The moment Tver finished speaking, the two masses of magic fused completely into one. They collapsed inward, caving in for an instant, then suddenly expanded as if inflated, erupting into an unimaginably vast surge of magic.
It was even greater than the sum of the two combined.
"Why would this happen?" Cynthia staggered back in shock.
If she didn't retreat, that magic would have swallowed her whole.
Staring at the bloated mass of magic, Tver fell into deep thought.
He couldn't understand what state this represented. By all logic, even magic converted from souls shouldn't behave like this when merged.
From a physical standpoint, magic should obey conservation. It could flow, but it shouldn't increase or decrease out of nothing.
Unless…
As if a realization struck him, Tver stepped forward decisively. Before Cynthia's stunned eyes, a small black wisp shot straight into the mass of magic.
...
From Marvolio's perspective, everything now felt completely different from his time as a soul.
When he existed as a soul, there had always been something tugging at him, anchoring him firmly to this world.
But now, it felt as though he were drifting through clouds, light and weightless, filled with an overwhelming sense of freedom.
No—he was the clouds.
Because a blinding white mist suddenly appeared before him.
It was at that moment that the hazy sensation ended, and he became aware of his body and will returning.
Marvolio lay on his back. Silence filled his ears, and the faint whistling that had lingered moments ago was gone.
Then it came.
A strange, low whimper drifted softly into his ears. The sound was different on each side, as if hundreds of voices were murmuring quietly, debating something in hushed tones.
Or rather, hundreds of ghosts.
Only then did he realize the most serious problem.
He hadn't opened his eyes, yet he could "see" the white mist.
Startled, Marvolio snapped his eyes open. He clearly felt himself do it, but his vision remained the same hazy white, no different from when his eyes were closed.
A surge of panic hit him, a terrifying sense that he no longer had control over himself.
Calm.
Marvolio drew a deep breath and slowly sat up. Only then did he notice the difference between this mist and before.
Something seemed to be concealed within it, as though it were trying to push through.
A sudden feeling of resistance rose in his chest.
This was his territory.
As anger flared in his mind, the white mist roiled violently, surging outward in waves.
Under the constant impact, the fog around Marvolio gradually thinned, revealing what lay beneath.
A small room?
A worn, narrow bed. A wardrobe, gnawed by insects yet still sturdy.
This is… my room at the orphanage?
Memories long buried began to surface.
From the day he was sent to the orphanage until he graduated from Hogwarts, this had been his room.
The ceiling, the floor, the window that creaked when the wind blew—nothing had changed.
Only he had.
As the memories flooded back, Marvolio seemed to catch the faint smell of damp mold in the air.
Only then did he realize he was naked. It didn't bother him. With a quiet chuckle, he walked over to the wardrobe and opened it.
As expected, a set of clothes that fit him perfectly lay inside.
He slipped them on with ease. The style was the casual suit he often wore during his school days. He was taller and slimmer now than before, yet the clothes still fit his body flawlessly.
As if he had foreseen that, fifty-one years later, he would return to what had once been his home.
"Honestly, I imagined many places, but I never expected your Limbo to be here."
A small black imp stepped out from the doorway, yet the voice coming from it was unmistakably Tver's.
The imp looked around with interest, as though the plain little room concealed some hidden secret.
Marvolio eyed his current form with a strange expression.
"I never imagined you'd show up like this. If word got out that the Dark Lord bent on overturning the world looked like this in private, no one would believe it," he said, sighing in exasperation.
To outsiders, Tver was always calm, elegant, the image of a refined nobleman. But around those he knew well, he could shatter every expectation and didn't care in the slightest about their teasing.
The imp shrugged unconcernedly.
Wait. In this form, did he even have shoulders?
"In a place as dangerous as Limbo, of course I'd send a little imp in to scout first."
"If it really is dangerous, worst case I lose a curse. If it's not, doesn't that prove you're fine?"
"Either way, there's no loss."
Even though the imp's expression was limited and his voice carried a faintly distorted quality, Marvolio could clearly hear the excitement in his tone.
"I knew you wouldn't do anything meaningless," Marvolio said irritably.
"But what about the other soul? Why didn't I feel much resistance?"
"I wiped out his will as soon as I came in," the imp said lightly, hands on his hips.
"That Voldemort barely had any strength left, especially inside Limbo. He didn't even know where he was."
"He scratched his head for ages, then got startled when I suddenly appeared. So I just used the power of the curse and killed him."
"Dying to his own curse. That Voldemort died fittingly."
"But the problem is, how do I get out?" Marvolio asked.
He walked toward the doorway. There was nothing there, only white mist blocking the way.
This time, no matter how strongly he exerted his will, the fog refused to move.
"I don't know either. But I do know your soul power has grown a lot stronger. The next step is probably breaking free of the Horcrux's restraints."
"And how do I do that?"
"I'm not sure. It probably has something to do with this room. That's why I started looking around the moment I came in."
The imp drifted in a slow circle around the cramped room, found nothing, then floated back in front of Marvolio.
"Limbo is a reflection of the heart. This room must hold enormous significance for you. Try to remember. What happened here that mattered most to you?"
"Something important?" Marvolio let out a cold laugh. "All I ever felt here was misunderstanding and conflict."
"After graduating from Hogwarts, I never came back. Even after fifth year, I rarely stayed here for long."
"I find it strange too. I thought it would be the Chamber of Secrets, or King's Cross Station."
The imp lifted his fingerless little hand, rubbing at a barely visible chin as he thought.
"Why?"
Marvolio didn't know what had happened to Harry Potter in the original story, so he was curious why Tver would say that.
"Wasn't Hogwarts like home to you? It must have meant a lot."
"And King's Cross Station was where you officially became a wizard. Surely that carried special meaning for you as well…"
"What is it? Did I say something wrong?"
The imp looked at Marvolio in surprise as he stood frozen in place.
"I finally understand why it's here," Marvolio murmured.
"This is where my life truly began."
"It was in this room that someone first told me I wasn't a freak, but a wizard."
"This is where my self-doubt ended, and where my confusion finally stopped."
As he came to terms with his past, Marvolio's voice grew distant and ethereal, his figure gradually fading into a pale, translucent white.
"Tver, only by facing the past can we walk toward the future."