HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

Voldemort sat on the sofa, expressionless, his reddish-blue eyes staring at the moon outside the window.

Half of his face was illuminated by the moonlight, revealing his gaunt cheeks and sharp features. Despite his handsome face, his crazed expression and upturned lips sent chills down one's spine.

"Tap, tap, tap..." Long, slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden armrest. Voldemort remained silent amidst the regular tapping, as if lost in thought.

After a while, he took an object out of his pocket.

It was a time converter, strung together by a golden chain. Unfortunately, the disc was split in two by a crack.

This time converter has stopped working.

Voldemort is considering whether to build a new time-twister, but that will take time.

Moreover, he was not sure if his weakened soul could withstand another time shift.

The price he had to pay for the positive shift in time was far greater than he had imagined.

First, it will subject you to immense external pressure, which will damage your soul. People with weak souls only need one time to travel through time to become permanently mentally impaired and lose most of their memories.

Voldemort's soul was remarkably resilient, even after he had severed it multiple times. In short, he didn't go insane; he simply lost some of his memories.

Voldemort initially disbelieved the prophecy that he would be killed by the Potter brothers. At that time, he had just developed a modified version of the Time-Turner and suddenly wanted to use it to see if the prophecy was true or false.

He recalled the two nights he saw through the time converter.

For the first time, he was killed on that peaceful night by what Harry Potter called the magic of love.

The second time, he was killed by West at Riddle Cemetery.

West's ambiguous smile and relaxed demeanor are still etched in his mind, becoming a source of deep anxiety for him.

Voldemort was finally somewhat afraid—even though he didn't believe in fate, just in case, he created a sixth Horcrux and gave it to the Time-Turner, sending it to the future to kill Wester.

That sixth Horcrux is none other than Voldemort.

"The Potter brothers." Voldemort sneered, his face grim and terrifying. He then thought of West's death, smiled, and felt a little lighter.

Now that West is dead, he only needs to find a way to deal with Dumbledore and get the Elder Wand, then he will have no worries.

Only Harry Potter remains—a little boy. What can defeat him? The magic of love?

Voldemort felt that everything was under control. The only thing he hadn't expected was that he actually had a Horcrux.

Voldemort's inquisitive gaze fell upon the diary on the table.

So how exactly did West kill himself? Voldemort still hadn't figured it out.

Suspicion arose in his mind, so he opened the notebook and tried to communicate with the Horcrux.

The moment the quill pen touched the paper, the windowpane suddenly shattered, and shards of glass nearly cut Voldemort's face.

Voldemort quickly turned around, and with a flick of his robe, blocked all the shards of glass.

An unexpected figure stepped in through the window, smiled slightly at him, and said, "I really wanted to say good evening to you, but unfortunately, I'm not in the mood right now."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a piercing, bone-scraping blow came hurtling towards him.

Weston sidestepped, and the spell struck out the window. The next second, the door behind Voldemort swung open, and Snape appeared outside, his face ashen, wand pointed at Weston. The Malfoys stood beside him, their expressions grave.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, a surge of hatred rising within them. "You're not dead?"

He turned to Snape, a hint of suspicion in his eyes, "Severus—my former subordinate, whose side are you on now?"

Lucius quickly tried to cover it up: "My master, Severus has always been one of ours..."

Snape shifted his position, trapping Voldemort between him and West.

Snape said softly, "My master... I am of course on the side of..." The next second, he flicked his wrist, and a blast of shattered bones shot straight toward Voldemort.

Voldemort roared in fury. With a wave of his hand, a protective spell deflected the attack. "What are you waiting for! Seize him!" Voldemort roared at the Malfoys while keeping a wary eye on West.

The scene fell silent for a moment.

The Malfoys raised their wands, but did not move them.

Voldemort had a bad feeling.

His mind raced, trying to figure out how to escape, while he tentatively asked, "Malfoy, how dare you betray me?"

Lucius, with a pained expression, instinctively began to act: "Master, I didn't..."

Narcissa remained silent, her brow furrowed slightly, as she gripped her wand tightly.

"What do you want?" Voldemort asked. "We can talk."

West frowned, feigning a troubled expression. "We just want you dead. Is there anything to talk about?"

Voldemort was besieged on all sides. If it were only Snape and the Malfoys, he wouldn't be in such a passive position, but there was West, whom he was very wary of, present.

Voldemort struck first, casting the Killing Curse on Wester: "Avada Kedavra!"

Snape's heart pounded in his chest. "The Unseen Blade!"

The swift, invisible blade only grazed his arm under Voldemort's protection, but unfortunately, Voldemort's Killing Curse also failed to hit West.

West's figure vanished into thin air, the Killing Curse striking the wall. The next second, West reappeared next to Voldemort.

At the critical moment, Voldemort moved his wand, attempting to escape by teleporting.

"..." West uttered a phrase in ancient runes, and the air suddenly twisted into countless black vines, which grabbed Voldemort's limbs and slammed him heavily against the wall.

With a crisp cracking sound, Voldemort's wrist was twisted violently, and the yew wand fell to the ground.

These vines, formed from pure magic, grow ever stronger as the spellcaster's magic surges.

Voldemort's neck, with its bulging veins, was marked with deep welts, and his scarlet pupils churned with rage and terror.

A trapped beast hissed from his throat, but it only brought him more oppressive pressure.

Snape said coldly, "Don't waste your time."

Voldemort knew he could not escape his fate.

He remembered the notebook that had been kicked under the table in the chaos; it was his last remaining Horcrux. He still had a sliver of hope.

His cold gaze swept over everyone present. Voldemort gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, and his voice hoarse: "I will await your deaths in the darkness..."

With a flick of his wrist, a black vine tore through Voldemort's black robes and pierced his chest.

Voldemort's breathing became labored, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood, his ferocious expression forever frozen on his face.

The Malfoys still held their wands high, their eyes wide open.

They never expected it to end so smoothly. The arrogant Dark Lord, who controlled all the Death Eaters, simply stopped breathing.

It turns out that even the Dark Lord's life is so fragile; he could be reaped by death in the blink of an eye.

Snape's tense shoulders suddenly relaxed, and his eyes churned with an indescribable mix of emotions.

West's terrifying magic shocked him every time it was displayed.

Once it was confirmed that Voldemort was completely dead, the vines disappeared into the air, Voldemort's body fell heavily to the ground, and a wand slid out of his sleeve.

That was Harry's holly wand. Voldemort might have kept it, intending to catch his enemies off guard, but unfortunately, he never got to use it before he died.

West walked to the table, tapped his wand a few times on the surface, and the notebook flew out from under the cabinet and landed in West's palm.

Immediately afterwards, the notebook burst into flames under the power of magic—there was no Horcrux here, it was just an alchemical artifact tainted with the remnant soul of Voldemort, and it also had the ability to respond to the writer, but if Voldemort talked to it a few more times, he would discover the problem.

Lucius's Adam's apple bobbed twice: "Is it over?"

"I think so." West gave a genuine smile, his gaze lingering on Snape.

Snape's heart skipped a beat.

The Voldemort incident is finally resolved, and it feels like someone is about to start causing trouble.

Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief, took a few steps back, and caught a glimpse of a few strands of golden hair hidden in the shadows, which startled her.

"Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa snapped, her face darkening. "When did you get back?"

West and Snape's faces darkened.

Sure enough, Draco poked his head out from outside the door. His pointed little face was a little pale, and he gave his parents a fawning smile.

Harry followed Draco out, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Lucius noticed their clasped hands and his heart tightened. "What are you doing here?!"