In a vast void of nothingness, Leon floated.
No body, his consciousness foggy, his soul on the verge of unraveling.
Then—
"I see your soul. It belongs to me."
Leon "heard" a cold, hissing voice and "saw" a shadowy figure wreathed in dark mist.
The voice grew louder, the shadow drew closer, and a wave of chilling malice surged toward him.
"I see your dreams, your fears… ugh, such dull, pathetic, ignorant Muggle nonsense…"
"You've disturbed my slumber, but… the generous Lord Voldemort has decided to forgive your transgression."
"In fact, I'll grant you a rare honor—to share eternity with the greatest wizard of all time!"
"How marvelous! I've always been so merciful…"
"Come, child, embrace the destiny I've arranged for you! This will be the most glorious moment of your miserable life. We—"
Wait a second!
Voldemort?
Where the bloody hell am I?
Is this still the M78 Nebula or what?!
No time to think. A torrent of pompous drivel smashed into Leon's mind, pounding his nonexistent skull until it felt like it might explode.
Even though he didn't have a skull anymore.
But the pain—the soul-shredding, gut-wrenching agony of being torn apart.
A pain that screamed of a fate a hundred times worse than death…
No!
Don't eat me!
I don't want to die!
Stay back!
I've been constipated for a week—there's ten pounds of rubbish in my gut!
Help… I really don't want to die…
I'm in my twenties, a young bloke with my whole life ahead of me—I haven't lived enough!
Voldemort, you pathetic, lowlife loser!
Can't take on Dumbledore, can't kill Harry Potter, can't even beat a house-elf!
So you pick on Muggles, huh?
Damn it… I'm so unwilling… I want to live…
The pain! It's too much! Death hurts too much!
You cursed, filthy Voldemort!
If you won't let me live… then you're going down with me!!!
Boom!
Fueled by raw fury and defiance, Leon's spirit surged with reckless courage.
His entire soul launched forward, tackling the blabbering shadow with a ferocious leap.
Crunch! He sank his teeth into it!
Burning with life, he tore, he devoured!
Channeling every ounce of his will, he unleashed a mental assault on Voldemort:
"You old, balding, horse-faced git with a Union Jack fetish! Noseless socket gremlin! Small-time, no-vision wannabe!"
I chomp, chomp, chomp!
"You're nothing but a street rat! Decades as a Dark Lord, and your kill count's lower than an eighteenth-rate Muggle hitman!"
Crunch, crunch!
"You'd be stuck at the kids' table in Muggle politics! Fighting your whole life, soul torn to bits, all for the power of a village mayor! A nosehair's worth of authority!"
Chomp, chomp!
"And you lost! LOST! The so-called greatest Dark Lord of all time, taken out by a diaper-wearing one-year-old!"
Chew, chew, chew…
"Useless! Pure 24-karat trash! The kind of rubbish even a junkyard wouldn't take without a bribe!"
Gobble, gobble!
"No wonder your dad ditched you! Your mum didn't want you! Even your lackeys don't care about you! Goblins are more likable! Ghouls have more charm!"
Slurp, slurp…
"In the eyes of the greatest wizard, Dumbledore, you're worth less than a single hair from Hagrid's nose!"
Gulp, gulp, gulp…
"Voldemort? More like Baby-mort!"
Slurp…
Burp!
Full.
It all happened in an instant.
Leon unleashed his ultimate feasting skills, staking his life on mutual destruction.
To fight!
To kill!
Even if he couldn't survive, he'd drag Voldemort down with him!
The overwhelming disgust, the bone-chilling cold, the searing pain, the crushing despair…
None of it could stop Leon's resolve to destroy his mortal enemy.
Voldemort rambled on with some gibberish—Leon didn't catch it.
Then the Dark Lord threw a tantrum, completely unhinged. Didn't matter.
Leon himself was being torn to shreds in the process, but he didn't care.
He just kept eating.
If he wasn't dead yet, he'd eat until he was.
Bring it on! Mutual devouring? Who's scared of who?!
Magic? Maybe not his thing. But eating? He'd show Voldemort!
No way a foodie from the land of feasts could lose to some crusty old wizard from a culinary wasteland!
I EAT, EAT, EAT!
Finally, just before Voldemort could fully consume him, Leon finished the Dark Lord off, wiping him clean.
Exhaustion washed over him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, his last thought was:
Told you Voldemort was a loser. Couldn't even win at eating!
…
Leon was still floating.
Maybe he was awake, maybe he was still dreaming.
In a half-dream, half-waking state, Leon relived Tom Riddle's life.
Or rather, Voldemort's life, up until he was defeated by a one-year-old Harry Potter.
Decades flashed by, with Voldemort practically cheating his way to invincibility, shining in every moment.
It was like the ultimate Dark Lord power fantasy.
At the end of the memories, in early 1979, Voldemort was slaughtering Muggle vagrants, building an army of Inferi.
Using that massacre, he turned Slytherin's locket into his fifth Horcrux.
And that's where it ended.
Leon woke up.
Devouring Voldemort's soul fragment was like unlocking a VIP pass—his mind was clearer than a 4K crystal ball. He understood everything instantly.
Leon, with his less-than-stellar heart, had died from overworking on his thesis and somehow transmigrated into the Harry Potter world, straight into Voldemort's fifth Horcrux.
The soul fragment had tried to consume Leon, the Muggle intruder.
But it blabbered too much, giving Leon the chance to turn the tables.
A peak Voldemort soul fragment, defeated by its own arrogance? Sounds about right.
Leon, the victor of this eating contest, felt fine—no indigestion or rejection so far. Side effects? Unknown.
But side effects weren't the priority. A bigger crisis loomed.
Leon was now the soul trapped in the locket.
Loneliness and boredom were secondary. The real issue? In the original story, during Harry's seventh year, he, Ron, and Hermione were on the run, hunting and destroying Horcruxes.
The first Horcrux they destroyed was Slytherin's locket—Leon's current home.
This Voldemort fragment had been dormant since it settled in, oblivious to the passage of time.
If Leon was in the worst-case scenario, he might have less than a minute before Ron sliced him apart with a sword!
Even if Leon claimed he was just an innocent bystander, who'd believe him? He was in Voldemort's Horcrux, with Voldemort's memories!
Armed with theoretical knowledge but no body, and a soul trapped with limited magic, escaping wasn't going to be easy.
No use overthinking. First, he needed to check the locket's surroundings, figure out the time and place, then plan from there.
Leon turned halfway, drifting toward a faint glimmer of light.
Slytherin's locket looked palm-sized on the outside, but an Extension Charm made its interior vast.
It once held a trove of Slytherin's own magical research notes, incredibly valuable.
So, Leon had to float a fair distance to reach the tiny window showing the outside world.
Just as he was about to speed up, a deafening scream erupted from outside.
"Scum! Filth! Disgrace to the family! Ignoring your missing brother! Skipping Father's funeral! Heartless wretch!…"