"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 319: Where Are the Snakes? Where Are the Gaunt Family's Snakes?
Voldemort and Wormtail tore through the night, fleeing from Riddle Manor with terror still clawing at their hearts. The darkness pressed in on them, but their pounding heartbeats thundered louder than any midnight wind—as if each step might plunge them over the edge between life and death.
"Faster—run, you fool, RUN!" Voldemort snarled, his voice low and urgent, prodding Wormtail onward.
He cast a wary glance over Wormtail's shoulder, back toward the crumbling manor, half-convinced those sinister nets of light were still hunting him through the shadows.
They ran until Wormtail's breath came in ragged gasps. At last, after cresting a small hill, he collapsed to his knees, gulping air.
"Master!" he wheezed.
"Dumbledore..." Voldemort's voice was colder than the night air, laced with a deep, gnawing dread.
At the mere mention of the name, Wormtail flinched, eyes darting nervously around. He shot a sidelong glance at the wand in Voldemort's grip, swallowing hard.
Voldemort had been watching him closely—the sort of man who might bolt and leave his master behind at the first sign of danger. Sensing Wormtail's hesitation, Voldemort pressed his wand against Wormtail's chin, his eyes flashing with lethal intent.
"My friend, does the name Dumbledore frighten you? Are you planning to abandon—"
(Wormtail: (╬￣皿￣)凸 And who was it yelling at me to run just now?)
Despite his indignation, Wormtail didn't dare move a muscle. He stammered out a hasty explanation, "Master... I wouldn't... I mean, what are we supposed to do now?"
Voldemort fell silent, but the tip of his wand remained pressed to Wormtail's jaw. His mind was a storm of questions—how had it all gone wrong? How could Dumbledore know about Riddle Manor? When had he discovered the truth of Voldemort's origins?
He didn't suspect anyone else. Plenty of witches and wizards knew the name Tom Riddle, but only Dumbledore would dare to connect him to Voldemort—and only Dumbledore had ever watched him so closely, right from his very first day at Hogwarts, as if he were destined for darkness.
But even Dumbledore shouldn't have known the whole story. Voldemort himself hadn't pieced together his family history until he was nearly grown. If Dumbledore had known, the massacre of the Riddle family would have been exposed long ago, Morfin Gaunt wouldn't have rotted in Azkaban, and his own secret contingency plan hidden in the Gaunt family...
His gaze flickered to Wormtail. Should he check on the Gaunt family's Horcrux now?
A Horcrux... Wait, what am I missing?
Suddenly, Voldemort remembered that story—The Half-Blood Prince of Slytherin, by Lovegood. That tale had hinted at the existence of Horcruxes, but never mentioned his Muggle father's family.
And these words burned onto his skin—why did they carry the aura of his soul? If it wasn't his Horcrux, where had the enemy gotten a piece of his soul?
So far, the words had done nothing but disgust him—no curse, no pain, just humiliation.
Was it Dumbledore's doing, or that lunatic Lovegood's? Voldemort couldn't believe anyone but Dumbledore possessed the magical prowess to inscribe words infused with his very soul. Lovegood was a babbling magazine editor, hardly a threat.
But if Dumbledore had the chance to hurt—or even kill—him, why only carve words into his flesh?
Voldemort felt as if his bald skull was about to sprout hair from sheer frustration.
Watching his master's unstable mood, Wormtail feared a stray curse might end him then and there. He tried, very cautiously, "Master, I still have some milk. Maybe you'd like a drink? I heard milk is good for calming the nerves..."
Voldemort stared at him, eyes hard and unblinking. For a moment, something fierce flickered in his gaze. Then he slowly lowered his wand and said, "We're leaving. There's a place we need to visit first."
Under Voldemort's direction, they pressed on, weaving through patches of pitch-black forest until they reached the foot of a hillside.
Wormtail glanced back—the only light came from the distant village, everything else swallowed by darkness. He was about to ask about using the wand when a hiss from Voldemort's lips made him freeze. Nagini had stopped circling them and now slithered ahead, scales shimmering in the moonlight.
"Follow her. She'll lead us where we need to go."
Wormtail nodded quickly, eyes glued to the glinting serpent.
But as they followed Nagini deeper in, a growing sense of wrongness gnawed at Voldemort.
Where were the snakes?
This was the ancestral home of the Gaunt family. The further they went, the fewer snakes there seemed to be. Even if the Ministry had cleared out the magical snakes, surely there should be some ordinary ones left?
"Move!" Voldemort barked, and Wormtail hurried after Nagini.
Soon, a twisted, derelict house came into view under the pale moonlight.
Voldemort's unease only grew. He was certain this was the Gaunt house—he couldn't be mistaken. But where were the snakes? Why was the place utterly devoid of them?
Who could have wiped out every last snake?
Dumbledore? No, this wasn't his style.
Wormtail hesitated, and Nagini stopped too, flicking her tongue anxiously at the house. She sent a warning—something inside filled her with fear.
Voldemort assumed it was some lingering Gaunt family curse. He growled, "Keep going. Get closer to the house."
Wormtail crept forward, every footstep echoing in the eerie silence.
Nagini grew more agitated, telling Voldemort the fearsome presence was underground.
"Wait!" Voldemort finally ordered as they neared the ruined wall.
Wormtail let out a shaky sigh of relief. Then, with trembling hands, he took the wand Voldemort passed him.
"See if there are any traces nearby."
Under the glow of Lumos, they saw the ground was pocked with small craters, clearly much newer than their surroundings.
On closer inspection—
"This is... the residue of lightning? And magic," Voldemort muttered, noting a few scattered snake scales within the pits.
Wormtail shivered. "Master, who'd be so bored as to use weather charms out here?"
In the wizarding world, only a powerful Weather Charm could summon lightning like this—and even then, few could control it so precisely.
A cold dread twisted in Voldemort's gut as he glanced toward the spot where he'd hidden the ring. If this Horcrux had been discovered, were any of his other Horcruxes safe?
Was he down to his last life? Was his immortality at an end?
He hesitated. Should he risk checking on the Horcrux? What if it was a trap?
Chilling resolve settled over him. "We're leaving. Now."
Not a moment's hesitation.
Wormtail (:3」∠) We didn't even do anything! Why did I climb mountains and crawl through the woods all night for this?
But he had no say in the matter. And, once again, he lost wand privileges—Voldemort snatched it back without a word.
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