Tom held a stone bowl in one hand and the Elder Wand in the other, its tip aimed directly at the trembling figure before him.
The Voldemort (remnant soul) mustered a weak smile. "Alright… I'll drink…"
His withered hands shook violently as he took the stone bowl, slowly raising it towards his lips. His eyes darted up, meeting Tom's dangerous, snake-like gaze. The Voldemort (remnant soul) gritted his teeth and took the tiniest of sips of the potion.
Then, an unprecedented agony exploded within him!
It was a pain so profound that it could make even the most craven wretch crave the sweet release of death. An incredibly complex, overwhelming surge of negative emotions washed over him in a tidal wave.
He was beyond tears; he'd already wept enough to fill an ocean.
Even the Voldemort (remnant soul) was grudgingly impressed with his own resilience. Just a few drops of the foul concoction had unleashed this torment… and a whole basin of it remained!
He couldn't drink it! He absolutely could not drink it!!!
"Why are you drinking so slowly?! How long must I wait, you worthless thing?! Do not waste my time! Open your mouth!" Tom's voice lashed out, laced with icy impatience. Annoyed, he pressed one hand down on the Voldemort (remnant soul)'s head, seizing the stone bowl with the other and forcibly pouring the potion down his throat.
"Ugh… gulp… sob sob sob…"
The Voldemort (remnant soul)'s already pale face erupted in a grotesque mask of tears and snot, his features contorted by unbearable pain.
Tom remained indifferent, relentlessly scooping up more potion and force-feeding it to his victim.
After managing to choke down a third of the vile brew, the Voldemort (remnant soul)'s body went limp, and he collapsed to the floor. "Is it… finished…?"
"Cease this pathetic prattle! Open your mouth!"
"…"
"Not even half!"
"What?! Not even half?" The Voldemort (remnant soul)'s eyes widened in horror. He had thought he had already endured an eternity of torment. Why had he added so much to it earlier?!
Gazing at the weeping Voldemort (remnant soul), Tom expressionlessly pried his mouth open and resumed the agonizing process.
When only a third remained, the Voldemort (remnant soul) was hovering on the brink of unconsciousness, only a feeble croak escaping his lips, "I… I can't drink anymore…"
Tom ignored the plea, his only concern the relentless consumption of the potion.
"Drink! Drink it all!" Tom not only disregarded his victim's protests but actually accelerated the pace, scooping up the potion with increasing urgency.
In truth, the Voldemort (remnant soul) had regretted his defiance after the first mouthful. He now wondered if he could have avoided this torment had he not angered Tom in the first place.
He had never imagined that he could experience such terror at the prospect of displeasing someone.
The Voldemort (remnant soul)'s consciousness grew increasingly hazy, desperate to escape into oblivion, but the excruciating pain stubbornly held him back. Even if he were to lose consciousness, the sheer intensity of the agony would likely drag him back to wakefulness.
As the potion in the stone basin dwindled, the Voldemort (remnant soul) could only manage a series of pathetic, pained "ooh-ooh" sounds.
"Open your mouth." Tom expressionlessly scooped up the last bowl of potion. "One bowl left."
"…"
The Voldemort (remnant soul) lay motionless on the ground, his face ashen and still.
"Well." Tom sighed, feigning a hint of regret, and half-squatted beside the Voldemort (remnant soul). "Actually, I have no choice in this matter. Beyond forcing this potion upon you, I have no other means of acquiring Slytherin's Locket."
"…"
Do you honestly believe I'm gullible enough to fall for that pathetic lie?
If I could simply hand it over, why couldn't you take it yourself?!
The Voldemort (remnant soul), who had been teetering on the edge of oblivion, was instantly jolted back to consciousness by a surge of incandescent rage.
"So, I fear I must inflict this suffering upon you." Tom, seemingly oblivious to the Voldemort (remnant soul)'s inner turmoil, casually pried open his mouth with one hand. "After all, if you do not suffer, I will."
Hearing Tom's chilling words delivered with dispassionate calm, the Voldemort (remnant soul) could only watch helplessly as he was forced to swallow the final bowl of potion.
"Drank it all… not a single drop left."
Tom chuckled, casually tossing the stone bowl back into the basin. "It seems possessing Quirinus Quirrell has granted you some unexpected resilience, hmm? How remarkable that you managed to endure this ordeal."
He glanced once more at the Voldemort (remnant soul) sprawled on the ground, remarking, "It appears you have narrowly escaped death… once again."
Without further action, Tom left the Voldemort (remnant soul) untouched, making no attempt to seize the fake "Slytherin's Locket" from the stone basin.
Instead, he Apparated away.
"…"
Witnessing this departure, the Voldemort (remnant soul) became even more convinced that Tom had simply come to torment him.
His excuse regarding the locket was nothing more than a flimsy pretense!
Although he could not fathom why Tom had spared him once more, he felt certain with conviction, He will regret this!!!
I absolutely must kill him!!!
Madness and rage threatened to consume him, but he forced himself back to reality, sitting bolt upright and frantically looking around to ensure that Tom was not eavesdropping this time. Only then did he release a shaky sigh of relief.
"…"
With a prolonged, shuddering sigh, the Voldemort (remnant soul) laboriously struggled to his feet and gazed at the locket resting in the stone basin.
This was his only consolation: Tom had neither destroyed his Horcrux nor taken it.
Although he could not understand Tom's motivations, it was, undeniably, for the best.
The Voldemort (remnant soul) picked up the locket and touched it, immediately sensing that something was amiss.
Why did this vessel lack the familiar tether of his soul?
Intrigued and wary, the Voldemort (remnant soul) examined it more closely, then opened it, discovering a neatly folded note concealed within.
Completely bewildered, the Voldemort (remnant soul) extracted the note, unfolded it, and read…
To the Dark Lord: I realize that I will likely be dead by the time you read this, but I want you to know that I have discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible. I face death head-on, hoping that when you meet your match, you will once again be mortal. R.A.B.
"…"
The frustrated scream echoing from the veins bulging on the Voldemort (remnant soul)'s bald head and throughout the island followed, "Damn it!"
…
Back at Hogwarts.
Tom happened to encounter the returning Death Eaters just outside the castle walls.
"Sir… Professor Tom!" Malfoy practically leapt off his Nimbus 2000 and bounded excitedly towards Tom. "This time, I defeated six goblins!"
"Good, good…" Tom offered Malfoy a perfunctory compliment, then pointed at Harry and announced to Malfoy, "From this moment forward, he is your second-in-command. Your second-in-command."
"Huh?" Malfoy scratched the back of his head, utterly perplexed. What did he mean by "second-in-command is Harry and yours?"
So, whose second-in-command am I, anyway?
"What? Are you not satisfied with this reward?" Tom raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "Weren't you eager to become second-in-command?"
"That's right." Still completely baffled, Malfoy stammered, "But… how can second-in-command be two people simultaneously?"
Hearing this, Tom gave a knowing smile, shook his head slightly, and clapped Malfoy on the shoulder. "You will understand in time."
With that cryptic statement, he strode into the castle. His heightened magical senses had already alerted him to the fact that Albus Dumbledore was patiently waiting for him in his office.
That old fool just loves to pontificate.
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