"So the first step, communicating with the souls, is successful. Next, it would be to get them out of the objects and then merge them with my main soul. And just like using the Resurrection Stone, I can use another Deathly Hallow for this; the elder wand."
As Voldemort saw this possibility, his mind automatically drifted to Albus Dumbledore.
The current owner of the Elder wand.
This was not going to be an easy task. On the contrary, Voldemort doubted he could best the old Wizard in a pure duel. This was clear from the memories he got about their duel in the Ministry of Magic.
Through the memories, he knew he was able to manipulate events for the Elder wand to be in his possession. But he also knew about the mistakes that had happened.
As such, since his rebirth, Voldemort was already thinking about this.
A plan had already been set in motion, one that would see Voldemort seizing the Elder Wand within the span of a year.
A year. Voldemort began brainstorming each and every possibility in order to reduce the time frame.
However, Voldemort knew that rushing into action without careful consideration could lead to disastrous consequences. Dumbledore was not one to be trifled with, and any misstep on Voldemort's part could result in failure or worse.
No, patience was key.
Voldemort had waited years for his chance to seize ultimate power, and he was willing to wait a little longer if it meant ensuring his success.
Besides, the current plan was already in motion, and to abandon it now would be a waste of time and resources.
He was just waiting for Barty Crouch Jr to confirm the good news. As soon as that happened, Voldemort would take the next step.
Currently, Barty Jr was on a secret mission away from England. He was the perfect Death Eater for the job as he was believed to have died in Azkaban. Not even Dumbledore has any idea of his survival.
"Later on, I will send Sirius Black to him after torturing him a bit more." Voldemort smiled in bliss as he remembered the screams Sirius shouted under the Cruciatus Curse. Sadly, he could not exaggerate the pain because he needed Sirius to remain alive.
As for the Auror Alastor Moody, he was quite resilient and never allowed Voldemort or Wormtail to take control of him under the Imperius Curse. One time when Voldemort wanted to vent some emotion, he took it out on Moody, which drove the latter to madness, just like the Longbottom husband and wife.
Having no use for the auror, Voldemort let Nagini devour her.
To create a false lead for the Aurors at the Ministry of Magic, Voldemort did not go after Igor Karkaroff and thus made it seem as though it was he who impersonated Alastor Moody. His running away at the end of the Triwizard Tournament would only make him the number one suspect.
Voldemort concentrated again, and the three souls disappeared back into the Horcruxes.
"I think it's time I visit that old man Nicolas. Based on the calculation from Nicolas Flammel, the process of creating the Philosopher's Stone should be completed today." Voldemort got up and prepared to visit the Frenchman.
---
Sometime later, Voldemort arrived at the house of Nicolas. He was so used to this house that he opened the door and got inside.
There, sitting on a chair, was the old man. With his head down, Nicolas looked like he was drained of all energy and emotion. His gaze was empty as he stared at the floor. The once-respected alchemist was now reduced to a mere shell of his former self.
Approaching Nicolas, Voldemort relished in the sight of the old man's defeated posture. Voldemort's gaze shifted to the table beside Nicolas, where a ruby-red stone lay magnificently in an enclosed transparent jar.
Just from the look, Voldemort knew that it was the legendary alchemical object, the Philosopher's Stone.
"Looks like you have completed your task," Voldemort spoke as he reached out and picked up the Stone, removed it from the jar, and turned it over in his hand.
Nicolas Flamel, his aged form hunched over in resignation, lifted his head at the sound of Voldemort's approach. His hollow gaze met Voldemort's with resignation. There was no defiance in his expression, only a tired acceptance of his fate.
"You have what you want. The Philosopher's Stone is yours, as promised." Nicolas spoke, "Release my wife, Penelope, as you promised."
"I need to test it first, then we will go to get you to your wife," Voldemort said as he took the stone and placed it against the metal leg of the table. Nicolas could only obey and let Voldemort take his time. In the presence of the dark wizard who held his wife captive, he could do little but resign himself to his fate.
A faint shimmer enveloped the Philosopher's Stone as Voldemort's magic infused it with power.
Slowly, the metal leg of the table began to undergo a remarkable transformation.
The dull gray surface shimmered and shifted, morphing into a radiant, gleaming gold. As the transformation reached its completion, Voldemort withdrew his magic, allowing the golden hue of the metal to settle. He inspected the newly transmuted gold, satisfied with the results of the test.
"It seems the Philosopher's Stone is indeed authentic. I have faith in you that it will also produce the Elixir of Life," Voldemort remarked, "How is it compared to the one you previously had?"
Nicolas, his eyes devoid of any emotion, spoke in a voice heavy with despair. "It is better, my lord," he replied, still not used to addressing Voldemort like that. "The Philosopher's Stone you hold now transforms the gold quicker than the previous one. And the Elixir of Life lasts longer."
Voldemort's lips curled into a satisfied smile at Nicolas's confirmation.
"A remarkable creation, Nicolas. Your mastery of alchemy is truly unparalleled. Sad how such a powerful artifact was not put to good use. Don't worry, I, Lord Voldemort, will honor your creation and use it for its true purpose."
With that said, Voldemort turned around and walked by the door. "Let's reunite you with your wife, shall we?