Chapter 145 Tom... the Cat?

“If this time it’s another Death Eater plot, their most likely goal is to resurrect Tom; if we can thwart their plan, Tom won’t be able to come back for a long time, and that will give me enough time to destroy the remaining Horcruxes,” Dumbledore said slowly. Present were not only Kane but also Moody and other members of the Order of the Phoenix, though many didn’t know the full details of Dumbledore’s plan or Voldemort’s Horcruxes—only Kane was fully informed.

“The more Horcruxes destroyed, the weaker Tom becomes. If we manage to destroy six, Tom’s power will be just slightly stronger than an Auror’s, no longer a threat to the wizarding world...” Two Horcruxes had already been destroyed, the second by Dumbledore himself. At this point, he expressed gratitude to Kane for reminding him to bring Fawkes along; otherwise, when destroying the ring Horcrux, he would have fallen under its dark enchantment. It was Fawkes’s cry that awakened him.

Since that incident, Dumbledore had become much more cautious about Horcruxes. Tom’s mastery of dark magic was astonishing—one misstep and even Dumbledore himself could falter.

Moody’s magical eye spun swiftly as he said, “So this time, we go together to the other end of the door key and trap Voldemort and the Death Eaters all at once...”

“Alastor, I need you to stay at Hogwarts. My presence along with Professor Pente should be sufficient. The Triwizard Tournament is important, too. After we leave, you must ensure no Death Eater can attack the students,” Dumbledore instructed.

Professor McGonagall, concerned, asked, “Just the two of you? Dumbledore, take Alastor with you...”

“No need to worry. Honestly, I’d rather Voldemort be resurrected. Even if we kill Tom, the fear of him will linger for years. Instead, if we imprison him in Azkaban in front of everyone, then all will know Voldemort is nothing but a clown...” Kane spoke up. Killing Voldemort was difficult to prove unless accompanied by a group of reporters documenting everything. But capturing him would earn Kane greater renown.

The only true master of magic in the wizarding world.

Kane needed a formidable reputation to protect his enterprises and people like Hermione during his absence. Voldemort’s name had terrorized the British wizarding world for twelve years; it was unthinkable that someone stronger than him, like Kane, could not achieve the same.

Moody, incredulous, said, “Voldemort resurrected? I absolutely don’t want to see that happen. If we can destroy his resurrection plan, we should act immediately. You haven’t experienced the darkness Voldemort unleashed...”

“I don’t need to. My power surpasses Voldemort’s,” Kane replied calmly. Suddenly, a fiery phoenix appeared on his right shoulder, identical to Fawkes in every detail—even the feathers and wing movements. The real Fawkes on his left was startled, calling out twice and touching the fiery phoenix with his wing.

The illusion was so exquisite and stable that all the flames seemed not to burn Kane, despite being less than a centimeter from his hair. Moody’s magical eye detected this precision immediately.

“Let’s proceed according to Professor Pente’s plan. His magical strength already exceeds mine. Even if Tom returns, he won’t surpass him...” Dumbledore declared decisively. Even if Voldemort resurrected, the wizarding world need not fear him. Dumbledore could see Kane’s tough character—others would be hard to persuade.

The third match of the Triwizard Tournament began immediately, with most spectators already gathered. The venue was a labyrinth garden, painstakingly constructed by the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, and enchanted with confusing spells. Those who entered faced not only the complex maze but also the maze’s own disorienting magic.

Dumbledore could have used the door key to arrive in advance, but after losing many followers, Voldemort and the Death Eaters had grown cautious. They sent Death Eaters disguised as students to cause chaos. If not for Moody’s vigilance, those two Death Eaters might have escaped detection.

The confusion magic on the door key could only be used once. If Dumbledore used it prematurely and missed Voldemort, it would alert him, making him even more cautious.

Kane had arrived early and sat at the highest tier of the stands. After searching, Hermione finally settled beside him.

“Godfather, any plans for this summer?” she asked.

“Probably a trip to America or somewhere else. Why do you ask?”

Embarrassed, Hermione responded, “I read about the differences between the American and British wizarding worlds...”

Kane nodded knowingly, then apologized, “Maybe next time, Hermione. I can’t get away this time, and something’s going to happen soon. Next year, it’s safer if you stay at Hogwarts or with Phil or Isaac.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Something big?”

“You’ll see soon,” Kane said without elaboration. He didn’t know how many escape methods Voldemort had; it would be embarrassing to promise something and fail.

If Voldemort were captured, Dumbledore would need a year to root out all his supporters. In that time, Hogwarts would be safest, and other countries relatively secure. But the Granger family couldn’t hide outside for a whole year.

The purge would start with Cornelius Fudge—not a Death Eater but more dangerous due to corruption and weakness. Without a tough new Minister for Magic, even imprisoning Voldemort in Azkaban might be futile, as loyal Death Eaters could rescue him.

“Godfather... never mind,” Hermione began to ask about Fleur but felt she had no standing and decided to focus on the third match.

The four champions had just entered the labyrinth garden. Most spectators fervently discussed the match, with many betting on the Hogwarts champion to win, given their higher odds.

The Weasley brothers were taking advantage of the match's start, asking around for more bets. Their prior success with Buckman had earned them a good sum of Galleons. A win here would bring their dream of opening a magical prank shop closer.

---

After more than half an hour, Kane suddenly felt the magical mark on the door key activate. Someone was transported, but no one appeared inside the arena.

Dumbledore glanced toward Kane, then swiftly whispered to Buckman and Barty, found an excuse, and left the arena.

“Hermione, I’ll be away for a bit,” Kane said, then transformed into a swirl of smoke and flew off the stands to the arena’s exit, waiting for Dumbledore. They were still within Hogwarts grounds; unless Dumbledore lifted the school’s anti-Apparition spells, Kane had to rely on Fawkes to leave.

“Thank you, Professor Pente,” Dumbledore said as he emerged from the passageway, placing a hand on Kane’s shoulder. Moments later, they Apparated to the Riddle House.

The place was grim, shrouded in dark clouds. Nearby were a graveyard and an abandoned church, long neglected and overgrown.

“Is it just Harry alone?” Kane asked.

From a distance, they saw a potion brewing at a gravesite. Dumbledore didn’t know what kind of potion it was but was certain it was tied to Tom.

“I took precautions against others interfering. It can be reversed once we return,” Kane whispered. He had cursed Cedric and Viktor to weaken them—causing fatigue and shaky legs—and told Fleur to hide somewhere during the third task.

Therefore, only Harry had been transported here by the door key.

A Death Eater emerged from the Riddle House, cradling the nearly resurrected Voldemort. Dumbledore immediately identified him as young Barty Crouch Jr.

Kane nodded. No wonder Barty hadn’t impersonated Moody at Hogwarts; Voldemort had no one else to entrust the resurrection potion to but him.

“Let him resurrect, Dumbledore. I guarantee Harry will be safe,” Kane said, placing a hand on Dumbledore’s shoulder to dissuade him. The elderly headmaster was understandably fearful—Voldemort was younger and might outlive him. Not seeing Kane’s full power, he preferred the safer method.

Under Kane’s influence, Dumbledore abandoned the idea of striking immediately and watched as Barty Crouch Jr. threw the near-shriveled remnant of Tom Riddle into a large cauldron. Using bones, his own severed hand, and Harry Potter’s blood, he completed the resurrection ritual.

Dumbledore’s expression grew grave. “Tom’s magic now seems even stronger than before... could it be the potion?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll act,” Kane replied. “Once he summons all the Death Eaters, you set up an anti-Apparition enchantment. Leave the rest to me.”

Horcruxes granted longevity, allowing one’s soul to be preserved through magical objects or fragments, similar to the ghosts at Hogwarts.

Voldemort, through the Dark Mark on Barty’s arm, sent a signal to the remaining Death Eaters. Soon, the dark clouds above thickened, and two black mists descended beside Voldemort.

“Heh, how pathetic. Only two people and a crippled hand to greet the so-called Dark Lord. Dumbledore, do you really think this power can shake the wizarding world?” Kane chuckled. Voldemort’s face darkened. His resurrection had no audience; most Death Eaters were locked in Azkaban. Unless he changed the location, this was the best he could muster.

Dumbledore’s chuckle joined Kane’s, then he raised his wand and cast a large anti-Apparition spell, enveloping the area around the Riddle House.

The Hogwarts headmaster knew this spell intimately; with Dumbledore’s power, even Tom Riddle couldn’t Apparate away.

“Who’s there?” Voldemort snarled, furious at the anti-Apparition spell and the absence of followers during his resurrection.

“Tom, your resurrection is slow. Your schoolmaster and I have been waiting a long time,” Kane said, flying directly to Voldemort’s side. He waved his hand, rescuing Harry from a statue and bringing him to Dumbledore. “Tom, why no salute to your master? Oh, that must be you as a teenager. Do you remember the diary? That Tom was my servant.”

Harry, now behind them, panicked upon seeing Dumbledore. “Professor Dumbledore, that’s Voldemort! He’s resurrected! He’s resurrected!”

“It’s okay, Harry. Trust Professor Pente,” Dumbledore reassured him, then moved him back for safety. He raised his wand, ready to prevent Tom and the Death Eaters from flying away.

“Heh heh heh, let me guess—The Dark Lord disappeared for so long that young wizards have forgotten his terror!” Voldemort initially laughed nervously but grew furious as Kane’s words stoked his rage. One Horcrux destroyed, and Harry rescued right before his eyes, with Dumbledore watching nearby, not stopping his resurrection.

Underestimating the Dark Lord?

Voldemort ruled through fear; without it, many would oppose him.

“Master, he is Kane Pente. He locked many of your loyal followers in Azkaban at the Quidditch World Cup...” Barty Crouch Jr. said through pain from his severed hand. He had barely escaped the Quidditch arena. Over twenty attacking one, yet powerless. He even dared to compare Kane’s and Voldemort’s powers as nearly equal.

“Enough talk, Tom. My time is limited.”

Crash! Kane pointed his finger, and over a dozen explosive curses erupted in the sky, targeting Voldemort and the three Death Eaters.

Only Voldemort reacted swiftly, casting silent, wandless spells. The other Death Eaters didn’t even know what struck them. Kane’s explosive curses were far more powerful than usual—each like four or five grenades detonating simultaneously.

Each of the four faced four or five explosions.

Boom! The ground shook, a layer of earth lifted. The thunderous blasts echoed like a storm’s roar. Harry, far off, covered his ears in pain.

After the first barrage, Barty Crouch Jr. and the other two Death Eaters died instantly. Voldemort looked battered—mud and scorched fire covered his body.

“Cough, cough...” Voldemort coughed but didn’t have time for threats before Kane spoke again.

“Don’t relax, Tom. The second wave is ten times stronger than the first.”

Looking up, Voldemort saw countless red magical curses filling the sky like stars.

His pupils dilated instantly. He hurriedly cast Ironclad and Counterspells, preparing to block the onslaught.

Dumbledore, nearby, looked serious. Standing next to Harry, he cast Ironclad to shield them both.

Hundreds of explosive curses rained down like a storm, detonating like intercontinental missiles, sending flames dozens of meters high. The blast’s force was like a hurricane, ripping up soil, shattering gravestones and statues.

After nearly a minute, the explosions ceased, leaving the area shrouded in smoke and fire. Dumbledore slowly rose, dispersing the smoke with his wand, though it took time.

Harry’s heart pounded wildly, gasping in place. First Voldemort’s resurrection, then such terrifying explosions—his fourteen years of adventures seemed concentrated into this single day.

Soon, a fierce wind swept the smoke away, revealing the scene. Kane approached, carrying a severely burned and injured figure. The only recognizable feature was a broken wand fragment—likely Voldemort’s.

“It’s over. Next, we communicate with Azkaban. Professor Dumbledore, Fudge should step down,” Kane said.

Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, examining the wretched Tom Riddle, then nodded. “Understood. Next, I will visit some old friends...” He felt, for the first time, that explosive curses were more terrible than Avada Kedavra.

Kane handed Harry a camera. “Harry, do me a favor and document what happens next.”

“What? Gladly, Professor!” Harry eagerly grabbed the camera, excited. Voldemort, a nightmare in the wizarding world, was defeated so easily—it was beyond his wildest dreams.

“Record everything,” Kane said, then transfigured Tom into a black, bony cat. He took out a prepared cage and locked the transformed Tom inside.

Afterward, Kane recalled a strange black cat that often visited him. Reflecting carefully, he wondered if that cat might have been an Animagus.

“Cool, Professor, I’ve got the shots... Need more pictures?” Harry asked excitedly, even touching his wand, tempted to perform a Tarantallegra on the caged cat or use a cat toy or catnip to test on Voldemort.

“That’s enough... Professor Dumbledore, this is a special alchemical item. If it’s not opened with the key, the explosion’s power will be weaker than before,” Kane said, handing a specially made key to Dumbledore. It was best kept by him. Without dark magic’s corruption, Dumbledore could live at least ten more years.

“Thank you, Professor Pente. The wizarding world owes you,” Dumbledore said sincerely. Without Kane, no one could have dealt with Voldemort possessing multiple Horcruxes; he himself would have been trapped by them.

“Let’s go back. This must be told to everyone: Voldemort—Tom the cat—has been defeated once again.” Dumbledore smiled with relief, the weight lifted. Placing their hands on Kane’s shoulder, he and Harry Apparated back to Hogwarts.