"Something's wrong!"
The Socket Spirit, clad in tattered black robes, shot upright. He was holed up in the Muggle town mansion with Lanlock, waiting for his inept henchmen to return, or for news of their capture or death.
This time, however, the Socket Spirit could no longer sit still. It wasn't anxiety about the Veela's capture gnawing at him; rather, a sudden, chilling premonition washed over him. He knew the feeling intimately—a unique sense honed over years of beatings and captures at Tom's hands.
Commonly known as: "I'm about to be captured again" radar.
"What is it?"
Lanlock eyed the Socket Spirit's sudden fit with utter bewilderment.
"..."
Ignoring him, the Socket Spirit silently padded to the bathroom, transformed into a rat, hopped onto the sink, and scurried down the drainpipe.
Lanlock stared, utterly perplexed. What in Merlin's name is that bald buffoon doing now? He called out, hoping for an explanation, but received only silence.
"What are you doing?"
A knot of unease tightened in Lanlock's stomach. Could that bald bastard have bolted out of sheer terror? Yet, as he feared, there was no reply.
"Where did he go?"
Lanlock's already-wrinkled face scrunched up further. "No way… Did he actually run?"
The silence fueled his dread. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to flee himself. Without the Socket Spirit, he felt exposed, though even with him, any sense of safety was marginal at best.
Still, a sliver of hope remained that the Socket Spirit had merely remembered some pressing errand…
Lanlock opted to wait a bit longer.
"..."
He slumped back onto the sofa, lost in thought.
But as time ticked by, less than five minutes later, Lanlock found himself unable to sit still. Unease gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing second.
"He's not back yet… I'm done waiting! I'll figure out how to contact him once I'm safely away!"
With that, Lanlock prepared to Apparate.
But he found he could not.
???
!!!
There shouldn't be Anti-Apparition jinxes here!
The realization hit Lanlock like a bludger. He finally understood the Socket Spirit's sudden departure.
But why in bloody hell didn't you take me with you?!
You just abandoned me!
What about me?!
Lanlock stood frozen, head bowed low, "..."
After what felt like an eternity, he inhaled deeply and sighed, "You really are a dog!"
But now was not the time for recriminations.
He needed to escape!
Since Apparition was out of the question, he would…
Lanlock, clad in his mithril armor, charged towards the door, and as he threw it open…
"Hello."
Staring at the familiar, tall, handsome figure before him, Lanlock froze.
With a resounding "bang," Lanlock, who had barely reached the doorway, was sent hurtling backward.
Crashing against the wall, Lanlock struggled to his feet, clutching his chest, a searing pain radiating through him.
Looking down, he saw a dent in his mithril armor—a mark left by the kick!
Are you kidding me?!
Cracking mithril with a kick… is he even human?!
Tap, tap, tap…
Measured footsteps approached.
He looked up to see Tom casually surveying the room's decor.
Reaching Lanlock, Tom half-squatted down, using the Elder Wand to lift Lanlock's chin, forcing the fairy to meet his gaze. His eyes were pools of fear and greed.
"We have met before, have we not?"
Tom's voice remained gentle, pleasant, like the crisp sound of ice melting in the spring thaw.
"…"
Lanlock remained silent, at a loss for words.
He wanted to resist, to flee… but he was powerless. He was too weak. If only I still possessed my magic…
Lanlock attempted to hypnotize himself with such thoughts, but then he found himself wanting to laugh.
Before, he always thought, always said, that he would make this man pay.
But the truth was… he was nothing!
He lacked the courage to utter a single word.
It was only now that Lanlock realized it didn't matter whether he possessed that power or not; he could never face this monster.
Back then, as a dragon, I'd flee after taking two hits. What difference would a rematch make?
Another defeat?
Another robbery?
And if it happened again, could I escape as luckily as before?
Reencountering Tom after so long, the fear that had always lurked in Lanlock's heart forced him to confront reality.
"How very dull."
Regarding the fairy who seemed to have lost his spirit, Tom's eyes turned glacial. "Disappointing…"
He had anticipated something more interesting from this encounter.
But this fairy was not even as entertaining as the Socket Spirit.
In the end, he was merely a fairy who had once been fortunate enough to acquire ancient magic…
A cruel, crimson light flared.
"Ah—!"
Lanlock clutched his chest and collapsed to the ground in agony, his wrinkled face contorted, writhing like a worm.
"Severus."
Tom waved a casual farewell as he turned to leave.
He had refrained from killing Lanlock, even holding back on the Cruciatus Curse that he had cast.
Even though Lanlock had ceased to amuse him, perhaps the fairy would still serve some purpose for the Socket Spirit… Hopefully, the Socket Spirit will be more assertive after achieving his plan. Weakness is not the problem; lacking the courage to fight, now that would be truly… disappointing.
Tom glanced towards the bathroom.
Of course, he knew the Socket Spirit had escaped; he had deliberately allowed it.
Otherwise, could that bootleg sixth sense, triggered by fear, have allowed the Socket Spirit to escape him?
Even now, with the Socket Spirit fleeing dozens of miles away, Tom could still sense its magic.
It's not the Socket Spirit's time to die yet, so let it run, keep running, keep running… It would be best if it could keep running forever.
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