Chapter 561: Book Burning

Chapter 561: Book Burning

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In the dimly lit basement of Malfoy Manor, the sudden appearance of Tom Riddle's spectral form startled everyone, especially Dumbledore, who recognized the teenage face that harbored so much malevolence.

"How do you know who I am?!" Tom asked Peter before his eyes widening in horror as he notices Dumbledore, eyeing him from across the room. "P-Professor..."

As Tom confronted the aging wizard, his eyes began to burn with fury and unwillingness at the unexpected reunion with his most hated enemy.

Dumbledore, despite his calm demeanor, couldn't help but frown, realizing that Tom had created his first Horcrux while still in school. His spectral form was so young and still wore the same Slytherin Hogwarts robes that Albus remembered.

'He must have created his first Horcrux at school...' Albus thought, his mind racing to recall who his victim could have been. 'Myrtle...' He suddenly remember the poor girl who now haunts the school as a ghost.

The revelation struck a chord of concern as he pondered how he missed the signs right under his nose. Tom's mask of charm had deceived many, but Dumbledore was one of the few who glimpsed the darkness lurking beneath, yet he missed this.

As Dumbledore was about to address Tom, the cries of pain from Abraxas Malfoy turned into desperate pleas for help. "Dobby! You useless elf! Get over here and help me already!" He called out to Dobby, the loyal elf torn between the commands of his cruel master and his urge to just let it happen.

After all, these muggles weren't the only ones that Abraxas has tortured. Dobby has been through all sorts of odd and cruel punishments, which Abraxas and the Malfoy family have put him through for the simplest of things, like being a half a second late to their call, or even something as made up as daring to breath in their presence. The roots of this story extend from novell bìn origin.

"Dobby, help me! Release me this instant!" Abraxas demanded, his voice strained with agony as the Muggles continued wailing on him in retribution.

Caught in a dilemma, Dobby stood uncertain, his eyes darting between Peter, the freed slaves, and his master. Until finally, the invisible chains of loyalty and the fear of punishment pushed him forward to help his master.

But before he could free his master, Peter, with a snap of his fingers, bound Dobby in Eldritch energy straps, immobilizing him where he stood.

Ignoring the standoff between Dumbledore and Tom for the moment, Peter approached the captive elf. Squatting down to eye level, he offered Dobby a choice that was too good to be true for the little elf.

A backlash reverberated through the astral plane, causing Tom's spectral form to convulse in agony. Blood dripped from his eyes, nose, and ears as he collapsed to the ground at Peter's feet, overwhelmed by the unexpected counterassault.

Peter shook his head, a mix of disappointment and amusement in his expression. "You shouldn't have tried that, Tom. Consider yourself lucky that I went easy on you, or else you'd be dead right already."

As Tom writhed in pain, Peter turned back to Albus, "What was it you wanted to say?" He asked.

Looking down at the writhing, spectral form of Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore felt a twinge of pity. In a surprisingly somber tone, he began, "Tom, I'm sorry... I wish I had done more to guide you away from the dark path you chose. I saw it, the facade you put up as you dealt with everyone, hiding your true self from the world. But instead of helping you, I saw you as a threat and tried to hinder you as best as I could."

Dumbledore's regretful gaze lingered on the young version of Voldemort before him. "Perhaps, if I had provided a stable home for you, instead of leaving you in that awful orphanage. Or even sought out a psychologist to help better understand and fix what you were becoming, things might have turned out differently. But sadly, we can't turn back time. At least not that far..."

Tom's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected apology. The old man he had despised for so long was expressing remorse and admitting his own failures...

However, any hope of a genuine connection shattered as Tom's spectral form erupted into a fit of laughter. "You've grown weak in your old age, Professor," he taunted, the echoes of his malevolent laughter reverberating through the dimly lit basement.

Despite the derisive laughter, Dumbledore maintained his composure. He had hoped for a breakthrough, a chance to reach the tormented soul of Tom Riddle. Regret lingered in the air as Dumbledore, with a heavy heart, acknowledged the futility of his attempt.

Turning to Peter, Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "It's time, Peter. Do what needs to be done."

Tom, sensing the impending threat, turned frantic. "No! You can't do this!" he shouted, desperation in his voice. But his pleas fell on deaf ears as Peter, determined and resolute, began to shroud his hand in flames.

With a swift, practiced motion, Peter enveloped the Horcrux diary in flames. Tom's agonized scream echoed through the basement as the diary disintegrated, taking the young piece of Voldemorts soul with it.

As the diary crumbled into ashes, the bound Voldemort by the stairs jolted awake, his eyes widening in horror as he felt the severing of his last connection to immortality. "Aaaaarghh!?" A scream of anguish tore through the air, marking the destruction of the final Horcrux.

Peter, his hand still smoldering from the ethereal flames, looked over at the now-awake Dark Lord. "Good morning, Sleepy Head. You picked the perfect time to join us. We just finished destroying your last Horcrux."

Voldemort, straining against his bindings, turned to Peter, horror written all over his face. "What have you done?!"

A/N: 1560 words :)

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