Lord Voldemort walked towards the narrow entrance, flanked by dark stone walls, and waved his wand.
The hard stone instantly crumbled into dust.
Soon, the winding underground tunnel began to collapse violently, sending dust flying everywhere and shaking the entire structure of Gringotts.
Wide stone staircases rapidly took shape before their eyes, spiralling downwards.
The Goblin tried his best to suppress his shocked expression.
His awe of Lord Voldemort's power grew stronger with every passing moment.
In the middle of the passage, the Thief's Downfall that had once continuously flowed from cracks in the rocks above had disappeared at some point, leaving behind only a faint mist of warm water vapour.
"Lead the way."
Lord Voldemort lifted his eyelids and spoke coldly.
The Goblin walked nervously.
To be honest, he no longer even knew the way.
He could only grit his teeth and continue forward.
The stone steps were extremely slippery, forcing the Goblin to constantly worry about losing his footing.
Slipping was no big deal.
Angering this man was.
The Goblin remained cautious, as though walking on thin ice, terrified that he might offend the Dark Lord in some way.
The two figures, one tall and one short, soon reached the end of the stone staircase.
The vault doors were arranged in rows according to their numbers.
"Only a Goblin can open them."
The Goblin hurriedly ran towards Lord Voldemort.
It extended its index finger, placed it against the top of the lock, and pulled it back slightly.
Then the fat Goblin was suddenly blasted backwards by a powerful gust of wind.
It rolled several times across the ground.
Lord Voldemort's crimson eyes swept across the vault.
Inside was a dragon in its prime.
The dragon and the Dark Lord locked eyes.
A powerful sense of oppression radiated from the wizard.
The dragon held its breath and remained completely silent.
The fact that a dragon could display such a human-like reaction was enough to show that it was afraid.
In the blink of an eye, it had become another creature forced to submit beneath his tyranny.
There was no need even to use the enchanted bell.
Lord Voldemort strolled inside.
Suddenly, the magnificent lamps overhead illuminated the room, filling the entire vault with light.
Various gold and silver ornaments, ancient swords, famous paintings, artworks from Muggle society, and expensive animal furs were displayed everywhere.
Bottles and jars were scattered throughout the vault, filled with expensive and rare potions.
Their iridescent contents shimmered with an enchanting glow beneath the glass.
After the fire, the Goblins had used a great deal of magic to restore the vault.
Many of the artefacts had been restored quite well.
"One thing is still missing."
Lord Voldemort glanced around the vault.
His voice was low and menacing, while the sense of foreboding within him grew stronger.
The golden cup containing a fragment of his soul was nowhere to be seen.
Hufflepuff's Cup.
The Goblin leading the way rolled its slightly green eyes nervously before explaining in fear,
"There was a fire in Gringotts."
"Maybe…"
It hoped that by blaming everything on an accident, it could escape disaster.
It seemed to have forgotten the concept of displaced anger.
A cruel green light flashed.
Another Goblin collapsed onto the soft, golden-red carpet covering the floor of the vault.
Blood soaked through it, turning the originally understated dark red into a vivid crimson.
In reality, the Killing Curse did not cause blood to splatter like this.
The only explanation was that Lord Voldemort wanted to vent his anger.
He casually raised his wand and waved it.
The piles of gold, stacked like small mountains, were hurled high into the air.
They resembled a rushing waterfall or golden waves cascading down from above.
Amidst the golden waves, exquisite weapons and ornaments could be seen flashing with cold light.
There were standard helmets forged from black iron, bronze lamps, gilded masks, and countless other treasures.
Suddenly, the waves of gold stopped.
Lord Voldemort's pupils contracted sharply.
In the firelight, his pale face suddenly darkened, taking on a rare and terrifying expression.
"The golden cup!"
A hoarse, panicked voice echoed throughout the vault.
A cup-shaped object flew directly towards him.
Lord Voldemort extended his long, spider-like fingers and caught Hufflepuff's Cup.
The cup was so badly damaged that it was almost unrecognisable.
The beautiful patterns and decorations had long since been corroded away by Basilisk venom.
The once-pure-gold handles on either side had completely turned black.
Lord Voldemort extended his consciousness into the golden cup, probing its depths.
Then he realised a fact he absolutely did not want to accept.
A fragment of his soul had completely disappeared.
Immediately, furious roars echoed throughout the vault.
Chaotic magical currents and exploding sparks flashed wildly across the room.
Pale-blue arcs of magic coursed visibly through the air, bearing witness to the man's fury.
The most valuable carpets and portraits could not escape the ensuing destruction.
After his anger erupted, the emotions that had been brewing within him gradually transformed into boundless fear.
Lord Voldemort stared at the dark wall, his mind racing.
This was yet another Horcrux that he had discovered to be destroyed.
Why say "yet another"?
Because this was the second Horcrux whose destruction he had noticed.
His intrusion into Gringotts had not been a spur-of-the-moment decision.
A major reason for coming here was to inspect his golden cup.
Not long ago, he had been arrogant and domineering, leading groups of Dark Wizards, Werewolves, Giants, and Vampires from across the world in attacks.
They had wreaked havoc, destroyed Muggle buildings, attacked ordinary people, carried out terrorist attacks, and assaulted the magical nodes established by the Ministry of Magic.
Whether in the south or the north of England, his traces had been left behind.
During the process, he inevitably came close to the place where his grandfather and father had once lived.
Little Hangleton.
A somewhat remote Muggle village.
After blowing up yet another traffic bridge, he noticed that a particular location on the map looked familiar.
For reasons unknown even to himself, he decided to revisit the place.
Although the memories were not pleasant, he was still somewhat proud of his Slytherin heritage.
Moreover, he wanted to take the opportunity to inspect one of his Horcruxes.
When a person suddenly gets the urge to do something, it can sometimes be described as a stroke of inspiration.
Lord Voldemort travelled to the site of the Gaunt family's old house.
As time passed, the place was no longer as dilapidated and desolate as he remembered.
Muggles had built a small house there, and there was no trace of the old building.
He cast a Muggle-Repelling Charm over the area, ensuring that the Muggle renovations could no longer be seen.
"Legilimency…"
On a remote mountain road, he randomly selected a Muggle and used Legilimency to forcibly search through his memories.
"A fire?"
In the Muggle's memories, he saw a fierce fire.
And it had happened several years ago.
"A fire that burned for more than a week?"
A sharp smile curved across his lips.
His eyes narrowed into slits, a clear sign of extreme anger.
His nostalgic return to a familiar place had brought him terrible news.
One of his Horcruxes was missing.
It was even possible that it had already been destroyed.
Based on the Muggle's description, the flames had clearly been Fiendfyre.
Ordinary Muggle fire was nowhere near powerful enough to harm his Horcrux.
This was undoubtedly news that made him extremely agitated.
Even somewhat panicked.
He did not want to admit it.
But Lord Voldemort had indeed experienced fear.
It was an emotion rarely felt by him.
The only time he had occasionally experienced something similar—or, rather, a greater fear—was when he first faced Dumbledore.
Even Dumbledore could not destroy his great achievement of immortality.
Yet now, unexpectedly, he had discovered that someone had been investigating his Horcruxes and had already taken action to destroy them.
And they had succeeded.
That had happened several years ago.
In other words, someone had already begun coveting his Horcrux several years ago, with the intention of destroying him.
Out of caution, his first thoughts turned to the golden cup he had once given to Hufflepuff and the diary he had entrusted to Lucius for safekeeping.
Slytherin's locket was well protected and securely hidden, so there was no need to worry about it for the moment.
After weighing the possibilities, Gringotts was immediately added to his list of targets.
Publicly attacking Gringotts was tantamount to publicly declaring war on the Ministry of Magic.
The bank was also a crucial institution for the entire wizarding world, making it an ideal starting point.
Without Dumbledore, he had no reason to hold back.
Looking at the mountain of treasures before him, Lord Voldemort showed no greed.
Instead, there was anxiety on his face.
At his level, wealth meant nothing to him.
Gringotts' condition had once again confirmed his suspicions.
Although he would have preferred to be wrong.
When it came to his grand undertaking of achieving immortality, Lord Voldemort was more efficient than anyone could imagine.
In the blink of an eye, his figure began to fade.
His body gradually became transparent.
Then, he vanished without a trace.