A dark specter wandered across Europe.
Magical forces throughout the continent were trying to capture it: the British Ministry of Magic, Germany's Federal Magical Council, even Yugoslavia's Magical Committee…
United, they spared no effort in their determination to destroy the specter.
But they all failed.
The specter easily evaded every pursuit and blockade, breaking through one defensive spell after another. Days later, it finally arrived at its destination—
The Black Forest of Albania.
...
This was Tom Riddle's third visit here.
Each time, he arrived in worse condition than the last.
The first time had been not long after he graduated from Hogwarts.
In this forest, he found Ravenclaw's Diadem—the one Helena Ravenclaw, the Grey Lady, had told him about. Here, he also found the final material needed to create a Horcrux. He killed a local Albanian and turned the golden crown that granted wisdom into his Horcrux.
The second time was after that nightmare night in Godric's Hollow.
Harry Potter—the boy from the prophecy—possessed an ancient and mysterious magic Tom could not understand. On that night, his Killing Curse had rebounded, destroying his own body.
Everything had happened suddenly.
He lost his physical form. Weak and powerless, yet still alive, he fled to this forest, hoping that loyal Death Eaters would come searching for him.
But the surviving Death Eaters either believed he was dead or had been imprisoned in Azkaban.
He waited here for thirteen years. During that time, he left for less than a year after the arrival of that fool Quirinus Quirrell. Eventually, Wormtail came and found him.
Through the memories of the Ministry official Bertha Jorkins, he learned about the Triwizard Tournament and discovered the whereabouts of Barty Crouch Jr.
And now came the third time.
Only three years after leaving this Black Forest, he had returned again.
This time, he was in an even worse state than sixteen years ago.
Sixteen years earlier, six of his Horcruxes still existed in the world. Sixteen years later, every one of them had been destroyed by that prophecy wizard, Jon Hart.
Yet he was far less weak, terrified, and helpless than he had been sixteen years ago.
Back then, he had come here because he had no other choice.
Now, sixteen years later, he had willingly abandoned his former body and returned here of his own accord.
...
The journey itself posed little difficulty. Tom Riddle had already accumulated ample experience surviving in the wilderness.
He chose to possess other animals—especially snakes.
It was not an ideal solution. Animal bodies were poorly suited for casting magic, and his possession shortened their lifespans. None of them lived very long.
Of course, there was a better option.
Sixteen years ago, Tom would have found the idea utterly repulsive.
But now, he no longer cared.
That option was possessing a Muggle.
Muggle bodies were just as unsuitable for magic, but they lived longer and possessed stronger souls, which meant he would not need to change bodies so frequently.
More importantly, unlike animals, Muggles had brains nearly as developed as a wizard's. That allowed him to think clearly about many things.
Before long, Tom found his target: an Albanian forest ranger.
As usual, the ranger was patrolling the outskirts of the Black Forest—making sure any fires could be detected early, reported quickly, and extinguished in time. At the same time, he was also preventing illegal destruction of the forest's resources.
What he did not realize was that a viper in the underbrush had already fixed its gaze upon him.
Tom Riddle was inhabiting that very viper.
The ranger remained completely unaware. After all, snakes rarely appeared in the forest in broad daylight.
The viper patiently followed the Muggle from the bushes, gliding silently through the undergrowth.
Eventually, the Muggle sat down on a slab of green stone to rest.
At that moment, the snake struck.
...
A few minutes later, the ranger stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes.
At the same time, he tossed a dead snake into the nearby bushes.
Tom Riddle stretched his new body.
It had to be said—Muggle bodies were always so clumsy, so fragile, and utterly devoid of magical affinity.
Aside from their intelligence, they were otherwise worthless.
As Tom walked out of the Black Forest, he pondered carefully.
Looking back, his decision at Hogwarts may have been somewhat rash.
That boy—the natural prophecy wizard—might have been deceiving him.
Tom did not actually know what a "Predictmagus" was, but judging from the boy's behavior, he could infer some of his abilities.
Perhaps the boy's actions at the time were not the arrogance of someone standing on the brink of victory.
Perhaps he had deliberately tried to frighten him.
Perhaps he had fabricated the claim that Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald would join forces against him, simply to intimidate him and lure him into abandoning his body.
Of course, whether the truth was the former or the latter no longer mattered.
For the sake of caution, his current choice was undoubtedly the correct one.
At the same time, this decision had allowed him to confirm something.
In theory, Tom should have had no Horcruxes left.
He should have been nothing more than a fragment of a soul—barely preserved by his extraordinary magic—and therefore extremely weak.
Reality, however, proved otherwise.
His soul was far stronger than it should have been.
There could be only one explanation.
Another Horcrux still existed in this world.
...
What was this Horcrux he had never known about?
After a moment's thought, Tom understood.
Harry Potter.
There had always been an inexplicable connection between him and that boy. Tom had never been able to confirm it before.
But now he understood everything.
Sixteen years ago, on the night Tom tried to kill Harry Potter, the ancient protective magic surrounding the boy rebounded his Killing Curse back upon himself.
At that moment, a fragment of his soul split apart and attached itself to the only living soul in that collapsed house—Harry Potter.
That was why Harry Potter, despite having no blood relation to Slytherin, could speak Parseltongue.
It was also why the boy's mind could sometimes connect with his own.
A smile slowly appeared on Tom's lips.
So Harry Potter…
was his seventh Horcrux.