The man died with startling swiftness and decisiveness. Adrian's casted Sectumsempra flew like an invisible arrow of death directly into his chest cavity, piercing through his clothes, flesh, and bone to reach his frantically beating heart. His heart stopped its rhythm instantly, as if someone had simply switched it off.
There had been no alternative but to end his suffering, no merciful path that could have spared his life.
With such deep and long-term Imperius Curse control dominating every aspect of his consciousness, even if the curse could somehow be lifted through extraordinary magical intervention, his brain would have already deteriorated beyond any hope of recovery.
The prolonged mental domination would have reduced his mind to little more than formless mush, destroying every trace of the person he had once been before Voldemort's influence corrupted his spirit.
Moreover, Adrian's intuition warned him that if he didn't finish this business quickly and decisively, far greater dangers would soon be waiting for him.
When the curse struck its intended target, the man's entire body trembled violently as if struck by lightning, every muscle contracting in a final spasm of agony.
The terrible pain that had been etched across his face instantly froze into a cover of permanent suffering before his eyes slowly lost their focus and glazed over with the unmistakable emptiness of death.
He collapsed backward against the rough tree trunk with a soft thud, his remaining hand falling limp at his side, finally falling into the eternal silence that had been his only possible escape from torment.
Adrian observed this tragic scene with quiet solemnity.
However, just as he began moving forward to approach the corpse and dispose of the corpse in a manner that wouldn't compromise Hogwarts' security, something deeply abnormal and thoroughly unsettling began to occur.
The Dark Mark on the flesh of the man's remaining left arm suddenly began to squirm, its black lines twisting and swelling as if they were living serpents trapped beneath the pale skin.
In the blink of an eye, those writhing dark lines actually began extending up from the corpse's arm, stretching through the air like reaching tentacles. They twisted and intertwined with purpose, gradually outlining the unmistakable outlines of a sinister human face—a face that Adrian recognized with certainty as belonging to Voldemort.
The phantom face formed entirely of concentrated dark magic slowly appeared in the space above the cooling corpse, its features becoming increasingly distinct and terrifyingly real.
Pale, snaky skin stretched tight over sharp cheekbones, while the absence of a normal nose created a skull-like appearance. Most disturbing of all were the eyes—crimson pupils that burned with fury as they locked directly onto Adrian's position.
"Ahhhh..." came a voice like winter wind scraping across tombstones, each tone dripping with cold malice that seemed to lower the forest temperature by several degrees. "Adrian Westeros... I know you quite well indeed..."
"The feeling is entirely mutual, Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle," Adrian replied calmly, allowing a slight smile to curve his lips.
Strangely enough, during the tense moments before Voldemort's supernatural appearance, Adrian had indeed felt a growing sense of unease and worry. But now that his face truly hung in front of his eyes, he instead experienced an inexplicable sense of relief washing over him like cool water.
After all, Voldemort had no way to cause him physical harm through this ethereal manifestation, did he? At least not in his current weakened state.
Besides which, Adrian reasoned, the current Voldemort was almost certainly using this Dark Mark connection merely as a method of long-distance communication.
Upon hearing his despised birth name spoken aloud such casually, Voldemort's ghostly face suddenly contorted in the air for a moment.
"Hahaha," He suddenly released a laugh that sounded like breaking glass mixed with the cries of tortured souls, then continued in a voice completely lacking of any human warmth or emotion. "You show remarkable boldness for one so young. Apart from that fool Dumbledore, it has been many long years since anyone dared to speak that name in my presence."
"So, tell me," Adrian said, smoothly changing the subject, "what exactly is your current state of existence? Are you nothing more than a lonely, drifting soul, wandering between life and death without purpose or substance?"
Voldemort chose not to respond to this sharp question about his obviously weakened circumstances, perhaps recognizing that any answer would only emphasize his current weakness and vulnerability.
"It will not be much longer now..." His voice emerged like a serpent's threatening hiss, carrying bone-chilling malice that seemed to seep into the very air around them.
"My return to power draws near with each passing day. You would be wise to spend your remaining time living in constant fear—for when I achieve my resurrection, you shall have the honor of being my first sacrifice upon the altar of my new strength!"
Before his ominous words had even finished echoing through the forest, the face hanging in the winter air began to distort and lose solidity, its features blurring like ink dissolving in water.
Within moments, the entire supernatural manifestation slowly dissipated into nothingness, finally disappearing completely as if it had never existed at all.
Only the corpse remained on the forest floor.
The Dark Mark was still clearly visible on the dead man's left wrist, its black lines now motionless and ordinary-looking, having apparently not diminished or disappeared following Voldemort's exit.
Regarding the threats that Voldemort had just delivered with such menace, Adrian felt no trace of fear or anxiety—if anything, he found the entire performance somewhat baffling and anticlimactic.
Had the once-mighty Dark Lord really gone through all that trouble, utilizing precious magical energy and complex dark arts, simply to deliver what amounted to a ghostly threatening message?
The whole show seemed rather petty and inefficient for someone who had once terrorized the entire wizarding world.
Completely incomprehensible behavior, really.
However, at least one significant fact had been definitively confirmed through this encounter: he was indeed being specifically targeted by Voldemort and marked for future retribution.
This development fell well within his expectations and previous calculations.
After all, he had already made an ineradicably deep impression on the Dark Lord during Harry's first year, when their paths had first crossed in ways that Voldemort would neither forget nor forgive.
Add to that troubling history the fact that Adrian had already succeeded in locating and destroying quite a number of Voldemort's precious Horcruxes—though this particular accomplishment hadn't yet been discovered by.
Given these circumstances, they were unquestionably destined to be mortal enemies locked in a struggle that could only end with the complete destruction of one or both parties. This seemed not only reasonable but inevitable.
But there was one crucial factor that Voldemort had failed to account for in his arrogant calculations...
Adrian's eyes narrowed with cold determination as he contemplated the changed circumstances of this timeline.
With his continued interference in the established course of events, he absolutely refused to believe that Voldemort could achieve his resurrection as easily as in the original story.
After Voldemort had completely dissipated into the air, Adrian used a practical Transfiguration charm to create a sturdy canvas sack from fallen leaves and broken twigs.
He then unemotionally wrapped the cooling corpse within this improvised sack and began the journey back toward the Hogwarts Castle.
By this time, Rita Skeeter should have already been delivered to Dumbledore's office by Harry and his friends.
He also needed to transport this corpse to the headmaster and provide a complete explanation of the extraordinary events that had just happened in the Forbidden Forest's depths.
However, he suspected Dumbledore probably already knew about this dark wizard's existence.
Because Dumbledore knew everything!
Well, that was a joke.
He did remember Dumbledore mentioning during previous conversations that detection magic existed throughout the interior of Hogwarts Castle, monitoring for various forms of magical disturbance and unauthorized intrusion.
However, Adrian remained uncertain about whether such protective measures extended to the grounds surrounding the castle, particularly areas as remote and dangerous as the Forbidden Forest.
These thoughts occupied Adrian's mind as he dragged the canvas sack along the forest paths, his boots crunching through accumulated layers of fallen leaves while his breath formed small clouds in the cold air.
When he finally reached the corridors of the castle's interior….
"Oh my, what exactly are you dragging there, Professor?" came a cheerfully mischievous voice from somewhere high above his current position.
Adrian looked up to discover his old acquaintance Peeves the Poltergeist hovering near the corridor's ceiling.
Peeves appeared as energetic and troublesome as always, his face twisted into an expression of delighted curiosity.
As Adrian had observed and lamented many times before, although Peeves had received quite a number of disciplinary lessons from him over the years, the irrepressible poltergeist still hadn't managed to restrain his naturally chaotic behavior.
He continued to cause mayhem and disruption on a regular basis, often acting up with deliberate provocation right under Adrian's nose.
Like this moment, for instance—Peeves had obviously become intensely interested in the mysterious sack that Adrian was dragging behind him, and his curiosity would not be easily satisfied or deflected.
For ghosts or "semi-ghosts" like Peeves, checking what was inside a box or bag was quite convenient.
They only needed to stick their head inside.
Before Adrian could stop him, Peeves had already put his head into the sack.
The corridor fell silent for a moment as Peeves conducted his examination.
"...?"
"...!!"
After Peeves withdrew his head from the sack and returned to his hovering position, his usually mischievous expression underwent a rapid transformation, cycling through three different reactions rapidly.
"Pro... Professor..." Peeves's voice suddenly became unusually shrill and high-pitched, lacking any trace of his usual confident swagger. "What's contained in there is..."
"Oh, just a corpse," Adrian replied calmly with casual indifference. "Nothing particularly worth making a fuss about, really."
Peeves immediately released an ear-piercing shriek and performed three complete somersaults in the air, spinning like a supernatural acrobat experiencing a complete nervous breakdown.
"Relax yourself, Peeves," Adrian said with a shrug of his shoulders. "You're not actually alive anyway—a simple corpse shouldn't be particularly terrifying to someone in your current state of existence."
Upon hearing this logical observation, Peeves immediately stopped his panicked aerial gymnastics and froze in mid-somersault, his ghostly face suddenly shifting from terror to embarrassment.
"Just kidding around!" He burst into his distinctive laughter.
"You know exactly what I expect from you," Adrian continued in a more serious tone. "I sincerely hope you won't spread word of this incident around the castle."
"I understand completely!" Peeves immediately made an exaggerated zipping motion across his mouth with one finger, though his mischievous eyes were already rolling with glee.
Then, naturally and predictably...
"The Professor killed someone!" He began shouting at the top of his voice as he zoomed away down the corridor with speed.
"The Professor killed someone!"
"The Professor killed someone!"
His gleeful announcements echoed and faded into the distance as he disappeared around a corner, undoubtedly heading toward areas of the castle where he could find the largest possible audiences for his sensational news.
Adrian released a long, weary sigh.
Never mind—he couldn't be bothered dealing with that creature.
The students surely wouldn't take Peeves's words seriously anyway.
Apart from Peeves, Adrian didn't encounter anyone else on the way—most students were in class, leaving the hallways relatively empty and peaceful.
When he finally reached the base of the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office, his mind began conjuring up every candy name he could possibly remember from his knowledge of famous British sweets.
Just as he opened his mouth to begin trying potential passwords, starting with the most obvious choices like "Chocolate Frogs" and "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," the door suddenly swung open with a soft creak.
It seemed that Dumbledore had already detected his coming and decided to spare him the tedious guessing game.
Adrian climbed the spiral staircase and when he reached the office door at the top of the tower, then pushed it open and walked into the familiar circular chamber.
Inside the headmaster's office at that moment, Dumbledore sat leisurely behind his desk, holding a lemon drop between his fingers, smiling as he looked at Adrian who had just entered.
Rita Skeeter sat rigidly in an armchair to the side, her exaggerated green robes now looking wrinkled and disheveled.
"Ah, Adrian," Dumbledore received him cheerfully. "Would you perhaps care for a sweet? I have several varieties available."
"I don't believe I'll have much of an appetite for sweets just now," Adrian replied in an offhand manner.
With a casual wave of his wand, he directed the sack to float through the air and settle in the center of the office's carpet.
The sack's opening immediately slid apart under magical direction, automatically revealing the pale, lifeless corpse contained inside.
The dead man's face still maintained their final expression of absolute terror, his eyes staring sightlessly at the office's ceiling while his mouth hung slightly open in a silent scream that would never be completed.
Almost immediately, the smell of spilled blood began filling the entire office atmosphere.
Rita Skeeter took one horrified look at the revealed corpse and let out a piercing scream that could probably have been heard three floors away.
She nearly launched herself completely out of her chair in her panic, her hands flying up to cover her eyes.
"This... this... this is..." she stammered desperately, her voice rising to near-hysteria as she became completely incoherent with shock and horror.
________________
You can read more chapters on:
patreon.com/IamLuis