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[HP] 77: Want Me to Let You Out for a Look?
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 15:55:02 +0000 UTCSeeing the scene before him, Louis was immensely relieved he hadn’t risked it all just because the Dog Talisman made him immortal.
Who knew if that immortality could even protect against soul-based attacks? Louis had zero interest in testing that out on himself.
As Voldemort’s soul fragment within the Ravenclaw Diadem devoured the Acromantula’s soul, black mist began to surge once again from the crown—this time, far more menacing than when it first appeared.
Judging by the ominous energy, the Horcrux-Voldemort was getting a little too restless.
Louis looked up at the diadem, and in the next instant, twin beams of starlit lightning shot from his eyes—piercing through the black mist with thunderous speed and slamming directly into the crown.
The diadem was sent flying, slammed against the wall, and bounced back to land at Louis’s feet.
Though the crown itself remained undamaged, the black mist swirling around it had thinned out considerably.
“Let that be a warning. Don’t mistake me for someone easy to mess with. Killing you would be effortless—only question is whether I feel like it,” Louis said calmly.
Voldemort seemed enraged. The black mist surged as though ready to fight back—but at that exact moment, a finely-crafted national treasure-tier sword pinned itself beside the diadem, and a faint glow appeared on Louis’s finger. The Goat Talisman symbol flickered in his eye.
“What do you think would happen if I expelled your soul from the Horcrux? Would it still protect you?” Louis said with a hint of malice.
The black mist shrank into itself anxiously. Voldemort could feel the soul-repelling power radiating from Louis’s fingertips—just getting near it made his essence feel rejected, as if forced away by some primal force.
“…What do you want?” Voldemort asked. He sounded defiant, but there was a hint of fear in his voice.
“Me? I don’t want anything,” Louis said lazily from his moon-silver chair. “I just pity you—a Dark Lord, defeated by a baby. That’s beyond pathetic, don’t you think?”
“I… I really died? Killed by a newborn?” Voldemort fell silent, then asked in disbelief.
“Dead as dead gets. Ask any wizard and they’ll tell you—Voldemort was defeated by the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.”
“…That’s just what you say. I’ve only met you. Maybe I should go see for myself,” Voldemort said in a low voice.
Louis snorted. “You think I’m some child you can fool?”
Voldemort didn’t respond. He hadn’t expected to talk his way out so easily—but still, he felt a sting of disappointment.
To his surprise, Louis suddenly changed tone. “But, I could give you a chance. I’ll let you inhabit someone temporarily. You’ll see the world through their eyes. How about it?”
This fool—was he too confident, or just plain stupid?
Voldemort was ecstatic. “Agreed!”
“Just remember, we have a deal. No running off, or there will be consequences,” Louis said, smiling sweetly.
“Of course. I, Voldemort, always keep my word,” Voldemort said with conviction.
And so, he found himself pulled from the Room of Requirement, merged into the body of a Slytherin student, and through that boy’s eyes—he saw the one who had destroyed his true body: Harry Potter.
A mere child who hadn’t even fully learned magichow could this boy have defeated him?
But whether it was the memories of this Slytherin host or the rumors whispered throughout the school, it was clear: it was true.
The original Voldemort was dead. Killed by a baby.
“…Then the body was weak. I am the real Dark Lord now,” whispered the soul fragment of Voldemort.
He bewitched his host, instructing him to gather fresh souls for power. Then he seized control of the student’s body entirely.
With a physical form restored, the Horcrux-Voldemort spent months devouring the souls of Muggle-born witches and wizards, planting evidence to frame a certain “strange student.”
When that student was caught up with Dumbledore, Voldemort escaped from Hogwarts.
“If I can just find my old followers and make them help resurrect me, I’ll surpass my original self and become the true Dark Lord.”
Free at last, the Horcrux laughed wildly beneath the moonlight.
“That student was powerful, yes—but far too young. He actually believed me.” Voldemort took a deep breath and sighed blissfully. “Ah, the taste of freedom… truly intoxicating.”
“But before anything else, I’ll need to find the other Horcruxes. Knowing myself, I must’ve created more than just this one. Once I absorb them, I’ll regain my full strength quickly.”
He sneered. “Horcruxes can be remade—but chances like this only come once.”
Just as he stepped beyond the Hogwarts boundary and prepared to Apparate, a wave of weakness struck him.
“…Wh–what? I just devoured dozens of souls! How—?”
Voldemort collapsed to the ground, horrified to find himself losing control of the body he had possessed.
He was being drawn back—like a tape rewinding, like a spirit being sealed.
No. No. No.
He was returning to the Ravenclaw Diadem.
Back to the darkness. Back to the silence. Back to imprisonment.
“No! NO!” Voldemort howled in despair, reaching out toward the freedom just out of reach. “I was so close! I could’ve escaped—!”
Then, a horribly familiar voice rang out:
“You’ve been naughty.”
The world twisted like a vortex, sucking Voldemort’s awareness inward. When he came to, he was right back inside the Ravenclaw Diadem. It had never left the Room of Requirement.
And standing before him was that infuriatingly handsome, annoyingly smug face—Louis—his star-like eyes gleaming, holding a wicked-looking scroll in one hand, the same scroll that had just drained Voldemort’s soul power.
“You really don’t like playing by the rules, do you, Mr. Voldemort?” Louis said with a cheerful grin, not even pretending to hide the gloating in his voice. “You even tried to frame me for your little murder spree. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
Voldemort’s voice trembled as he asked, “So… it was all fake?”
“That’s right. Fake—but very convincing, wasn’t it?” Louis said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So tell me, Mr. Voldemort… how did that sweet, sweet taste of freedom feel?”
***
