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Chapter 350: Home Visit, Voldemort Knocks on the Door
🕑 Added 2025-04-23 17:46:10 +0000 UTCThe Christmas Ball had lasted until midnight.
Though dancing was no small exertion, the young witches and wizards of Hogwarts seemed to carry around their own supply of energy potions. Even after hours on the dance floor, many were still reluctant to stop when the final song ended.
Perhaps, for many, especially the seventh-years about to graduate, this ball would remain one of the most unforgettable moments of their lives.
As midnight approached, younger students, though still brimming with excitement, gradually returned to their dormitories. Only the seventh-years lingered, reluctant to part ways, as if bidding a quiet farewell to their school years.
Regardless, the Christmas Ball concluded perfectly.
December 25th.
The ten-day Christmas holiday officially began.
Though the professors had mercifully refrained from assigning too much homework, the break still left the first and second years feeling somewhat dissatisfied.
Why? Simply because from third year onward, students were allowed to visit Hogsmeade during the day. First and second years, meanwhile, could only remain within the castle walls.
Of course, that "obedience" was relative. The Hufflepuffs might be well-behaved, but no one seriously expected the Gryffindors to be.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had anticipated this.
Caretaker Argus Filch had once again been summoned for active duty, gloomily stationed at the castle’s gates, scrutinizing every passing student with suspicion.
At the same time, the new groundskeeper—Mad-Eye Moody—had been given his own assignment: to patrol Hogsmeade with his magical eye, ready to catch any student daring to sneak past Filch.
But none of this really concerned Ino.
At 9 a.m., after waking and washing up, he returned to the little house in Hogsmeade with Hermione. With the help of Rick, they enjoyed a hearty breakfast, after which Hermione, taking on the role of a proper hostess, began enthusiastically decorating the upstairs rooms.
As noon neared, Ino lay on the couch in the living room, the fire crackling gently in the hearth.
Since Hermione had moved in, the house had gained a distinct warmth, both in atmosphere and in feeling.
It was unclear exactly what she was doing upstairs, but in just three hours, she’d gone out four times—each time returning with bags full of decorations or supplies.
Lying half-asleep on the couch, soothed by the ambient sounds of the fire, Ino’s eyelids gradually drooped.
Then the living room clock struck twelve, chiming exactly twelve times.
“Noon already…” he muttered, eyes still half-closed. “Rick, prepare lunch. Something light—we overdid breakfast.”
But no reply came.
Rick didn’t appear either.
Ino immediately sat upright.
Knock. Knock knock.
A rhythmic knocking echoed from the front door.
He rose and walked toward the door.
With a soft click, he opened it—and froze.
A man in black robes stood outside. His face was pale, hairless, and serpentine, with slitted red eyes and a flat nose.
Yes. Voldemort had come calling.
And—absurdly—he was holding a gift bag, looking for all the world like someone paying a polite Christmas visit.
“Good afternoon,” Voldemort said smoothly, his tone disturbingly elegant. “Forgive the sudden visit. But I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we?”
At the same time, Ino silently tried to summon his phoenix. But to his shock, neither Brighid nor Fide appeared.
Voldemort seemed to sense this.
Placing one hand theatrically on his chest, he gave a slight bow. “Apologies—I may have made a few minor adjustments to the surrounding area. I came with good intentions, after all. It would be such a shame if the host of the house couldn’t greet me in person.”
As he spoke, the clear skies over Hogsmeade began to darken. Snowflakes drifted down, and a cold wind howled through the air. Shadows at Ino’s feet lengthened unnaturally, as if reaching toward him. A misty black fog started to rise.
“Is someone at the door?” Hermione’s voice rang out cheerfully from upstairs.
Instantly, the snow lightened, and the shadows receded as if they'd never been.
“No one important! Just stay upstairs,” Ino replied evenly. With a wave of his hand, the stairwell door froze shut with a thin layer of frost.
Voldemort watched in silence. Only once the door was sealed did he speak again.
“Won’t you invite me in?” he asked. “I even brought your favorite—cream toffee from Honeydukes.”
Ino let out a slow breath, then stepped aside.
“Fine. Come in, senior.”
There was nothing he could do. Voldemort had clearly done his homework—not just on Ino’s preferences, but also on the house’s protections, the timing, even how to suppress phoenixes.
From Hermione upstairs to Dumbledore who had left the night before, everything had likely been factored into this visit.
Voldemort stepped inside without hesitation, placing the Honeydukes-branded paper bag on the nearby tea table.
“You may not eat it,” he said thoughtfully, “but I must admit, Mr. Ferrum’s work hasn’t changed a bit. Still just as exquisite.”
Ino dropped onto the sofa, feigning casual conversation.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he said. “But what surprises me even more is how good you look.”
He wasn’t making idle chat. He was buying Hermione time.
Upstairs.
Hermione had initially ignored the exchange, still caught up in arranging garlands.
But when she turned back and noticed frost etching itself across the door with glowing runes that spelled out:
“Go out the window. Get out now. Burn the feather—Brighid will take you back to the castle.”
—her expression changed instantly.
Without hesitation, she drew her wand and crept toward the window.
The house, being a two-story Victorian-style cottage, wasn't especially tall—no more than three or four meters from the second floor to the ground.
Still, to avoid making noise, she carefully cast a Transfiguration spell, turning a rope into a soft ladder.
She secured it to the window, lifted her robes, and slipped one leg out onto the windowsill.
Meanwhile, downstairs…
Ino pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning internally.
From the corner of his eye, he’d seen the rope ladder flung from the upstairs window. It even tapped against the glass with a soft clink.
Not loud, no—but unfortunately, today’s guest wasn’t someone prone to missing details.
And sure enough, Voldemort spoke up, his tone still maddeningly calm.
“You really could’ve just let her use the stairs. I promise you—I’m only here to talk.”
Ino didn’t respond immediately.
He waited—watching until Hermione’s silhouette vanished from the window—then exhaled slowly.
“Well then… thank you for your generosity.”
He looked Voldemort directly in the eye.
“Now—let’s get to the reason for your visit.”
