That night, Firenze the centaur paid a visit to Hogwarts under cover of darkness.
No one knew what he and Dumbledore had discussed, but when Firenze left, Dumbledore's expression was extremely strange, as if he'd eaten expired candy.
The old man had never imagined that the successor he'd had such high hopes for had quietly become the Magical World's greatest enemy.
The key thing was...
He'd actually given his approval.
So Old Deng was, it seemed, an accomplice too?
Strangely enough, ever since losing the Magic Ring, Voldemort's physical condition had improved day by day.
His back didn't ache, his legs didn't hurt, and even catching rats in the sewers took less effort~
But the improvement came with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.
That damned Ministry of Magic had stolen his precious treasure.
He would never forgive them!
"The Ministry of Magic. The Department of Mysteries."
Voldemort repeated those words through gritted teeth, his filthy face twisted into a snarl.
Back when he was powerful, he'd dealt with the Ministry of Magic plenty. He knew all the ins and outs.
Those two Aurors clearly weren't ordinary Ministry employees. That left only one possibility.
The Department of Mysteries!
Only they had the strength to pull off something like that.
Of course, the Dark Lord, at the lowest point in his life, had no idea that the Magic Ring hadn't actually been taken by the Department of Mysteries. It had simply been returned to its rightful owner.
It was all a misunderstanding.
That day, Klein had driven off the two Aurors from the Department of Mysteries without bothering with the unconscious Dark Lord.
When Voldemort woke and saw his bare finger, he naturally assumed that the Ministry of Magic had stolen his possession.
As for why they hadn't taken him...
Was that