Lord Voldemort Apparated back to Malfoy Manor and randomly selected an unlucky Werewolf.
Although there was an obvious difference in their physiques, this was no problem for Lord Voldemort.
He picked up the Werewolf as easily as lifting a chick, and the Werewolf did not dare resist in the slightest.
Soon, their figures gradually faded away and disappeared in the blink of an eye.
A moment later, they appeared on a rocky beach thousands of miles away.
The unique salty smell of the sea drifted through the air, while waves washed against the dark rocks, creating white foam.
The Werewolf stood cowering behind him, its powerful body trembling uncontrollably.
Its limited intelligence prevented it from predicting what was about to happen, but its animal instincts prevailed.
Something terrible was about to happen.
The surrounding area was barren and desolate.
There were no trees, grass, or sandy beaches—only the vast sea and jagged rocks.
The rocks were riddled with sharp crevices that provided footholds, leading down towards enormous boulders partially exposed above the sea around the cliff.
Climbing down from here was extremely dangerous.
Once again, during Apparition, Lord Voldemort and the Werewolf arrived before a stone door.
With a flick of his wrist, the stone door shattered.
Beyond it, a sealed cave wall blocked Lord Voldemort and the Werewolf's view.
His magic was so cruel and inhuman that even his own arrival could not escape its consequences.
A distant pile of rubble suddenly transformed into a stone blade.
It flashed through the air and sliced into the Werewolf's leg, leaving a deep gash.
Scalding blood sprayed across the stone floor.
The Werewolf stared at its wound in horror.
It should have healed already.
Yet it remained open, as though cursed.
The creature stretched out its claws, seemingly begging for mercy.
Then it saw the bloodstained stone wall begin to move slowly.
A boat emerged from the black lake.
Lord Voldemort impatiently waved his wand, causing the boat to accelerate faster and faster.
"Get on board."
Lord Voldemort kicked the already weakened Werewolf.
The two boarded the boat.
The small vessel sped forward at a terrifying pace.
If a Muggle had witnessed the scene, they might have thought they were looking at a speedboat slicing through the waves.
The green light ahead seemed to grow larger and brighter.
A few minutes later, the small boat gently bumped against something and came to a stop.
They had arrived at a smooth, rocky islet in the middle of the lake.
A large, flat, black stone slab stood there, completely bare except for the source of the green glow.
Up close, the green light appeared even brighter.
Lord Voldemort dragged the poor Werewolf straight past it.
Inside the stone basin was a full pool of emerald-green liquid, shimmering with an eerie phosphorescence.
Lord Voldemort conjured a wide-mouthed cup, filled it with the horrible liquid, and poured it directly into the Werewolf's mouth.
The Werewolf fainted after swallowing the first mouthful.
Lord Voldemort awakened it.
The process continued.
The creature alternated between consciousness and unconsciousness as it was forced to drink.
The level of the liquid gradually fell.
At the bottom of the stone basin, a golden locket slowly emerged.
"It's still here."
Lord Voldemort breathed a sigh of relief.
But immediately afterwards, his heart tightened again.
Souls could not perceive one another indefinitely.
Only when they were within a certain distance could they sense each other.
At such close range, however, he could not feel even the slightest trace of his soul.
When Nagini was beside him, he could sense a resonance because the snake contained a fragment of his soul.
With a whoosh, the locket flew out of the basin and into Lord Voldemort's hand.
Almost instantly, his expression became extremely furious.
This locket lacked the intricate patterns characteristic of the ancient Black family.
It also lacked the S-shaped mark symbolising Slytherin.
It was a cheap counterfeit.
Inside the locket was a single piece of paper.
It read:
«To the Dark Lord,
I died long before you read this, but I want you to know that I discovered your secret.
I stole the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible.
I would gladly die, so that when you meet your destined opponent, you will be nothing more than a mortal of flesh and blood.
—R.B.»
Lord Voldemort's eyes bulged with intense fury.
R.B.?
Regulus?
He needed only the slightest association to know the answer.
It was obvious.
The House of Black had betrayed him.
They had even destroyed his Horcrux.
Lord Voldemort emerged from the cave with a ferocious expression.
He tossed the Werewolf, which had served as his key, onto the deserted island to fend for itself.
Then he Apparated directly to the offices of The Daily Prophet.
Lucius was leisurely enjoying afternoon tea at the newspaper office, leaning back in his chair and looking completely relaxed.
However, the sudden intense pain in his left arm startled him awake.
Then he saw the Dark Lord standing before him.
"Lucius…"
Lord Voldemort toyed with his wand.
His bloodshot eyes revealed his terrible mood.
"I'm asking you—where did my diary go?"
"I entrusted it to you for safekeeping."
Lucius's face suddenly stiffened.
"Master, once the Ministry of Magic needed to search some of the items…"
Lucius stammered as he explained.
His composure was completely gone.
"So that means the thing I entrusted to you is gone?"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Lucius's hair stood on end.
Yet he did not dare raise his wand to resist.
He closed his eyes as though surrendering, offering his neck for execution.
The green light struck the vase behind him instead, shattering it.
Fragments flew everywhere, some striking Lucius.
But he still did not dare resist.
He had not known that the object was so important to the Dark Lord.
"Anger will cloud your judgement."
"I'm short-staffed right now, Lucius."
"I just want you to understand that you have already been given a second chance at life."
Cold sweat slid down Lucius's thin chin and dripped onto the table in front of him, soaking the latest issue of the newspaper.
"Master…"
Lucius trembled as he vacated his seat.
Lord Voldemort casually walked over, slowly sat down, and lightly ran his fingertips across the tabletop.
His mind was racing.
The diary and the ring were missing.
The golden cup had been confirmed destroyed by fire.
Slytherin's locket had been replaced with a fake.
There was also the uncertainty surrounding the diadem hidden within Hogwarts.
The only thing he could be certain of was Nagini.
For the first time, Lord Voldemort regretted his arrogance.
Even if there was only the slightest hope, he still wanted to confirm it.
Hogwarts was also among his targets.
The beginning of the war needed to be accelerated.
Just as he was lost in thought, a crisp sound suddenly rang out.
The glass window not far in front of him shattered.
A parchment scroll, rolled into the shape of a sharp blade, shot through the window and embedded itself firmly in the wall beside him.
Its tail fluttered incessantly.
Lord Voldemort's eyes turned cold.
He was about to tear it from the wall when—
Suddenly, the parchment broke free of its restraints.
It unfolded in mid-air and began to burn.
Pale-blue flames leapt into the air, gradually forming words.
The glowing characters illuminated the entire room as they trembled in mid-air.
"I hope this news will be published by The Daily Prophet."
The words flashed past.
"Dark Lord, I prefer to call you Lord Voldemort rather than that name."
"They fear you, but I don't."
"You disrupted a great duel. This is my revenge."
"The fruits of revenge must be picked by one's own hands."
"I know you will find that strange."
"Defeat me, and you will obtain everything you want to know."
"However, given your vile personality and despicable sneak attack, I will decide the location of our duel and settle everything once and for all."
The flames in mid-air suddenly flickered.
Then several letters appeared.
HOGWARTS.
"Hogwarts?"
Lord Voldemort gave the message an enigmatic look.
It had to be said that coincidences were rather interesting.
His intention had been to use public opinion to declare war.
Instead, it had almost turned into a face-to-face declaration of war.
There were always strange and unpredictable accidents that occurred during the execution of a plan.
The intense anger that had been burning within him suddenly subsided.
According to the psychological principle of diminishing returns, good news was best delivered separately, while bad news was best delivered together.
Clearly, Lord Voldemort had received the latter kind of news one after another.
The succession of bad news had forced him to recognise reality.
Unrestrained venting and anger would only interfere with his judgement.
Whether it was Ravenclaw's diadem, Grindelwald's challenge, or the significance of Hogwarts itself, all these factors pushed the Dark Lord towards a decision.
More importantly, he had to personally wash away the shame of his defeat.
The Saviour was also at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, countless reasons emerged that were impossible to refuse.
The blazing words before them were suddenly swept away by a violent hurricane.
Lord Voldemort gently stroked the armrest of the chair.
A fire seemed to be burning within his scarlet eyes.