Chapter 1400: A Gift for Tom
Chapter 1400: A Gift for Tom
"Aren't you going to rest yet?"
After a few light knocks, the study door opened, and in walked Isabelle, clad in her robe. She placed a cup of warmed milk on the desk in front of Albert, her eyes scanning the parchment on the desk before settling on Albert's focused face.
"You rest first," Albert said softly. "I have a few more things to take care of."
"Can't you just use the Time-Turner to come back and deal with it after you've slept?" Isabelle leaned in, wrapping her arms around Albert's neck and kissing his cheek. "It won't delay your plans."
"Alright, you're right," Albert conceded, finishing the milk in one gulp before standing up to retire for the night.
Not long after Albert left, the parchment that had been spread out on the desk suddenly sprouted countless ink dots, sketching out a map with a familiar name at its center: Tom Riddle.
Soon after, the study door opened once more, and a figure approached the desk, gazing down at the map and the spot marked with Tom Riddle's name. "I hope you like this gift, Tom," the figure murmured.
"Meow!"
Fat Cat Tom let out a soft meow and plopped himself down on the map in front of Albert.
"I wasn't talking to you," Albert said, gently moving Tom's tail out of the way.
At that moment, the location marked on the map was experiencing a heavy snowfall, which had shown no signs of letting up since nightfall.
A figure cloaked in darkness suddenly appeared, unperturbed by the howling wind and snow. With purposeful strides, he made his way to an unassuming house and stopped.
"I've finally found you, and it took quite a bit of effort, I must say..."
Voldemort muttered, raising his wand. The door that stood in his way exploded, and the rude visitor strode in, stepping on the splintered remains of the door. He scanned the empty hall and then made his way to the bedroom.
With another blast, the bedroom door exploded open.
The room was warm, but it was empty. The owner of the house had fled, and Voldemort didn't know when they had left.
Voldemort glanced around the empty room, his gaze lingering on the fireplace for a moment before he disappeared without a trace.
When he reappeared, he was standing on a deserted street, the crackling sound of his apparition carrying far in the night.
But this did not deter Voldemort from his mission to capture his prey.
He had invested too much time and effort, and the wait had been too long.
Following the fresh footprints in the snow, Voldemort stopped at the side of a house where traces of apparition could still be seen.
"You can't escape," he muttered.
And with that, he disapparated, giving chase.
He reappeared in a desolate wilderness... a deserted village, a forest...
Again and again.
It was as if the person he was chasing knew they were being pursued and was trying to shake off their pursuer through repeated use of Disapparition.
A frustrating hunt had quietly begun.
One person desperately tried to escape through Disapparition, while the other relentlessly pursued.
Only when one of them stopped using Disapparition to flee or the other ceased their relentless pursuit would this hunt truly end.
As the pursuer, Voldemort's mood was less than pleasant.
He even suspected that someone was deliberately leading him on, playing a cruel game, treating him like a fool.
This completely ruined Voldemort's good mood after finding Grindelwald.
Because if it were true, he knew exactly what it meant, and that was a disturbing thought.
He had to capture that damned man as soon as possible.
After a long chase, Voldemort finally paused, realizing that Grindelwald's trail had disappeared.
Yes, the man had vanished into thin air.
And there were no traces of Disapparition left behind.
As he had suspected, he was being played.
Voldemort's mood darkened further.
He raised his wand, uttered a spell, and soared into the air, flying in a certain direction.
Soon, Voldemort returned to the house where he had found Grindelwald earlier. The place was unchanged from his previous visit, except that some of the snow had blown in through the blasted door during the chase.
Stepping over the door fragments once more, Voldemort made his way to the bedroom.
The bedroom was cold, and the fire in the fireplace had gone out.
Voldemort pointed his wand at the fireplace, and the extinguished flames roared back to life. He walked over to the fireplace and crouched down, sticking his head into the fireplace.
There was a hidden room inside the fireplace.
As soon as Voldemort entered, he was met with a sense of deadly danger. His vision was obscured by a lush green color.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Even Voldemort had to retreat in the face of the Killing Curse, especially when caught off guard like this.
Voldemort dodged clumsily.
As he prepared to counter-attack, another flash of green light flew at him. This time, Voldemort blocked it, and the two Killing Curses collided in mid-air, their magical powers clashing.
The ambusher was no match for Voldemort, and the rebounded Killing Curse took their life.
Looking at the fallen "Grindelwald," Voldemort's expression darkened. He suspected that he had been played once again.
But Voldemort never needed evidence.
Grindelwald wouldn't dare to oppose him, and one could say that there were very few people in all of Europe who dared to do so.
Albert Anderson! Voldemort gritted his teeth. Only that despicable man would stoop to such tricks.
As "Grindelwald" lay dead on the floor, the parchment on the wall suddenly ignited, and a hoarse voice echoed through the room.
"Merry Christmas, Tom. I have a Christmas gift for you."
"Damn it!"
Voldemort's rage had nowhere to go. Just as he was about to take out his frustration on "Grindelwald's" corpse, hurried footsteps approached from outside.
A group of Aurors had surrounded the place.
"That's right, you're surrounded."
That annoying voice echoed again, as if that despicable Mudblood was watching everything unfold right before his eyes.
"Surrounded? By this bunch of waste?"
Voldemort, seething with anger and with nowhere to direct it, turned his wrath on the Aurors outside.
The battle commenced without further delay.
In the face of the ruthless Voldemort, this group of unfortunate souls, who had been drawn here without understanding the situation, were swiftly slaughtered by the furious Dark Lord.
Voldemort surveyed the corpses strewn about and smirked. "Is this your little trick?"
He knew what that Mudblood was trying to do, but so what? Those people didn't have the courage to stand against him. If they had, they would have come together to take him down.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
