Late July.
Burke sat expressionless as he felt the soul tremors emanating from the neighboring house. Ever since selling that property, the disturbances had continued—three times a day, at least, after the first few quiet days.
Even a Squib could tell something was wrong just from the spiritual feedback, let alone him, someone deeply versed in the study of dark magic. And being the nearest neighbor, he felt every ripple most keenly. Sometimes customers would come into his shop, only to be driven away by the oppressive aura.
The Ministry of Magic had recently been cracking down on dark magic artifacts. This should have been a golden opportunity for him to make a fortune, yet because of that cursed house, his profits had dropped by thirty percent.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Burke regretted selling the house. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and slumped behind the counter.
...
In the days before moving into the new house, Tver had been studying the insights Neville had left him.
From Neville's condition, he realized that the connections between the parts of the soul were far closer than he had ever imagined. Neville's memory loss had affected his will to cast spells. By that logic, could willpower itself be tied to the entirety of the soul?
His thoughts drifted to Voldemort, trapped within the Horcrux. If Neville's memory loss was like a gap being cut into his soul, then what he intended to do to Voldemort was essentially the opposite—adding a lock to it. And that lock would be forged from Voldemort's own will.
Studying Neville gave Tver the feeling of walking through a treasure trove—every time, there was something new to discover. Truly, Neville was his "treasure boy."
With that revelation, Tver began his formal Horcrux research.
Diary of Horcrux Research
Second Experiment—
Now capable of controlling flame—able to both scorch the soul and minimize its damage.
"Delusional!"
Voldemort was still as foul-mouthed as ever, the Diadem beside him echoing the chaos.
Snuffed out.
Tenth Experiment—
"Rubbish!"
Voldemort spat another curse. He had successfully channeled the Philosopher's Stone's life force into the soul fragment—but it had nearly burst under the strain.
Well, not nearly. It did burst.
The Diadem had grown quieter since then, only screaming when fragments were destroyed. Perhaps it had gotten used to the pain of being torn apart?
Crushed.
Twentieth Experiment—
Closer to perfection than ever. The fusion between life force and the soul fragment was seamless—enough to form a tiny Voldemort entity.
But the smaller he became, the fouler his mouth grew. Even the Diadem had learned to hold its tongue, yet this single shard of soul dared to rant and resist.
"When I return—"
Snuffed out.
Fiftieth Experiment—
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
By combining his understanding of willpower, the Protego Diabolica now perfectly fused the soul's strength with the power of an Unbreakable Vow, capable of binding a soul to a contract.
But the Horcrux's soul was too damaged, too thin—a mere fragment could never withstand the force of such an oath.
The Diadem had grown quieter still. Was it silently plotting rebellion now?
Snuffed out.
Ninety-Ninth Experiment—
At last, he could control the Protego Diabolica freely. Since mastering it, he had never wielded it with such precision.
He was probably not far from his teacher's level now.
The fragmented soul had gone silent, staring at him with an odd expression. What was it trying to do?
Why did it look so humiliated?
Snuffed out.
One Hundredth Experiment—
After ninety-nine trials, Tver had completely mastered using the Protego Diabolica on souls.
Now, his target was the Diadem.
After so many extractions, the Voldemort trapped within the Horcrux was barely hanging on. Fortunately, with the Philosopher's Stone, Tver had infused the Diadem with enough life force to keep the fragment from collapsing.
At this point, the Diadem was almost identical to the ring—a blend of broken soul and borrowed vitality. Any further extraction would shatter the consciousness beyond repair, making it impossible to form a binding oath.
With great interest, Tver picked up the Diadem. Blue-violet flames erupted from his hand, casting his gentle face in an eerie light.
The fire spread across the entire surface of the Diadem until it glowed like a ring of fire. The scorching heat seared the soul within, drawing out thin wisps of black mist. But before they could escape, the flames consumed them completely.
Feeling the agony, the once-silent soul let out a series of sharp, piercing screams. The sound quickly weakened until even Tver could no longer make out the curses.
"You bastard... why didn't you ask... me..."
With the final wisp of black mist extinguished, the Diadem fell silent and returned to its original, radiant brilliance.
"What was Voldemort yelling at the end?" Tver muttered, puzzled for a moment. "Eh, whatever. He wouldn't have agreed anyway. Gone is gone~"
"Idiot!" the Ring roared in outrage. "You should've told him what you wanted him to do! Who could possibly agree to a contract that vague?!"
Throughout this ordeal, the Ring had watched every detail of its Diadem brother's suffering. Even in its own experience, it had never gone through something so brutal. It only made him deeply grateful that he had been brought to Tver's side earlier than the Diadem.
Of course, he felt no pity for the Diadem's destruction.
Tver's words had made it clear—he only needed one fragment of Voldemort's soul now. With the Diadem's soul gone, that left only one remaining piece with any real value: the Ring itself.
Tver thought for a moment about the Diadem's final struggle. Maybe—possibly—he had misunderstood?
But it didn't matter. He'd never planned to keep the Diadem's soul anyway.
Compared to the Ring, which had always remained by his side, the Diadem knew nothing of his intentions. It was more like a pure, unfiltered embodiment of Voldemort himself. The Ring, on the other hand, though still centered around Voldemort's soul, had also absorbed part of his own will and vitality—making it far more adaptable.
"In that case," Tver said, lifting the Ring as blue-violet flames rose once more with his words, "are you willing to offer me your loyalty?"
"Yes, yes!" the Ring replied frantically. "Of course I am! I've been waiting for you to say that!"
As the oath was spoken, the blue-violet flames seemed to sink into the Ring, merging seamlessly with it.
Inside the unseen Horcrux, the flames washed over Voldemort's soul like a basin of water—not burning, but merging with him, leaving behind a mark upon his essence.
A mark of eternal loyalty.
Voldemort chuckled lightly. "Now that the contract is sealed, does this mean you'll finally create a body for me?"
"Of course!" Tver replied with enthusiasm, taking out the Philosopher's Stone.
Its magic was still as potent as ever, its vitality undiminished despite countless uses—like a perpetual engine of life. This time, however, Tver didn't even need to act. Simply placing the Stone beside the Ring was enough for Voldemort to begin absorbing its energy.
A soothing warmth spread through the air, wrapping around Tver like a spring breeze. The room seemed to glow brighter, filled with a faint sense of renewal.
As the life force took shape, a half-solid, half-transparent body formed before him.
The man looked slightly older than Tver, his features refined yet edged with a dark, alluring charm. Fortunately, he was handsome enough that his aura came across as dangerously captivating rather than greasy—like that wildness naturally belonged to him.
At that moment, Tver pulled out a crystal glowing with a faint green light and pressed it into the spot where Voldemort's heart would be.
"What are you doing?" Voldemort asked, startled.
"Nothing much," Tver said with a smug tilt of his eyebrow. "Just something that'll destroy you if you ever get disobedient."
He knew that once the contract was bound, Voldemort would be loyal to him.
But loyalty didn't mean trust.
Voldemort, the once-great Dark Lord, had a hundred ways to feign obedience while secretly undermining him—or "accidentally" leaking his plans to the wrong ears.
Deceiving souls? Both he and Voldemort were masters at that game.
That was why Tver embedded a crystal imbued with lethal magic within Voldemort's new body. With a single thought, he could annihilate the Dark Lord's soul completely.
Only with that double safeguard in place did he dare to truly command the Dark Lord.