561 C561 Book Burning

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In the dimly lit basement of Malfoy Manor, the sudden appearance of Tom Riddle's spectral form startled everyone, especially Dumbledore, who recognized the teenage face that harbored so much malevolence.

"How do you know who I am?!" Tom asked Peter before his eyes widening in horror as he notices Dumbledore, eyeing him from across the room. "P-Professor…"

As Tom confronted the aging wizard, his eyes began to burn with fury and unwillingness at the unexpected reunion with his most hated enemy.

Dumbledore, despite his calm demeanor, couldn't help but frown, realizing that Tom had created his first Horcrux while still in school. His spectral form was so young and still wore the same Slytherin Hogwarts robes that Albus remembered.

'He must have created his first Horcrux at school…' Albus thought, his mind racing to recall who his victim could have been. 'Myrtle…' He suddenly remember the poor girl who now haunts the school as a ghost.

The revelation struck a chord of concern as he pondered how he missed the signs right under his nose. Tom's mask of charm had deceived many, but Dumbledore was one of the few who glimpsed the darkness lurking beneath, yet he missed this.

As Dumbledore was about to address Tom, the cries of pain from Abraxas Malfoy turned into desperate pleas for help. "Dobby! You useless elf! Get over here and help me already!" He called out to Dobby, the loyal elf torn between the commands of his cruel master and his urge to just let it happen.

After all, these muggles weren't the only ones that Abraxas has tortured. Dobby has been through all sorts of odd and cruel punishments, which Abraxas and the Malfoy family have put him through for the simplest of things, like being a half a second late to their call, or even something as made up as daring to breath in their presence.

"Dobby, help me! Release me this instant!" Abraxas demanded, his voice strained with agony as the Muggles continued wailing on him in retribution.

Caught in a dilemma, Dobby stood uncertain, his eyes darting between Peter, the freed slaves, and his master. Until finally, the invisible chains of loyalty and the fear of punishment pushed him forward to help his master.

But before he could free his master, Peter, with a snap of his fingers, bound Dobby in Eldritch energy straps, immobilizing him where he stood.

Ignoring the standoff between Dumbledore and Tom for the moment, Peter approached the captive elf. Squatting down to eye level, he offered Dobby a choice that was too good to be true for the little elf.

"Do you want to be free from the Malfoy family, Dobby?" Peter inquired, his gaze penetrating into the conflicted eyes of the trembling elf.

Amidst the background symphony of Abraxas's tormented cries, Dobby hesitated. The pull of his bond with Abraxas warred against the allure of liberation. Threats and promises echoed in his ears, creating an internal struggle for the young elf.

Abraxas, desperate to retain his control over Dobby, screamed at the elf, "You useless, dirty, creature! How dare you even think of freedom! You're nothing but a slave who will serve the Malfoy family like a dog for the rest of your miserable little life…!" He continued to rant his threats and vile words as the torture began to take its tole on the his mind.

Peter didn't know if Abraxas was trying to sway Dobby back into servitude or push him away, but it seemed like the latter. He merely looked at Dobby, waiting for his answer.

The sound of the whip cracking and the cries of the Lord of House Malfoy provided a dissonant backdrop to this tense moment.

Soon enough, the elf finally spoke, his voice trembling but resolute. "D-Dobby wants to be free!"

With a snap of his fingers, Peter severed the magical connection between Dobby and the Malfoy family. Abraxas's threats turned into furious curses, but it was too late. Dobby was free, his eyes widening in shock as he realized the sudden release from his bonds.

Usually, the master, which in this case would be Abraxas, would have to gift the elf a piece of clothing in order to free them, but Peter was able to simply sever their master and servant bond with a simple snap of his fingers.

Peter removed the Eldritch energy straps, and Dobby, now unbound, began to cry tears of joy. "Dobby is a free elf now!" he exclaimed, overwhelmed with excitement.

Abraxas's howls of despair filled the room, his power over Dobby shattered. The poetic justice extended beyond the revenge of the formerly enslaved muggles as Dobby reveled in his newfound freedom, liberated by the very intruders his former master despised.

As the cries of retribution against Abraxas continued, Peter turned his attention back to Dumbledore and the Spectral for of Tom, who have both continued to glare at one another this entire time.

Giving one last glance to the now-free elf, Dobby, Peter extended a casual offer, "If you ever need a new job, Dobby, just let me know. Like I said before, I could use an elf like you back home."

Dobby, still overwhelmed by the taste of newfound freedom, nodded silently, his large eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and hesitation. He wasn't ready to accept any new masters just yet, the joy of liberation had yet to fully sink in.

Turning back to Dumbledore and the spectral form of Tom, Peter tightened his grip on the Horcrux diary. "Any unsettled business between you two before I destroy this thing?" he inquired, acknowledging the long history they shared.

Dumbledore sighed, his eyes briefly meeting Tom's. "I-"

However, before any further discussion could unfold, Tom's attention snapped to Peter at the mention of destroying the diary. The prospect of obliteration, of ceasing to exist, fueled a desperate attempt to stop him.

And luckily, Peter was holding the diary right now, which would allow him to assail his mind rather easily. Instantly, Tom's spectral presence lashed out, seeking control over the unsuspecting Spider-Man.

Yet, Peter's mental defenses proved formidable, easily blocking the pubescent Dark Lord.

A backlash reverberated through the astral plane, causing Tom's spectral form to convulse in agony. Blood dripped from his eyes, nose, and ears as he collapsed to the ground at Peter's feet, overwhelmed by the unexpected counterassault.

Peter shook his head, a mix of disappointment and amusement in his expression. "You shouldn't have tried that, Tom. Consider yourself lucky that I went easy on you, or else you'd be dead right already."

As Tom writhed in pain, Peter turned back to Albus, "What was it you wanted to say?" He asked.

Looking down at the writhing, spectral form of Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore felt a twinge of pity. In a surprisingly somber tone, he began, "Tom, I'm sorry... I wish I had done more to guide you away from the dark path you chose. I saw it, the facade you put up as you dealt with everyone, hiding your true self from the world. But instead of helping you, I saw you as a threat and tried to hinder you as best as I could."

Dumbledore's regretful gaze lingered on the young version of Voldemort before him. "Perhaps, if I had provided a stable home for you, instead of leaving you in that awful orphanage. Or even sought out a psychologist to help better understand and fix what you were becoming, things might have turned out differently. But sadly, we can't turn back time. At least not that far…"

Tom's eyes widened in shock at the unexpected apology. The old man he had despised for so long was expressing remorse and admitting his own failures…

However, any hope of a genuine connection shattered as Tom's spectral form erupted into a fit of laughter. "You've grown weak in your old age, Professor," he taunted, the echoes of his malevolent laughter reverberating through the dimly lit basement.

Despite the derisive laughter, Dumbledore maintained his composure. He had hoped for a breakthrough, a chance to reach the tormented soul of Tom Riddle. Regret lingered in the air as Dumbledore, with a heavy heart, acknowledged the futility of his attempt.

Turning to Peter, Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "It's time, Peter. Do what needs to be done."

Tom, sensing the impending threat, turned frantic. "No! You can't do this!" he shouted, desperation in his voice. But his pleas fell on deaf ears as Peter, determined and resolute, began to shroud his hand in flames.

With a swift, practiced motion, Peter enveloped the Horcrux diary in flames. Tom's agonized scream echoed through the basement as the diary disintegrated, taking the young piece of Voldemorts soul with it.

As the diary crumbled into ashes, the bound Voldemort by the stairs jolted awake, his eyes widening in horror as he felt the severing of his last connection to immortality. "Aaaaarghh!?" A scream of anguish tore through the air, marking the destruction of the final Horcrux.

Peter, his hand still smoldering from the ethereal flames, looked over at the now-awake Dark Lord. "Good morning, Sleepy Head. You picked the perfect time to join us. We just finished destroying your last Horcrux."

Voldemort, straining against his bindings, turned to Peter, horror written all over his face. "What have you done?!"

A/N: 1560 words :)

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