Voldemort's Horcrux creation followed a clear timeline.
His first Horcrux, naturally, was the diary he made at sixteen.
He originally intended it to serve as the key to opening the Chamber of Secrets and completing his unfinished work.
Choosing a diary format was meant to make it easier to communicate with—and tempt—others.
But for reasons unknown, Voldemort later decided he needed more Horcruxes.
The second was the Gaunt family ring.
During a summer visit, he saw the ring with the Resurrection Stone on his uncle's finger—and immediately transformed into the world's most unfilial son.
Not only did he snatch the ring, he also stole his uncle's wand, killed his own father and grandparents, and framed his uncle for it.
Thus the Gaunt family's heirloom ring fell into Voldemort's hands and soon after became a Horcrux.
Because this Horcrux was made early and had no means of communicating with the outside world, the Gaunt-soul was already a little dim.
After Louis fed him low-quality souls, this Gaunt fragment had become even duller.
"Only… Voldemort…" the Gaunt fragment muttered.
Suddenly he lifted his head, face twisted with savagery.
"I AM Voldemort—the ONLY Voldemort!" he roared.
"Then you'll need to discuss that with your brothers," Louis said cheerfully. "From what I know, there are already two Voldemorts causing trouble out there."
Naturally, he meant Voldemort's main body and the Ravenclaw fragment.
"Two… two?"
This Voldemort's mind wasn't very sharp, but he still retained basic common sense not yet devoured by spider instincts.
"Who are you? Why are you helping me?"
"Me?" Louis smiled with narrowed eyes.
"You can call me Captain Dragonfly. I'm the referee."
"Referee?"
The Gaunt Voldemort fragment didn't understand—nor did he understand what dragonflies had to do with referees.
A world where no one understands your jokes is truly miserable.
Louis sighed.
"Anyway, I'll be the judge of your competition to claim the title of the One True Voldemort. You only need to know that I'll give you a certain amount of help."
Louis, seeing how gullible this Voldemort looked, simply made up nonsense on the spot.
"Why should you?"
The Gaunt fragment still had a little reasoning ability left. "That's my business. What does it have to do with you?"
Louis responded with a warm, benevolent smile—
And then kicked him across the room.
"I'm strong enough, and you look pathetic—so mentally shattered that you have to compete with yourself over your own title. I'm graciously giving you all a fair chance."
Louis radiated arrogance, practically carving the word villain onto his forehead.
"Live if you want. If you don't, I can strangle you now."
The Gaunt fragment slumped against the wall, utterly confused.
_Who am I? Where am I? What just happened?
Did… did I just get kicked?_
Can he tolerate this?
The Voldemort whose sanity had been scrambled by the Acromantula soul leapt up and instinctively tried to command the mantis-like shadow soldiers under his control to attack Louis.
Predictably, they didn't move at all—standing there completely motionless, like they were mocking Voldemort by pretending to be loyal soldiers.
The previously muddled Voldemort suddenly seemed to regain clarity and pointed at Louis.
"All these monsters are your subordinates," he said. "You only pretended to let me control them. What is your true purpose?"
"Ah, you figured it out," Louis scratched his head. "Then let's keep it simple… Obliviate Maxima."
A Legendary-level Forgetfulness Charm—not even Voldemort at his peak could reliably withstand it, much less this Gaunt fragment.
Louis cleanly erased every memory this Voldemort had of him, then had Chuan toss him straight into the Forbidden Forest.
"This should leave him wondering why he suddenly popped out of a Horcrux. I wonder how he'll explain it to himself," Louis said, amused at the thought.
For the brutally mind-wiped Voldemort, it was as if he'd just appeared in the Forbidden Forest out of nowhere. He had no clue how or why.
But Louis wasn't worried about this Voldemort straying from his expectations.
Even if this fragment wasn't very intelligent, its nature remained intact: obsession with power, hunger for immortality—those instincts would inevitably drive him toward the other Voldemorts.
Voldemort will cause trouble. Just like a stone from a cesspit—once dug up, it still stinks.
Louis immediately tossed all thoughts of the Gaunt fragment aside.
Honestly, he was busy—this whole "Voldemort Battle Royale" plan had already consumed far too much of his time.
He casually threw the Resurrection Stone ring into his storage space.
He didn't need it—he had no one he cared about who had died.
"Magic… magecraft…"
Louis began pondering the nature of magic vs. magecraft. He realized magic's universal versatility overshadowed the mystery of magecraft—he needed inspiration to push magecraft further.
He once again took out Sherlock Holmes' pipe and puffed thoughtfully.
---
The Gaunt Voldemort fragment slowly regained consciousness.
The first thing he thought upon opening his eyes was to flex his eight spider limbs—
…Eight spider limbs?
Voldemort froze, realizing that thought was bizarre and instinctual.
"…What is this?"
Shaking his head, he pushed the strange impulses away and examined his surroundings.
It looked like the Forbidden Forest.
As a young man, Voldemort frequented the forest—one glance and he knew exactly where he was.
"Wait… I'm at Hogwarts? Damn it—I should've placed my soul into a Horcrux… and then… then I died?"
Voldemort clutched his head in pain as violent emotions tore through his mind.
This unintentionally activated the General Ghostface Seal on his arm.
In the next moment, a group of mantis-like shadow warriors appeared before him.
"Shadow Corps…? What are the Shadow Corps? Why do I know that name—and why can I summon them?"
Voldemort grew even more confused. Something was definitely wrong with him.
"I need information… information about my main body's death."
He took a deep breath. "Who killed the original me? Did Dumbledore act personally?"
He stared deeply at the castle beyond the forest, expression grim.
Going to Hogwarts seemed like the most logical choice—he could find clues there.
"There must be someone there who knows what happened… and old newspapers too."
His thoughts quickly organized themselves. Instinctively, he ordered the Shadow Corps to carry him toward the castle.
He still had no idea where these shadow warriors came from, but he instinctively assumed they were some kind of advanced magic he would invent in the future.
As Voldemort, he certainly had that confidence.
---
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