At the cost of half his body, Voldemort blocked Wayne's Killing Curse and fled the battlefield.
For a Dark Magic master like him, restoring his physical form was hardly difficult. Whether seizing flesh and blood from others or creating his own through Dark Magic, it was trivial to him.
But who was Voldemort?
Being ambushed by Lawrence was an unbearable humiliation. Voldemort attributed it to his recent resurrection, his power not yet fully restored to its peak.
Yet this reasoning brought him no comfort. Seizing the opportunity, he subjected his body to another dangerous magical transformation. Only now, with both halves not yet fully fused, did he appear in such a grotesque state.
Upon recovering, Voldemort didn't immediately reveal himself.
The situation remained unclear—none of his goals had been achieved. The Minister for Magic wasn't dead, Harry Potter wasn't dead, and he himself was injured.
If the Ministry of Magic dispatched swarms of Aurors to hunt him down, cooperating with Dumbledore and Lawrence...
Well, even someone as arrogant as Voldemort had to admit that the hundreds of Killing Curses from last time had made him feel the breath of death. Wayne now possessed the power to threaten his life.
Facing a joint assault from the old and the young, even he couldn't withstand it.
But what terrified Voldemort most was the emergence of another version of himself.
Peter Pettigrew had been by his side for a year, yet he'd noticed nothing amiss. Barty Crouch Jr had also betrayed him, inexplicably attempting to kill him.
These upheavals led Voldemort to suspect whether all his followers had turned against him. Trusting no one, he shelved his plan to summon the Death Eaters.
Only days later, after reading the scathing reports in the Daily Prophet and observing the still-calm wizarding world, did he gradually regain some courage to move about.
After surveilling the Malfoy family for several days and confirming no issues, he paid them a visit.
There were multiple reasons for seeking out Lucius Malfoy first, but the primary one was rage.
He'd entrusted Tom Riddle's Diary to Lucius for safekeeping, yet now another version of himself had been resurrected.
Voldemort didn't believe Lucius had the capability or means to orchestrate this, but since the diary had been in his possession, he was still to blame.
After subjecting Lucius to brutal torture, Voldemort learned the full story and confirmed that Lucius had no ties to his other self.
Only then did he settle into the manor, summoning other Death Eaters.
This gathering only deepened Voldemort's hatred for Wayne.
He'd expected to rally over fifty followers—all former cowards who'd escaped the Ministry's punishment—though they'd barely suffice. Yet only twenty-odd showed up.
It dawned on him then: the rest were either dead or imprisoned in Azkaban by Lawrence.
Staring at this pitiful handful of followers, Voldemort completely lost his composure. His grand ambitions upon resurrection gave way to patience.
After all, he'd endured for so many years—what was a little longer?
Lucius humbly reported the latest intelligence he'd gathered from the Ministry.
This was precisely why Voldemort had sought him out first. At the Ministry of Magic, the Malfoy family had extensive connections, particularly maintaining close ties with Fudge. Even if their loyalty was questionable, Voldemort was confident his power would keep them in line.
"Master, Fudge is currently focusing all his efforts against Dumbledore. This is the fourth time he's been summoned for questioning this week."
"How fortunate I didn't kill that fool back then."
Voldemort let out a chilling laugh. "Who knew he could prove so useful?"
Lucius fawned, "Your brilliance knows no bounds, Master. A hypocrite like Dumbledore would never directly oppose Fudge. He can only passively endure the Ministry's harassment, leaving him no energy to pursue your whereabouts."
The first part pleased Voldemort immensely, for he'd always considered Dumbledore the worst kind of hypocrite.
With such formidable power, yet pretending to be a harmless old man, now he was reaping what he'd sown.
But as Lucius finished speaking, the Dark Lord's serpentine pupils narrowed to slits.
"Are you suggesting I fear Dumbledore?"
"AAAAAH!"
A piercing scream filled the room. Narcissa clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her own cry. Draco trembled violently as he watched his father writhing on the floor.
He wanted to rush forward, but Narcissa held him back with desperate strength.
"No, Draco, don't."
"M-master, I meant no such thing!" Lucius begged between gasps. "You are the greatest of lords! The most powerful wizard in our world!"
With a cold snort, Voldemort lifted the Cruciatus Curse.
"Continue monitoring the Ministry's movements. Escalate tensions between Fudge and Dumbledore."
Rising to his full height, Voldemort loomed over Lucius, eyes glinting with malice:
"Remember—stay hidden for now. Since Fudge believes I haven't returned, we'll play along. Extract the Azkaban guard rotation schedules. Find opportunities to free our people."
"Yes, Master." Lucius dared not refuse, answering in a subdued voice.
Yet he ventured a small request.
"Might you lend me the Rosier brothers?"
"No." Voldemort dismissed him airily. "They're occupied elsewhere."
His wand twirled idly between fingers as he glanced at Lucius. "Karkaroff fled back to Durmstrang the very night after my return.
"Does he truly think crossing borders will save him?"
A chill ran through Malfoy—this was clearly a warning about the fate awaiting traitors. He swallowed further words.
Voldemort's gaze drifted to the doorway, lips curling in amusement.
"Dear Draco, come here."
Lucius's head jerked up. "Master—"
"Silence."
Two syllables froze Lucius's tongue. Draco shuffled forward, trembling, eyes downcast.
"I hear you're studying magic under Lawrence? Quite friendly with him?" Voldemort examined the boy.
"Y-yes." Draco's voice shook. "I won't return next term, my Lord."
"No no no..." Voldemort wagged a finger. "I'd never hinder an eager student. You'll not only attend next term, but complete certain... small tasks for me."
Draco pressed his lips into a tight line. "What tasks?"
"Record every word he speaks. And... find opportunity to kill him."
"Master, let me take this task," Lucius Malfoy hastily clung to Voldemort's leg. "I can kill Lawrence. Draco is still just a child—"
"You? Kill Lawrence?" Voldemort looked at him with disgust. "Draco is Lawrence's friend—that's why he has the chance to ambush and poison him. You? You'd be reduced to ashes before you even laid a finger on him."
"Get off!"
With a flick of his sleeve, Voldemort sent Lucius flying and vanished into a shadowy mist, his icy voice echoing through the drawing room:
"Draco, you have one year. If Lawrence is still alive by then, the Malfoy family line will end with you."
Father and son stared at each other in silence, their expressions frozen in shock.
"Father... what should I do?" Draco asked, his voice trembling.
"It's alright. I'll help you," Lucius reassured his son. "I'll find a way for you to complete the task. Everything will be fine..."
Lucius was lying. He had no idea how to deal with Wayne.
Ambushing him with spells was impossible.
Poison?
Wayne had a Phoenix—ordinary poisons wouldn't work on him, and the effective ones were utterly out of Lucius's reach.
What else could they do?
How could Draco possibly take action against someone nearly as formidable as the Dark Lord himself?
If discovered, Wayne's notorious ruthlessness would ensure Draco wouldn't survive.
Lucius tossed and turned in bed, knowing this was the Dark Lord's punishment for losing Tom Riddle's Diary. They had no right to refuse.
It took hours before he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
And then, in his dream, Lawrence appeared.
"Does your entire family keep such chaotic hours?" Wayne stood before Lucius, exasperated. "I've been waiting for you to fall asleep until nearly dawn..."
Lucius stared blankly.
'Bloody hell, this dream feels real.'
"Stop spacing out."
A throne materialised beneath Wayne as Lucius's consciousness floated helplessly upward.
"This is your dreamscape, Mr Malfoy. I'm just paying a visit."
"M-Mr Lawrence," Lucius finally managed, though he wasn't truly awake—he was still dreaming.
His mind reeled at this miraculous ability. Entering dreams to communicate? Wasn't this legendary magic only Merlin could wield?
Was Lawrence Merlin's descendant... or even his reincarnation?
"Voldemort's at your place, isn't he?" Wayne asked.
Lucius's face paled, eyes widening in shock.
Seeing his reaction, Wayne nodded in satisfaction. "Finally found him."
He'd been searching through countless dreams to locate Voldemort.
Noticing Lucius's terrified, conflicted expression, Wayne reassured him, "Don't worry about the Dark Lord's Legilimency Spell. This is a dream. Once you wake, you'll forget everything."
Instantly, Lucius relaxed slightly before throwing himself to his knees, pleading desperately:
"Mr Lawrence, I beg you—save Draco! The Dark Lord is a monster!"
Wayne smiled faintly, already several steps ahead. "Oh? What does this have to do with Draco? Did Voldemort order him to assassinate Dumbledore?"
"No." Lucius shook his head cautiously, watching him. "The Dark Lord has ordered Draco to assassinate you. If the task isn't completed within a year, my entire family will die."
Wayne: "..."
'Bloody Voldemort.'
'Instead of going after that big target, Dumbledore, you set your sights on me?'
'You could've at least sent Malfoy after Harry.'
Adding another mental note against Voldemort, Wayne quickly regained his composure. "He certainly thinks highly of Draco."
Lucius pleaded, "If you can save Draco, I'll do anything for you, Mr Lawrence. Draco is your friend after all.
"You're a kind-hearted Hufflepuff. How could you stand by while your friend falls into the enemy's hands?"
"Quite right." Wayne nodded seriously. "I am indeed a kind-hearted Hufflepuff. You've got good judgement."
Lucius held his breath.
Then came a stream of flattery.
Flattery never fails, especially when it's all true, so Wayne was rather pleased with him.
"There's still a year left. If you cooperate properly, Voldemort will be long gone by then."
Lucius eagerly agreed, "Whatever you need, I'll do it."
"Simple. I'll visit your dreams occasionally. You'll tell me all about Voldemort's movements and plans."
Lucius sighed in relief. Betraying the Dark Lord didn't weigh on his conscience at all.
His only concern was exposing himself and endangering his wife and son, but in dreams, he felt safe—much more discreet.
"Could you please speak to Draco? I don't want him worrying constantly."
"Not now. When he gets to school, I'll have a word with him."
Lucius thanked him profusely again.
Then, Wayne asked about Voldemort's current state and intentions.
Lucius revealed everything, even listing which Ministry of Magic officials Voldemort planned to recruit later.
Now Lucius had completely abandoned any thought of staying on the Dark Lord's sinking ship.
He might serve the Dark Lord himself, but that didn't mean his son should be a Death Eater.
Unless... unless the Dark Lord achieved total victory and ruled the British Isles outright.
But with Dumbledore and Lawrence around, Voldemort didn't seem likely to win.
Having gathered all the information, Wayne left the dream space.
In the real world, the sleeping Lucius seemed to shed a significant burden, his furrowed brow relaxing at last.
Meanwhile, Wayne slowly opened his eyes.
'That bastard Voldemort, daring to target me—and using Malfoy to spite me too.'
When it came to spite, Young Master Lawrence feared no one.