"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 315: Smuggling
Beneath the hazy light of the moon, an aging ferry crept across the tranquil sea, cutting a silent path toward the British coast. It was the sort of vessel favored by those desperate for a new beginning—souls willing to risk everything, slipping aboard in the dead of night, seeking to outrun the shadows of their past and chase the uncertain promise of tomorrow.
In the dim shadows of the cabin, a baby appeared to sleep peacefully in Wormtail's arms. He was bundled tightly, cocooned in warmth and safety. But the infant's tiny fist gripped a wand, its tip pressed unerringly against Wormtail's own heart.
Wormtail cradled his master with painstaking care, his eyes betraying a deep, gnawing anxiety. He scanned the darkness ceaselessly, alert for any lurking threat. This voyage was fraught with unknowns. Though his master had his suspicions, Wormtail couldn't be certain whether the Aurors truly believed they would intercept him at the expected rendezvous.
The ferry glided steadily through the night, waves lapping gently at its hull—a soft, relentless rhythm.
Leaning against the cabin wall, Wormtail closed his eyes, feigning rest. But even in his exhaustion, his nerves remained taut as bowstrings.
He could feel Voldemort's calm, even breathing, as if—for this fleeting moment—they were truly safe. Yet his own heart thudded with dread. He knew that snake was never far behind. No matter what went wrong, no matter if he managed to dodge his master's wrath or transform in time and scurry away, the serpent would always find him—even in the endless expanse of the sea. Silently, he prayed for an uneventful crossing.
Days earlier.
Wormtail had brought Voldemort to Ogulin, Croatia, where they found temporary refuge in an abandoned cottage deep within the woods.
The place was conveniently close to a gathering spot for itinerant wizards, making it easy for Wormtail to pick up news.
His "little friends" had delivered a crucial bit of gossip.
Voldemort's voice, cold and razor-sharp, sliced through the gloom:
"Oh? You say they're planning some sort of… hero's memorial in Godric's Hollow? Godric's Hollow, Wormtail."
There was a mocking lilt to Voldemort's tone, one that made Wormtail's breath catch in his throat.
"M-m-master…"
He watched as those skeletal fingers traced the length of the wand. The urge to transform and flee to safety was nearly overwhelming—especially with a rat hole conveniently left open behind him, his escape route always at the ready.
Voldemort turned his head, his twisted features curling into a chilling smile.
"So many in the wizarding world believe the great Lord Voldemort is dead. Why, then, hold a hero's memorial? Who are these heroes? That man? That woman? Or perhaps the child—the one Lord Voldemort failed to kill in a moment of… carelessness?"
Wormtail shook his head frantically. "No, Master, we've been so careful—no one knows…"
Voldemort's finger tapped his wand in a slow, menacing rhythm, his gaze boring into Wormtail.
"No one?"
Wormtail dared not hesitate. He nodded vigorously. "No one."
He shuffled back a step, hoping to convey both loyalty and terror.
Though Voldemort's voice was cold as ice, there was a strange softness beneath the surface as he spoke, each word drawn out with sinister patience:
"My dear friend, there's no need to be so nervous. I have every confidence in you. Do you not trust me?"
Wormtail bobbed his head, voice trembling with desperate devotion. "Of course, Master. I trust you completely."
A sneer curled Voldemort's lips. His words dripped with contempt and mockery:
"Completely? Then why haven't you blocked up that pathetic little 'rat hole' behind you?"
At this, Wormtail quickly bent to check—and caught a glint of cunning brown eyes peering back at him from the darkness. Sweat broke out across his brow, his heart pounding like a trapped animal.
Voldemort ignored Wormtail's panic, his voice still soft, almost gentle:
"If they don't know the great Lord Voldemort is returning, then clearly this is bait meant for you. That place—Godric's Hollow—it means something to you as well, doesn't it? I doubt Dumbledore would waste his time on anything meaningless. What do you think?"
Wormtail nodded frantically, mind racing. He replied with oily obsequiousness:
"Yes, Master, they probably think I'll try to capture the boy and bring him to you.
But I had no chance at Hogwarts, so they planned this event and made sure I'd hear about it… It must be that wretched Holmes—he and Dumbledore are thick as thieves. Yes, they want to lure me out. Of course, if I could leave now, I'd bring the boy to you myself."
Wormtail's eyes gleamed with greed and sycophancy, as if he truly believed he already had Harry Potter in his grasp, ready to offer him up in sacrifice.
🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 [Join on - patreon.com/GoldenLong]