The air deep in the Forbidden Forest was thick, permeated with the scent of earth dampened by rain and a faint hint of eucalyptus. Far from the prying eyes of students and the paranoid surveillance of some of his teachers, Aurelian Gaunt lay leaning against the rough bark of an ancient-looking tree, his eyes closed and breathing slowly.
He was enjoying the strange and rare tranquility he had the pleasure of feeling today. The forest was one of the few places at Hogwarts where he didn't have to pretend or think, where he didn't have to be the perfect student or an untouchable leader, just someone who enjoyed magic.
A slight pop broke the absolute silence of the forest.
Aurelian lazily opened one eye to see what had caused the sound. In front of him, bowing so deeply that his nose almost touched the ground, was Stinky, his house elf and oldest friend.
"Master Aurelian is required at the mansion," Stinky chirped calmly, his large eyes fixed on Aurelian.
Aurelian sighed and pulled himself away from the tree trunk, brushing a few blades of grass from his black silk robe.
"Ahhh, and I was thinking of resting here all afternoon," Aurelian muttered. "Let's go, Stinky."
He reached out to touch the elf's shoulder, thinking for the umpteenth time how wonderfully useful house elf magic was. Hogwarts' ancient barriers, designed to stop attacks of any kind, were completely useless against the unique magic these creatures possessed. It was a fascinating security breach that wizards, in their infinite arrogance, had never bothered to test. Aurelian was beginning to think that wizards were somehow mentally challenged for not trying to make better use of house elves.
With a dull snap, the forest disappeared.
Aurelian reappeared in the elegant and somewhat dark lobby of Gaunt Manor. As soon as his feet touched the black marble floor, arms wrapped around him tightly and warmly.
"Aurelian, how's everything?" exclaimed Nagini, squeezing him in a genuinely happy hug. She looked radiant, wearing an elegant dark green dress that contrasted with her shiny black hair.
"Hello, Nagini," Aurelian replied, returning her smile and hug. The last few months had done wonders for Nagini's attitude; she was now more open with everyone in the mansion... except for Wormtail.
"Barty and your father are waiting for you," she said, gently releasing him. "They're in your father's private room."
Aurelian nodded, his expression relaxing a little now that he was home. He said goodbye and immediately headed for the grand staircase. He walked through the hallways decorated with portraits and relics "donated" by the Blacks until he reached the black double doors leading to the Dark Lord's chambers.
Upon entering, he was greeted by the warmth of a large fireplace. The room was almost in darkness, lit only by the flames and a pair of silver candelabra on the ceiling.
Voldemort was reclining on a comfortable crimson velvet sofa. His homunculus body still looked fragile, but his eyes shone with a sharp and dangerous lucidity. On another sofa nearby, reviewing some parchments, was Barty Crouch Jr.
Seeing Aurelian enter, Barty looked up, setting the scrolls aside and offering him a big, crooked smile.
"Aurelian," greeted the Death Eater.
Voldemort turned his head slightly over the back of the sofa, fixing his dark gaze on his son.
"You're early," hissed Voldemort, his cold, raspy voice echoing in the room. "Tell me, how are things going at school? Is the Chosen One still on his way to the slaughterhouse?"
Aurelian walked calmly and sank into a dark leather armchair in front of them, crossing his legs comfortably.
"Everything is going wonderfully, Father," Aurelian replied with a confident smile. "We've had a few minor setbacks, of course. That crazy old Mad-Eye Moody is annoying, and Grindelwald's escape has Dumbledore paranoid, but the main plan remains intact. Potter already has the clue for the Second Task, courtesy of a little manipulation on my part. He'll be exactly where we need him for the third."
Voldemort nodded slowly, flashing what Aurelian thought was a smile.
Aurelian leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the armrests.
"However, I doubt you called me here in the middle of the week just to ask for a progress report that you could have sent me by other means. Why did you really call me, Father?"
Voldemort held his son's gaze for a long moment. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier. The Dark Lord turned his head toward the other sofa.
"Leave us alone, Bartemius."
Barty Crouch Jr. blinked, clearly surprised. He was the most loyal servant, the man who had risked everything for the cause, and he was rarely excluded from important meetings. However, his devotion did not allow him to question his master.
"Yes, my Lord," Barty replied, standing up immediately. He bowed to Voldemort, nodded to Aurelian, and left the room, closing the heavy oak doors with a soft click behind him.
When they were completely alone, Aurelian raised an eyebrow, his curiosity now fully aroused.
"For the Dark Lord himself to send his most loyal and fanatical servant out of the room," thought Aurelian, feeling a chill of anticipation run down his spine. "What kind of secret are you about to reveal, Dad?"
The silence in the room lingered for a few moments, interrupted only by the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. Voldemort stared into the flames before fixing his eyes on his son again.
"You were right," said Voldemort, his voice harsh, almost as if the words scraped his throat as they came out. "I've been thinking about it these last few weeks. The creation of my Horcruxes... changed me. Fragmenting my soul so many times affected my sanity and judgment more than I would ever have admitted in the past."
A triumphant smile spread across Aurelian's lips. He had tried to convince his father before leaving for school. He opened his mouth to respond, but the Dark Lord raised a skeletal hand, cutting him off abruptly.
"However," Voldemort continued, narrowing his eyes, "there is something you hid from me. You told me you had found the Horcrux of my grandfather's ring in the old hut. What you didn't tell me, my son, is that you have the other Horcruxes stored here in the Manor, under this very roof."
Aurelian's smile vanished instantly. His posture tensed slightly as he stared at his father, assessing the situation. He had placed formidable protections around the box where he hid his father's Horcruxes.
"How did you figure it out?" Aurelian asked, his tone betraying a mixture of caution and genuine curiosity about how.
Voldemort let out a snort that sounded like the hiss of an angry snake.
"I may be confined to this weak and pathetic body at the moment, Aurelian, but I am still Lord Voldemort. It was I who tore those pieces from my own soul. I can recognize the magical resonance they give off, even through your spells and protections. I've been feeling them beat since you brought me to this house."
Aurelian nodded slowly, accepting his mistake in underestimating his father's bond with his own soul. He relaxed back into the armchair.
"And what do you want to do with them?" he asked directly.
"When we perform the resurrection ritual in the graveyard," explained Voldemort, his eyes shining with renewed ambition, "I will merge with those fragments. I will absorb them back. I will have my soul back in its entirety, and with it, my clear mind and my magic at its peak."
Voldemort leaned forward slightly on the sofa.
"Now tell me the truth. How many did you get exactly?"
"As you know, we have the Gaunt ring," Aurelian listed, counting on his fingers. "I also recovered Slytherin's locket, Ravenclaw's diadem, and... Tom Riddle's diary."
When he mentioned the last item, Aurelian couldn't help but let out a laugh, which he quickly hid.
"What are you laughing at?" his father hissed.
"How I got the diary," Aurelian explained, shaking his head. "I got it a couple of years ago. Lucius Malfoy, in his stupidity, tried to slip it into the cauldron with the Weasleys' youngest daughter's school supplies. He wanted to use his master's priceless artifact just to discredit Arthur Weasley at the Ministry. I still laugh when I think about it."
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Voldemort's eyes widened, and a dark aura of complete fury filled the space, causing the chandeliers to shake.
"Lucius... Damn him!" Voldemort muttered, his voice dripping with deadly venom. "That arrogant fool. He dared to use a piece of my soul, my diary, for his petty and dirty political squabbles."
The Dark Lord took a deep breath, trying to control the rage in his weak body.
"The fool Malfoy's time will come to answer for such an offense," Voldemort said coldly. "No one plays with my belongings and gets away with it."
After a few seconds, Voldemort regained his composure and looked at Aurelian.
"Only one left. Helga Hufflepuff's cup. I left it in Bellatrix Lestrange's care. I think I heard her say she left it in her personal vault at Gringotts."
"I can try to get it out," Aurelian offered, calculating whether Kravix could help him in exchange for more gold or a percentage of GauntCorp. That goblin never missed a thing.
"There's no need to do anything," Voldemort stopped him. "The fragments you already have here will be more than enough to stabilize my soul in the ritual. We'll get the cup in due course, once I've regained my power."
Aurelian nodded, satisfied with the decision.
"So... how will the ritual work with these modifications?"
"The basis remains the same," explained Voldemort, his voice taking on a scholarly tone. "The father's bone, given unknowingly. The servant's flesh, given willingly. But what changes is the next step. Before pouring in the enemy's blood... Potter's blood... we must throw all my Horcruxes into the cauldron. The potion will dissolve them, releasing the soul fragments into the pure mixture before creating the body."
Voldemort paused, staring at Aurelian with an intensity that made him feel as if he were being dissected.
"But there is one last ingredient that must be added, Aurelian. For me to regain my body in all its glory, without any weakness or deformity, you must add a part of yourself to the ritual. A part of my own son is essential to anchor the magic and empower the blood."
Aurelian blinked a couple of times, processing the macabre request. He looked at his own hands, wondering if he would have to cut off a finger or sacrifice an eye for the cause. Then a strange idea crossed his mind.
"So, a part of me," Aurelian repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Would a baby tooth work? I'm sure Stinky has a whole box stored away with my teeth from when I was a kid. He's very sentimental about those things."
Voldemort fell completely silent for a second, blinking at the absurdity and brilliance of his son's suggestion. The image of a house elf keeping teeth seemed ridiculous to him, but blood magic did not discriminate.
Slowly, a raspy, high-pitched laugh began to bubble up from the Dark Lord's throat, echoing throughout the room.
"A baby tooth," said Voldemort, shaking his head as his laughter subsided. "Yes, Aurelian. A baby tooth will work perfectly."
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