Thanatos's demand aligned perfectly with Voldemort's own desires.

Even without the god of death saying a word, Voldemort already intended to kill Arthur—the one who had destroyed six of his Horcruxes.

And Hermione as well.

Once, Voldemort's kill list had held only one name: Harry Potter. At most, perhaps Albus Dumbledore could be added.

Now, Arthur and Hermione had joined it.

Ironically, everyone on Voldemort's kill list was still alive—there were enough of them to sit down and play a full game of mahjong.

Voldemort himself, meanwhile, was the one who had died.

The absurdity of it all would have been laughable—if it weren't him.

"I accept your terms," Voldemort said to Thanatos. "When will you send me back to the mortal world?"

Even before Death itself, Voldemort refused to bow his head.

His tone was neither servile nor pleading. He positioned himself as a collaborator—not a subordinate.

What he failed to realize was that, to a god, his attitude was utterly irrelevant.

Just as a human does not care whether an ant beneath their feet feels offended.

If the ant bares its mandibles—if it dares to bite—then it is simply crushed.

Seeing Voldemort agree, Thanatos nodded in satisfaction.

Cooperation was convenient.

Had Voldemort refused, Thanatos would not have hesitated to directly seize control of his soul and use him as a vessel to return to the mortal realm.

Thanatos extended a finger and pressed it against Voldemort's forehead.

An overwhelming surge of deathly power flooded into Voldemort's soul.

Despite having no physical senses, Voldemort experienced a bone-deep chill—as if he had plunged into an endless abyss of ice.

He felt his control slipping away.

For a moment, Voldemort even suspected that Thanatos had deceived him—that the god had never intended to let him return.

Wrapped in resentment, fury, and despair, Voldemort's soul lost consciousness and sank into darkness.

In truth, Thanatos was not killing him.

It was reshaping him.

The god was modifying Voldemort's soul so that it could wield deathly power—at critical moments, even borrowing strength directly from Thanatos.

As Voldemort had feared, power never came without a price.

He gained death's might—but lost his freedom.

Divine power was not something one could take lightly.

Arthur, of course, was an exception.

He was cheating.

Once the transformation was complete, Thanatos could descend upon Voldemort's body at any time, using him as an anchor.

That was precisely why the god had been so generous.

With that done, Thanatos casually flung Voldemort's soul out of the underworld.

As mentioned before, the rules prevented Thanatos from leaving the underworld personally.

But sending a soul out?

That was trivial.

Especially when Voldemort still had a soul fragment in the mortal world—serving as a perfect coordinate.

Using that anchor, Thanatos effortlessly cast Voldemort's soul back into the living realm.

...

After a long while, Voldemort opened his eyes.

His first instinct was that he had gone blind.

But as he took in his surroundings, he realized the truth.

He was buried underground.

Still in soul form.

Yet unlike ordinary souls, his state was astonishingly stable.

He could maintain cohesion indefinitely.

He could even condense into a physical form.

He was nothing like a common ghost—intangible, harmless, powerless.

On the contrary, Voldemort discovered that not only had his strength not diminished—it had increased.

The deathly power surging within him was rich, dense, and obedient.

Thanatos had not deceived him.

Voldemort phased through the soil and emerged aboveground.

This was the place where he had buried his last Horcrux.

A chill ran through him.

He had never told Thanatos the location.

And yet here he was.

Which meant one thing:

Every move he made was likely under Death's gaze.

With that realization, Voldemort decided to leave at once.

As for the Horcrux buried below—even if reclaiming it could restore some measure of his soul's completeness, he had no intention of doing so.

Instead, Voldemort planned to cut off all external detection of that Horcrux.

Then, through loyal followers, he would have it hidden somewhere so secure that even he himself could not find it.

That Horcrux would be his final escape route—his key to breaking free of Death's control.

As for avoiding Thanatos's surveillance?

The legendary Invisibility Cloak would be perfect.

But that was a problem for later.

Right now, Voldemort needed a place to familiarize himself with his newfound deathly power—and to begin gathering his remaining followers.

Preparations had to begin.

Turning into a streak of shadow, Voldemort vanished from the Albanian forest.

...

At Hogwarts, a new day dawned.

Although students were technically allowed to leave today, almost no one planned to do so.

The Triwizard Tournament celebration banquet—originally scheduled for the previous night—had been postponed to this evening.

After all, by the time Hermione finished fighting Voldemort, it was already deep into the night.

Hosting a banquet then would have been unreasonable.

Early in the morning, Arthur—radiant and refreshed—headed toward the Great Hall with Hermione for breakfast.

In truth, neither of them had slept.

Thanks to their extraordinary physiques, they had spent the entire night conducting a single-slit interference experiment and still looked perfectly energetic.

Hermione, in particular, was glowing.

There was an old saying: life holds three great joys.

Reuniting with a friend in a foreign land.

Achieving top honors.

And the wedding night.

Hermione had effectively accomplished two of them in a single evening—earning glory and claiming love.

She was in exceptionally high spirits, practically skipping as she walked.

Everyone else assumed she was simply thrilled by winning the Triwizard Tournament—and defeating Voldemort.

No one considered any other possibility.

Except Ranni.

She had noticed something off.

The previous night, she had not seen Arthur return to the Zen Garden.

Normally, he rested in the house there.

Last night, he had said he would write a couple of letters first.

And yet, an entire night passed—without him ever returning.

Surely he hadn't been writing letters all night?

The truth wouldn't stay hidden from Ranni for long.

After all, their very first "experiment" had already led to addiction.

Once you acquired a taste, repetition was inevitable.

Discovery was only a matter of time.

Still, as for those letters—

Fortunately, Lucius had proven himself reliable.

After returning, he immediately contacted Rita Skeeter and Gilderoy Lockhart, passing along everything Arthur had wanted conveyed.

Thanks to Lucius's efficiency, the Daily Prophet's headline that morning was filled with Cornelius Fudge's scandals.

Meanwhile, Witch Weekly, funded entirely by Lucius, released a special issue detailing Hermione's journey through the Triwizard Tournament—culminating in her victory over Voldemort.

Lucius and Lockhart hit it off instantly.

They agreed to massively increase the print run and distribute both the newspaper and the magazine for free across the entire wizarding world.

Lucius footed the bill.

Every witch and wizard would receive a copy.

Like a raging storm, stacks of newspapers and magazines swept across the magical world.

Hogwarts was no exception.

As students from all three schools ate breakfast, a swarm of owls flooded into the Great Hall.

Each owl delivered a paper or magazine with uncanny precision—placing one in front of every student.

Arthur ignored the newspaper full of Fudge's disgrace.

Instead, he picked up the magazine praising Hermione.

The headline blazed across the cover:

"Hermione Granger: Champion of the Triwizard Tournament—The Witch Who Defeated Voldemort."

The cover featured two animated photographs side by side.

One showed Hermione at the Yule Ball, dressed in an elegant gown, dancing with Arthur.

Arthur's flawless profile was clearly visible—almost suspiciously flattering. One couldn't help but suspect Lockhart of deliberate bootlicking.

The other image captured Hermione during her battle with Voldemort.

Her robes and hair billowed as if stirred by an unseen wind, her expression sharp and resolute.

She looked every bit a battle-goddess.

Arthur was extremely satisfied.

Where Lockhart had found these photos was anyone's guess.

Probably Rita's private collection.

After all, she had amassed countless images during the Triwizard Tournament.

Flipping through the magazine, Arthur found the writing vivid and immersive—especially the final task and the battle with Voldemort.

It was so detailed it felt as if one were standing on the battlefield.

Lavish praise filled every page—but without ever feeling forced.

Arthur could tell at a glance.

This was Lockhart's handiwork.

He was right.

The night before, Lucius had purchased several Magical Recording Stones from Dumbledore.

These stones could display footage from another stone—and record it.

Dumbledore had even advertised this feature to Arthur earlier.

Lucius, ever perceptive, bought several stones that had recorded Hermione's victory over Voldemort.

One of them went straight to Lockhart.

After watching the footage, Lockhart was fired up beyond belief.

Inspiration exploded.

He wrote the entire piece overnight.

As for the remaining recording stones—

Lucius had other plans for them.

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