Chapter 105: Fortress!
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[That's a safe and good plan. You know you can attack him even now by borrowing your sister's sword. With both the Black and White Swords in your hands, your total strength will be multiplied by 22. Your most powerful class [Necromancer] which is level 300 will be multiplied by 22. You will practically be level 6600, powerful enough to take care of him.]
'I know about that. But I still want to play it safe. We don't know what surprises Voldemort could spring on us. And Dai Deam's scouting mission gave us nothing new. We just know that there is a strong impenetrable magical castle in Albanian Forest in which he resides. I don't want to fight him as equals. I want to crush him like a pest, with a single move. But if you can guarantee that my current strength is enough to defeat the Dark Lord then I am ready to teleport to Albania right now. What do you say? Should we do it? Should we end the war right now?'
[No, your plan is a safer one. Wait until you get stronger.]
Harry chuckled amusedly, already having known her answer. It wasn't just caution and logic that made him stay his hand. It was instinct too.
He knew that if he attacked now, he would die. It was the same feeling he got when he had taken Iris to Voldemort's chamber. And unlike last time, he had learnt his lesson.
He now knew to always listen to his instincts. He wasn't going to be impatient and risk it all.
He had grown a lot. He wasn't the same impatient boy who led his sister to that accursed chamber because he wanted to grow his level quickly and exponentially.
He opened the system UI and changed his Class.
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Far away in the fortress of Albania, stood an intimidating castle in which a princess was safely kept hidden.
Her name was Voldemort. She had been imprisoned in this castle for the last 6 years.
She didn't know why she had been incarcerated here. She didn't know how she was born or created. She didn't even know her name until he told her. One moment she didn't exist, and the next she was suddenly here, in this gaudy room.
She had unique memories. The memories of Tom Riddle. Who also happened to be her captor among many other things. And strangely these memories resonated with her as if it was her own. But it wasn't the case of course, she knew that. And yet, her mind couldn't dissociate with the memories. Her sense of identity was in shambles. It always had been. She didn't know what she was.
Was she his clone?
Was she his ritualistic daughter?
What exactly was she?
Whenever she asked him these questions, Tom shut her off with a warning look. And she knew better than to keep on prodding when he was on the verge of losing his patience.
Tom was gentle. He was charming. He was kind. He loved her. But sometimes he got very angry and his eyes turned red. Literally.
That always scared her. But he had never hurt her so at least that was another good point for him. He really was an enigma. He called himself an evil Dark Lord and yet she thought that he was just lonely and frightened.
He claimed to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world and yet never ventured out of the castle, as if afraid of going out. Well, he kind of did go out last year when a stuttering man stumbled into their house.
Although she didn't know how much it qualified 'going out' when Tom simply possessed the man to see what was happening outside the world.
If she remembered correctly, Tom was curious about the Philosopher's Stone which could have been helpful in the future. She agreed. She had read various ritualistic books in which the Stone would have definitely played a big part.
Her husband, yes, that's what he told her to think of him, came back in his body after a defeat, just a couple of months after he went out. And she did, thinking of him as her husband that is.
In spite of being his prisoner, she was his wife and lover too. It was a strange conundrum.
There was a bitterness for her lack of freedom obviously, but there was an abundance of love too. She loved her husband like any other faithful and caring wife would do. But her shackles and ignorance aggravated her.
She wanted to know what was going on in her husband's mind. She wanted to know his future plans. She didn't think her husband planned to remain cooped up here forever. But most of all, she wanted to know her origins.
Who was she? Or what was she?
The wall slid open and the subject of her thoughts materialised himself. He smiled at her softly.
No one who had met him would ever consider Voldemort to be able to smile like that. But here he was, smiling tenderly at his wife.
"Wife. I hope you had a pleasant day." He said, sitting beside her and pressing an affectionate kiss on her cheek.
"I did, husband. The new book about the necromantic uses of blood was as immersive and informative as you said it was." She smiled back, leaning on his side as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"I am glad. I also wanted to inform you that I will be out on the day of the Samhain next month." He added thoughtfully as they laid down on the bed together.
"Oh yes, you are going to test that 'interesting' boy again. I don't know why you are so taken with him." She asked curiously, climbing on him so she could lie atop him.
He just gave her a small smile, vanishing their clothes and running his hands down the curve of her arse. She hissed in pleasure as he lifted her up before joining them in the ways only a man and woman could be joined.
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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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