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Chapter 34: Interlude 2.
🕑 Added 2025-03-07 07:34:25 +0000 UTCCelestial Ascendancy
Chapter 34: Interlude 2.
Little Hangleton.
Peter Pettigrew.
During the first task.
The Riddle House was as cold and unwelcoming as ever. Ever since Master started his plan to obtain his new body, I couldn’t help but feel a looming end for me. My fingers twitched in nervousness, a tick that I obtained during the years at Hogwarts and only got worse when I lived as a Rat with the Weasleys. The reason for my nervousness was the boy who was with Iris Potter during our first meeting the past year.
Elias Blake.
Just thinking the name sent a shiver down my spine. I had seen his performance in the arena and the way he faced down the Hungarian Horntail with a calmness that bordered on terrifying. A dragon was a force of raw power and fury, and it had been nothing more than a particularly stubborn opponent to him. The way he moved, the precision of his spells, the sheer control he had over his magic… it was unlike anything I had ever seen.
I could name with fingers to spare the death eaters capable of such a feat in one hand, but I couldn’t do the same. Most Wizards couldn’t do it, no matter how they tried. And now I saw a boy, not even an adult, defeat such a beast by himself. There was a reason why Dragon Handlers was a job. Normal people needed a group to keep a dragon from rampaging.
And now, he was coming for me.
My breath hitched as I recalled the look in his eyes after the incident last year. The year everything changed for me. Living in obscurity wasn’t easy, but I had grown used to it, and that blasted Sirius ruined it for me. When I saw news about his escape from Azkaban, I was worried, but I didn’t think he was insane enough to look for me. How he found out about my existence still confused me, but everything crumbled when I learned he was in school.
I tried to escape, but that blasted cat stopped my grand plan, and I was grabbed by Sirius.
I had my eyes on the kid, Elias, even before that moment. He wasn’t Ronald Weasley's friend, but I could see him watching me curiously every time he was nearby. He didn’t do anything, but his eyes were far sharper than the usual boy his age.
There had been no fear, no hesitation—only cold, calculating detachment. It was as if he already knew about me, but that was impossible. If he did know, why had he not done anything during the first two years? No, that was ludicrous. But the look in his eyes during the event of the shrieking shack was burned into my mind. I wasn’t afraid of death; I already knew the future for someone like me if my Master was defeated, I wasn’t at peace with it, but it didn’t scare me that much. In truth, I almost welcomed it.
I knew how the Ministry worked, and if they grabbed me someday, the Minister wouldn’t waste time getting a Demetor sicked on me. It would be scary, but a fast death. No, those eyes showed me that I wasn’t afraid enough for my well-being. I would die, of that, there was no doubt, but what made me have a cold sweat was what the boy would do to me before he killed me. I saw hatred in his eyes, but… it wasn’t the same as the girl; Iris looked at me with burning anger; he was cold.
Across the room, my Master sat in his chair, his skeletal form draped in dark robes. He was no longer in the body of a baby. He had used a really dark ritual provided by the Hexxenatch to obtain a temporary body to move around without needing my assistance. Obviously, it wasn’t a perfect fix since the body rotted fast. Master needed a fresh stream of muggle bodies daily to extend the duration, but at least he could move.
The longer he used magic, the faster the body deteriorated so that at least was good news. It meant that I wasn’t tortured every day. He had to be careful with his movements but could do things without my aid.
"You disappoint me, Wormtail," Voldemort said, his voice a low, deadly hiss. "To think that a mere boy could reduce you to such a pitiful state."
I flinched, my voice trembling as I stammered, "M-my Lord, you saw what he did to the dragon. He’s not just any boy. He’s... he’s dangerous."
The sneer deepened, but there was something in his gaze—caution, perhaps, or even a hint of respect. "Dangerous, yes," he admitted, "but not invincible. Do not forget, Wormtail, that I am the greatest wizard ever. No child, no matter how talented, can stand against me."
I could see Voldemort watching the replay of the task cautiously. I didn't know the story of my Master, but I genuinely doubted he could do the same as the boy when he was his age. It was a scary thought, considering how powerful Voldemort was and knowing a kid who had it against me had even more potential than him… no, I didn't want to imagine it. My only hope was that the new magic Voldemort was practicing could help him defeat the scary kid.
Oh, there was no doubt that Elias Blake was strong. But he was no Voldemort, not right now. Maybe in the future, he could match my Master, but for now, I had complete assurance that Master would emerge victorious in a fight between them. The kid had even less chance if the rest of the Death Eaters were present.
I nodded quickly, but my stomach churned with doubt. I didn’t doubt Voldemort’s capabilities, but the kid was improving alarmingly. I reminded myself of the times I saw him perform spells in class. He was always cut above the rest; the only ones who could somewhat match him were Iris and the bucked-teeth girl from the Gryffindors, the niece of the DMLE head, and the blond girl of Slytherin. But even then, all of them were cut above the rest. They reminded me of Bella, Sirius, James, and Remus. Lucius and Severus could be counted too. If nothing changed, I was sure they would be the backbone of Wizarding Britain by the time they were in their twenties. That was how much potential they had.
A laugh rang out from the corner of the room—high, cackling, and filled with amusement. Walburga was watching me with gleaming, crazy eyes. She leaned forward in her chair, her fingers drumming against the armrest as she gloated about my fear.
"Oh, this is delicious," she said, practically vibrating with glee. "A boy who can take down a wyvern? And he’s coming for you, Wormtail? I almost wish to stick around to see how this plays out."
I shot her a glare, though there was no real conviction behind it. "This isn’t a game," I muttered. "If he finds me, he’ll kill me."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don’t be such a bore. Where’s your sense of adventure? Besides, if you’re so scared, why don’t you just run? That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?"
Heat rushed to my face, shame twisting in my gut. I said nothing. Running was an option, but I knew it wouldn’t save me. The kid was relentless. He had resources, allies, and a sharper mind than I had ever encountered. That, I learned well last year. He knew how to counter my plans before I even started them. If I didn’t know better (and hated it passionately), I would believe he was a Seer.
"Enough of this pointless chatter," Voldemort’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Wormtail, your fear is unbecoming. If the boy comes, he will be dealt with. But for now, you will focus on your tasks. Do not fail me again."
I nodded quickly, but my mind raced. I couldn’t shake the image of Elias standing victorious over the dragon; his wand raised triumphantly. He was a force to be reckoned with.
As I sat there, trembling in the shadows of the Riddle House, one terrible thought took root in my mind.
Betraying James and Lily Potter had been a calculated move—a desperate bid for survival. But now, faced with the wrath of Iris Potter and Elias Blake, I couldn’t see a way to live if Master was defeated. No, I had to do my best to ensure Voldemort was victorious.
Walburga grinned from her seat. “I knew I wasn’t wrong to trust my instincts. The kid is special in a way the rest of you aren’t,” she said, making a moaning sound that made my body shiver. "While weak, that ice magic reminds me of the Ice Princess.”
The sneer that accompanied that name made my hair behind my neck stand upright. I trusted my instincts as a coward and kept my mouth shut.
“Who?” Voldemort asked sharply, “Is that hesitance I hear in your voice, Magician?”
“Don’t speak about things you know nothing about, worm,” Walburga snapped. "You have no idea how big the world is. The Lavina Reni would squash you like the bug you are by breathing in your direction.”
“She has a Longinus Level Sacred Gear, the same level as mine. I already explained this, and you barely know the kind of power we can unleash whenever we want,” she continued irately. "You are nothing compared to the true horrors this world has.”
Voldemort felt silent at that. Walburga explained about the supernatural world some days ago, and I couldn’t wrap my head around what she said. It was scary how small we were.
According to her, I could be labeled as a mid-class magician, but the difference in how we use magic made that system iffy. Wizards were special, according to her. In a way people didn’t understand correctly. She didn’t know how wizards were formed thousands of years ago. Still, she was sure there was something peculiar about us. The way the wizards could affect the world differently than the norm, even if our strength had dwindled with the ages.
Either way, Master and Dumbledore could be considered at the peak of the high class, all the way to the top. Still, neither of them had entered the ultimate level of the class like Walburga. Something along the lines of their bodies being incapable of housing that amount of magic without bursting.
Considering that most Wizards hated physical training, it was no wonder no one managed to reach it. Not that it would be easy, but it was interesting.
“I wasn’t wrong,” Walburga said thoughtfully. “I’m excited about the boy’s performance. It was a good move to put him in the limelight. I wonder if he has supernatural blood in him—that would explain a few things. A shame I can’t watch him closely without attracting attention.”
She stood up slowly from her seat before clapping her hands. “Do whatever you want while I’m gone. I’ll return for the second task to see how the kid does.”
During the Second Task
“Hah, the kid would get along with the devils,” Walburga snickered as she put the newspaper down. “Getting a harem when that practice is frowned upon? Nice start.”
“He is wasting his potential on carnal desires,” Voldemort scoffed. “If I were him, I would spend all my time training my magic, not wasting it on girls.”
I stayed silent. Sure, I was surprised that James’s girl was in a relationship with two people, but it didn’t matter to me. Who she was with had nothing to do with me. If it wasted their time—the time they could be training—all the better.
“My Lord,” a timid voice spoke from the floor.
The man was haggard, his arms marred with a few burnt patches of skin.
Nott hadn’t taken my advice. He lost control when Walburga mocked Voldemort. The Dark Lord had tasked me with finding more help for his ritual, and I had offered Nott. He wasn’t important to the Ministry right now—not like Lucius.
Lucius was being watched too closely. Amelia Bones wasn’t a fool—she knew the Imperius excuse was complete hogwash, so she kept a close eye on the man who had used it and still became so close to the Minister.
No, Nott was the best option. He was competent enough not to mess up the plan but insignificant enough that no one would ever question his whereabouts.
“What do you want, Nott?” The Dark Lord snapped as Walburga prepared the spell.
“Why are you watching the tasks? Is that not beneath your notice?” Nott asked timidly. He was still afraid of the madwoman—not that I could fault him.
“Walburga is interested in the boy,” Voldemort hissed. “And knowing what your opponent can do is useful.”
“But he cannot compare to you, my Lord,” Nott whispered. “He’s just a Mudblood.”
“Silence,” Walburga snapped. “My Elias is worth more than the rest of wizarding Britain combined. I’ve been watching him whenever I could, and he is special.”
“And when will you explain your findings, Walburga?” Voldemort asked, clearly irritated.
I was just as curious. The woman always cooed about the boy but never explained why. Was he really that special? He had potential, sure, but what about him caught the attention of someone like Walburga?
“You’ll see during the task,” Walburga replied coyly before deadpanning. “What the fuck is this?”
The screen showed a bird’s-eye view of the lake, with the crowd cheering on the benches around it. But inside the water? Nothing.
I mean, the kid was doing well. He was walking atop a frozen path toward the lake's center, but there was nothing exciting about the task.
“This is pathetic,” Walburga scowled. “I don’t know why I expected better from your lot.”
With a flick of her wrist, the scrying spell moved toward Elias, who jumped into the lake after eating a plant and glancing at his fingers.
“Gillyweed,” I nodded in appreciation. I always liked potions, and it was nice to see someone actually using magical plants like this.
“Clever,” Voldemort grunted.
The spell followed Elias as he entered the lake, swimming toward the bottom with surprising speed. Gillyweed helped, but it was obvious he was stronger than he looked.
“Look, look!” Walburga squealed. “Finally, something exciting.”
A group of Grindylows approached the boy, intent on causing harm. I recoiled at the sight. The beasts were ugly, and they attacked in groups. Underwater? I doubted I could escape without a couple of injuries.
The first creature lunged from the shadows, its teeth bared—only for the kid to materialize an ice shard in his hand without moving his wand.
“What?!” Nott shot up. “My Lord, he isn’t speaking, and he’s not even using his wand!”
“I can see that,” Voldemort snapped. “Did he learn silent casting and wandless magic after the first task? Preposterous. No, he was feigning.”
“Oh, my Elias,” Walburga squealed from her seat, her expression alight with delight. “I knew it. You’re special.”
“You didn’t know about this?” Voldemort asked acidly.
“No, no,” Walburga shook her head, her mad grin widening. “But he’s getting better and better.”
We watched as the boy willed strands of light into thin threads, sending them directly at the creatures swarming him.
“Two elements,” Nott muttered, “and light to boot?” His face twisted in unease. “My Lord, we should kill him before he grows stronger.”
Voldemort’s wand snapped toward him. “Are you doubting me?” His voice was razor-sharp, dripping with malice. “I am LORD VOLDEMORT, FOOL. A mere child cannot survive against me if I wish him dead.”
“I’m sorry, my Lord! I’m sorry!” Nott begged pitifully, pressing his forehead to the floor.
I just watched in silence.
Nott wasn’t wrong.
Elias was growing alarmingly strong, and no one had noticed. Without Walburga, we would’ve been in the dark about his capabilities. We would have been distracted by Iris while Elias became even stronger.
This was bad.
I couldn’t help but feel grateful that Walburga had sought Voldemort out.
“This is perfect,” Voldemort murmured, almost to himself. “Iris and the Light side will suffer when I string his body across Diagon Alley.”
“You will not harm him.”
The deadly whisper sent every nerve in my body into overdrive. Shit.
I threw myself to the floor a moment before the weight of Walburga’s power slammed into us.
The temperature in the room spiked violently. The usual musky scent of the Riddle House evaporated in an instant. The wooden floor groaned as if the house itself was protesting against her presence.
Purple embers flickered in the air, curling around the Magician’s figure like living serpents.
Voldemort did not move, but I saw the subtle shift in his stance and the readiness in his frame. He was tense.
I could feel my own cold sweat disappear as if it had never been there.
“You will not kill him,” Walburga’s voice was quiet, yet the house trembled beneath its weight. The very air around us distorted from the sheer presence of her magic.
I forced myself to breathe.
Walburga wasn’t stupid, but she was prideful. If this turned into a fight, Nott and I would be ash before we realized what had happened. But she couldn’t kill Voldemort without expending massive power, and a battle of that caliber made noise.
She had to avoid a direct confrontation if she wanted to remain in the shadows.
Nott had gone stiff, his face twisted in horror as he whimpered into the floor, tears escaping his eyes before they evaporated.
Voldemort sneered. “Ah, but you sought me, Walburga,” his voice was sharp but tense. “Why is the boy important?”
Walburga smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Because he’s interesting, and I want to learn more.” She tilted her head. “Diamonds only form under pressure, after all. Rough him up if you must, but I want him alive.”
Voldemort’s lips curled into something between amusement and irritation. “Very well,” he said, though the promise of future retribution lingered in his tone. “For now.”
Walburga’s grin sharpened. “I will take Iris Potter during the third task.”
She laughed softly.
“I want to see how he reacts… when he finds the body of the love of his life in the graveyard.” Her eyes gleamed darkly, “I’ll take her to the graveyard personally.”
Comments
InfinityReads99
True... its even worse when they are stronger than you lol. If you are the strongest you can keep them in line at the very least.
Lictor Magnus
Uh-oh, getting a yandere’s attention is bad for your health and the health of your loved ones 😬
