord."
Voldemort gave the night sky one final glance before returning to bed to continue recovering.
Today’s defeat had shaken him, but once the sun rose again, he would forget all of it.
And he would still be the greatest Dark Lord.
"There is nothing worse than death, and I am the one who defeated it. Only I can live forever. Not Dumbledore, not these Sun-Chasers... no one but ."
...
..
Early the next morning, whether Voldemort had managed to regain his composure or not, Tom neither knew nor cared. By then, he had already turned Greengrass Manor into an impenetrable fortress, and every preparation was complete.
Astoria was brought to Lady Greengrass’s master bedroom, the place where generations of Greengrass family heads had once lived.
It was also where the Greengrass "mark" was at its strongest.
"Relax."
Tom gently rubbed the girl’s head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"Leave everything to . I’ll give you back a healthy body. Neither you nor any Greengrass will have anything to worry about from this day onward."
Astoria smiled brightly, not a trace of worry visible on her face. "I know... I trust you, Tom."
She believed every word he said without reservation.
Tom’s existence was a miracle to the magical world. And to her, he was a miracle too.
But more than that, he was salvation.
The two exchanged a smile before Tom turned and left the room.
Soon, golden curtains of light rose from every corner of the manor. Vast waves of magic filled the air, accompanied by a clear, resonant hum that filled anyone who heard it with an almost endless sense of hope.
This was Tom himself humming in full phoenix form.
Granted, his normal singing voice was bad enough to qualify as auditory torture, but once he transford and drew upon the power of his bloodline, at least the magical effect was guaranteed.
At the sa ti, far away at Hogwarts, Daphne suddenly turned toward the direction of ho, perhaps because of the bond she shared with her sister.
Clasping her hands to her chest, she silently prayed for Astoria.
.
.
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