HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with a start. The night sky was clear, and the moonlight illuminated the cold sweat on his forehead.

Harry lay stiffly on the bed, panting heavily, his hands pressed tightly against his face. The lightning bolt-shaped scar was taut and red under his fingers, the burning pain almost splitting Harry's brain apart.

He sat up, slowly calmed his breathing, and walked to the mirror.

The mirror reflected a well-proportioned fourteen-year-old boy with bright green eyes and messy black hair. He had been living a good life lately, and with the help of exercise, he had grown taller rapidly.

Harry raised his hand to show that he was at least half a head taller than Draco, and couldn't help but chuckle, but the corners of his lips quickly turned down.

He recalled the strange dream he had just had.

A dimly lit room, a snake lying in front of the fireplace, a woman with a contorted face, and a shrill voice roaring—

He would never forget that voice; it was Voldemort's voice.

Harry felt a sharp pain in his head and a sensation as if a block of ice had been dropped into his stomach, making his limbs stiff.

That woman, he'd seen her picture on West's desk... what was her name again? Right, Bellatrix Lestrange, she's Draco's crazy aunt... damn it!

Harry slammed his clenched fist into the mirror, shattering it into pieces.

He heard it: Voldemort and his men were plotting how to kill him and West, and they had also brutally murdered a Muggle.

He stood there for a long time with a gloomy expression before picking up his wand to restore the mirror and then going to the bathroom to wash his face.

Lying back down on the bed, he stared at the flickering light and shadow on the curtains, and in a daze, he saw again the cold light reflected off the scales of the snake in front of the fireplace.

The next day, Harry arrived at Somerset Manor via the Floo Network.

"You dreamt about Voldemort?" West frowned, pinching Harry's cheekbone and turning his face toward the sunlight.

Harry felt much more relaxed with West by his side.

"They were plotting how to kill us," Harry said somberly. "In a dark room, they even killed a Muggle, simply because that Muggle discovered them."

Harry hasn't sensed a single Horcrux so far, but he's sensed Voldemort first, which is making West a little frustrated.

"I must pull out Voldemort's Horcrux." West said coldly, raising his wand to Harry's scar.

"Huh?" Harry grabbed West's staff tip. "But we're still missing a Horcrux, aren't we? Maybe I can find a clue through my connection with Voldemort."

"Do you know what this means? Voldemort isn't stupid. He'll soon find out you're spying on his thoughts, and who knows what he'll do?" West said.

"We have to try," Harry said, a cold glint of hatred flashing in his emerald eyes. "We have no other choice now."

West looked at him, put down his wand, and said, "Come with me."

Harry followed West to the alchemy workshop.

This was his first time entering the alchemy workshop at Somerset Manor. Behind the carved silver door was a room enclosed by obsidian walls inlaid with strange magical runes. An alchemy table floated in the center, surrounded by glass cabinets displaying various alchemy equipment.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed expressionlessly.

"Come here, let me see if I can make you an alchemical piece of equipment that can prevent Voldemort from spying on you from the other side."

West walked to the worktable. "Actually, learning Occlumency would be better," he glanced at Harry sideways, "with your personality, it might be difficult for you."

Harry retorted, "How will I know if I don't try?"

"Those who can master Occlumency are introverted people who are good at hiding their emotions, like Severus and Draco, but your emotions are outward, Harry," West said as he picked up a piece of mithril and began to carve it.

"I understand Professor Snape, but Draco...?" Harry asked, puzzled. "When he's angry, he looks like he could kill me. He's not at all reserved!"

"In fact, Draco has already begun learning Occlumency, and with remarkable success—he only does it in front of you, Harry." West waved his hand, beckoning Harry over.

He picked up the engraved mithril in his hand; it was a cufflink, its silver surface covered with fine runes, small and exquisite, meant to be discreetly fastened to Harry's clothes.

"Drip some blood on it," West said.

Ha used his wand to make a cut on his hand, and blood dripped from the wound onto his cufflink.

The cufflinks seemed to have a life of their own, greedily sucking up the blood.

"Brain lockout is like putting on armor over your emotions, protecting them from others' prying eyes. This cufflink is similar; wearing it is like putting a safe in your brain," West explained.

Harry instinctively picked up his cuff and buttoned it up. "Is that all? By the way, why did Draco want to learn Occlumency?"

"Although I don't think it's necessary, Voldemort is about to make a comeback, and the Malfoys always need to have some backup plans."

Harry clenched his fists, extremely annoyed, wishing he could send Voldemort to meet Merlin immediately.

Afterwards, West prepared some more potions for Harry to block out the pain.

Harry's footsteps disappeared outside the door, and West looked through the documents on the desk and found a roll of parchment.

His speculations about Horcruxes were densely recorded on it.

"Voldemort..." West's fingertips traced across the paper, his voice cold. Voldemort seemed to have an obsession with rituals, always crafting items with special meanings into Horcruxes, the locations of which were invariably shrouded in mystery.

His gaze lingered on the newly added notes.

Voldemort's mother was from the Gaunt family, and this Slytherin descendant had long been used as a tool for him to bewitch people.

Following this line of thought, Salazar Slytherin's locket and the Gaunt family rings are both highly likely to become vessels for Horcruxes.

"The locket is nowhere to be found, but the ring..." West picked up a quill and wrote down a place name—Gunter's Old House.

West's eyes darkened, and he immediately sent a letter to Dumbledore.

He then took out the Hufflepuff Cup from his alchemical ring and released the magical seal on it.

West sat down and closed his eyes.

Before long, he had arrived in the world of the Golden Cup.

It was a small, dark place, completely empty except for a handsome young man standing in the endless night, staring at him with a somber expression.

Tom Riddle. West thought absently.

Riddle suddenly transformed into a cloud of black mist and lunged at West.

West exclaimed in approval, "Commendable courage."

The next second, West transformed into a giant black snake, opening its blood-red maw.

The black mist couldn't dodge in time and was bitten, a piece of it being torn off. It was thrown aside and transformed back into human form.

"Who are you?" Riddle said through gritted teeth, his eyes filled with resentment.

"Do you know how many Horcruxes you have?" West didn't answer his question, looking down at him.

A large chunk of Riddle's soul had been torn away, leaving him severely injured. He struggled to sit up, leaning against the wall, and gave a cold laugh. "I don't know."

"Really? I don't believe it." West said with a smile, squatted down, pointed his wand at Riddle's forehead, and forcefully searched through his memories.

The memory search of ancient dark magic is not pleasant, with a very high chance of causing soul damage, not to mention that Riddle is just a thin piece of soul split from the main soul.

Finally, he passed out from the excruciating pain, and only then did West regretfully stop.

It's not out of sympathy, but because this Voldemort genuinely didn't know where the other Horcruxes were.

Voldemort even guards against himself? West was utterly speechless and in a terrible mood. He sneered, "Unfortunately, you're not even worth being a pawn. So, die."

Riddle's eyes widened, about to say something, but West had already returned to reality without hesitation, throwing the golden cup into the brazier in the corner and setting it on fire, burning it to ashes.