The pain was unbearable.
No matter how many potions Snape brewed, no matter how many spells he casted, the agony only grew worse. It was as if Dante's curse had woven itself into his very soul, gnawing at him from the inside. The Dark Lord's once-imposing figure was now hunched and trembling, his pale skin slick with sweat. He could no longer ignore the truth—he had to retrieve his Horcruxes.
His first destination was the Gaunt Shack. The dilapidated house stood as a grim reminder of his heritage, its walls crumbling and its windows shattered. Seeing it, Voldemort's heart sank. Someone had been here and broke his defences.
Panic surged through him as he rushed inside, his red eyes scanning the room frantically. The floorboards creaked under his weight. His gaze fell on the hiding place of the ring, and for a moment, he feared the worst. The ring was not there, but then he noticed it was thrown to the side like some garbage, he sighed in relief, his trembling hand reaching out to grasp it.
The moment his fingers closed around the ring, he absorbed the soul fragment within. The pain that had plagued him for weeks vanished instantly, replaced by a fleeting sense of relief. But that relief was short-lived.
A memory flooded his mind—a memory that wasn't his own.
He saw Dante standing in the Gaunt Shack along Lucius Malfoy, unlike his silver eyes, his were grey. Dante had been here, moments away from destroying the Horcrux. But he hadn't. Instead, he had left it intact, not caring who was the owner.
In the memory, Voldemort saw something even more horrifying. Dante had Horcruxes of his own, and he was retrieving them. The words Dante had spoken echoed in Voldemort's mind: "I won't destroy someone else's Horcrux. Who knows? They might be on the right track."
What did that mean?
The memory continued, and Voldemort saw something else—Dante said that Dumbledore was wielding the elder wand. Wasn't that just a fairy tale? If not, then how much of Dumbledore's power came from the wand itself? Voldemort needed to know.
Another detail caught his attention. In the memory, Dante looked a year or two younger than he did now. If Dante's strength was still on par with Dumbledore's, then perhaps the two of them together could stand a chance against him.
Voldemort's mind raced. He had to find Dumbledore. He had to convince him to join forces.
Voldemort Disapparated, leaving the Gaunt Shack behind. His next destination was the cave near the orphanage where he had hidden the locket.
The cave was as he remembered it—dark, damp, and foreboding. The lake stretched out before him, its surface eerily still. But as Voldemort approached the hidden alcove where the locket should have been, his heart sank.
It was gone.
In its place was a fake locket with a note, written in a mocking script:
"To the Dark Lord,
I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.
—R.A.B."
Voldemort's scream of rage echoed through the cave, shaking the very walls. The locket was gone. Stolen. And with it, a piece of his soul.
He clutched the note in his trembling hand, his mind racing. If someone had stolen the locket, how many of his other Horcruxes were at risk? He had to find them—all of them. If he didn't, Dante's curse would consume him, and he would die a slow, agonizing death.
With a final, furious glance at the empty alcove, Voldemort Disapparated, his mind set on his next destination. He would retrieve his Horcruxes, no matter the cost. And then, he would find Dumbledore.
___________
The air in the dimly lit room was thick with tension. Voldemort sat at the head of the long table, his red eyes glowing with barely contained rage. Around him, his Death Eaters sat in silence, their faces pale and their eyes downcast.
Bellatrix Lestrange stood before him, her dark eyes gleaming with pride. In her hands, she held the Hufflepuff Cup. "My Lord," she said, her voice trembling with reverence, "I retrieved it from Gringotts, as you commanded. And now, I will find the locket stolen by my traitorous cousin."
Voldemort's lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. "You have done well, Bellatrix," he said, his voice low and cold. "Your loyalty is unmatched."
In moments like these, Voldemort truly appreciated Bellatrix. She was fiercely devoted to him, willing to risk everything to serve him. If not for her, he might still be trying to unravel the mystery of R.A.B. and the stolen locket.
But his relief was short-lived.
The door to the room creaked open, and Severus Snape stepped inside, his expression grave. "My Lord," he said, bowing deeply. "I bring troubling news."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
Snape straightened, his voice steady but somber. "The diary you entrusted to Lucius… it found its way to Hogwarts three years ago. It was destroyed."
Voldemort's hand clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. "Destroyed?" he hissed, his voice trembling with fury.
Snape nodded. "And the Ravenclaw Diadem… it was found by Dante Malfoy. The Grey Lady asked him to retrieve it. He destroyed the soul fragment and left the diadem in Ravenclaw Tower."
Voldemort's mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of anger and despair. Dante had known about his Horcruxes all along. The bastard had been toying with him, letting him believe he had a chance.
Voldemort recalled Dante's words: "Resist with all the futility you can muster." The curse Dante had placed on him was designed to kill him slowly, no matter what he did. It was only a matter of time.
His only hope now was to convince Dumbledore to join forces with him. Together, they might stand a chance against Dante. It was a desperate plan, but it was the only one he had.
Voldemort's gaze shifted to Snape. "You will arrange a meeting with Dumbledore again," he said, his voice cold and commanding. "Tell him… We are running out of time, I found that Dante has Horcruxes as well and he is retrieving them. With each one he grows stronger. In the memory I found, Dante claimed he is as strong as Dumbledore but that might not be the case anymore"
Snape nodded, his expression turned grave. "As you wish, my Lord."
As Snape left the room, Voldemort leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He didn't bother trying to use the Malfoys as hostages. A dark wizard as ancient and ruthless as Dante wouldn't care about a random family. No, this was a battle of power, not leverage.
Bellatrix stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination. "My Lord, what would you have me do?"
Voldemort's lips curled into a faint smile. "Continue your search for the locket, Bellatrix. And be ready. The final battle is approaching."
The stakes had never been higher. Dante Malfoy was a force unlike anything he had ever faced. But he was Voldemort and he was not ready to surrender.
The Dark Lord's desperation had reached new heights. He was no longer just fighting for power—he was fighting for his very survival. His last hope rested on the fragile alliance of two mortal enemies.
___________
The Malfoy Manor was quiet. The family of four—Dante, Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco—gathered in the sitting room, their faces serious as Dante explained the measures he had taken to ensure their safety.
"I've placed protective spells on each of you," Dante began, his silver eyes gleaming with calm authority. "These spells will shield you from mortal danger. Additionally, I've embedded a Portkey charm within the spells, the charm can't be blocked by any known ward. If any of you are in grave danger, it will activate and bring you back here instantly."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over his family. "The manor itself is enchanted. No one can harm you while you're inside it. Even if Dumbledore himself were to come here with ill intentions, he would die the moment he harbored any malice toward you."
The other three nodded, their expressions a mix of relief and unease. Lucius asked. "And what about you, Dante? Will you be safe?"
Dante's lips curved into a faint smile. "I'm always safe. But my focus is on ensuring your protection."
His gaze shifted to Draco, who sat quietly, his face etched with concern. "Draco," Dante said, his tone firm but not unkind, "Do not trust anyone at Hogwarts next year. Not your classmates, not your professors. Albus Dumbledore is the type of person who fears the unknown, just like many before him. In his eyes, I am dangerous, and he will try to stifle anything he perceives as a threat."
Draco nodded, though his expression was troubled. "I understand," he said quietly.
Dante's eyes softened slightly. "You're stronger than you think, Draco. Trust in yourself, and in the protections I've given you."
Lucius had told Dante about his conversation with Severus. Dante believed the potion professor was fishing for information and expected that Dumbledore is onto this now but he didn't mind any of it. His name was tarnished and his legacy was misused and withheld intentionally.
[The more they struggle the better, it will be their retribution. No one can stop me now. My soul assimilation is nearly complete. By the time Hogwarts starts next year, I will visit the headmaster to retrieve what is mine] He thought.