People under a curse never realized they had been cursed. Even Voldemort, the Dark Lord who had once terrorized all of Britain, was no exception.
So when Old Snake awoke from the illusion and saw the ring on his finger, he didn't look shocked or incredulous.
He was ecstatic!
And more confident than ever!
"Darkness has chosen me."
Raising his hand, Voldemort studied his treasure closely and murmured to himself, his eyes alight with obsession.
Just look at that golden glow. Just look at the magic swirling around it like flames.
This symbol of the Dark Lord's authority was his and his alone!
"Cough, cough!"
In the throes of excitement, Voldemort suddenly broke into a violent coughing fit, spitting out mouthful after mouthful of black blood.
The foul blood splattered across the office floor. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest, and he snapped back to his senses.
Something was wrong!
This body—
What was happening to it? He was visibly growing weaker!
"The ring!"
He had once made Horcruxes and split his soul. He knew a thing or two.
Forcing himself to calm down, Voldemort quickly realized what was causing the problem and hurriedly took off the ring.
The curse was interrupted, and the feeling of weakness vanished without a trace. He struggled to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
But at the same time, an intense emptiness filled him, along with a longing that rose from the depths of his soul.
This supreme treasure was calling to him.
It yearned for the two of them to become one again!
"How could this happen?"
Staring blankly at the ring in his palm, Voldemort spoke in a numb, mechanical voice.
The feeling of being in control of everything had been torn from him. The pain was even worse than splitting his soul!
"I understand. It wasn't because of me!"
After pondering for a long time, Voldemort suddenly saw the answer. His face bloodless, he clenched his teeth, disappointment plain in his yellow, slit-pupiled eyes.
That was it.
It had to be.
There could only be one reason!
Quirinus Quirrell.
The loyal servant who had brought him out of the Dark Forest.
He was simply too weak.
It made sense. How could a mortal body withstand such immense power?
"I have to find a new body, a stronger one. No, no, I—I need to be resurrected!"
Who could compare to him?
The answer was surely no one.
Rather than go to all the trouble of finding a body worthy of this authority, he would be better off returning to the world as its master.
But Voldemort knew—
It wouldn't be easy.
At least—
He couldn't do it alone.
He needed a little help.
Running a bloodstained finger over his ring, Voldemort gradually formed a plan.
The Philosopher's Stone had once been his best option, but plans had changed. He no longer wanted to take things slowly, quietly building his strength under Dumbledore's nose and playing at hiding in plain sight.
"I have my power back. I need fear no one."
With an entranced look, Voldemort slipped the ring back on. His expression was both pained and mad.
Gather the Death Eaters. Assemble an army.
It was time to announce the Dark Lord's return to the world!
Sometimes, Klein really did think he was a genuinely good person.
Just look at it.
Sure, Voldemort had been played for a fool, but he had also regained his freedom!
The world was Old Snake's oyster.
As for the symptoms caused by the curse growing stronger by the day—
Well, that wasn't important.
Having dealt with the problem, Klein cheerfully hummed a tune as he headed for the Slytherin Common Room.
But he didn't get far before Dumbledore sent him a message.
"Klein, where are you? What happened to the Troll?"
The old man's voice rang in his mind. He sounded much more relaxed than before.
"The Troll has been taken care of. Don't worry, the students are perfectly safe."
After reassuring him, Klein gave a relaxed smile, then asked knowingly, "What about you, Headmaster? Are you and the Head of House all right? Voldemort didn't do anything to you, did he?"
"Mm. Everything's fine on my end, too."
After a brief pause, Dumbledore's voice carried both relief and deep concern.
"Voldemort is very cautious. He didn't show himself.
"But I don't want this sort of thing to happen again. I can keep an eye on him nine times, but if he slips away from under my nose just once, the consequences will be beyond my ability to handle."
The last time Klein and Dumbledore had spent ages discussing things in the Headmaster's Office, the two of them had taken turns keeping an eye on Voldemort.
No matter how thorough you were, there was always a slip.
They both wanted to use Voldemort to achieve a certain goal, but they couldn't keep their attention on him twenty-four hours a day.
Just like this time. Dumbledore had taken his eyes off Voldemort for only a short while, and it had led to a catastrophe.
Thinking about it now, the old man still felt a lingering chill.
"Uh... about that, I don't think you need to worry anymore."
Klein hadn't expected his little act of revenge to solve Dumbledore's problem as well. His expression turned a little strange.
"What do you mean?"
Dumbledore was puzzled.
Was this one of those rare cases where you cut meat without a knife and fork, or where a sleepy person happened to find a pillow?
"Well, after I took care of the Troll, I sneaked into Quirrell's office. I heard Voldemort say with my own ears that he was going to leave Hogwarts Castle and look for opportunities elsewhere."
He hadn't literally heard it, but the thoughts conveyed by the slave mark were truer than pure gold.
Of course, he couldn't tell Dumbledore that.
"What? Voldemort is leaving the castle?"
Dumbledore's voice suddenly grew urgent.
But soon, he regained his composure, and his calm took on a grave edge.
"No, we can't let him leave the castle!"
Dumbledore feared Voldemort would cause havoc and hurt students. But he was just as afraid of losing track of him and letting events slip out of control!
"Don't worry, Headmaster. Our plan won't change."
Klein knew what the other man was worried about, and smiled to put him at ease. He didn't need to get so worked up.
If he could tell the truth, he would have loved to let Dumbledore know that Voldemort was much easier to control now than before.
"No, Klein, you don't understand.
"I'm sorry, but we have to call off the plan. We need to eliminate this dangerous man."
Dumbledore had agreed to stage a scene at the London Magical Summit.
It had served his own private interests.
But this incident had sounded an alarm.
He had been too arrogant—so arrogant that he'd thought he and Klein could work together and guarantee everything would go smoothly.
Clearly, he'd been wrong!
"Uh... all right. If you're still worried, give me the day off tomorrow. I'll take care of everything."
Seeing that he couldn't persuade Dumbledore, Klein sighed and gave a wry smile, scratching at his eyebrow.
He'd have to plan this carefully.
Otherwise, he'd lose his chance to build his reputation.
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