"Wait! Something's not right—" another wizard suddenly shouted.
There was no way such out-of-place objects would just appear in the middle of the road for no reason!
Boom! Puff! Boom! Puff! Boom! Puff!
Before they could react, the small spheres exploded.
A cloud of gas burst out and instantly spread across the area.
Thud. Thud.
In just a single second, the Dark wizards collapsed one after another, completely unconscious.
From behind a nearby tree, Tom muttered, "Tempest Expurgo."
Tom pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and stepped out.
A light breeze swept away the lingering gas in the area.
Only then did Tom walk forward coldly.
"Even elite Alliance members couldn't resist this sedative. And you lot thought you could?"
He cast the fallen wizards a disdainful glance, then turned his gaze to the unconscious members of the Riddle family lying on the ground, a flicker of complex emotion passing through his eyes.
This disaster… had been brought about by him.
If he hadn't provoked Morfin, the man wouldn't have led such a group of cruel Dark wizards to attack the Riddle estate, and so many people wouldn't have died...
In other words, he was the root cause of this tragedy.
Once they woke up, he would probably have to say goodbye.
Tom knew very well—anyone, after experiencing something like this, would find it difficult to forgive the one who started it all.
All the more so with the Riddle family, who were already prejudiced against wizards.
It seemed that the Riddles' hard-earned change of heart toward wizards would completely vanish after tonight.
Sigh.. Was this dream of family warmth destined to end after all..?
Tom checked on the Riddles one by one.
They were all still breathing—perhaps the Dark wizards had intentionally spared their lives to interrogate them about hidden valuables.
Or maybe Morfin wanted them alive just to prolong their suffering…
Either way, these unfortunate Muggles had at least managed to survive.
Tom sighed and once again turned his gaze to his father, Old Tom Riddle.
He slowly crouched down, silently looking at the middle-aged man in front of him—someone who looked remarkably like himself, yet seemed far too aged.
After a long moment, he pulled a small bottle from his pocket and smeared its putrid ointment under Old Tom's nose.
Compared to the others, Old Tom's injuries were likely the lightest. Tom planned to wake him up, wrap up a few loose ends, and then leave the Riddle family for good…
Old Tom groaned in pain and slowly regained consciousness.
The first thing he saw was Tom crouching in front of him. Then he noticed the bodies of the Dark wizards sprawled behind him.
"You… took care of all of them?"
"Yes," Tom replied.
"And… your grandparents, are they still alive?"
"They are… I'll be sending a message to the Ministry of Magic shortly. Someone will come and take them to St Mungo's… that's a wizard hospital. You'll need to go too. The injuries you all sustained can't be treated by Muggle doctors… After that… I'll be leaving."
Old Tom's gaze flickered. "You're… leaving? Do you mean it the way I think you do? As in… never coming back?"
"Yes. I won't be coming back. I think you understand by now—they came because of me. And those people… you could say they died because of me, too. I know none of you will ever forgive me… so staying isn't an option."
"So that's how you see us? As ignorant people?" Old Tom let out a bitter laugh and propped himself up with effort. "You wizards… always so high and mighty, thinking those of us without magic are nothing but fools. But..."
"…aside from not having your strange powers, how are we any different from you?"
Tom stared at Old Tom, puzzled by his words.
"We may not have magic, but we're still normal people… we're not stupid!" Old Tom said passionately. "Why do you think you're guilty just because you're a victim too? Do you really believe that when disaster strikes, we'd be the kind of idiots who blame a fellow victim—our own kin? Don't you think… that's completely unfair?"
Tom frowned. "But I—"
"You regret it. You blame yourself, don't you?" Old Tom gave a bitter smile. "When I escaped back then, I felt the same way. That regret and guilt haunted me for years… I regretted drinking the water your mother gave me. I blamed myself for not having the courage to live up to my father's expectations… But I was a victim too, wasn't I? What did I do wrong? I…"
Tom's chest began to feel heavy, and with great effort, he inhaled and spoke. "We can talk about this later. You need rest… and they need treatment."
Old Tom was breathing heavily. With Tom's help, he barely managed to stand up.
The only reason he'd held out so stubbornly tonight was because the torture from Morfin had triggered years of pent-up emotions to explode all at once.
When fear and oppression reach their peak, all that's left is rage…
Old Tom took a deep breath. "Kid… I want to say—"
Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he shoved Tom aside!
Tom felt utterly confused.
But just as he steadied himself and turned to question Old Tom, he saw a sudden burst of blood erupt from Old Tom's body!
Tom's eyes widened as he watched him slowly collapse…
H-Huh..?
At that moment, at the broken window on the second floor, Morfin Gaunt was leaning against the shattered frame, clutching his wand with his remaining left hand, laughing maniacally.
no.. no.. NONONONONONONONONONONONONO...
Tom gripped his wand tightly.
"Bahaha! So the pig decided to shove you aside, huh? Cough.. Bahaha.. he deserved it.."
A surge of overwhelming emotion—rage or sorrow, he couldn't tell which—suddenly surged up from deep within.
"Die!"
He swung his wand toward Morfin with a violent motion. This time, he didn't even speak the incantation…
Swish!
The wand sliced through the air, releasing a sharp cracking sound.
Then, a faint black ripple shot from the wand tip and vanished in an instant!
Bang!
On the windowsill, Morfin Gaunt's laughter stopped abruptly.
Then, a massive crack slowly spread across the windowsill beside him…
At the same time, a thin red line appeared across Morfin's neck… Boom!
The next second, his head dropped to the ground—along with half of the windowsill, which crashed down with a thunderous boom.
This was the most powerful casting of Sectumsempra since Tom had learned it.
Yet, the overwhelming effect of the spell failed to draw Tom's attention this time.
Ignoring the scene entirely, he slowly turned his head to look at Old Tom on the ground.
Perhaps because Morfin had been severely wounded, the Severing Curse hadn't reached its full strength.
So Old Tom hadn't died instantly.
But he wasn't far from it either.
Several of his wounds were deep enough to expose bone. His upper torso was nearly split open.
"Haah.. haah.. what do I do.. I.. please.."
Tom crouched beside him, staring at the bloody mess that was Old Tom, his mind utterly blank.
Then, numbly, he began pulling things out of his pocket…
"Dittany…"
"H-Healing Potion…"
Tom numbly applied each of these to Old Tom's body.
But the blood kept gushing, washing away the dittany and drastically reducing its effectiveness. Old Tom was also vomiting blood nonstop, making it impossible to get the healing potion down his throat.
"E.. Episkey! Episkey! Episkey! Episkey! Episkey!"
Tom gripped his wand with blood-covered hands, trembling as he cast the spell over Old Tom's wounds.
But his healing spells were only good for superficial injuries. For something this severe, they were as useless as a cup of water on a burning cart.
Maybe the dittany finally took effect—or maybe he managed to pour in a little of the potion.
Old Tom eventually stopped coughing up blood, but the way his consciousness seemed to return only made Tom feel more uneasy…
"Tom… earlier, your grandfather asked me to name your owl. I thought about it for a long time and couldn't come up with anything… but now, I've got an idea. What do you think about calling her 'Dawn'? Only through a new dawn can hope be seen… I thought… haah.. I was about to see mine…"
~~~~~~~~
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