"Braised wings, I love to eat..."
Due to more than half a month of day-night reversal, combined with Kabuda's refusal to let him read "The Little Match Girl," William was left utterly helplessly with insomnia on this rather rowdy night. After tossing and turning on the bed for two and a half hours, he finally got up from bed—
Shivering slightly, William walked out of the bathroom and looked at the sleeping Sirius and others. He was tempted to embark on "Lupin is also not asleep" and "Recalling Quidditch World Cup Stadium night tour," but the last bit of conscience stopped him from doing those "evil" deeds.
"...I'm such a good person, really."
Pulling aside the curtain, William stepped out of the tent, feeling a wave of heartfelt emotion as he did so.
"Squeak squeak."
On his shoulder, Kabuda nodded in agreement.
Just as Bagman said earlier in the day, today's weather was perfect even if the final continued. The night sky, dark as ink, was dotted with bright stars and a glowing crescent moon. The air was filled with the excitement of post-celebration—
Twitching his nose, William sat at the camping table that hadn't been taken back yet and reached out to grab his "hard labor" from the previous night.
"Squeak squeak!"
Kabuda stopped William's hand from reaching into his pocket. Meeting the latter's confused gaze, it lifted its paw and pointed—
William followed the direction the Niffler pointed at, spotting a swaying figure crawling out from the tent's grassy edge. It wore thin fabric, stood only as tall as some third-year little wizard's waist, possessed big flaring ears, and had slender limbs—
House-Elf?
William's eyebrows furrowed involuntarily. Whose elf was this? The elf then wobbled into the tent next door, disappearing. William turned and gestured to the Niffler on his shoulder, and Kabuda understood, nodding. Its paw rummaged in the pocket—
A moment later, a flash of blue light flickered across the Niffler's black fur, and its silhouette instantly vanished.
Whose elf was that didn't matter; William knew it definitely wasn't the Weasley Family's elf—given Mrs. Weasley's extraordinary household magic and half-hour ability to cook for ten people, the Weasley Family would never have a House-Elf.
No Pure-Blood Wizard would let a House-Elf idle...
No, Sirius seemed to be that kind of wizard. Remembering that old Kreacher in the Black's old house, William felt relieved. Given Kreacher and Sirius's relationship, he couldn't help but wonder if Kreacher would spit in their morning porridge—
But Lupin was certainly better.
Apart from occasionally liking to research some dark culinary experiments, his household magic skills could already compete with Dobby.
While daydreaming, William's body started to change, a long snake tail replacing his legs, sharp crystal horns emerging from beneath the scales on his forehead. At the moment his Animagus transformation was completed, his figure vanished from where he stood, only the flattened blades of grass on the ground bore evidence of his presence—
But moments later, the grass blades sprang back upright.
...
"...Such a bother."
In a remote corner away from attention, a man dressed in thick gray work clothes looked somewhat embarrassed. Sitting on a chair, his magic wand slightly shook, and a faint light flickered in his scarlet pupils, "What on earth are you trying to do?!"
Frustration flashed in the man's eyes as he turned his head around. In the next moment, a figure in Hogwarts uniform stepped out from the shadows.
Diary Tom looked a bit sullen, staring at the man on the chair, drenched in sweat, with a flash of ferocity on his face—"Now I'm asking you, do you even know what you're doing?!"
Then, lowering his voice full of threats, "Don't you know that man is lying in the neighboring tent! If alerted..."
"Hehe..."
"What are you laughing at?!"
"I'm laughing at how I used to be so timid—"
Voldemort's expression turned mocking, eyes flashing a touch of bitterness. That damned fool, if it weren't for this 'sixteen-year-old soul' constantly resisting, how could he have had trouble controlling a muddle-headed House-Elf? If not for this person, he would have already gotten the blood of that little wretch—
"Huh?! Quite bold, aren't you."
Diary Tom's eyes were somewhat inscrutable, but soon after, perhaps remembering something, the corners of his mouth curled into a mocking smile, "Really, then why bother manipulating a House-Elf? Would you willingly let your soul enter such a despicable creature's body? Not think of a way to kill that man?"
"I have my pursuits, but I'm not foolish—"
"You know you're not stupid? Then why act rashly—"
"They're completely unguarded, now is the perfect time! Are we supposed to act at Hogwarts? When that little brat stays with those Muggles, we can't even get close! You're the foolish one! We are one!"
Voldemort's words grew intense, a somewhat wispy black fog rose from the man's body, with scarlet glints flickering within the eye sockets formed by the fog's humanoid shape. He stared at the grim-faced Diary Tom, his tone low—
"Thanks to that damned William, our souls have shattered completely, and only by obtaining Harry Potter's blood can our bodies be restored to perfect condition. Otherwise, further plans are a farce! Do you understand!"
"…You better know what you're doing."
Diary Tom's expression vanished, his face turned sinister, showing a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. "Also, you should open the door to welcome our old friend." With that, he flicked his cloak and disappeared.
"Friend—"
Voldemort hesitated for a moment, feeling Diary Tom no longer blocking his actions, but almost instantly, his link with the House-Elf severed, a sharp pain surfaced from deep within his soul, the man clutched his head, pain flickering in his scarlet pupils—
"Knock knock? Is anyone home? You have a delivery."
The next moment, without giving Voldemort a chance to gather himself, the voice came from the tent entrance, followed immediately without time for thought inside, the tent above Voldemort vanished. William stood at the entrance wearing black pajamas, looking at the astonished man inside, smiling—
"Ah, you're clearly not asleep, shall we take a stroll like…"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The deadly green curse interrupted William's speech, and as the Killing Curse was cast, Voldemort's form began to blur, spinning as though to disappear—but a prepared William couldn't possibly let him go—
William's wand hit the ground, crouching to dodge the Killing Curse as blue ripples started to glow on the surrounding ground.
The two laps he did around here weren't wasted, he had prepared an array to prevent Apparition, and as the blue light ignited, the blurred figure instantly solidified, the interrupted Apparition felt unpleasant, sweat beaded on Voldemort's forehead as he glanced at his separated wrist—
He's just ruthless; it's not like he isn't afraid of pain or death.
"Stupefy!"
William cast a spell, using that weak soul fluctuation, following the trail he found this place, unexpectedly indeed a "big fish".
Voldemort is such a rare specimen, can't just kill him, capture for study is clearly more valuable—he wants to clarify the connection between soul tearing and ancient magic practice, Harry has lost research value now, Voldemort is the only known sample—
But, capturing is still quite difficult—
Let alone, Voldemort's Horcruxes aren't all found, even if killed it only delays the inevitable.
Regardless, Voldemort was the world's top power ten years ago, even now laden with debuffs, he's still a formidable wizard.
Of course, 'formidable' is relative, to Harry Potter lying in bed, even control magic released by Voldemort via a House-Elf can leave him staring helplessly, but now, even just dodging and blocking William's spells, Voldemort's already straining—
"Why so listless today, prisoner?"
As they sparred, William yawned casually, glancing at the positioning, then at the crowd already starting to gather due to the lights from their fight, he nodded, good, he's on the right, meanwhile, he wasn't the Power Rangers—
"Protego!"
Voldemort shouted, thick black armor blocking before him, warding off William's Stunning Spell.
"What's happening?!"
The attention was fully drawn to this side, but seeing the green lights flying everywhere, most wisely stayed away, after all, their own lives are much more important than being an onlooker—spells don't have eyes, bad positioning leaves relatives with tears of grief!
With a ten-thousand-participant event, most Aurors were on site, watching the dueling pair, they didn't intervene immediately but helped keep order, dividing the rushing wizards outside the lines—
"William!"
Mr. Weasley just woken drowsily, now fully awake, watched William narrowly dodge a Killing Curse, becoming increasingly anxious—"Basil! Inside there's my child—"
In Mr. Weasley's eyes, William was yet to graduate, still a minor wizard, though the Weasley Twins had exaggerated William to Mr. Weasley…
But everyone knows, hearing the twins out is one thing, believing it makes you a fool—
And the man raising a magical barrier turned back to look, then turned back, a bit perplexed, "…No redheads around?"