He had to move.
The thought had been gnawing at Voldemort's remnant soul's mind ever since he'd returned from France. With Lanlock in Tom's hands—dead or alive—Tom could use him to pinpoint the location of their hidden island. This place was no longer safe. As soon as he realized this, Voldemort's remnant soul began plotting his escape. When his sixth sense screamed at him, he knew the time had come.
Now.
He was leaving.
Including Voldemort's remnant soul, five identical, noseless, bald men shot into the sky on flying broomsticks. Voldemort's remnant soul rode one himself; otherwise, he'd be too easily recognized, and all their efforts would be for naught. Perhaps their pursuers would assume he couldn't be riding such a clapped-out broomstick, believing he'd already fled.
Of the boxes they carried, only one was genuine—the one clutched tightly by Voldemort's remnant soul himself. He didn't trust those other imbeciles carrying the rest.
On the off chance, if there were enough pursuers, everyone, including Voldemort's remnant soul, would be captured.
Voldemort's remnant soul had considered that dire possibility.
But…
As long as Tom wasn't the one to catch him, even if it were Dumbledore or Grindelwald, he had little to fear.
The thought sent a surge of exhilaration through him.
Even though it had been years since he'd last ridden a flying broomstick, his skills remained sharp; he had always excelled in flying lessons. Now, he soared through the thick, dark clouds.
The damp coolness brushed against his cheeks, and the exhilarating feeling of freedom captivated him. The impending escape brought even greater joy.
Instinctively, he pushed for more speed, the isolated island shrinking behind him, as if leaving all danger in its wake.
...
The island off the coast of England, once home to Voldemort's remnant soul and Lanlock, was now deserted.
Four figures materialized.
"He's gone," Snape said, frowning. He had searched the area thoroughly, finding no one.
"Don't worry, Severus," Grindelwald said calmly, glancing at Snape. He gestured towards Tom. "Learn from Tom. See? He's not worried about any of this."
Tom, feeling the half-chewed Chocolate Frog still wriggling in his mouth, remained silent.
"They didn't use Apparition… or a Portkey…" Dumbledore said, using magic to rewind the recent events then smiled at Tom. "He seems genuinely terrified of you."
Tom shrugged indifferently.
"Let's go. They must have split up," Dumbledore said, using his connection to summon Fawkes. A spontaneous flame erupted around him. "But they won't get far."
"Split up?" Snape frowned.
"Oh? Is our little Severus scared?" Grindelwald teased.
Snape's face darkened. He wasn't particularly afraid; he had ways of protecting himself. Still, he had to admit that he was probably the least capable of capturing their quarry and the most likely to end up in real danger.
"It's alright, Severus," Tom said, patting Snape on the shoulder after swallowing the last of the chewed Chocolate Frog. "If you need anything, just use the Dark Mark to call me; I'll be there in a second."
The standard Dark Mark didn't have that function—it was only a one-way signal. But Snape wasn't just any Death Eater. The man was comfortable with the Dark Mark, using it like a mindless drone, so Tom had upgraded his, just as he had done with Harry and the others.
This upgraded Dark Mark could indeed send messages, but whether or not he received them was up to him. Otherwise, it would be incredibly annoying to deal with them every day.
Better be careful. Tom might block you.
"So, how long until we get a decent smartphone?" Tom grumbled. "Smartphones don't have signals, but at least my Dark Mark does."
Grindelwald's curiosity was piqued. "Tom, what's a smartphone? Another Muggle invention?"
"Never mind, I'll buy you one later. But Hogwarts doesn't have internet; you'll have to go to London."
"Oh, okay… then remember to…" Grindelwald began, but Snape and Dumbledore, who had been watching their carefree banter, stepped forward grimly.
"Hurry up, or he'll escape. We can talk about this when we get back," Dumbledore urged.
Snape nodded in agreement.
Tom and Grindelwald exchanged a glance and shrugged.
...
Lucas, disguised as Voldemort's remnant soul, clutched a box in one hand and gripped his broomstick with the other, soaring through the sky.
Though dim-witted, he wasn't completely clueless. Their master had ordered all this to smuggle precious magical artifacts and captured creatures to safety!
Tom Riddle must have realized that the goblins had exposed their base and that the Ministry of Magic would soon arrive.
Therefore, to protect these important items, Tom had devised a scheme to ensure that one of the boxes—the one containing the real artifacts—evaded the Ministry of Magic's search.
In fact, Tom might already be intercepting those despicable creatures!
Though reluctant to admit it, even the mighty Tom couldn't possibly eliminate another Voldemort and Dumbledore in a short time.
Lucas was deeply worried about his master's safety, fearing all his efforts would be in vain.
He didn't know if the box in his hands was real, but if there was even the slightest chance, he would risk his life to get it to safety.
With that thought in mind, Lucas urged his broomstick harder and faster!
But the broomstick had its limits. The buzzing sound beneath his feet warned him he had reached its capacity.
Lucas ignored the warning, maintaining maximum speed until…
He abruptly turned his head and saw a cloud of black mist rapidly approaching.
---