After retrieving the Golden Cup from Gringotts, a new problem quickly followed.
"I can easily pull the soul fragment out of it," Marvolio said, sprawled over the table as he idly turned the cup in his hands. "The real question is how to merge it with me."
Cynthia's curiosity went in a different direction.
"So this is the Hufflepuff Cup that was left behind? Wasn't it supposed to contain food-related magic? Why can't I sense anything?"
"It's been blocked off by my magic for a long time," Marvolio replied. "And it wouldn't have helped much anyway. When I first got the cup, I wondered whether it broke Gamp's Law of Transfiguration. Turns out…"
He sighed.
"It just takes anything that can be called an ingredient and cooks it into the most delicious food it can possibly combine."
"You actually tried it?"
"Of course I did. I was curious. The taste was excellent, but the restrictions are severe. It won't create seasonings that aren't added, and the ingredients can't clash too strongly with each other."
"For that era, especially in Britain, that was already extremely impressive magic," Tver said casually.
He picked up the Golden Cup and examined it closely.
Like the other Horcruxes, the cup was saturated with Voldemort's magical imprint, along with a fragment of his soul.
This fragment was relatively immature, similar to the one in the ring. It was clearly one of Voldemort's earlier Horcruxes.
But soon, Tver noticed something amiss.
"Why doesn't the soul inside this Horcrux have the ability to communicate outwardly?"
"He wasn't very skilled back then," Marvolio said, waving it off. "Even the earliest diary couldn't initiate contact unless someone actively tried to communicate with it."
"The diadem worked the same way. The only reason the ring I inhabit recovered so many abilities is because it absorbed a great deal of your magic and life force."
"In that case," Cynthia said matter-of-factly, "why not absorb the soul in the cup the same way you absorb magic?"
"Right!" Marvolio straightened up, suddenly animated. "Tver, aren't you able to convert souls into magic?"
"That's exactly what worries me," Tver replied. "If the fragment that merges into your body turns into magic, how does that strengthen your soul?"
He set the Golden Cup down. As if reacting to the conversation, it began to hum faintly, releasing an unsettling magical vibration.
"We can't afford to take risks. Every fragment of Voldemort's soul is crucial for you."
Marvolio's expression darkened. After a long pause, he clenched his teeth.
"Then what if I turn into magic too?"
"If both soul fragments become magic at the same time, the difficulty of fusion drops drastically. After merging, you can just turn us back into souls."
Tver and Cynthia both stared at him in shock.
"Then how do you determine which soul takes priority?" Tver asked gravely.
"If you fail to secure the dominant position, all your current soul power will become subordinate. Worse still, your original memories could be overwritten by Voldemort's."
Tver looked at Marvolio with a heavy expression.
He had considered this approach long ago, and rejected it immediately.
All these years of careful planning and subtle guidance were meant to produce a rational Marvolio who shared his goals, not a deranged, bloodthirsty Voldemort.
Otherwise, he could have destroyed everything outright. There would have been no need for all this effort.
"What, you don't trust me?" Marvolio said, the corner of his mouth curling into a wild, arrogant smile. "I am Voldemort."
"But that thing is Voldemort too," Tver shot back, tossing the cup to him.
"Stop hesitating. There's no such thing as a perfect plan."
Marvolio didn't argue. Instead, he calmly began channeling his magic, slowly drawing the soul fragment out of the cup.
"And I have absolute confidence," he said coolly. "The one who wins in the end will be me."
A roiling strand of black soul emerged, pulled free by his right hand, growing darker and more substantial by the second.
Sensing Marvolio's unwavering resolve, Tver sighed and pulled out his wand, banishing the table in front of him.
It was a perfectly good table, after all. No reason to let it get destroyed for nothing.
"Can you tell me where that confidence comes from?"
By now, the soul Marvolio was drawing out had nearly solidified into human form, which meant every last trace inside the Horcrux had been extracted.
He casually tossed the Golden Cup into Cynthia's arms, then pointed to his chest with his now-empty left hand.
"Because this time, I have an unbreakable will."
"Come on, Tver!"
The pitch-black soul had taken on a shape almost identical to his own. The only thing he found mildly irritating was the completely bald head.
"Even if my strength doesn't match yours or Dumbledore's, I firmly believe that nothing can defeat me, not even myself!"
"Because I am Lord Voldemort!"
("Because I am Voldemort!")
Meeting Marvolio's unwavering gaze, Tver slowly raised his wand.
Even as Marvolio, even with a far calmer temperament than before, he was still that proud Voldemort—the prodigy who had dominated the wizarding world for half a century.
As Tver released his magic, a surge of vigorous life force flooded Marvolio's body.
This vitality came from the Philosopher's Stone and formed the very foundation of Marvolio's physical existence.
Because of that, his body began to dissolve, or rather, to transform into the same intangible state as the confused soul beside him.
The state didn't last long. Under Tver's Transfiguration, both souls were instantly converted into two masses of magic, pure to the extreme.
Carefully, Tver guided the two clusters closer, watching as they slowly began to merge of their own accord.
He had never experienced anything like this before. Even in the knowledge Salazar had left behind, only the transformation of souls was mentioned.
As for what happened when transformed souls fused together, this was their first attempt.
Fortunately, perhaps because both had already become magic, the fusion progressed more slowly than expected but showed no obvious signs of conflict. That alone put Tver at ease.
"Is it possible that the two souls end up on equal footing, influencing each other?" Cynthia asked curiously, watching the two half-merged spheres.
"I thought that was very likely at first," Tver replied, still holding his wand. "But it quickly became the least likely outcome."
As the fusion neared completion, his mind instead grew calmer.
"You can force Horcruxes to cooperate, but with Voldemort's pride, no fragment would ever tolerate another will standing above its own."
"Even if they were once the same being."