"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 301: Wormtail the Nanny
The Albanian Black Forest.
Wormtail staggered through the dense, shadowy woods, clutching the frail form of Voldemort. It took him an entire day, but at last, just before darkness fully descended, he managed to drag himself out of the forest's oppressive gloom.
He owed his timely escape to Nagini, who had slithered ahead to scout the path, deftly steering them clear of any potential encounters. Without her vigilance, they might have been lost among the tangled roots and ancient trees for another day or more.
Once free of the forest, they avoided wizarding settlements altogether, opting instead for a shabby Muggle inn. In the wake of Albania's internal strife three years prior, the Muggle authorities had become especially watchful—Wormtail was forced to rely on a discreet Confundus Charm to convince the innkeeper that he was just an old man taking his ailing child to see a doctor.
Nagini remained concealed in the shadows. Only Voldemort knew her true hiding place; Wormtail could only sense the snake's unsettling presence somewhere nearby.
The greatest blessing of their new accommodations was that Wormtail no longer had to personally prepare meals for Voldemort. Instead, he pilfered copious amounts of baby formula and other supplies from Muggle shops.
"Wormtail," came Voldemort's cold, petulant whisper, "are you so weary of me that you've resorted to feeding me this Muggle swill? Where's the milk? Fresh milk. We're no longer in the Black Forest—milk would restore my strength far more quickly."
"It's not like that, Master!" Wormtail stammered. "I asked around—well, I did my research—and they said these Muggle products are the best for your current... condition. They're more balanced, nutritionally."
He glanced nervously at Voldemort, who sat with eyes closed, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. Seeing no further interrogation forthcoming, Wormtail exhaled in relief and pressed on:
"I've drawn up a feeding schedule, Master. Every three hours, without fail. The rest of the time, you just need to rest and regain your energy."
For Voldemort, the simple sensation of warmth was almost intoxicating—he had not known the comfort of a human body for so many years.
But at Wormtail's suggestion, Voldemort opened his eyes. His voice was piercing, slicing through the cozy air like a winter gale.
"Such careful planning. And while I sleep, what exactly will you be doing?"
A note of resignation crept into Wormtail's answer. "Master, I must go out to gather information. But you have my word—I'll return every three hours on the dot, to feed you…"
In just two days, Wormtail had grown visibly gaunt; his hair was streaked with fresh white. Between his constant errands and the relentless feeding schedule, he barely slept at all.
Still, his efforts weren't entirely in vain. He'd tracked down several reclusive wizarding families nearby, and—thanks to his Animagus form—managed to pilfer copies of the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, The Quibbler, and more from their homes.
Voldemort didn't expect Wormtail to glean any insight from these publications. Instead, he simply ordered Wormtail to read the latest issues aloud to him.
It was almost too much for Wormtail—not only was he bottle-feeding a Dark Lord, now he was expected to provide bedtime stories as well?
"…The upcoming Easter will mark a special journey, as young witches and wizards from Hogwarts travel to Godric's Hollow to visit the Magical War Heroes Memorial, paying tribute to those who bravely sacrificed themselves to protect the wizarding world… Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor and author, Mr. Holmes, personally initiated and organized the trip, believing it to be a precious opportunity for historical education and the shaping of young minds…
'The Magical War Heroes Memorial stands as a reminder that peace is hard-won—purchased with the blood and sacrifice of countless predecessors. As students of Hogwarts, it is our duty to inherit and uphold their spirit, striving for the peace and prosperity of the wizarding world…'"
A cold glint flickered in Voldemort's eyes.
"Easter? Godric's Hollow—they mean that place? What a pity we missed the timing. It would have been a fine opportunity… And this young Holmes—what's his true purpose?"
Wormtail replied with extreme caution, "Is it… is it a demonstration against the great Dark Lord?"
Voldemort shook his head, half-closing his eyes. "No, I suspect it's a test from our dear Headmaster Dumbledore. He wants to see if I'm capable of interfering, to see if I'm still alive… Heh. After all, that was the greatest blunder of the Dark Lord's life… Carry on."
"…The Hogwarts Express is ready and will carry students to London on Easter morning. The Ministry of Magic will work with the Muggle government to provide the students with an unforgettable educational journey.
Students have expressed their eagerness to embark on this meaningful trip, to walk the paths of heroes, to learn their courage and wisdom…
Minister Fudge of the Ministry of Magic has issued an important statement…"
"Change the subject," Voldemort interrupted coolly.
Wormtail hurriedly cycled through seven or eight newspapers. Given their distance from Britain, the Daily Prophet arrived only sporadically—some copies were months old.
"That Black brat—the one who forced you to seek me out. He managed to escape Azkaban, but why haven't the other Death Eaters done the same?
Tell me, Wormtail, do they not wish to escape, or are they simply unable to? Do they think the Dark Lord is finished? Are they trying to sever all ties with me… Heh…"
Wormtail stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in panic. "I—I'm loyal to you, Master… The moment I heard news of you, I came running, just to… to…"
Voldemort stroked the wand at his side, and Wormtail's face went rigid with terror.
"Loyalty? You're just a coward. If you had anywhere else to go, you'd never have chosen this—serving a helpless wretch who needs feeding every few hours, who can't survive without you."
Wormtail shook his head furiously, but his beady eyes remained locked in fear on the wand—once his, now in the Dark Lord's grasp.
Yet Voldemort had little appetite for cruelty tonight. He spoke in the gentlest tone, laced with venom.
"I know everything, Wormtail. You've always regretted coming back to me. I can feel you trembling every time you pick me up…
Still, you're the only one in all these years who sought out the Dark Lord and helped him gain a body, even if only a temporary one… Keep reading. Try a magazine—these newspaper platitudes are putting me to sleep."
Wormtail picked up The Quibbler and found a special issue: The Half-Blood Prince of Slytherin. He was certain the Dark Lord would want to hear the latest gossip about Slytherin.
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