Hogsmeade Village
One hundred feet above ground
The moment Voldemort sensed the aura of annihilation, he instinctively attempted to Apparate away.
But as expected, Amelia's preparations were effective.
Finding himself unable to Apparate, he genuinely felt a flicker of regret—regret for provoking someone so thoroughly unhinged.
After all, this kind of annihilation magic didn't discriminate—even the caster could be consumed by its destructive force if they weren't careful.
Only a madman would choose such a mutually assured destruction tactic.
That said, Voldemort wasn't just speculating—he could clearly sense that something was off with his opponent's mental state.
High in the sky, Voldemort's crimson eyes scanned his surroundings.
Suddenly, he looked down and burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha! How ridiculous!" he exclaimed, his voice booming across the sky. "At a time like this, those children are still clutching the candy they just bought. The sweets from Honeydukes must truly be irresistible."
In truth, Voldemort's guess wasn't far off.
Ino had started to feel that something was wrong.
While a wizard's magic could influence their mind, the reverse was also true—magic could alter the mind.
Ice magic wasn't as overtly corruptive as dark magic, but at its core, it embodied chill and oblivion.
Extreme cold, by its very nature, seemed incompatible with life.
Ordinarily, long-term use of ice magic wasn't inherently dangerous—like the White Witch of old: aloof, yes, but not extreme.
But today was different. Ino had cast his magic without restraint—something he almost never did.
It was like a Muggle suddenly chugging a wizard's potion: harmless to a magical body, perhaps—but toxic to someone unprepared.
At first, he had simply admired the snow swirling through the sky, the blanket of white descending on the world. He felt his emotions begin to shift—but he hadn't thought much of it at the time.
Then came the Fiendfyre, surging and growing.
The vibrant, scarlet flames acted as a catalyst.
Faced with the all-consuming blaze, Ino felt only revulsion.
In that moment, his mind was consumed by a singular desire—to destroy the flames, to return the world to its pure white silence.
He was teetering on the edge of reason—until familiar words reached his ears.
"Honeydukes… Candy… Hogsmeade…"
The aura of annihilation faded slightly.
Noticing this, Voldemort leaned into it. Drawing from his days as a Hogwarts student, he started talking—about anything and everything.
He spoke of the Christmas feasts, of Quidditch matches, even of strange little incidents from the castle half a century ago.
Slowly, Ino's eyes began to clear.
Feeling the oppressive aura recede, Voldemort paused. Then, in a calm, almost conversational tone, he asked:
"Is it worth it? Trading everyone's lives here—your own life, the lives of your friends, perhaps even the person you care about most inside that castle… just to destroy a single Horcrux of mine?"
Ino didn't answer immediately.
He knew Voldemort only truly cared about the Horcrux—and about whether it would be destroyed if he died.
Still, Ino had to admit: Voldemort made a valid point.
For a moment, it almost felt like the tables had turned. He was the one being cornered.
A long pause followed.
"No," Ino finally answered, firmly. "It's not worth it."
Then, using the same calm tone, he asked:
"But tell me, senpai—was it worth it for you? Trading your last Horcrux… for my friends? For the people I care about?"
Voldemort quietly exhaled in relief—Ino was willing to talk.
But the counter-question clearly caught him off guard.
Still, after a brief silence, Voldemort gave a rare, honest answer.
"No. It wasn't worth it either."
Their Slytherin-style exchange brought the confrontation to a quiet impasse.
Time passed in silence.
And then, it was Voldemort who broke the stillness.
"I recall you once saying that you can't access that place right now… but you're not sure if that might change in the future?"
"That's right. The future is uncertain," Ino replied plainly. He chose not to lie or evade—there was no point.
"How about we make a deal?" Voldemort proposed, floating in the air.
"Since neither of us thinks it's worth the cost… I'll give you ten years. During that time, we don't interfere with each other."
"But—" he added darkly, "my patience has limits. In ten years, I want an answer. You should know—once upon a time, I was a madman too."
There was a wry, almost self-mocking smile on Voldemort's face as he said this.
But Ino understood perfectly: this wasn't a joke—it was a warning, more serious than any threat.
"I accept," Ino said. "I trust that senpai is a man of his word."
He had no better option.
He wanted to help Dumbledore, but Dumbledore couldn't offer any guarantees.
Voldemort, on the other hand, could.
With this agreement, even if all of England were plunged back into the darkness of fifteen years ago, the people Ino cared about would remain safe.
Hermione and her parents. Draco. Snape. George and Fred. Even the Malfoys.
All of them would have protection.
This wasn't trust in Voldemort. It was a calculated decision—a rational choice in the face of power and politics.
Voldemort had made it clear: no life, not even dozens, was worth more than his final Horcrux.
Likewise, he understood that some actions couldn't be undone. Some choices would mean eternal enmity.
In a way, it was like the mating rituals of king cobras in the desert.
When two king cobras meet, they don't fight to the death.
Instead, they coil around each other, testing who can hold the higher ground—because they know their venom is equally lethal.
And so, in the struggle for survival, they avoid unnecessary conflict.
Among all snakes, only the king cobra has developed such a strange yet peaceful way of fighting.
The winner stays. The loser leaves. Nothing more.
And so, it seemed a pact had been made.
"Senpai—I have a proposal as well."
Ino spoke calmly, not waiting for Voldemort to respond before continuing:
"Let's keep the world of adults… out of Hogwarts."
On the other side, Voldemort considered the request for a moment before replying:
"Fine. They're the future of magic, after all—as long as they don't get involved."
Ino gave him a faint smile but didn't respond.
It had nothing to do with any so-called 'future.' It was pure, straightforward negotiation.
Voldemort made the first offer, and Ino accepted.
Now it was Ino's turn, and Voldemort had to accept in return.
Voldemort simply chose to dress it up in pleasant rhetoric.
"Well then," Voldemort said, "I suppose today's little visit ends here."
"And if someday you get tired of Honeydukes and want a different kind of candy—do let me know."
With that cryptic remark, he waved his wand, dispelled the Fiendfyre in the skies, and turned to fly off in the direction opposite Hogwarts.
Floating in the air, Ino watched him leave in silence.
He felt drained. Dealing with this version of Voldemort—calm, cunning, calculating—was truly exhausting.
Especially that final line about "different candy." On the surface, it seemed to imply he wouldn't pry further into Ino's affairs…
But in reality, it was a warning: I have eyes everywhere.
Ino glanced around.
Below him, the crowd reflected the full spectrum of human emotion—fear, awe, excitement, reverence.
But regardless of their expression, many people were doing the same thing:
Pointing their wands at the sky, filming.
It was entertainment, even in the face of death.
Voldemort had come silently and left just as easily.
In the vastness of Hogsmeade, among hundreds of adult witches and wizards—and even a squad of Aurors and Hit Wizards—not a single soul had dared stop him.
Below, Amelia Bones looked like she wanted to act.
But Mad-Eye Moody was gripping her wand hand tightly, holding her back.
As for the rest of the Aurors, they knew better than to throw their lives away against impossible odds.
-----
Amelia Susan Bones
A former member of the Wizengamot, Amelia Bones once served as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Known for her integrity and fairness, she gave Harry and Mrs. Figg a fair hearing in court, even defending Harry against bias.
Her parents and brother Edgar were killed by Voldemort during the First Wizarding War. In the summer of 1996 (second week of July), she was murdered. Given her remarkable dueling skills and magical power, it was widely believed that Voldemort himself killed her.