At first, the quiet forest seemed no different from the outside world, but the deeper he went, the stranger it became.
Dead branches stretched toward the sky like ghostly hands, and from time to time crows landed on the branches and stared at him with hostile eyes.
Cappadocia was certain he had entered some wizard's territory, and judging by the look of it, not the territory of anyone harmless.
Voldemort, of course, was never going to be harmless.
"Crows..." Cappadocia looked up at a particularly vicious-looking raven, a cold glint flashing through his eyes.
Boom!
A fireball exploded and roasted the poor raven alive, sending it falling to the ground. At the same time, Cappadocia spun around and grabbed a dark shape that had lunged at him.
It was a python at least ten meters long, but in Cappadocia's hand, something that large writhed as harmlessly as an earthworm.
Cappadocia looked at the python crawling and twisting in his grip and frowned in disgust.
Still, he did not kill it. Instead, he looked around.
"Come out and meet me," Cappadocia said. "I'm very friendly, provided you show me respect."
The forest remained utterly silent, as though no one was there at all.
"If you still don't come out, I'll have no choice but to dispose of your little pet." Cappadocia let out a disdainful laugh.
The snake in his hand carried strong magic. It was obviously no ordinary serpent, and Cappadocia did not believe anyone would abandon such a precious pet.
Especially not Voldemort, who fancied himself the heir of Slytherin. If he still had even a shred of pride, he would not be cowering like a rat.
That was what Cappadocia thought.
And yet Voldemort did not jump out the way he expected. As the seconds passed, no one appeared in the eerie forest. Instead, the strange sense of someone lurking there began to fade.
Cappadocia's face darkened. Voldemort's behavior had gone far beyond his expectations. He had actually abandoned his pet and fled on his own.
"Coward! Scum! Trash!" Feeling insulted, Cappadocia roared in fury, and the ground around him sank several inches.
A Titan's power was linked to the earth. Even a Titan wreathed in flames could still commune with the ground beneath his feet.
Guided by the earth, Cappadocia quickly found a figure fleeing through the forest at high speed. To his surprise, Voldemort was in soul form.
"Strange. Didn't Voldemort steal Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone? Why does he still look like this?" Cappadocia's expression became extremely ugly.
Because that meant that if he wanted to use Voldemort as a puppet, he would first have to find a way to resurrect him. What use was a half-dead fragment of a soul?
Enraged, Cappadocia felt he had been deceived. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time, grab Nicolas Flamel by the collar, and demand where exactly he had hidden the Philosopher's Stone.
Annoying as it was, Voldemort was still the puppet Cappadocia had chosen. Resurrection would be difficult, but Voldemort was not completely dead, was he? All Cappadocia had to do was drag him out of this half-dead state.
As Raven's former number three, he had read more than enough magical texts, and as a researcher himself, he had mastered quite a few unusual rituals.
But all of that depended on first catching this spineless Voldemort, who was even willing to abandon his lair and pet.
Cappadocia let out a cold laugh, his figure vanishing abruptly with the python still in hand.
In the distance, Voldemort was fleeing like a stray dog, miserable beyond words.
He had no idea what kind of rotten luck had caused a wizard powerful enough to suffocate him with sheer presence to suddenly appear right outside his front door.
At first, Voldemort had thought the man was just someone who had wandered in by accident. He was old, certainly, and although that body looked broad, it did not look like the body of a truly formidable wizard.
Voldemort had even thought of probing him with an attack. If the man proved mediocre, Voldemort would kill him. If he proved decent, Voldemort could subdue him and use him as a servant to act on his behalf in the outside world.
In Voldemort's eyes, the only person in the world worth fearing was Dumbledore. Every other wizard was just another dish on the table, no matter how strong they looked.
But the instant the other man made a move, that overwhelming magical power made Voldemort's legs go weak, and Nagini, who had been sent in for a sneak attack, was subdued in an instant.
That was Nagini, a magically saturated python Voldemort had been raising as a future Horcrux. Her strength could rival even a Basilisk's.
And yet such a powerful snake had been seized one-handed by an old man.
What kind of monstrously muscular old man was that?
How was this even supposed to be a fight? Even at his peak, Voldemort was not sure he could have beaten that terrifying old brute. If he did not run now, then when?
So Voldemort ran with astonishing decisiveness, abandoning even Nagini, whom he had raised himself.
Reduced to a soul, Voldemort tore through the forest at top speed, trying to think of when he might have offended such a monster.
His luck had truly been awful lately. Failing to obtain the Philosopher's Stone would have been bad enough, but now even his lair had been raided.
"Just wait. Once I'm resurrected, I'll kill all of you!" Voldemort spat out the threat, then suddenly felt a chill run through him and fled even faster.
Relying on his ghostly body, he barreled through the forest, passing through tree after tree and leaving trails of frost behind him.
Then suddenly, Voldemort felt everything go dark. Something seemed to have appeared right in front of him, and he crashed headfirst into it.
In ghost form, he should have been able to pass through any obstacle at all.
So Voldemort did not stop. He simply kept charging straight ahead.
But halfway through, a searing heat like molten lava made him cry out. In the next instant, he felt a burning hand clamp around his intangible throat.
"Run, then. Let me see you run again!" a vicious voice snarled in his ear.
Voldemort lowered his head with difficulty and saw a burly old face and a pair of eyes blazing with anger.
"No... impossible! How did you find me?" Voldemort said unwillingly.
He knew that with power like that, the man could certainly use Apparition, but Apparition was useless without a destination.
And what exactly was wrong with that body of his? How could he grab hold of a soul directly?
And then there was that strange, terrifying heat around him, heat that could even scorch a soul.
In the end, it all came down to one question.
What kind of monster was this thing?
Voldemort screamed inwardly.