"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 318: Welcome, Mr. Tom Riddle
The Riddle Manor loomed in the moonlight.
Wormtail clung tightly to Voldemort, both of them concealed behind the thick trunk of an ancient tree, peering anxiously at the house ahead. The longer Wormtail stared at the mansion, the more violently terror surged within him—his whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Voldemort broke the silence with a low hiss in Parseltongue, then pressed his wand coldly against Wormtail's chest. His voice, icy and deep, slid straight into Wormtail's ear:
"Wormtail, what are you so afraid of? You seem to know something about this place, don't you?"
The sinister hiss made Wormtail acutely aware—not only of the threat of the wand at his heart, but also of the giant serpent lurking somewhere unseen. At the thought of the snake, a sudden memory surfaced, and he blurted out:
"Master, my lord—I remember the Gaunt family… That old line of Slytherin's descendants lived somewhere near here, didn't they? Is this the Gaunt house? Why is it so ruined? And… I can't sense any magic in the area at all…"
Panic-stricken, Wormtail spilled out everything that came to mind. He clutched Voldemort even tighter, refusing to meet his master's gaze, eyes fixed on the decrepit house.
Oddly, as he spoke, things began to make sense. In the wizarding world, almost no one knew the Dark Lord's true family. People guessed he was a Slytherin heir, based on his Parseltongue and his pure-blood fanaticism. But no one ever linked him to the fallen Gaunt family. When the Dark Lord rose, Morfin Gaunt had been rotting in Azkaban for years, his sister long vanished.
During the war, in their hunt for clues, Wormtail had heard Potter and Sirius had searched the Gaunt property, but found nothing tying the Dark Lord to that bloodline. So everyone suspected he was just some lost Slytherin heir. But now, here he was, brought to this place by the Dark Lord himself… Could there really be a connection?
Hearing Wormtail's answer, Voldemort finally relaxed, his tone softening with a rare hint of ease:
"My friend, I'm pleased you brought me home to England. Even now, you remain loyal. The great Voldemort doesn't mind sharing a few secrets with a true friend. No one will disturb us here. We'll need to linger a while… make some preparations."
Wormtail nodded frantically and hurried through a gap in the crumbling wall, still cradling his master.
As they passed the gate, Wormtail glimpsed a battered plaque: "Watson Manor?" The name tugged at his memory. Something about it felt wrong—this place shouldn't be called that.
Inside the grounds, desolation greeted them. Weeds choked every path, windows and doors were shuttered tight, as if time itself had been banished from these walls.
Voldemort and Wormtail crept through the overgrown courtyard, every step cautious and deliberate. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something darker, a sense of foreboding that made even Voldemort uneasy. He hesitated, then handed his wand to Wormtail.
"Alohomora."
The soft incantation broke the silence, and the door creaked open.
Wormtail cast Lumos, sending a weak beam of light into the pitch-black room, and stepped inside with trembling caution. Voldemort peered around from the safety of Wormtail's arms.
No sooner had they entered the sitting room than lines of glowing script flickered across the walls and floor.
Before Voldemort could make out the words—
Bang!
Wormtail's instincts took over—he transformed into a rat and bolted. Voldemort tumbled unceremoniously to the floor, face-first.
"Hissss… Idiot! Come back!"
Already halfway to the door, Wormtail remembered his master, shifted back, and scrambled to scoop him up.
With a skeletal hand, Voldemort snatched his wand back.
"Foolish creature…"
Wormtail was shaking, not just from fear of the Dark Lord, but because the scene felt horribly familiar—trapped in a dark house, sudden lights, and then… torment.
"Welcome, Mr. Tom Riddle, to the Riddle Family Home."
Once they'd settled down, the pair finally examined the lines of text.
Wormtail blinked in confusion. Tom Riddle? Who was that? It had nothing to do with him.
But the moment he read the words, the Voldemort in his arms shrieked:
"Go… get out… Wormtail, you idiot, what are you staring at? Move!"
While Wormtail stood frozen, the glowing script twisted and wove itself into slender beams of light, rapidly forming a dense web that shot toward them.
Eyes wide with terror, Wormtail spun and ran.
But the net of light passed right through him, surging straight for the bundle in his arms—Voldemort.
"Master!" Wormtail screamed in warning.
Voldemort saw the net, frantically swung his wand, and cast a shield charm.
It did nothing. The backlash sent Wormtail flying backward, wrenching his arms open and sending Voldemort hurtling toward the door.
Bang!
Once again, Voldemort hit the floor. (`へ´≠)
The web of light pressed on, passing through his wrappings and searing itself onto his skin.
In that instant, Voldemort felt a tremor deep within his soul—the net was laced with the essence of his own soul!
His first thought as he hit the ground was to check his arm. There, painlessly etched into his flesh, were the words from before.
Voldemort glared at the ruined house, teeth clenched, voice low and venomous:
"Dumbledore… Wormtail, you imbecile! Hissss (Nagini!)"
Wormtail staggered into the courtyard and scooped up his master once more.
"M-m-master! What was that…?"
Voldemort shrank deeper into his wrappings, leveling his wand at Wormtail and snarling:
"Go! Get us out of here, you fool!"
At her master's call, Nagini slithered swiftly from the wall, tongue flickering at Wormtail.
Through the open door, the two of them fled in panic.
Upstairs, in the shadows at the top of the staircase, an invisible figure let out a soft, knowing chuckle:
"Douglas, I knew it wouldn't be so simple. Even I was fooled by the trace of Tom's soul fragment… I really must be getting old."
🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 [Join on - patreon.com/GoldenLong]