Knockturn Alley teemed with wizards cloaked in black, some with faces hidden, as if hoping to avoid unwanted attention.
Tom casually leaned against a shop doorway, his dark green robes trimmed with silver, lending him an air of regal menace. He toyed with the Elder Wand, its details displayed before his eyes:
[Item: Wand]
[Wandshaft: Elderwood]
[Core: Thestral Feather]
[Length: Fifteen inches]
[Quality: Mythical]
[Compatibility: Ninety-seven percent]
"Hmm, quite satisfactory."
The Elder Wand was perfectly suited to him. His original wand would be kept in his system space as a spare.
Tom glanced at the figures kneeling before him—Voldemort's loyal followers, now his subordinates. Many wealthy wizards frequented Knockturn Alley to indulge in illicit dealings and had "unluckily" crossed paths with Tom.
Initially, they had been skeptical of Tom's claim until one hothead challenged, "You claim to be Voldemort, do you? Prove it! Hit me with an Avada Kedavra and maybe I'll believe you…" (He was immediately hit with an Avada Kedavra…) After which, they were entirely convinced.
This ruthless, utterly evil man could only be their master.
Tom had initially considered these lackeys expendable but then realized he was short of funds, so he decided to…
"You there, I grow weary. Take me to a place where I may rest."
Tom pointed the Elder Wand at a middle-aged gentleman, who promptly broke out in a cold sweat. The man nodded frantically and rose to lead Tom away. The others made to follow, but Tom waved them back.
...
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts.
The Headmaster's Office was unusually silent.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his seat, lost in deep thought.
Severus Snape stood before him, a deep frown etched on his face. When Dumbledore remained unresponsive, Snape's frown deepened. Finally, he prompted, "He has returned."
"I know. Or rather, Tom never truly left."
The man is like a cockroach, impossible to eradicate. If he hadn't been so reckless during our last encounter, I wouldn't even know how to be rid of him. And now this! I haven't had a moment's peace, and he's returned, stronger than before! How am I, Albus Dumbledore, supposed to contend with this? The thought that he alone could barely hold his own against Tom left him sighing heavily.
Author, are you deliberately making things difficult for old Dumbledore? Harry hasn't reached his full potential. It would be ludicrous to expect him to defeat Tom! That notion is more far-fetched than hoping Tom would be crushed by a meteorite tomorrow.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Dumbledore seemed struck by a sudden realization. "Severus, do you think there was any truth to Tom's words back then? Could he truly be… the Tom of his youth, before he strayed from the path?"
"…"
Snape stared at Dumbledore as if he had lost his mind. "Do you honestly believe that a seventeen or eighteen-year-old could possess such power?"
"Then why did you not kill him when you had the chance?" Dumbledore countered.
His question silenced Snape.
After a long pause, Snape spoke slowly, "I cannot say. However, he is, after all, the Dark Lord."
"…"
Dumbledore fell silent as well.
Snape disregarded Dumbledore's thoughts; his only concern was, "Will Harry Potter be discovered by the Dark Lord?"
Dumbledore confidently gave a thumbs up. "Do not fret, Severus. I assure you, Tom will never find him!"
I have hidden him so well; there is no chance that brat Tom could ever find him. I, Albus Dumbledore, would wager that Tom Riddle could never be as unscrupulous as I!
...
At a sprawling manor.
Tom followed Mr. Vole, admiring the scenery as they approached the mansion at the heart of the estate.
Mr. Vole was his middle-aged, gentlemanly underling. Tom had only just learned his surname was Vole; as for his given name, Tom had already forgotten it and, frankly, did not care.
Gazing upon the elegant gardens and opulent buildings, Tom could not help but reflect on his own past when he'd been burdened with student loans. I just graduated, and the debts aren't even repaid!
Oh well, never mind.
Not repaying those loans… aside from murder, this is the worst thing I have ever done.
Looking back at the manor, he mused, Damn it, those rich people, how I envy them! (He began to seethe inwardly.) I'll rob them blind later!
"Hehehe…"
Mr. Vole turned and respectfully addressed Tom, "Master, does the estate meet your approval?"
Tom realized he was standing on his underling's property, which was now essentially his own.
Hmm… no need to rob him, then.
It's my first time having underlings. I'm not yet accustomed to it.
Back in school, I wasn't like the original Voldemort; far too busy studying magic to have time for such things.
"Very impressive, indeed! Quite spirited!"
Tom now found Mr. Vole rather agreeable and seized the opportunity to admire his own mansion, "Truly befitting my station!"
Although he did not fully grasp Tom's meaning, Mr. Vole was relieved that Tom was pleased and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. "I am gratified to hear it, Master."
"Would Master care to dine first, or..." Mr. Vole trailed off. He had no choice but to tread carefully. Voldemort's name inspired terror, and he was known for his unpredictability. One could not be too cautious, even if, like himself, one had been coerced into joining Voldemort's ranks. These noble families, with their wealth and influence, could not simply defect to Dumbledore's side like smaller families; they were trapped!
He had dared to hope that with the old Voldemort's demise, matters would improve, but the old Voldemort had risen from the dead! Truly outrageous!
Of course, such thoughts were fleeting, quickly suppressed within Mr. Vole's mind; he dared not risk testing the strength of his Occlumency.
Hearing Mr. Vole's words, Tom's expression turned strange, but he was somewhat relieved to learn that Mr. Vole had a wife and daughter; it seemed his underling was not inclined that way.
"Whatever."
This single word left Mr. Vole utterly bewildered; ambiguity was always the most problematic.
...
Upon entering Mr. Vole's mansion, Tom was introduced to Mr. Vole's wife and daughter.
Mrs. Vole was still rather attractive, perhaps appealing to some tastes, but Tom would not stoop to such a tasteless act as to lay a hand on his subordinate's wife.
Miss Vole, on the other hand, had long, flowing blonde hair, and her emerald green eyes sparked an immediate interest within Tom.
Miss Vole hid behind Mrs. Vole, watching Tom with a mixture of fear and curiosity.