Late at night, a stranger in a black cloak appeared out of nowhere outside Little Hangleton village.
By the faint moonlight overhead, one could vaguely make out the familiar face beneath the hood. Peter Pettigrew, a former recipient of the Order of Merlin and now a fugitive wanted by the entire Ministry of Magic, cautiously scanned his surroundings. After confirming that no one had followed him, he quietly slipped into Riddle House.
About half a year ago, Frank, the gardener of Riddle House, had vanished here without explanation, leaving no trace behind. It was as eerie as the Riddle family's natural deaths in their home half a century earlier.
After Frank the gardener disappeared, no one had been willing to set foot in the "cursed" Riddle House.
"Master?"
Peter Pettigrew used his wand to open the door to Riddle House. Amid a creak, he slipped into the pitch-black rooms and softly called for the Dark Lord.
This was the only place Peter could think of where Voldemort might have come. As for returning to Albania Forest, he thought that was unlikely. After all, the Dark Lord's most loyal servants were still around, and he could make a comeback.
Peter Pettigrew made a circuit of the house but still found no sign of the Dark Lord. Just as he was considering whether to keep waiting or flee England to escape trouble, a cold, hoarse, utterly emotionless voice suddenly sounded behind him. "Wormtail, I thought you had already run away."
"Master, I have always been utterly loyal to you." Peter Pettigrew lowered his head obediently.
"What utter loyalty? You are merely a coward."
In truth, Voldemort had been quite excited when he saw Peter Pettigrew. He had thought Dumbledore had destroyed everything he had painstakingly prepared.
Once he lost all his helpers,