The manor was silent.
Not the kind of silence born from peace, but the suffocating, breathless stillness of fear.
Every corridor of Malfoy Manor seemed to listen.
Every shadow seemed to watch.
And at the heart of it, seated at the long obsidian table beneath dim, flickering chandeliers, was Lord Voldemort.
His pale fingers tapped once against the wood.
The sound echoed like a gunshot.
Around him, cloaked figures sat rigidly in their chairs, Bellatrix Lestrange with her trembling devotion, Lucius Malfoy with barely concealed dread, Severus Snape impassive as ever, and the rest… lesser.
Always lesser.
"Two weeks," Voldemort said softly.
No one dared speak.
"Two weeks," he repeated, voice colder now, "and yet we remain… stagnant."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
Bellatrix leaned forward eagerly. "My Lord, we have continued the kidnappings as instructed, quiet, efficient."
"I did not ask for a report," Voldemort cut in, almost lazily.
She fell silent immediately, bowing her head.
The Dark Lord's red eyes swept across them all.
They could feel it.
That pressure.
That suffocating weight of expectation and disappointment.
Then,
A voice.
Unsteady.
Foolish.
"W-why… why aren't we doing anything more?"
Every head turned.
The speaker was one of the newer recruits. A lower-tier Death Eater. Barely initiated. Mask still too clean.
He swallowed but pressed on, emboldened by his own stupidity.
"Why are we just… sitting here? After everything? After, after Potter."
Chairs scraped back.
Several Death Eaters physically shifted away from him.
Lucius closed his eyes.
Bellatrix stared at the man with something like pity… and anticipation.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Then Voldemort spoke.
"Come here."
The man hesitated.
"Come. Here."
He stumbled forward, legs shaking.
"Y-yes, my Lord,"
"Crucio."
There was no rise in voice.
No warning.
Only the word.
The man collapsed instantly, screaming.
Not shouting.
Not crying.
Screaming.
His body arched violently, fingers clawing at nothing as agony tore through every nerve, every muscle, every fragment of his being.
Time stretched.
Seconds dragged.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Twenty.
The screams became raw.
Broken.
Inhuman.
Thirty seconds.
Then, silence.
The curse lifted.
The man lay twitching on the floor, barely conscious, sobbing weakly.
Voldemort rose slowly from his chair.
He walked toward him with measured, deliberate steps.
"Let this," he said softly, "be an example."
No one moved.
No one breathed.
"Of what happens… when you mistake patience for weakness."
He raised his wand.
A flash of green.
The body went still.
Final.
Voldemort did not even glance down again.
Instead, he turned slightly.
"Nagini."
The great serpent slithered forward, silent and eager.
"Dinner."
Some Death Eaters looked away.
Others did not dare.
Voldemort returned to his seat as though nothing had happened.
As though the man had never existed.
Hours later, the manor was quieter still.
Only the most trusted remained.
Voldemort stood before the tall windows, hands clasped behind his back.
The reflection staring back at him was pale, serpentine… diminished.
A memory flickered in his mind.
Golden light.
Overwhelming power.
A boy,
No.
Not a boy anymore.
Something far beyond it.
Harry Potter.
Voldemort's expression twisted.
"Draco."
Draco Malfoy stepped forward immediately, bowing low.
"My Lord."
"You will perform the spell."
Draco hesitated, only for a fraction of a second.
But Voldemort noticed.
He always noticed.
"The same one you used on Potter."
Draco's throat tightened.
"Yes… my Lord."
He raised his wand.
The incantation was strange.
Not quite Latin.
Not quite anything.
"Dimensio Percurrere."
The air fractured.
Blue light tore open reality itself.
A portal.
Unstable.
Hungry.
Voldemort stepped toward it without hesitation.
"Do not fail me, Draco."
"I...won't, my Lord."
And then, darkness swallowed him whole.
Light.
Alien.
Divine.
Voldemort opened his eyes.
He was not in a manor.
Not in Britain.
Not even… human.
Power surged through him.
Vast.
Ancient.
Structured in ways magic had never been.
He looked at his hands.
They were different.
Refined.
Elegant.
Glowing faintly with an otherworldly aura.
Memories flooded in.
Gods.
Kai.
Balance.
Creation.
Destruction.
And a name.
Zamasu.
Voldemort smiled.
A slow, cold, terrible smile.
"Mortals…"
The word tasted like ash.
Weak.
Corrupt.
Inferior.
The knowledge of the Kai settled into him with terrifying ease.
Divine ki.
Energy beyond magic.
Beyond anything he had ever known.
And then, a vision.
Another self.
A reflection.
Goku Black.
Power.
Perfection.
Hatred refined into purpose.
Voldemort did not resist it.
He embraced it.
"Zero Mortals Plan…"
The idea bloomed instantly.
Perfect.
Inevitable.
And so he began.
Time lost meaning.
Worlds burned.
Cities fell.
Gods died.
Mortals were erased.
Merged.
Reborn.
The sky itself cracked under divine fury.
And still, It was not enough.
Then came the end.
Zeno.
A child.
A god.
An absolute.
Reality itself blinked.
And ceased.
Everything.
Gone.
Erased.
Including him.
Voldemort's eyes snapped open.
Cold stone beneath his feet.
Malfoy Manor.
The same room.
The same night.
Two weeks… had passed.
He inhaled slowly.
Then again.
His body was his own.
But, different.
He lifted his hand.
Energy gathered.
Not magic.
Not entirely.
Something… more.
His robes shifted.
Black melted into white and violet.
Flowing.
Regal.
Divine.
The robes of a Supreme Kai.
Voldemort looked at his reflection.
And laughed.
Softly.
Madly.
"Potter…"
A flick of his wrist.
A blast of ki erupted from his palm.
It tore through the manor wall like paper.
Stone exploded outward in a thunderous shockwave, debris raining across the grounds.
Death Eaters screamed in alarm from distant corridors.
Voldemort lowered his hand slowly.
Smoke curled around him.
His smile widened.
Moments later, the survivors gathered once more.
Fewer now.
Always fewer.
They stared at him.
At the changed robes.
At the air itself bending around him.
No one spoke.
Not even Bellatrix.
Voldemort stepped forward.
Power radiated from him in waves, heavier than magic, sharper than fear.
"We have waited," he said quietly.
"And we have watched."
His red eyes gleamed.
"Now… we understand."
No one dared interrupt.
"Our enemy evolves."
A pause.
"So shall we."
He spread his hand slightly.
Energy flickered across his palm, unnatural, brilliant, wrong.
"The time for shadows…"
His voice dropped to a whisper that carried to every corner of the room.
"…is nearly over."
He looked at them.
Each one.
Broken, Terrified, Devoted.
"Prepare yourselves."
A smile, thin, cruel, absolute.
"We step into the light… soon."
And this time
There would be no hiding what he had become.