— — — — — —
Today was the first day of a delightful holiday.
In Diagon Alley, a small café had been fully reserved by Lucius Malfoy for one person—Tom Riddle.
Why meet here of all places?
Lucius didn't dare reveal the location of Malfoy Manor. That would be the same as handing over a leash to someone like Tom.
He even came alone—no Narcissa, no Draco. Sitting there, restless and uneasy, Lucius ran scenarios in his head, trying to plan his response.
The moment Tom mentioned the diary yesterday, Lucius knew he'd been exposed. But… did Dumbledore know too?
And what was the real reason Tom had asked to meet?
As Lucius weighed his options, the bell over the door chimed, and the door pushed open. Tom stepped inside.
Lucius stood up instinctively. Only after Tom sat down across from him did he realize just how low his posture looked. He forced himself to feign calm and gave a slight nod.
"Mr. Riddle."
The second his eyes met Tom's, Lucius instinctively looked away. Those eyes felt like they could see through everything. Even though there was no malice in them, they still made him feel small.
This kid is downright unsettling.
Lucius cursed silently.
Hogwarts, for Tom, had always been like a seal. The cheerful, laid-back atmosphere, surrounded by naive students, had softened him a little, made him seem almost young again. But once he left the school grounds, it was like breaking that seal. He made no effort to hide or restrain anything.
His power and endless hidden cards radiated pressure even when he didn't speak. And with Merlin's perception ability backing him, anyone who met his gaze felt as if their secrets were laid bare.
"Mr. Malfoy, let's keep this short. I've got other matters today."
Tom glanced at his watch, speaking casually. "The diary—Voldemort's diary—Dumbledore has it. He's been studying it for quite some time. And… Ginny Weasley has admitted everything."
"To be honest, Mr. Malfoy, you handled this far too poorly. You actually thought doing it yourself was a good idea."
"Don't throw baseless accusations around," Lucius said stiffly. "I don't know anything about any diary or any Ginny Weasley. What do those paupers have to do with me?"
"Playing dumb won't solve anything."
Tom tapped a finger against the table. Outside, the noise of the street went silent, cut off like someone pressed mute. "No matter how many excuses you try to spin here, it's pointless. If Dumbledore says it was you, then it was you. Understand?"
Lucius felt like a hand had tightened around his throat. He couldn't get a word out. The last bit of his pride drained away. Defeated, he muttered, "Mr. Riddle… name your price."
"If you were truly on Dumbledore's side, he wouldn't have needed me to meet you like this."
"The fact that you're here means you want something from me, and… that you're different from Dumbledore."
As expected of the most notorious fence-sitter alive, Lucius Malfoy might be panicking, but survival instinct made his mind sharper.
"Dealing with clever people really is more efficient," Tom said with a small smile. "Dumbledore doesn't actually want to destroy you. You know how he is—always within the rules. But he can make your life miserable while keeping his hands clean."
Lucius nodded and snorted, "That's the one thing about Dumbledore that reassures us most. We hate him, but we don't fear him."
Not like you, Riddles.
He added that part only in his heart.
"Before the term ended, I spoke with Dumbledore." Tom leaned forward slightly. "Hand over your seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and this ends here."
"My board seat? Riddle, that's outrageous!" Lucius blurted.
The Hogwarts board position didn't earn him a single Galleon. In fact, it cost him a fortune every year. But it was status—pureblood prestige. It was what let him posture in front of the others.
His reaction didn't surprise Tom—people never give up status until they're forced. "If you give it to me directly, you'll save face. If you don't, Dumbledore will go to the other eleven members and force a vote to remove you."
"He wouldn't dare!" Lucius slammed the table and stood.
"Blame yourself for giving him the opportunity. So calm down, Mr. Malfoy."
Tom pressed down gently with one hand, and Lucius dropped back into his seat in shock. The boy said quietly, "We're not done talking. Throwing a tantrum now is a bit early."
Lucius thought Tom was about to shift from words to force and quickly stammered, "I need time to think, Riddle. I won't make a decision based on your word alone."
"Tomorrow—tomorrow I'll give you an answer. Fine?"
"Fine."
Tom nodded slightly and took a sip of his coffee. "Now… let's talk about the diary."
Lucius felt his stomach twist. "A board seat isn't enough for you? What else do you want?"
Tom smiled, and there was pity in his eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, you have no idea how much trouble you've brought on yourself. What we just discussed was only to cool Dumbledore's anger. But what about Voldemort?"
"This isn't a negotiation. It's… advice."
At the mention of Voldemort, Lucius trembled. "What advice?"
Tom downed the last of his coffee. "Go home and look into it. With the Malfoy family archives, you should have records on Horcruxes. Once you understand those… you'll understand why I said this."
With that, Tom stood and walked out of the café.
The noise of the street flooded back in. Lucius sat frozen for a long time before coming to his senses. Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, he rushed home and dove straight into the family library.
— — —
"Riddle, your place really is better."
Sunlight poured down as Tom returned to his house, the Riddle Manor. The stone gargoyle by the fountain spotted him and let out a relaxed sigh.
"I'd forgotten what sunlight feels like. In the castle it's just candlelight, day after day."
Tom chuckled and patted its head. "If you like it, stay out here. I'll have Pala wax your surface later. Good maintenance, right?"
"No." The gargoyle shook its head vigorously. "How could a lowly house-elf touch a noble body like mine? If there's waxing to be done, it'll be by you."
"I don't have time for that," Tom refused flatly, then shifted tone just as quickly. "But… if you help me with a little something, I suppose I could graciously give you a maintenance session."
The gargoyle narrowed its eyes. "You Slytherins are all the same—never ask for anything straight. Fine, what do you want? I'm just a statue, don't ask me to do anything absurd."
"It's simple," Tom said, smiling. "I just want you to be Hermione and the others' sparring partner. You're practically indestructible—getting smacked around a bit won't hurt."
"As long as you agree, I promise you'll be shining like a mirror when you return to Hogwarts."
Hearing it was just that, the gargoyle relaxed and agreed cheerfully. "No problem. Those little girls can hit me all they like."
"Good. Keep sunbathing, I'll go tell them. Oh—remember you're still on gate duty tonight."
"That's my trade, no need to remind me."
...
By lunchtime, Tom told the girls what he'd arranged with the gargoyle. Daphne and Astoria didn't care much, but Hermione looked genuinely pleased.
Watching carefree play-all-day Daphne happily digging into her lunch, Tom sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Once term starts, there are exams. Even if you're lazy, you still need to study for at least half an hour a day."
"Half an hour isn't enough to learn anything," Hermione frowned, feeling Tom was being way too lenient.
"For her, it's enough. As long as she doesn't regress, I'm satisfied."
Tom never expected Daphne to become powerful—just slightly above average was fine. She had already taken enough strengthening potions that her vitality was far beyond normal. With her body now, she could achieve what others needed hours of effort for with half the work—or less.
"Hehe, Tom treats me the best," Daphne said, lifting her chin at Hermione like a child showing off. It was so silly that Hermione couldn't even get annoyed—only a little envious.
Too bad she wasn't the type to act spoiled. She'd rather rely on herself.
---
After lunch, the girls went for a nap, while Tom headed to the very deepest room in the basement.
This was his laboratory—the safest, most isolated room in the entire manor. The walls were lined with thick iron and layered with magical protections. No sound from outside could reach this place, and nothing from within could leak out.
A battered, violet-covered book appeared suddenly in Tom's hand.
He hadn't even opened it, yet the air around it warped like reality itself was bending. The book at the center of that distortion radiated a strange allure—painful and irresistible, like a siren's call dragging one toward madness.
It wasn't just a book. It was an eerie, terrifying magical artifact—
[Kel'Thuzad's Notebook – Volume I]
When Tom pulled this from the legendary gacha last night, he'd gone completely blank for several seconds.
Kel'Thuzad—that name was impossible to mistake.
One of the greatest liches in existence, second only to the Lich King himself. Originally a human Archmage of Dalaran's Council of Six—standing at the peak of magical talent—he was later seduced by the first Lich King, Ner'zhul, and transformed himself into a lich, plunging the world into chaos.
Superiors died one after another, yet he remained active through every era.
The Scourge, summoning the Burning Legion, invading the Shadow Land—his fingerprints were on every disaster. The ultimate workhorse of villainy, beaten all the way from Classic to Sanctum of Domination before finally staying dead.
This was only the first half of his notes, but it deserved its legendary rank. If it were the complete version, it would probably rank even higher.
With Kel'Thuzad's vibe, Tom would've expected a Book of Medivh or something. He had no intention of launching an undead apocalypse.
But leaving a legendary item unread? That'd be a crime. And since the system had already subdued the artifact, all whispers and corruptive influence were nullified for Tom. Safe reading.
After skimming through it, Tom realized it wasn't as bad as he feared.
Though titled a lich's notebook, it also contained Kel'Thuzad's magical insights and experimental records from his human days. Some parts were useless in this world—but some could be translated and simulated through magical theory.
For now, the most useful parts to Tom were Kel'Thuzad's understanding of frost magic, mental magic, and extensive biological experiment logs.
Compared to Slytherin's meager experiments, Kel'Thuzad's records were practically an encyclopedia.
Originally Tom wanted to study in his study space, but the system warned him that the space's level was too low to replicate the notebook's built-in mental guidance runes. Studying in reality would actually be faster.
Still, that wasn't a problem. He split a portion of his mind into the meditation room to continue benefiting from its boost while learning here.
— — —
While Tom immersed himself in knowledge that could make the world tremble, Lucius Malfoy had returned to his manor.
Ignoring his wife and son's questions, he went straight into the library and began frantically searching for anything related to Horcruxes.
By the time night fell, after refusing dinner for the third time, Lucius finally found something.
In a fifteenth-century Malfoy ancestor's journal, detailed descriptions of Horcrux effects and their horrors were recorded—along with accounts of a maker's atrocities. But no method of creating them was included.
As he read, Lucius' face turned deathly pale. Sweat dripped onto the pages.
Snap!
He slammed the book shut and collapsed onto the floor.
Tom Riddle had ruined him.
He shouldn't have come here...
.
.
.