The trip to London was not the final stop.
Voldemort continued to guide Harry through the varied landscapes of the Muggle world.
They stopped at several spots, each with the same goal. For Voldemort to show Harry how the Muggles were just like a pest infecting the world.
They arrived at an industrial zone, a landscape marred by pollution and environmental degradation. Voldemort pointed out the smokestacks billowing thick smoke into the air.
Next, Harry saw how the chemicals were poured into rivers. How the nearby land was destroyed. Not a single tree of life could be seen.
"Look, Harry," Voldemort said.
"This is the consequence of Muggles' progress. Their so-called advancements come at the cost of the very world they inhabit. In contrast, wizards possess magic, a power unique to us, untainted by the destructive forces that plague the Muggle realm."
Next, they Apparated in one of London's most infamous prisons in the year 1995. The cold, imposing structure housed Muggles convicted of crimes ranging from theft to murder. Harry observed the prisoners, each with their own story, some displaying remorse, while others seemed indifferent to the consequences of their actions.
"Look at them, Harry," Voldemort murmured. "A society that cannot control its own people is bound to fall into chaos. These are the consequences of allowing Muggle society to persist unchecked. Crimes, atrocities, and the suffering of innocents are the byproducts of a flawed system."
Harry had no words. He simply stared.
The destruction and crime he saw in this journey alone were already making Harry question whether he really knew the Muggle world.
Voldemort continued to show Harry the bad side of the Muggles. The Dark Lord never forced the thoughts. He only planted them.
The world he thought he knew, the world Dumbledore wanted him to protect, seemed more corrupt each time Voldemort peeled back its veil.
Finally, it was time to apparate back.
As they returned to the familiar corridor, Voldemort turned to Harry with a solemn expression.
"This is the world Dumbledore wants, a world plagued by its own flaws and contradictions. The virus that infects this planet must be removed. Only true wizards, with the strength of our magic, can bring about a world free from the chaos of Muggle influence. The hardest choices require the strongest wills, Harry. Us, together, will make this world perfect."
With that said, Voldemort guided Harry back into the cellar and left.
Days passed in that same rhythm. The seed had been planted. And now, slowly, it grew. Sometimes, it was Harry pointing to Voldemort at the wrongdoings of the Muggles.
The wizarding world was experiencing a very strange time. The wizards were living their own lives.
In the eyes of the public, the story of Cedric's death and Harry Potter's mysterious disappearance faded into murmurs.
The contradiction between Dumbledore and Cornelius was still ongoing, but Wizard was starting to be on the minister's side.
Without evidence of new attacks, whispers of Voldemort's return began to feel more like old superstitions. There has not been a single case of a Muggle, mudblood, or Halfblood being killed by the Death Eaters.
Dumbledore was losing ground.
Only the Order of the Phoenix still clung to the memory of that night. Only they, and those who loved Harry, still feared what had truly begun.
Behind the curtain, things stirred on both sides.
The Death Eaters, on Voldemort's order, began to gather clues on who guarded the Department of Mysteries and how they could retrieve the Prophecy that Voldemort needed.
Hagrid met with Madame Maxime on Dumbledore's mission as envoys to the giant colonies of north-eastern Minsk, in the hopes of dissuading the giants from joining Lord Voldemort's side in the coming war.
On the other hand, Walden Macnair was able to free himself from the duties in the Ministry of Magic and took off with some other Death Eaters to convince the giant to join Voldemort's side.
Time gradually continued to go on until finally the day approached.
Wormtail was back from his mission spying on Nicolas Flamel. As he was a bearer of key information, Voldemort decided to begin the plan that very day.
Voldemort departed immediately from Malfoy's manor. But instead of going directly to the village of Ottery St Catchpole in Devon, Voldemort took a very long detour and went north.
----------
Here, the sky was dark as usual.
Like every single day, thick clouds were present, hiding the moon completely.
Far below, huge waves rose and crashed. This was the worst location for any boat or even airplane.
All sailors knew there was no hope in trying to get past these waters.
Today, the weather was even more brutal.
The thunder roars, and heavy rainfall blocks all visibility.
The lightning struck, casting the darkness away for a few seconds.
Yet amiss the few seconds, there emerged an island that seemed to materialize out of thin air. This was no ordinary landmass; it was an island hidden from the prying eyes of both Muggles and wizards alike. No boat, not even by the wildest stroke of luck, would ever find its way to this mysterious isle.
The very currents seemed to conspire against any vessel, redirecting them away as if the island itself rejected intrusion.
On this clandestine island, a solitary structure rose from the rocky terrain.
This was the infamous Azkaban, the wizarding prison that housed the darkest and most dangerous witches and wizards.
The tower itself was a formidable structure, dark and old. The walls looked damaged, but only looked. They remained as solid as years before against the difficult environment surrounding them.
The windows were mere slits, allowing only the faintest rays of light, if they even existed.
When the waves rose high, as they often did, they covered the island in water, swallowing even the lower ramparts. Still, the tower stood.
Amidst the furious weather, a dark silhouette was floating above the prison of Azkaban. The person was no other than the dark Lord Voldemort.
If anyone saw him, they would guess he was here to release his Death Eaters, but for the dark Lord, it was not time for that.
He had another matter at hand.