NABC Ch327- Another Artifact?
Ch327- Another Artifact?
Ch327- Another Artifact?
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Harry watched Bellatrix’s expression carefully as she tried to process his words. Bellatrix’s face twisted, her devotion warring with confusion. Clearly, the image of what she had seen—the grotesque, weakened form of Voldemort—clashed with the powerful figure standing before her now. Harry took that hesitation as an opening.
“Come here, my dear Bella,” he said, beckoning her closer with a flick of his fingers. She obeyed without hesitation, her knees brushing the floor as she knelt before him, her eyes wide and searching his face for guidance.
As she drew closer, Harry placed a hand on her head, patting it almost like one would a loyal dog. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice lowering, soft but firm enough to carry authority. “That wraith you saw is a part of me, yes. But it’s a rebellious, disgusting piece—a fragment that has no place in my greater design. It wants control, but it will never succeed.”
Bellatrix’s body trembled under his hand, the tension in her shoulders easing as his words washed over her. “My Lord,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I... I didn’t know. I only wished to serve.”
“And you will,” Harry said smoothly, removing his hand and stepping back. He held her gaze as she straightened slightly, a spark of determination returning to her features. “But first, you must understand. That fragment is not who I am. It is a shadow—a relic of the steps I’ve taken to secure immortality. It does not deserve your loyalty.”
Bellatrix nodded fervently, her hands clutching the fabric of her robes. “I understand now, my Lord. I see it. You are whole... complete... perfect. The wraith is nothing compared to you.”
Harry allowed Bellatrix to continue her fawning, but he wasn’t satisfied. This theatrics and misplaced reverence were useful for now, but loyalty based on awe alone was brittle. He held up the cup, its faint shimmer catching the sparse light in the room, and stepped back to create space.
Without any warning, he closed his eyes, shifting into the Astral Dimension. The world around him dulled, its colors muted as the layers of reality peeled back to reveal the ethereal threads of magic. The cup in his hand glowed, its aura thick with malevolent energy. In the center of that light was a shadow—a twisted fragment of Voldemort’s soul, pulsating with defiance. It recoiled slightly at his presence, its edges rippling like smoke caught in a draft.
Harry’s lips curled into a smirk. “There you are,” he muttered.
He extended his Astral Soul, a construct of magic and will he had honed over the past year, and reached toward the fragment. It thrashed violently, a soundless scream reverberating through the Astral Dimension as it tried to evade him. But there was no escape. He seized it, his construct coiling tightly around the writhing piece of Voldemort’s essence.
Harry smirked faintly, his hand withdrawing. "Cautious and shrewd," he said, his tone laced with mock approval. "Just the way I like you." The smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. "And yet, you faltered." He chuckled coldly, his eyes locking onto hers as he repeated the exact words he’d known she would remember. "Hide this, and only reveal it when I am with you. Not at any other time."
Bellatrix gasped, her entire body jolting as though struck by lightning. Those were the words. Exactly as she had remembered them. Her heart pounded against her ribs, torn between relief and terror. "My Lord," she whispered, her voice cracking as she fell into a deeper bow. "Forgive me. I—I thought—"
"Then why," Harry interrupted smoothly, his words cutting through her stammering like a blade, "did you defy my orders, Bella?" His gaze bore into her, cold and unwavering.
Bellatrix flinched, her knuckles whitening as her fingers clawed at the edges of her robes. "I—I didn’t mean to defy you, my Lord," she stammered, her voice thin and trembling. "I believed... I believed I was protecting your legacy. When I saw you in Albania, I thought you—" She swallowed hard, her voice faltering. "I thought you needed it to regain your strength."
Harry’s smirk didn’t falter, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "You thought?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "Since when has my Bellatrix decided that thinking for herself takes precedence over my explicit instructions?"
Bellatrix whimpered, her head sinking lower until her forehead nearly touched the floor. "Never, my Lord. My only purpose was to assist you in regaining your strength," she said, her voice thick with desperation.
Harry stared down at her, letting the silence stretch. Finally, he shook his head. “I’ll forgive you this once, Bella. Since that wraith is also a part of me, your faltering is understandable. But I expect this to be the last time.”
Her entire body shuddered as she reached for her cuffs, rubbing her face against them like a supplicant seeking absolution. “Thank you, my Lord! Thank you!” she said fervently, her words muffled by the fabric.
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