"Finally found it."
A short man quietly took the milk from the household's doorstep.
Disheveled and filthy, Peter looked no better now than he had when Black escaped from prison. The only thing that could still be called passable was his mental state.
He knew exactly why.
It was because of the crystal lodged in his mind.
The crystal didn't just block Voldemort from peering into the deepest corners of his thoughts. It also invigorated his spirit, keeping him from revealing cracks in front of the Dark Lord too easily.
But Peter also knew that if he failed to complete the professor's task, that same crystal would become his death sentence.
Fortunately, yesterday, while he was out, he had secretly passed information about the Dark Lord to the professor. That alone counted as a contribution.
On top of that, the Dark Lord relied on him heavily now. No matter which side ultimately won, he would have some connection to the victor and avoid being cast aside afterward.
Pleased with himself, Peter's mood lifted considerably. Even as he walked back toward Riddle Manor, knowing he would soon face the terrifying Dark Lord, nothing could dampen the joy bubbling inside him.
"Creak."
Holding the milk jug, Peter mulled over his prospects as he slipped into the pitch-dark manor, weaving through the corridors with practiced familiarity.
The place had been abandoned for years. Most of the rooms were completely rotten, with only the kitchen and a sitting room on the second floor barely usable.
Even so, the air was thick with the stench of decay.
Peter placed the jug on the stove, which still retained some warmth, and cautiously approached the sofa chair.
There, asleep, lay the wicked Dark Lord.
In his current state, Voldemort looked neither fully human nor fully ghostly.
Years of effort had only granted him a skeletal form, a blood-soaked skeleton barely clinging to existence.
"Master, would you like to begin your lunch?" Peter asked softly.
No matter how many times he saw it, this form of the Dark Lord still filled him with fear.
At his words, Voldemort slowly opened his blood-red eyes, narrowing them slightly as he cast a detached glance at his servant.
"You seem rather happy today. You weren't like this yesterday."
His voice was sharp, as though forced out of his throat, and it sent a winter-cold chill through Peter.
Peter was certain the crystal protected the depths of his mind. The problem was that the Dark Lord could infer far too much just from a shift in his emotions.
"Yesterday… yesterday it was because you kept wanting to seek help from others. I wasn't questioning your decision, I just felt a little wronged," he said hurriedly.
Voldemort gave a soft chuckle.
"There's no need to revisit that. Go. Bring me my lunch. I don't feel at ease today. I need to accumulate more strength."
His gaze drifted unconsciously toward the window, where grime blocked both the sunlight and his view.
For the first time, this man who reveled in darkness felt the urge to open a window, to ease the vague, inexplicable unease in his heart.
And so he did. Or rather, he ordered someone else to do it.
"Wormtail, open the window."
The sharp command reached Peter's ears as he carried the milk back, making him freeze.
"Master, opening the window makes it easier for others to notice us. That old Muggle yesterday followed the light from the window—"
"Carry it out."
"Yes, Master." Peter didn't dare argue. He set the jug down and moved toward the window.
"Oh, and where is Nagini?" Voldemort asked again.
"I saw her come back when I went out. She's probably in the kitchen—"
Peter's hand froze on the window frame, his face instantly drained of color.
At the manor's entrance stood two robed figures. From their attire alone, he knew they weren't Muggles who had wandered in by mistake, but wizards.
More importantly, he recognized both of them.
The moment he realized who they were, Peter spun around in panic.
"Master, run!"
His voice was so loud it was almost as if he were deliberately warning Tver and Marvolio outside the manor.
Voldemort's blood-red eyes widened at once, the unease in his heart surging violently.
"What are you saying?"
The answer, however, came from someone else.
"Long time no see, Voldemort."
Tver apparated directly into the sitting room, landing neatly opposite Voldemort and greeting him casually.
"I remember it's only been a little over two years. How did you end up like this?"
He frowned in open disgust at Voldemort's current state. To be honest, this was even worse than when he'd possessed Quirrell.
Voldemort's unease instantly exploded. Propping himself up with his weakened body, he glared furiously at Tver.
"And whose fault do you think that is? Tver Fawley! I've carved your name deep into my mind! Sooner or later… I'll make you beg for death and be denied it!"
He no longer expected Wormtail's pitiful magical ability, or the power he had managed to accumulate so far, to be enough to deal with Tver.
So he might as well abandon all restraint. He couldn't truly die anyway. At worst, he would simply discard this body and carry his fragmented soul to find another servant.
Tver paid no attention to Voldemort pounding the armrest in fury. Instead, he calmly swept his gaze around the sitting room.
He didn't find the target he was looking for.
Marvolio, however, grinned broadly and pointed at the floor, and Tver immediately understood.
At that moment, a red beam suddenly shot toward Tver, forcing him to halt mid-step.
"Master!"
Peter clutched his wand and threw himself in front of Voldemort, perfectly intercepting the small bird Tver had transfigured.
The sharp beak plunged deep into Peter's back, leaving him looking like a hedgehog bristling with spikes.
While Voldemort stared in disbelief at what he was seeing, Peter seized the moment and tightly grabbed Voldemort's hand.
Whoosh.
Tver watched the two of them vanish from sight.
Or rather, he deliberately watched them escape.
"So this is the 'feigned injury' plan you were talking about?" Marvolio said, his expression one of genuine amazement.
Everything that had just happened had been part of Tver's prearranged script. Not only did it secure Nagini, the Horcrux, it also made Peter Pettigrew even more valued in Voldemort's eyes.
Tver shrugged easily.
Just a small trick, really. He always liked to squeeze out a bit more benefit when doing things.
"Drag Nagini out. This place is filthy. Compared to here, the Black family house is practically paradise."
Marvolio immediately raised his wand and slashed downward.
A red beam pierced straight through roughly ten feet of flooring ahead, striking the giant snake precisely as it realized something was wrong and tried to flee.
"Done… huh? What's this?"