"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 293: Voldemort—It's All for Your Own Good
After Voldemort had finished tormenting Wormtail, a long-forgotten weakness crept over him. It wasn't the familiar drain of magic or the ache of lost life force—he was simply hungry. His shrunken belly even let out an audible, undignified growl.
He stared at Wormtail, still curled up on the floor, whimpering. After a long, silent pause, Voldemort sighed—a cold, almost theatrical sound—and spoke in a voice that was chillingly gentle:
"My dear old friend, please forgive my earlier outburst.
You must understand, I treat you this way not out of malice, but genuine concern. You are the most important piece on the path to my future. I'm willing to invest my time and energy in you—just as I did when we brewed that potion together. Wasn't I guiding you every step of the way?
You're worth it. Perhaps you think I'm too harsh, but every demand I make comes from a place of care and expectation for your future.
Learning isn't just about acquiring knowledge—it's about bettering oneself, about preparing to achieve our shared ambitions.
I hope you realize that everything I do is for your own good. I criticize you, I correct you, because I see where you might stumble. I want to help you become better.
The road ahead will not be easy. It will demand perseverance and courage. But you must face these challenges head-on—only then can you truly grow.
You are my most important companion in this new chapter. I want you by my side as I pursue immortality. I'd hate to see that journey without you, my old friend.
So, however strict I may seem, it's only because I have such high hopes for you… Whatever happens, it's all for your own good."
Wormtail dragged himself shakily to his feet, his voice trembling:
"I know, Master… Master, it's all for my own good…"
Voldemort nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.
"I know it's not entirely your fault. After all, you spent over a decade in hiding—of course you're a little rusty with magic.
Now, I find myself rather hungry. Feed me the rest of the milk in that bottle, and then prepare something else for me to eat. Can you manage that?
Before my true resurrection, I may need you to work a bit harder—tending to my daily needs. That won't be a problem, will it, old friend?"
As he spoke, Voldemort's wand never wavered from Wormtail's direction.
Wormtail scrambled forward, fumbling with the bottle and pressing it to Voldemort's lipless mouth.
But as Voldemort neared the bottom of the bottle, Wormtail's face suddenly twisted with dread—almost despair.
Voldemort noticed at once. Without thinking, he flicked his wand—Crucio!
Wormtail shrieked and collapsed, writhing in pain, though somewhere in his agony he was grateful it wasn't the Killing Curse.
A cold, razor-sharp voice sliced through the air:
"Wormtail, what have you done?"
"M-Master… There was a calming draught in the bottle… I added it earlier… Please, Master, I swear it wasn't on purpose—I just… I just forgot in the rush—"
"Crucio!"
"Aaagh!"
Voldemort could feel the drowsiness creeping in, but this vessel was too precious to abandon so easily. He could have used magic to purge the potion's effects, but he forced himself to endure.
Grinding his teeth, he hissed, "You blithering idiot—go and prepare me something fresh to eat. Now."
He gave Nagini a string of instructions in Parseltongue, then let his eyelids fall heavy. Still, he clutched his wand in a death grip.
Nagini slithered over, coiling protectively around Voldemort, her head raised and tongue flickering at Wormtail.
Wormtail staggered to his feet, shuffling toward the cave entrance—then remembered his wand was still in Voldemort's hand. He glanced back, saw Nagini poised to strike, and thought better of it, continuing toward the exit.
He noticed a few snakes trailing him closely—clearly, the Dark Lord's loyal spies. He didn't mind; he had no plans to run anyway.
Still, he felt a flicker of gratitude for his years hiding with the Weasleys. Watching Mrs. Weasley care for her children had taught him a thing or two—hopefully, it would make these next days a little less unbearable.
He foraged the forest for small animals, planning to make a meat stew for Voldemort.
He'd briefly considered making snake stew—he still remembered the taste from his days with Ron, and he could even identify the flavor in some pet foods. But with so many snakes around—and Voldemort watching—he wouldn't dare suggest it.
When he returned to the cave, he realized with a sinking heart that he still had no wand, and wandless magic was beyond him—he couldn't even light a fire.
He prepared the stew ingredients, then crouched silently in a corner, waiting for the Dark Lord to wake, praying he wouldn't be in a foul mood.
Soon, Voldemort stirred and, spotting Wormtail in the corner, let out a slow breath.
"Wormtail, my friend, where's my food? Are you planning to starve me, then run off and abandon me?"
Wormtail flinched at the sound of Voldemort's voice, not daring to approach. His own voice shook with panic:
"Of course not, Master—I'm your loyal servant… but you haven't given me a wand, so I can't light a fire."
"No wand, and you can't even manage a little flame? Pathetic."
But seeing that Voldemort wasn't about to attack, Wormtail let out a silent sigh of relief.
Then he heard a familiar hissing—Parseltongue—and his heart jumped to his throat again.
Nagini slid into the shadows at the back of the cave.
Voldemort's cold voice took on a teasing edge:
"My old friend, there's no need to be so nervous. I told you—everything I do is for your own good. Besides, I still need you to care for this body. The wrath of Voldemort doesn't fall without reason…"
Soon, Nagini returned, a wand clamped between her fangs. She dropped it at Wormtail's feet.
Voldemort explained:
"That belonged to a rather arrogant wizard. It's yours now. Get on with the cooking—I'm starving."
As Wormtail bent to pick up the wand, Voldemort's own wand remained trained on him—one wrong move, and…
But throughout the meal preparation, Wormtail behaved impeccably. When the stew was finally done, Voldemort spoke softly:
"My friend, you've worked all night. Eat first—you'll take better care of me on a full stomach."
Wormtail didn't dare refuse. He quickly ladled himself a bowl and ate in hurried silence.
Halfway through, Voldemort's sharp voice cut across the cave:
"That's enough. Give me the rest of your bowl—I prefer to share a meal with my friends."
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