*Narrator pov*
In the flickering shadows of a cave, Voldemort stood beside a figure bound and kneeling on the cold stone floor. The captive was a young man, his face streaked with sweat and fear, his body trembling, but he dared not speak or plead. He knew there would be no mercy from the man before him. Voldemort's pale fingers brushed the surface of a locket—a relic of Salazar Slytherin. He held it carefully, almost reverently, for tonight, it would become a vessel of dark magic beyond measure.
Voldemort circled the trembling man like a predator savoring its final moments before the kill, his cold gaze never wavering. "You should feel honored," Voldemort murmured, his voice smooth, like the quiet before a storm. "Your life will serve a purpose beyond anything you could have achieved alone."
The man's breath hitched, but Voldemort paid no mind to his terror. Raising his wand, Voldemort whispered the incantation to bind the soul, his voice low, ancient words echoing off the cave walls like a dark hymn. "Vita disgregare… partiri animam…"
With a swift, calculated motion, he pressed his wand to the man's chest. There was a flash of green light, brighter and more violent than a Killing Curse, as Voldemort channeled the spell, forcing the man's life essence to mingle with the fragment of Voldemort's own soul. The man let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening in horror as he felt his life being pulled away, his very soul dissolving into something dark, foreign, and corrupt.
A shudder ran through Voldemort, the agony of the soul-splitting ritual tearing through him like claws of ice and fire. Yet he did not falter; he channeled the suffering into his purpose, using the man's final breath to sever his own soul once more. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper, filled with an eerie, hollow triumph. "Let death be the final gift you give me."
As the man's body collapsed to the ground, lifeless and empty, Voldemort lowered the locket into the faint green mist rising from the fresh corpse. The locket pulsed, greedily drawing in the severed soul fragment, binding it with the darkness he had conjured. The relic's surface grew colder in his hand, a chill so deep it seemed to pierce through the flesh and into his bones.
For a long moment, Voldemort stood in silence, his face unreadable as he looked upon the newly forged horcrux in his hand. Then a smile twisted his lips, a terrible terrible smile.
He exhaled the breath of pain he was holding in it visibly frosted in the air.
"How did he know." Voldemort mused aloud
No one answered back.
"How was he so strong!" He hissed in anger at his feelings of inferiority
A sudden hiss broke him out of his emotional landslide, "Calm my lord, the ritual makes you more violent." Nagini hissed gently
Voldemort snorted, "It makes me stronger, immortal!" he declared
Nagini looked on with complicated emotions, "But you already did this five times, isn't it too much?"
He shook his head, "I'll do it as many times as I need."
***
Morpheus stretched across his chair relaxing into the plush fabric as he replayed the day's events. A smirk spread across his lips thinking about the 'battle' he had with Tom.
The floo a lit growing larger and larger before Nicolas stepped out of the green flames, "I came as soon as I got your message." he said plopping onto the chair across from Morpheus while swiping a bottle of whisky
"Thank you." Morpheus said while he poured himself a glass of wine
Nicolas snorted, "Sometimes it bothers me seeing you so youthful. Just waking up today brought up old sores."
Morpheus chuckled, "There is a price for every ones immortality my friend, yours just seems worse right now but, I would trade you in a heartbeat. Let me plan some rituals for you my friend I can get you looking spry once more."
A complicated look flashed across Nicolas's face, "Im afraid it's not that simple. Now tell me about the attack."
Morpheus shrugged accepting the change of subject, "It was a blitz attack nothing too harrowing. He did kill some but not many not like Diagon Alley. I called because I think it would be best to increase our newest venture's worth."
Nicolas nodded, "I heard." his eyes narrowed, "They say a man in a silver mask bested Voldemort obviously that was you, what I don't understand is why. Why prolong this war when you can end it and focus on your true enemies?"
Morpheus didn't respond eyeing him across the room. He took a sip of his wine and chuckled, "That seems to be the question on everyone's mind these days. It's important to me he lives for now Nicolas that is all I will say." Morpheus took two dice that sat beside him on the small table he kept his wine
Picking them up he shook them in his hand shaking them gently before rolling them across the table in front of them both.
The dice clacked and rolled across the table until they slowed revealing two numbers.
A three and a two.
*Narrator pov Morpheus blood doppelganger)*
"Now," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "we come to one of the most profound uses of numerology in divination: timing. Numbers resonate with specific days of the month, and casting on certain days aligns your magic with the universe's cycles."
He pointed to the number 9 on the board. "Nine is a number of endings, transitions, and foresight. Performing divination on the 9th, 18th, or 27th of the month allows for readings that focus on closure, secrets revealed, or the end of a cycle."
Morpheus continued, "Casting on days aligned with nine can help unveil truths—perfect for unraveling mysteries or finding closure. For those of you interested in foresight or past-life readings, consider casting on a nine-aligned day."
He handed out enchanted parchment detailing optimal dates for various divinations based on numerological principles. "Mark these dates in your journal. You'll find that your Sight aligns more clearly when you respect the cycles of the calendar."
"Next class will fall on the twenty-seventh, I want each of you to come prepared to have a vision. I will be the main castor while the rest of you will join me in the vision. Before that, I will cast the spell today so you can see the difference."
Morpheus walked over to the stool sitting in the middle of the room and put a small ashtray on the center, taking a stick of incence he put it through the holder and lit it.
He then took a bundle of various herbs and lit it; smoke began drifting around the room as he walked across the length spreading the smoke over the students.
"I hid a chalice inside this classroom the spell will show us." he said before muttering an incantation
The smoke began to shift and swirl forming the image of a bookshelf. Everyone saw in their minds eye the bookshelf become transparent and a chalice shining like a torch behind one of the books.
Morpheus swished his hand wiping away the smoke as he walked over to the bookshelf and removed a book revealing his prize.
"Remember this, next class we will do the same exact spell and you will notice a large difference."
"But sir, that was already really clear no?" one of the students asked in confusion
Morpheus smiled shaking his head. "You will need to see it to understand."
"Now get on to your next class".