NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: chapter 9
Voldemort Apparated into his hotel room, then used a light portal to escape to a distant forest. He would never return to that hotel room, knowing Apparition is traceable.
Still, he wasn't worrid, there was nothing there that could reveal his true identity. The light portal was a unique magic unknown to the world, operating on a different mechanism, making it untraceable.
'That was unexpected!' he thought.
The gang of wizards had been laughable, no challenge at all. So when a small group of Aurors appeared, he decided to test his skills against them.
The Aurors' team chemistry was nonexistent; even their leader was like a monkey with a stick, failing to give proper instructions.
'I know the war against me depleted their ranks, but I didn't expect the Ministry to fill vacancies with just anyone!'
Voldemort had been confident he could escape easily, but he hadn't anticipated someone using a revelation charm against him.
'That witch was impressive. How did she deduce I was using a potion to alter my appearance and use a revealing spell to counter it? Was she aware capturing me was impossible and just wanted to know my true form for later pursuit? Or did she realize that canceling the potion would immobilize me for a moment, giving her a chance to catch me?'
Voldemort chuckled. 'Clever move. What impressed me most was her ability to predict my moves in the latter half. Unfortunately for her, her colleague's push-back spell gave me the opportunity to escape.'
'In fact, she's quite lucky. If my true face had been revealed, I'd have had no choice but to kill them.'
Voldemort straightened his clothes, composed himself, and drank the Polyjuice Potion to resume his previous form. He then used the portal to appear in John Claus's restaurant.
The young chef paced nervously inside the restaurant. When a circle of light appeared, he stumbled in shock and fell to the ground.
John's eyes widened as a shadow emerged. "S… Sir?!"
"John? Why are you on the ground?"
Awkwardly standing, John asked, "Is this a spell? I've never heard of it."
Voldemort, with a hint of amusement, replied, "It's a spell I developed."
"You created a spell? Is that really possible?" John asked, wide-eyed.
"Yes, magic evolves through innovation," Voldemort said, appreciating the chance to share knowledge. "But keep it to yourself."
He thought, ' That's not a problem, the contract ensures he won't reveal anything without permission or he will die.'
Voldemort handed John an enchanted bag. "Your debts are settled. Organize your affairs and prepare. You can keep running the restaurant for a few more days. I'll send an owl when I need you."
"An enchanted bag? Those must be expensive!" John said, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
'These Polyjuice Potions are far more costly, but necessary,' Voldemort mused. As a master potion-maker, the thought of buying a potion of such moderate complexity felt like a personal insult. Yet, he found himself with no alternatives; the potion demanded a variety of ingredients, a fully equipped laboratory, and a lengthy brewing process— Things he simply did not possess at that moment.
Seeing John's confusion, Voldemort said, "If there's nothing else, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Alright, good night, sir… Wait! I don't know your name yet!"
Voldemort chuckled inwardly. 'Curious timing for such a question.' He gave a slight smile and vanished, leaving a puzzled John behind.
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The next morning, Voldemort sat in a sunny spot in a secluded garden, reading the latest issue of The Daily Prophet.
[GRINGOTTS BANK ATTACK! Who could be the perpetrator?]
Voldemort was shocked and quickly scanned the details:
[Last night, a group of unidentified masked individuals attacked Gringotts, resulting in the deaths of several goblins and serious injuries to the dragon guarding the labyrinths and vaults of the bank. The attack ended with urgent intervention from the Auror forces, who scattered the attackers.]
[Gringotts remains tight-lipped about the losses; many depositors are demanding to verify their deposits, but the bank remains closed under the pretext of an investigation.]
Without hesitation, Voldemort concealed his face with cloak and Apparated to a nearby neighborhood, looking at the direction of the bank and activating his Transmigrator Privilege.
'Fortunately, the cup is still in place!'
He returned to the garden, deep in thought. 'I don't recall anything like this in the books. Gringotts was supposed to be impregnable. What happened last night? Did this occur in the original story? I need to relocate the cup quickly; the bank isn't as secure as I believed.'
To calm his nerves, he turned to another article.
[CARNAGE IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY! Seven wizards killed at once!]
[In the search for the escaped bank attackers, a shocked Auror team encountered a heinous crime committed by an unknown wizard. After a fierce battle, they managed to subdue the wizard but were ambushed by three rescuers...]
'They managed to subdue me? I was rescued by three wizards? What nonsense is this?'
Voldemort was astonished by the story. 'Is this the Aurors' story to the Ministry, or a Ministry fabrication for the press to save face?'
[The Ministry believes that this escaped murderer and his accomplices are linked to the bank attackers. Investigations are underway to apprehend the criminals and bring them to justice.]
Voldemort chuckled sarcastically. 'They may be incompetent, but they are good storytellers.'
His mood lifted after reading the absurd article. 'With all these fabricated details, any chance of finding me is obliterated—not that there was any chance, as I'm officially a dead man.'
After reading for a while, he rose and entered a large, vibrant house. Today, he was in Dorset to see his son for the first time.
Voldemort shook his head in disappointment. 'At seven, he's old enough to form opinions. He probably already hates me.'
He delved into his memories. 'I hated my parents, too, for leaving me in an orphanage surrounded by foolish children and a matron who couldn't provide enough for us.'
Determined, he headed to the orphanage. 'I need to see this for myself.'
Introducing himself to the director, he said, "My name is Ewan Eldrin, and I'd like to support your orphanage financially."
The director didn't question the mysterious donor, thanks to a Confundus Charm Voldemort had cast.
Voldemort chuckled to himself; it was the same charm Dumbledore once used to convince the matron to send young Tom Riddle to Hogwarts with pride and confidence.
The director rambled about the orphanage's prestigious history. "As you see, sir, this place was established by Mrs. Maureen during World War II to care for war orphans. Our county was one of the most bombed areas in the kingdom!"
'Was it? I thought it was London!' Voldemort mused.
While the director talked, his assistant prepared the orphans and soon returned. "Now, sir, I won't bore you with more talk. Please meet the children."
Voldemort entered a dining room where tables were pushed aside, and the children stood in a neat line.
"Children, this is Mr. Ewan Eldrin, visiting us today. Please be kind."
"Hello, Mr. Eldrin!" the children chorused.
The children shouted in unison. The director began introducing them and their skills. There were about forty children; Voldemort smiled warmly, though he was largely uninterested—until he reached a particular child.
"This is Adrian Smith, seven years old. He has very high grades at school."
Adrian was a handsome boy with green eyes and long black hair that obscured much of his face. He seemed indifferent, avoiding direct eye contact and showing little interest in the wealthy visitor.
"It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Eldrin."
"The honor is mine," Voldemort replied, momentarily at a loss as Adrian lowered his head, concealing his features.
'Can't he even look at me?' He looked at his son in annoyance as the orphanage director continued to introduce the rest of the children.
In that instant, Voldemort had a feeling that approaching this child won't be easy feat.