"Drink it!"
Riddle forced the poisonous spring water down Winky's throat. She dared not resist, but her mind began to blur—she shook her head weakly, tears spilling from her bulging eyes.
"No—my old master—"
She mistook Riddle for old Barty, her trembling voice filled with remorse and sorrow.
"Winky shouldn't have—shouldn't have let young master go—but they all said—the Dark Lord was dead—"
"Drink it!"
The fire within Riddle's heart flared again; her delirious words had pierced him like a blade.
The Dark Lord was dead?Ha. He was very much alive!
At that moment, the black lake suddenly stirred. Something within it seemed to awaken, rippling the surface that had moments ago been smooth as glass.
Riddle glanced downward. Of course, he knew exactly what lay beneath that lake.The surface churned violently—pale heads and skeletal hands broke through the dark water. Men, women, even children—all with hollow, sightless eyes—rose slowly toward the rocky island: a tide of corpses emerging from the depths.
Inferi.
They were his creation—thousands upon thousands of them—wizards and Muggles alike, though mostly Muggles. Otherwise, he would have had to slaughter every witch and wizard in Britain to reach such numbers.
These countless Inferi formed Voldemort's third barrier, left to protect the Horcrux.
No one—not even Dumbledore—could hope to escape them after drinking the poison.
That was why the Inferi remained still until the cursed spring had been drained.
Now, Riddle flung Winky aside. The swarm of black, ant-like corpses surged forward, tearing her apart and devouring her flesh. She did not resist—almost as if she were welcoming death.
More and more Inferi crawled from the lakebed, skeletal hands gripping slick rock, hollow misty eyes locked on Riddle. Their tattered, water-soaked robes dragged behind them; their sunken faces twisted with scorn.
Riddle lowered his eyes as though gazing upon filth. With a flick of his wrist, Fiendfyre burst from his wand—raging flames towering several meters high, forming a blazing ring that encircled the island.
The fire burned even upon the water's surface. Its fury was such that the Inferi dared not approach, their instincts driving them back. Countless others were trapped beneath the surface, unable to rise.
After that one cold glance, Riddle ignored them entirely. His eyes fell upon the now-dry basin—
A locket engraved with a serpent lay quietly within.
A smile flickered across his face—then froze.
"Fake!"
He ground his teeth, fury exploding inside his chest like ignited gunpowder.
His right hand clenched the imitation Slytherin locket so tightly his knuckles turned white.
They had stolen his Horcrux—and replaced it with a cheap counterfeit. An insult beyond forgiveness.Dumbledore wouldn't have done this. Was it you, Charles Gold? You filthy Mudblood!
For several minutes, he stood motionless before finally forcing his anger down. He lifted the false locket and examined it closely. Compared to the real one, it was smaller, rougher, lacking the ornate serpent-shaped "S" emblem of Slytherin. Inside, wedged into the portrait frame, was a single folded scrap of parchment.
"You dare provoke me?"
His voice was ice. Whoever had done this had truly enraged him. He unfolded the parchment—
"To the Dark Lord,
Before you read this, I am already dead.But I want you to know—I discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as possible.
I risk my life in hope that, when you meet your equal,You will be destroyed.
—R. A. B."
"R.A.B… Regulus Arcturus Black? It was you?"
Upon reading those words, Riddle's fury turned to disbelief.
Regulus had once been a protégé he valued greatly—not only for his pure-blood lineage, but for his intelligence and loyalty, which had pleased Voldemort immensely.
Even the complex protections around this Horcrux had been crafted with the help of Regulus's house-elf. The irony was exquisite—the very one he trusted had betrayed him.
No matter how he reasoned, Riddle could not fathom why Regulus would turn against him.
After all, even the cleverest mind could not comprehend how a pure-blood wizard might show compassion for a house-elf.
"Regulus… I heard he died long ago," Riddle muttered. "Did he destroy the Horcrux—or not?"
Destroying one was simple enough—all it took was Fiendfyre.
But Regulus's early death left a glimmer of hope: perhaps the locket survived.
"He could have taken it—but not escaped this place alive," Riddle reasoned, eyes narrowing toward the fiery lake. "The Horcrux might still be down there—in the hand of some dead Inferius."
Finding it, however, would be nearly impossible.
Tens of thousands of corpses—how could he search them all?Wait—
His pupils reflected the flickering flames, his face suddenly pale.
The Fiendfyre he had unleashed… could it have destroyed the Horcrux?
Riddle quickly withdrew the cursed fire. If Regulus hadn't destroyed it, and he had done so instead—that would be the greatest humiliation imaginable.
"No… I can't simply assume it's still there," he muttered. "A single assumption isn't enough. Not for one who fears death."
A man willing to split his soul six times would never entrust his immortality to mere chance.
Yet now, he could no longer forge another Horcrux.
He had been reborn from one; his soul was too fractured to divide again.
Still, his original body might manage it.
Riddle was certain—since he himself still existed, the true Voldemort could not have perished. Giovanni's Rocket forces may have destroyed the body, but the soul surely clung to something, waiting to rise again.
If possible, Riddle would find his original fragment—Not to assist it, but to consume it. The Horcrux path to immortality, he now knew, was riddled with flaws.
The Gaunt Ring was gone. The locket's fate was unknown. Ravenclaw's Diadem awaited confirmation from Barty Jr. And Hufflepuff's Cup…
"Bellatrix is dead, too," Riddle murmured. "So much for reliability."
But a new path now lay before him—
—The Legendary Pokémon!
"The memories that Dumbledore of the Pokémon world showed me… If I can seize their power, the world itself will be mine! Immortality would be nothing but a trivial bonus!"
He took a deep breath.
Without the barrier of fire, the Inferi swarmed once more, sealing the tiny island completely. Even the small boat was overturned.
Riddle swung his wand in a sweeping arc—every Inferius nearby lost its head. Then he pressed the wand forward—
BOOM!A deafening blast carved a vacuum around him, reducing nearby Inferi to dust.
"Begone, filth!"
He conjured a different flame—one not fierce enough to harm a Horcrux, but more than enough for the dead. Vast waves of fire surged across the black lake, rolling and roaring.
The Inferi recoiled again. The fire split like a parted sea, its brilliance turning the dark water even darker.
Riddle picked up a fragment of Winky's remains and plunged headfirst into the lake.
The water was icy—not in temperature, but in soul-piercing chill. Every inch of skin felt as though stabbed by a thousand silver needles.
He had no choice.
Flight was impossible here; even Apparition failed. With the boat destroyed, swimming was his only option.
Dim firelight shimmered underwater as the Inferi sensed life and surged toward him like sharks.
Holding his breath, Riddle struck them down again and again. It took great effort to reach the stone gate—exhausted, he pressed a piece of Winky's flesh against it. The door drank the blood greedily—
—and opened.
Riddle emerged beneath the starlit sky, standing atop a massive boulder, his robes dripping. Moments later, steam rose from his body, drying him instantly. The elegant Riddle once more.
He sat upon the rock, deep in thought.
"Whether the locket is destroyed or not, I'll treat it as if it is."
A sharp crack split the air.
Riddle turned—Barty Crouch Jr., wearing Lockhart's face, appeared nervously.
"Master—"
He approached cautiously. "Master, I searched everywhere. There is no rusted diadem."
"You searched thoroughly? Summoning Charms won't work there."
"I turned over every inch!"
"I see." Riddle nodded slowly, expression darkening.
He hadn't expected the Room of Requirement—such a hidden place—to be discovered. It could only mean the Diadem was gone for good. Yet strangely, he wasn't angry anymore. The Horcruxes no longer seemed important.
"Go back," he ordered. "Stay at Hogwarts. Befriend that Mudblood—or kill him. And Harry Potter as well. However he defeated me before, he remains a threat."
He handed Barty the diary. Now that he possessed a true body, its destruction no longer endangered him. But since Barty lacked Parseltongue, he still needed the diary to open the Chamber and command the Serpent King.
"I understand, Master."
Riddle dismissed him with a wave and vanished.
He had another matter to confirm.
In a shadowed corner of Knockturn Alley, cloaked Riddle appeared soundlessly. He altered his appearance to avoid recognition—but the moment he landed, several dark wizards noticed him.
"Boy—"
A hideous old witch leered at him. Her pockmarked face twisted in a grin; black teeth gleamed between warped eyes—clear signs of long exposure to dark magic.
She set her sights on the youthful stranger.
"Come here, child. I've got something special for you…" she cooed.
"What is it?" Riddle asked smoothly, feigning curiosity, his eyes gleaming. He played the role of a naïve student perfectly. Who would suspect that this innocent-looking youth was once the dreaded Dark Lord himself?
The witch's grin widened as she dragged him into an empty alley, the other dark wizards watching with envy.
Moments later, Riddle stepped out, expression calm, carrying a large bag of Galleons.
"Wretched creature," he muttered coldly.
Crossing from Knockturn Alley, he entered Diagon Alley—the first time in decades.
Memories of his student days flickered like ghosts, but he felt no nostalgia.
Expressionless, he walked to the shining gates of Gringotts.
Gold and marble gleamed everywhere; the goblins' greedy eyes lit up as they spotted the heavy bag of coins in his hand.
"Sir, you are—?"
"I'd like to deposit some money. Open a vault for me," Riddle said coolly.
"This way!" the goblin exclaimed, enthusiasm bursting forth at the word deposit.
Yet when they reached a secluded corner—
"Imperio!"
The goblin's eyes glazed over.
"Tell me—has the Lestrange family vault been opened recently?"
"Malfoy… opened it," the goblin mumbled.
Lucius Malfoy.
The greatest traitor among his followers.
(End of Chapter)