But the decisions at hand were not theirs to make.
To the two old wizards, Voldemort's remnant soul—a "Legendary Wizard" himself—possessed formidable power, perhaps even surpassing them individually. Though the margin was slim, subduing him required their combined effort. Capturing him without collateral damage to the Ministry of Magic was nearly impossible.
As for Voldemort's remnant soul, Tom's Anti-Apparition Spell negated any chance of a quick escape. Fighting two "Legendary Wizards" head-on was suicidal; without Apparition, he was trapped!
Only one option remained… incinerate the Ministry of Magic with Fiendfyre!
Destroying the curse's vessel would nullify the curse itself! But time was of the essence; hesitation could prove fatal.
Voldemort's remnant soul could hardly ignore the Ministry ablaze—his own men were stationed there. Yet, unleashing Fiendfyre would inevitably kill many of them… recapture would mean certain doom. Tom would likely not tolerate another failure.
"…"
Voldemort's remnant soul clenched his teeth, ultimately unable to commit. The risk was too high!
Dodging another spell, he whirled around, wand raised, bellowing towards the towering shelves, "Prophecy Orbs, come here!"
A cacophony of shattering glass echoed as countless Prophecy Orbs surged towards them like a tidal wave! Voldemort's remnant soul flicked his wand at the two wizards, sending the spheres hurtling!
Dumbledore and Grindelwald reacted instantly, conjuring Protego (Shield Charm) to deflect the onslaught.
"Restore!"
Dumbledore repaired the toppled shelves and levitated the Orbs back into their designated slots.
Grindelwald pursued Voldemort's remnant soul, who had transformed into a wisp of dark smoke and vanished. He knew that without Dumbledore's support, capturing the slippery wizard would be difficult.
In a blink, Voldemort's remnant soul exploited an opening and disappeared around a corner.
"..."
Grindelwald frowned. Voldemort's remnant soul shouldn't have been able to escape so quickly, not without Apparition.
Unless there's a secret passage... He can't be far!
Meanwhile, beneath Grindelwald's feet, inside a narrow pipe, Voldemort's remnant soul—now a large, beady-eyed rat—watched cautiously from below.
Becoming a rat was the right call!
Tom may still see through it, but it was the key to dodging these two old geezers! His pursuers were ignorant of his Animagus transformation. This knowledge gap had bought him at least one escape.
Hearing the footsteps above fade, Voldemort's remnant soul, thoroughly pleased with his cunning, scurried up the pipe even deeper.
...
An isolated island retreat: Voldemort's remnant soul and the House of Lanlock.
"Is something… wrong?" Lanlock ventured cautiously.
"Shut up!"
Voldemort's remnant soul unleashed his frustration on Lanlock, playing the role of the "abusive husband."
Lanlock, the "battered wife," dared not provoke him. The atmosphere was fraught with tension.
Voldemort's remnant soul's crimson eyes narrowed at Lanlock. "Don't you have any questions?"
"..."
This bald man is impossible to read. If I ask, he tells me to shut up. If I don't, he gets angry.
Numb, Lanlock asked timidly, "Did you find it? The… the information we need?"
"No!"
Voldemort's remnant soul exploded. "Those two damned old geezers showed up at the Department of Mysteries! They cornered me! I almost got arrested!"
Lanlock paused, struck by déjà vu. "What do you mean, 'arrested again'?"
"I said almost!"
The bald wizard lunged at the shorter man, resorting to "domestic violence."
After venting his rage, Voldemort's remnant soul regained a semblance of calm. "Anyway, there was nothing useful there."
"Heh, figures."
Voldemort's remnant soul chuckled mirthlessly. "Even I don't know where the other me came from. What could they possibly know?"
"..."
The "broken" Lanlock offered no reply, merely listened.
Though unspoken, their mission was clear.
...
Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's office:
"So that fool went to the Department of Mysteries looking for prophecies about me?"
Tom lounged in Dumbledore's chair, nonchalantly devouring a pastry. "He has initiative, at least."
"Yes, Tom."
Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably, eyeing his occupied chair. "Ahem, Tom, that is my seat."
"It's quite comfortable, actually."
"Then where will I sit?"
"You can stand."
"..."
This kid is as infuriating as ever.
Dumbledore's dark glare caught Grindelwald's amusement.
Dumbledore, ousted from his own chair, tried to reclaim it, "Tom, I am the Headmaster!"
"All the more reason for me to expel you."
"..."
This isn't going to script I'm supposed to be following!
Shouldn't you stand up and hand the chair over?
Dumbledore gave a strained smile. "Tom, you'll regret this."
"..."
At Dumbledore's words, Tom looked up, an unnerving expression in his eyes.
The annoyance faded from Dumbledore's face, replaced by confusion. "Tom, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Waiting for you to leave."
"..."
"Shouldn't you leave and slam the door on your way out?"
"My office doesn't have a door," Dumbledore pointed out, his face darkening. He had no idea where Tom picked up these ridiculous notions.
"Whatever."
Tom straightened up, his tone laced with curiosity. "Professor, what were you really doing at the Department of Mysteries?"
"..."
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a fleeting glance. "Ahem, never mind that."
"Fine."
"You really aren't curious?"
"Didn't you just tell me to mind my own business?"
"..."
Seeing Tom's mischievous grin, Dumbledore, once again exasperated, muttered, "You little rascal, you are exceptionally annoying."
---
The story breathes beyond this page. More waits in the quiet, written and patient. Unlock it when you are ready — it will not rush you.