A Fleeting Glance

"You need a rabies vaccine and a tetanus shot. We'll do a blood test before that, it's safer."

The doctor said softly, patting Harry's arm from time to time to help the blood flow faster—he was too thin, his veins were too small, so the doctor had to do this.

"O-okay."

Harry said, lowering his head and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

He didn't dare to look at his arm because he saw the doctor holding a very large blood bag, which made him suspect the doctor intended to drain all his blood.

"Don't worry, child, I just want to run a few more tests for you. It'll be quick."

The doctor said while keeping an eye on the blood bag.

Further away, Pochis stopped Dursley and pointed at Harry from a distance before starting a conversation with Dursley.

Dursley clearly wasn't very concerned about Harry. He glanced over and then stopped paying attention to him, continuing to chat with Pochis.

After a while, the doctor had drawn enough blood—any more might have jeopardized Harry's life.

"Go get your shot now. Don't be afraid, you're a brave child."

After speaking, the doctor stood up, took the blood bag, and left. Harry was then taken by a nurse, quickly got his shot, and left.

Meanwhile, the doctor was already following a pre-determined route towards Voldemort's location.

"We're approaching the next video junction. I'll shift my attention first, then you."

Voldemort cautiously gave the order and shifted his gaze to another camera feed. Only when he saw the doctor did he speak, "Transfer complete. You transfer too."

They took turns like this, ensuring that one of them was always observing the doctor.

Click.

The door was pushed open, and the doctor walked in.

"Sir, it has been according to..."

"Obliviate."

With a wave of his purple-shirted wand, the doctor's eyes instantly glazed over. Then, she turned and, without understanding, left the way she came.

The blood bag in her hand had already been levitated to Voldemort's side using a spell.

"An enemy's blood..."

He murmured softly, using magic to lift a drop of blood from the bag and sprinkle it on his exposed ankle...

Sizzle...

Like a drop of water hitting a hot pan, the ankle was instantly scorched with intense heat. The pain made Voldemort gasp.

"The real thing."

Voldemort said with a smile, then looked at Danylis, "Help me, Danyi."

"As you wish."

Danylis nodded and took out an ancient wooden jar from her magic robe. "Pour the blood into it."

Voldemort acted immediately, pouring every last drop of blood from the bag into the jar.

Danylis quickly put the lid on, then bit her finger and drew a bloody, evil pattern on the ancient wooden jar. The jar then seemed to be bound by something, making creaking sounds.

"Is this it?" Voldemort asked curiously.

This was a method used by Primitive Faction Vampires to preserve old blood, which he had borrowed to preserve the vitality of Harry Potter's blood for future use.

"Vampire magic is all Bloodline Magic. Besides consuming blood, it's not as troublesome to use as Wizard magic," Danylis said.

Voldemort nodded and carefully took the jar, placing it in his robe pocket—which, besides this jar, also contained some bones.

"No harm done. It seems I was being overly cautious."

Voldemort said, letting out a long breath. His gaze happened to fall on the very center of the television wall, where the street of Magnolia Crescent was displayed. And now...

Streetlights were extinguishing one by one. The way they went out was highly unnatural, as if their light was being drawn away by something, sliding towards a corner of the street.

Voldemort's eyes widened. He cautiously leaned closer to the unclear image, vaguely seeing a floor-length purple robe and half of a foot in a buckle-fastened high-heeled boot from that corner.

Danylis looked at Voldemort, puzzled, and noticed he had suddenly become alert, as if ready to explode at any moment.

"Hoo..." In the end, Voldemort just sighed.

But then he quickly unplugged all the cameras, took all the recording tapes, bound them in his hands, and finally turned off all the recorders.

"Get me out of here, use Apparition. Anywhere is fine," Voldemort said immediately after finishing, grabbing Danylis.

"Now?" Danylis asked, confused.

"Now, immediately, right now."

Voldemort's voice grew louder, and he became more and more violent.

"Okay." Danylis wasted no more time and directly Apparated, taking Voldemort with her.

Bang.

The figures of the two vanished from the apartment as if they had never been there.

"What did you see?"

The mountain wind howled, but Danylis didn't mind. She merely asked Voldemort, "Dumbledore."

There was nothing to hide, Voldemort said directly.

"Dumbledore?"

This time, it was Danylis's turn to be surprised.

If I had known it was Dumbledore just now—she didn't dare to think further.

"Where is this?" Voldemort scanned the mountain scenery and asked curiously.

"I like to come here to space out," Danylis said after a pause. "It's very primitive here, I like it a lot."

Voldemort nodded. The Primitive Faction hated modernization; they were indeed a bit old-fashioned.

"There's someone there." Voldemort pointed towards the mountainside, where a fire glowed.

Danylis frowned and looked, then quickly smiled—a Vampire's eyesight was always excellent—she said, "It's a shepherd boy. Five or six years old, I always see him."

"Herding sheep in the middle of the night?" Voldemort asked, puzzled.

"He must be in trouble. He's very clumsy and always loses his sheep. I have to help him find them every time."

After speaking, Danylis looked at Voldemort. "Can I go help him?"

"Of course, let's go together," Voldemort said without hesitation.

After a brief moment of heart-stopping fear, he was sure he needed to do something to make himself happy—this would be a good way to alleviate the guilt from showing cowardice upon first seeing Dumbledore.

That fear came from the depths of his soul, partly due to Voldemort's remnant soul acting up, and partly due to Lin Zuo's fear stemming from their opposing identities—facing the White Wizard, the combined soul was clearly not as brave as he had imagined.

The two walked down the mountain. As they got closer, they saw the shepherd boy, dressed in clothes that were clearly too big for him—Voldemort felt the child looked a bit familiar.

"XXX, XXXX..."

Danylis began speaking a language he didn't understand, somewhat like the language near the Albanian Black Forest in Voldemort's memory.

After Danylis finished, the child cried and babbled a lot in a language Voldemort still didn't understand.

"Let's help him find his sheep. How about Accio?" Voldemort asked.

Danylis looked at him, and to Voldemort's surprise, her emerald green eyes held sadness.

"What's wrong?"

"He said..."

Danylis rubbed her eyes as if trying to dry the moisture within. "His beloved grandfather died because of the war. He's very sad, so he hid here."

Voldemort was surprised, but then guessed that this must be the border between Croatia and Serbia. As far as he knew, only here was experiencing conflict.

"This damned war," he muttered softly.

"Child, your grandfather will be watching you from heaven. Those stars are..."

Before he could finish, Voldemort, who had bent down, looked up in surprise and asked Danylis, "What's his name?"

"Him?"

Danylis blinked, but quickly replied, "Modric, Luka Modric. He shares the same name as his grandfather."

"Modric, so it is you..."

Voldemort's eyes fixed on the crying child. Indeed, the more he looked, the more he resembled the midfield maestro he was familiar with.