《Voldemort's Return [A Harry Potter Fanfic]》 Chapter 1 Ewan was browsing the internet when he received that cursed email from some weirdo named "Readers'' Society." In the email, they discussed the need for a fanfic series that can break up the monotony of the HP world, which he wholeheartedly agrees with. As an avid fanfics enthusiast, the community asks for his assistance in shaping this new fanfic series, a help he jokingly accepted to provide. '' Very creative way to lure victims, but I''m not clicking on any link!'' But then something strange happened. The phone''s screen abruptly turned off before restarting. '' What is going on so suddenly?!'' '' This phone is new! Was I duped into purchasing a knockoff brand?'' The phone launched, and an unknown app showed on the homepage, something that got Ewan puzzled, "I don''t remember installing any app! Don''t tell me... I got hacked!" He clicked on it, despite having a bad feeling about it. The app displayed a welcoming message. [Greetings, and welcome to the Society Character Assignment Ceremony! You have been chosen to portray Lord Voldemort! Congratulations ??] "What? The Society man I was talking to earlier... Is that you? Man! why did you hack me? We were talking well!!" A message displayed on the screen, [That''s true, sir! I am Rhys, I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Eldrin!] ''he heared me, so I lost my phone completely to this bastard. But how? I didn''t click or install any app, I just made a new email after I brought the phone, then, how?'' ''The only way is that the phone was already hacked, let see what this hacker want then I am going after the bastard who sold me this trash!'' "What do you need? If it¡¯s money you seek, you might be surprised to know that I only make ends meet!" [No, sir! As I said before, your help in producing an interesting story is all what the Society needs!] '' What in the AO3 content is this?!'' '' This might be the dumbest hacker on the planet! What happens when genius meets stupidity? It seems we will get a hacker pulling random people into a silly game! As a journalist, I can''t afford to miss this rare story!'' "You are not convincing me the slightest bit, but, do carry on!" [Allright, sir.] The screen displayed a roulette with eight categories. The first and largest is random body modification, followed by random spell understanding. Then, enhanced mana sensitivity, increased magical capacity, random magical equipment, element resonance, and spoiler right are the smallest categories, taking less than 5%.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "What¡¯s all this?" [This can be called the beginner''s starter pack in games! You have three opportunities to choose three traits to enhance your character. Please press the start button underneath the roulette!] Ewan did as he was instructed, watching the roulette spin for a few seconds before slowing down. As the probabilities indicated, the pointer fell into the largest category: random body modification. [Congratulations! You have got: Green eyes!] "Wow!" Ewan exclaimed, not impressed at all; "Do I get to have fresh green eyes, or did my character have green eyes? The first one is more interesting!" [The second one, I have to disappoint you ??] "What a shame! Voldemort won''t be pleased with carrying the same eye color as his enemy!" He widened his eyes as he came to realize something important. "Wait.. you want me to act as a hideous mindless bald snow white freak!! For your information, we don''t look the same at all!" [You don''t have to worry about this, sir! There was a lot of discussion about this issue among community members, but we decided that we will make the change in Lord Voldemort''s appearance caused by the resurrection ritual and Horcruxes. So you will keep the normal human form!] ''Community members? Is he saying... there is more idiots in the place he came from?'' "Okay..." Ewan responded, unsure of what was happening. [Can we continue?] "Sure! Let me get something as amazing as green eyes this time too!" [I must admit, you have been unfortunate! Even though this category won''t make your body worsen, usually people get some minor improvements like a stronger heart, sturdier bones, and likes... You are the first one I see to get something as useless as an eye color change!] "I appreciate the motivation!" [Sorry! Try again, hopefully, you will get something good!] Ewan clicked on the bottom, this time the pointer rested on the second biggest category; random spell understanding! [Congratulations! Lady luck smiled open your not-so-auspicious face and graced you with the new, improved, cutting-edge Animagus Spell! ????] "Have I struck gold?" [I am shearing for the potential!] [Spell details: Allows the user to break all the restrictions of the classic Animagus Spell that can only make the wizard/ witch turn into a small animal. With this Spell, the caster will not only be able to turn into the magical creature the user has the higher affinity with but also use some simple wandless magic!] [Imagine turning into a dragon or a phoenix! I think you see now what I am talking about!] "Alright! That''s amazing, I feel I have seen this spell in some fanfiction before.." [Click the bottom and let us see what you got!] In the final time, the roulette stopped moving on the Random spell knowledge category again. [Congratulations! You got the Sling Ring''s Portale Spell!] [Spell details: This is the spell from Marvel universe that allows the sorcerers to travel from a place to another. ] "Is this even a spell?" Ewan gave the phone a deadpan stare. [I will start now with the last part; the world-building. To make the HP world more interesting, it will be subject to some editing!] On the screen appeared a vast space full of cards. [There are 3000 different prompts in front of you, and Five will be chosen at random.] Five cards appeared on the screen, each one started showing its contents slowly. First card: The Island of Jurassic Park from "Jurassic Park" movie. Second card: The Castle in "Beauty and the Beast" live-action Third card: The sword of samurai Jack from "Samurai Jack Animation". Fourth card: "Shadow Moses Island" from the "Metal Gear Solid game". Fifth card: "The Red world" from "My House of Horror" web novel. [Note: Each element will be altered to fit into the magical world.] [After the integration, some of changes happened on the plot, you can explore all the changes later, but I will inform you of the biggests ones.] [First: lord Voldemort have a son that he doesn''t know of his existence.] [Second: The world is now technologically more advanced in certain fields.] "What? This is so absurd! I can''t take it anymore." "Kid, let''s stop playing. You can''t force me to be part of this by holding my phone hostage, why we don''t talk about this?" [We never force anyone, sir! You have already agreed.] Ewan had no time to argue with him because a bright light temporarily blinded his vision. "WHAT HAP... my voice!" Ewan was caught off guard by the change in his voice. "No.. no way!" When he regained his vision, he was astounded by the trees around him. ''I was in my room, how came I am inside a forest now!'' He raised his phone looking for answers but what greeted him was his reflection on the screen; the pale face of a man in his thirties, the glowing green eyes, and a black hair. "NO! IT CAN''T BE! NO!" In the midst of his denial, a flood of memories overcame him. Ewan felt the power slip from his body, so he fell to the ground like a dried leaf. With his eyes fixed only on the sky, all he can do is murmur a question. "Am I .. Voldemort?" Chapter 2 Ewan passed out from shock. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying below the canopy. The phone began to vibrate, signaling that there was a new message. [You finally woke up!] [If you are ready, I want to explain your situation in greater detail.] [You are in France on July 18th, 1985, in the magical world, six years before the launch of the plot.] [You are not the only person sent to the otherworlds, but you are the only one in the HP world.] [You are now a player, and there will be some occurrences we call events.] [In the first years, you will pass the events individually, but later, the events will be in multiplayer mode.] [Each event brings immense items and presents to the winner.] [The competition will be cruel, so I advise you to try to get stronger.] [Last thing before I leave, each person we send to the otherworlds will get something we call the Transmigrator Privilege, which is a small ability we think you are in dire need of.] [Your Privilege is: The ability to know the location of every Horcrux of Lord Voldemort, and the ability to absorb it.] [By the way, I figured out that you are going to be homeless, so I teleported you near the castle from Beauty and the Beast.] [In the modified history, after the end of the Beauty and the Beast story, the castle became vacant until a wizard named ''Victor Veirdent'' bought it and renovated it. His family owned this castle for many generations before they were all killed when The Dark Lord Grindelwald attacked Paris.] [I pulled some strings here, and your great-grandfather was a Squib who was banished from this family to England, given a lot of money to live a good life, and changed his family name to Riddle. I believe you know what to do.] [Also, last thing, I suggest you go and pick up your son from the orphanage in England before the end of your first month here. The exact address is on the phone. By the way, the boy seems like a mix between Johan Liebert and Conan, so he will need special care.] [Remember, this is not a game!] [Take care of yourself.] [Goodbye.] Ewan looked at his phone with conflicted feelings. "Rhys?" He didn''t receive any reply. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. He looked at his image through the phone''s camera. He received everything from Voldemort: his memories, his feelings, his personality, his talents, his habits. Even this body is a copy of Voldemort''s original body. He is so sure, he is not Ewan anymore. That honest, funny journalist who fought corruption and injustice by the power of words is now perfectly merged with the dark lord, the epitome of tyranny and madness who made the lives of others a living hell.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Voldemort was the quality of people Ewan hated the most, the quality that killed his children to take revenge on him for exposing them. ''No, not exactly. Lord Voldemort would have killed Ewan. He wouldn''t let a nuisance live if he could crush them.'' ''I am not Ewan but also not Voldemort. I am a mix between them, but to everyone''s eyes, I am Voldemort, so I will call myself by this name too.'' He rose up and composed himself. ''Rhys, I don''t know how you''ve done this to me, but if a chance offers itself to give payback to you and your society, I won''t show you any mercy.'' Not far from where he was standing, he could see a castle. The Veirdent castle. He opened the gate easily, and the wards recognized him. ''Veirdent is one of the most ancient families in Europe, and now I am their only heir. This is very useful.'' The castle was in a terrible state; after all, it had been abandoned for more than fifty years. He opened the door and was assaulted by dusty air inside. Hastily hiding his nose and mouth with his hand, he moved the other one to take his wand from his robes and perform a simple cleaning spell. Voldemort frowned. He had just moved out of habit. Currently, he didn''t have a wand, and he wasn''t even wearing wizard robes but normal Muggle clothes. He tried to cast the spell wandlessly. "Scourgify" He frowned, seeing the feeble effects of his spell that only cleaned a few meters ahead of him. ''Why? This is Voldemort''s body, one of the strongest wizards in history! It shouldn''t be like this.. unless..'' This is Voldemort''s body, but he is not Voldemort! ''No, this is not the reason..'' He tried remembering how wizards use magic. ''Am I moving my hand right?.. Yes, I am'' ''Wandless magic is naturally weaker than standard magic with a wand, but this is far too weak for a wizard of Voldemort''s caliber,'' he pondered silently. He wondered if it was because of the lack of muscle memory that he was unable to cast a spell. ''This is not Voldemort''s body, just a copy. The original one was destroyed when he was trying to kill Harry Potter.'' ''This is the first time this body uses magic; the magical energy flow in my body is so slow and rigid. I will need some training.'' A fresh body aged a few minutes, this is not going to be easy. ''I must train, but first, I need a wand.'' ''If I can get some help, it will be great.'' With a little bit of skepticism, Voldemort decided to do something else. "Is there anyone here?" Voldemort wanted to see if there was a House Elf. House-Elves have a long lifespan, so it is quite possible that the family Elf is still alive. ''If a house-elf''s master had no living heirs, the house-elf would be relocated to the Ministry of Magic.'' "Anybody around?" Ewan looked again at the dusty place and felt that the chance of a house-elf showing up was slim, but then... PUFF! A small, wrinkled creature appeared before him, large brown eyes peering up with a mix of hope and trepidation. "Is... is master a descendant of the noble Veirdent family?" the house-elf asked, his voice quavering. Voldemort studied the creature, noting its trembling hands and the way it seemed to shrink under his gaze. "I am," he replied coolly. "The wards allowed me entry. You may verify if you wish." The elf shook his head vigorously. "No need, no need. Arnie already felt the wards recognize master when he entered." Tears welled up in the elf''s eyes. "Arnie has waited so long! Arnie wanted to stay, but the Ministry, they took me away..." Suddenly, the elf burst into hysterics, pounding his head against the floor. "Bad Arnie! I Should have stayed! Bad, bad elf!" Voldemort felt a flash of disgust, quickly followed by an unfamiliar twinge of... was that pity? He pushed the feeling aside. "Enough," he commanded sharply. "Cease this display at once." The elf froze mid-motion, then slowly straightened, sniffling. "Now," Voldemort continued, his voice low and measured, "I am Lord Voldemort, heir to the Veirdent family. Tell me where have you been all this time." Arnie''s eyes widened impossibly further. "The... the Dark Lord?" The elf was visibly shaking. "After Arnie was forced to leave, he worked for a few years in the White Jewel restaurant in Paris until it closed. Then Arnie was sold to the British Ministry. Since then, Arnie has been cleaning the ministry building." Voldemort''s eyes narrowed with interest. "So that''s how you learned English. But how did you return here? Surely you didn''t apparate all the way from London?" "No, master," Arnie replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Arnie used one of the vanishing cabinets that connect London to Paris, and then apparated to the castle." ''This house-elf is far from ordinary,'' Voldemort thought. Aloud, he said, "Impressive, Arnie. But tell me, how did you hear about me specifically?" Arnie''s eyes lit up at the praise. "Master praised Arnie! Arnie wasn''t praised at all in the past 45 years!" Then, composing himself, he continued, "Arnie knows master, yes. Arnie hears things, reads papers when no one is looking. They speak of master in hushed tones, fear him even after..." "After what?" Voldemort prompted, a dangerous edge to his voice. "After... after master''s supposed death," Arnie finished, cowering slightly. Voldemort''s lips curled into a cold smile. "Interesting. And tell me, Arnie, how is it you came to be here? Surely you''re not still bound to this place after so long?" The elf drew himself up, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Arnie was born in this castle and will die here. Arnie is always loyal to the Veirdent family!" Voldemort didn''t need Legilimency to sense the lie beneath Arnie''s words. Curiosity warred with suspicion in his mind. This elf was more than it seemed, and that could be either useful or dangerous. "Very well," he said at last. "Since you''re here, make yourself useful. Show me around the castle." Arnie''s face split into a wide, eager smile. "Yes, master! Arnie would be delighted!" Voldemort looked at the Elf with scrutinizing eyes. Thanks to the elf, he doesn''t have to start looking for the nearest human settlement, then head to Paris, and then to the magical streets there. The elf can simply transport him there with a snap of his finger. As the elf scurried ahead, chattering about the castle''s history, Voldemort followed, his mind racing. He had set a foothold in this new world. His journey was just beginning, and he intended to use every resource at his disposal. Even if that resource came in the form of a mysteriously knowledgeable house-elf. Chapter 3 Arnie took the lead, showing Voldemort around with a cheerful demeanor, despite the castle''s dilapidated state. "I am sorry, Master. The castle is in this terrible state because no one was here to take care of it." "It''s alright," Voldemort replied, waving a hand dismissively. "It will be taken care of later." "Yes, Master! You will never be disappointed. Arnie will ensure the castle is restored to its prime, even if it means many sleepless nights!" Voldemort, observing the elf''s enthusiasm, asked, "Will your sudden disappearance cause any problems?" Arnie paused, considering the question. "Master, an elf''s life is worth less than dirt on the road. No one will care about my life or death. But if they did try to summon me back, they would fail. My loyalty remains solely with House Veirdent." Voldemort studied the little creature thoughtfully. ''I can see he resents his treatment. The rags he wears are decades old.'' ''It seems he wasn''t truly bound to the Ministry, given how easily he left. While he''s dissatisfied with his conditions, like many of his kind, he has a psychological need for being submissive..'' ''If anyone showed him kindness, he''d likely be fiercely loyal.'' As they walked through the halls, Arnie gestured to the portraits lining the walls. "Master, these are the portraits of the esteemed Veirdent family members. Here is the grand ancestor, Henri Veirdent, and his wife, Marella Veirdent." "Arnie, I have no interest in them," Voldemort interrupted, his voice firm yet measured. "Let''s move on." "Understood, Master. This staircase leads to the dungeons," Arnie said, bowing slightly as he gestured forward. "Let''s proceed." According to Arnie, there is a laboratory, a cellar, a storage area, and in the deepest part of the dungeon, prison cells. Voldemort approached the laboratory with anticipation. ''The lab of a prominent European family should be impressive.'' "Arnie, has anyone entered the castle since the family''s demise in Paris? Has anything been disturbed?" "No, Master. The castle remains unknown to the Ministry, and no one has entered." Voldemort''s expression was unreadable as he inspected the shelves. ''Curious. If no one has been here, how was Arnie forced out by the Ministry? He claims to have been born here, which means they shouldn''t even know he exists.'' ''He is quite an interesting elf. He said he came to Paris using a vanishing cabinet. I''m sure he didn''t use the official ones, as they are guarded from both sides ¨C the British side and the French side. That means he used one of the unofficial ones, which are only used for unholy reasons like spying and sabotage. But how did he know of its existence?'' Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Voldemort sighed as he examined a bottle. "Another wasted. Many ingredients have fermented. I''ll deal with this later. Let''s continue." "Yes, Master," Arnie replied promptly. Arnie took Voldemort to see the garden, which was in a terrible state due to the weeds. The garden was so big that it had to be separated into sections. Passing by the medical garden, Voldemort noticed something. "Manderrake?" "Yes, Master. It was planted by the previous owner. It should be fifty years old now." "Don''t get close to it. Actually, let''s just leave! There''s nothing much to see here anyway." Unfortunately, herbology is one of Voldemort''s weak points, but that doesn''t mean he doesn''t know that the screaming of a manderrake this old is no joke at all! Voldemort passed by the water garden, which looked incredibly ugly after the ponds and the fountain had dried up. Then, he re-entered the castle through the tea room. Voldemort glanced around before asking, "Arnie, why do you refer to yourself in the third person?" The elf seemed taken aback. "Arnie doesn''t understand, Master. This is how all house-elves speak." ''He dodged the question,'' Voldemort thought. ''House-elves can''t refuse an order from their masters. Perhaps I''ll only be his true master once I possess the family heirloom.'' "Do they? Earlier, when you were frustrated and started beating yourself, you used ''I''." The elf froze, eyes wide. "A... Arnie is sorry! Master, please punish this bad elf!" As Arnie began to hit himself, Voldemort''s voice cut through the air, firm and commanding. "Stop that immediately." Arnie halted, trembling slightly under Voldemort''s intense gaze. "I am your master, and only I have the right to discipline you. Do not harm yourself without my orders. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." "Now, Arnie, be honest. Answer my question." "It''s as I said, Master. I speak like all house-elves. I don''t want to stand out, as it could lead to punishment from other elves and my masters." The elf''s voice carried a hint of old pain. "An elf speaking in the third person seems foolish, and that''s expected. Only the master should be intelligent. The elf is meant to be a pathetic creature dependent on his master." "Do you hate it?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowing. "No, Master. I don''t hate serving. I just dislike acting like an idiot." "Then don''t. I''m not so shallow as to deny you the right to speak freely." Arnie looked at him with a mix of emotions and simply said, "Thank you, Master," feeling a sense of relief. After this conversation, Arnie showed the rest of the castle: the kitchen, the guest house, the observatory, and many more. Voldemort ordered Arnie to clean the master bedroom and the study room first, and then the hallways. He could clean the other rooms slowly. Sitting in his new room, Voldemort was making some plans to move on. ''I don''t want to be hated by the magical society. One cannot win against the world all by himself, not in my current situation at least! So, I need a justification ¨C why I was such a terrible terrorist and a leader of extremist criminal organizations?'' Voldemort thought for a bit, ''I was under a curse!'' He smirked sarcastically. ''They will never believe it! How could the mighty Dark Lord be cursed? But that''s the only justification I can come up with.'' ''I will leave this for later. I have more pressing issues now.'' He got up and moved to the wardrobe. ''What is this?'' The robes were from the 1700s, with an assortment of bright colors, leaving Voldemort cringing. ''Was the previous owner a peacock? I''ll have Arnie burn these or donate them to charity.'' Voldemort searched until he found a simple cloak that could hide his face. After using a cleaning spell, he put it on. "Arnie," he called. "Yes, Master?" the elf responded promptly. "Take me to Gringotts." "Yes, Master." Arnie gripped Voldemort''s robe, and with a snap of his fingers, they vanished from the castle. They reappeared in front of the French Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Voldemort entered and approached the reception. The goblin behind the desk was so absorbed in his work that he didn''t notice the new client. ''Just like in Britain. One day, I''ll deal with these vermin!'' Goblins were small, unpleasant creatures who made their reception desks high to appear taller than humans. No one really liked them. After a few minutes, the goblin looked up and asked in a clipped tone, "Yes?" "I came for a heritage test," Voldemort replied. Ewan, once a top journalist, was fluent in several languages, believing it essential for his work. The goblin nodded curtly. "20 Galleons." Voldemort had anticipated this and placed the money on the desk, waiting as the goblin counted it. "Follow me," the goblin instructed, climbing down and leading Voldemort to a nearby room. He handed Voldemort a quill. "Poke your finger with this." Without hesitation, Voldemort pricked his finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall. The quill absorbed it and began writing on a piece of parchment. Moments later, the goblin picked up the paper, his eyes briefly widening before he regained composure. ¡°You are the heir of the Veirdent family,¡± he stated, a note of respect entering his voice. He stepped back slightly. ¡°Please wait here. I will inform the manager.¡± The goblin departed briskly, ensuring he maintained his professional demeanor despite the surprising revelation. Voldemort picked up the parchment, seeing his true name: Thomas Marvolo Riddle, along with his magical lineage. A few minutes later, the manager entered with a composed expression. "Good afternoon, sir. I''m Manager Zirkle, responsible for the Veirdent vault," she said, her tone respectful. "Good afternoon," Voldemort replied calmly. "As the sole heir of House Veirdent, I''m authorized to present you with this," Zirkle continued, handing him a small box. Voldemort opened it to reveal a ring set with a bright green emerald. The family heirloom! He examined it briefly before putting it on. "Can I change my name?" "Yes, Your Lordship. What would you like it to be?" "Voldemort Veirdent," he declared with confidence. Chapter 4 The goblin had no reaction to Voldemort''s name; it was not clear if she had never heard of it or simply, didn''t care! The manager took Voldemort through the family vault and showed him a report on the family''s properties and business. Ewan, a seasoned auditor, possessed a level of expertise that allowed him to detect inaccuracies effortlessly in the papers within his purview. This is why gloomy expression darkened Voldemort''s face, indicating disappointment at the evident deterioration after 45 years of void in leadership ¨C a pitiful situation to say the least! After winding up his tasks at Gringotts, Voldemort withdrew a smattering of galleons and requested Arnie to accompany him to the most renowned wand maker nearby. Voldemort had previously visited Paris and various other places around the world. Still, he''d decidedly adopt apparition as his mode of transport, rather than strolling on foot. There wasn''t a lot of drama like the one Olivender likes to make; Voldemort simply browsed through an array of wands until his attention was captured by one that closely mirrored his previous one: 14 inches in length, crafted from Yew wood and ensconced with a Phoenix feather core. Subsequently, Voldemort embarked on a shopping spree for clothing, potion materials, and other miscellaneous items. It was indeed convenient to have an elf accompany him on his errands as he swiftly picked up the glossary, placed it in the castle, and returned in under a minute. Voldemort then retreated back to his new home where he left Arnie pimmersed in his duties. Having addressed the pricing issues, he was compelled to evaluate his current status seriously. Pulling out his phone, he browsed through his app drawer; shortly, he caught sight of an unidentified icon. Upon clicking it, a black interference emerged.
Events: Nothing Planned
Locked
World Building and add-ons
Traits and Abilities
Voldemort clicked on World building and add-ons and he sighed deeply. The Beauty and the Beast''s castle is good since he living there now. Shadow Moses Island, he really doesn''t know what this is. Jurassic Park was a surprise, a smirk emerged on Voldemort''s face. The chance to witness dinosaurs in their authentic form had always intrigued him. The potential fear of attack was dismissible, for there was nothing a well executed Avada Kedavra couldn''t handle! Samurai Jack sword, this is somepthing he is very wary of, the sword that can cut all the evil, and he is, for his dismiss, not a good person. The red world is the realm of the ghosts and the place they gather in. Only few in this world know of this existence. Next, he clicked on the personal traits. ¡ð Transmigrator Privilege: The ability to feel Voldemort''s Horcruxes and absorb them. Note: The Horcruxes are soul shards to absorb them you have to be in direct contact with the container. ¡ð Green eyes: ordinary human green eyes. The Horcruxes, the big problem that he has to deal with. The real Voldemort currently resides in Albania, secluded from civilization. His current manifestation is a mean ghost that depends on habiting animals to acquire a physical form. He fears detection, so he plans on maintaining his distance from humanity, and he will for another 6 years until the unfortunate Quirinus Quirrell ventures into the Albanian woodlands for some "academic research". The spectral Voldemort, in his current embodiment, is immune to death, unless all the Horcruxes are annihilated. The quandary is how to infiltrate Hogwarts and retrieve the hidden Horcrux. Entering personally is a no-go since Dumbledore will be alerted the moment he sets a foot on the school''s ground. Furthermore, there''s the unpleasant surprise of having an offspring, a boy at that? If the information from Rhys accurate and his demeanor resembles a blend of Johan Liebert and Conan, then Voldemort is certain, it won''t be easy to deal with him! ''How he will see me? A parent who abandoned him or the villain who killed and destroyed many lifes?''Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ''That child will be so smart, manipulating him won''t be an easy feat, should I just kill him?'' He paused momentarily, lost in deep thought. ''No! I can''t.'' When he was Ewan he was the loving husband to a pretty wife and the proud father of a cute twin. But all this was taken from him. He can''t kill the boy. The regret, sadness and anger was eating him every night after he lost his family. Could this be his chance to have a family again? How can he waste it like this? ''I have to meet him first before I judge. Overthinking will yield no benefit for me.'' Voldemort examined the app closely, looking at every detail. ''He is now in an orphanage called Victoria Lodge in Dorset.'' In his memories, he unveiled instructions for implementing a pair of spells the wizarding world had never witnessed prior. It was the spells he won before. The inaugural spell that had the power to metamorphose him into a magical creature is the modified animagus spell. '' The process of execution has been slightly modified, along with a minor tweak in the chant but the results are brilliant.'' The second spell: sling ring portal; offered the capability to create a gateway to any location worldwide. Despite initial doubts about utilising this renowned enchantment derived from the Marvel universe without a ring, Voldemort discovered in the spell details a workable substitute - his magical wand. This left him immensely content. It is crucial to note that no other comparable enchantment in the Wizarding world measures up to the might of this one. The Apparition technique among magic practitioners allows travel merely to a finite distance in kilometers, reliant on the magical energy residing within their physiques. Nonetheless, this enchantment utilizes the wand as a conduit to harness the magical energy from the surrounding environment and creates a temporary portal. ''This also mean that it is impossible to cast it wandlessly'' Voldemort took some papers and began writing down his observations and speculations about the Readers'' community and his plans for the future. The original Voldemort''s journey was far more complex than a mere quest for immortality; it was a pursuit for absolute dominance. His perceived superiority over others fueled his longing for universal recognition of his strength and unparalleled Cunning. He yearned for all to bow before his supreme example. However, the reach of his abilities couldn''t match his soaring aspirations, and his hurry towards his goal led to his undoing. But that doesn''t mean that the dark lord was a pitiful being, no. He was a genius student who became an excellent fighter and charismatic leader, if it wasn''t for his pride he wouldn''t lose in that pathetic way. Ewan was a clever journalist, he is sharp and cautious, he is friendly, good at talking and have a good sense of humor, he dislike injustice and live to expose the wrongdoers. One of the notable critics of him is that he always takes responsibility for his actions and shows respect to everyone. After merging together, Voldemort discovered that he have the lofty vision of ruling the world so that he can make sure that justice will be served. He didn''t find it strange, after all who is better then him for such a position? Voldemort changed the direction of his thoughts. ''The castle is massive; one elf cannot take care of it alone; I should hire some people, not house elves.'' As a matter of fact, Voldemort is not fond of house elves. ''Finding wizard or witch servants shouldn''t be overly challenging, Muggleborn are outcasts, hardly acknowledged, only the lucky ones manage to land jobs.'' It is also true that Voldemort looks down upon wizards and witches of Muggle origin, but they are at least more pleasing to the eye and of the same race! After an unspecified amount of time, Voldemort destroyed the papers and left his office. His destination was the training hall, luckily it is a facility of the castle. This hall was fortified with numerous spells to safeguard it against ruin during training sessions, but these protections have probably weakened over the years and are now defunct. However, Voldemort wasn''t too disturbed as he had no plans to employ any particularly destructive spells for today. "Avada Kedavra " He tried to use his signature spell. He is known for his ability to quickly and powerfully cast the Killing Curse like a semi-mechanical gun on work! Regrettably, his newly formed body hasn''t yet adapted to wielding this power. Following several attempts, he resolved to experiment with a different spell. He selected Cruciatus Curse infamous as the Torture Curse. Recalling the forbidden third incantation, the Imperius Curse, sent shivers down his spine as it reminded him of something else. '' This is new body! The mental protections that I had established are entirely absent now. I must rectify this promptly, lest my thoughts become an open book to anyone, without me even realizing.'' Before departing, Voldemort resolved to attempt one final enchantment. Shutting his eyes, he visualized a particular location that he had visited in the past. Raising his wand, he began to trace its tip in a cycle, preparing to cast his spell. "Porta Lucis" A streak of emerald flame traced a line in the air before swiftly merging together to form a hovering ring. Inside this ring, the image of the Giza pyramids materialized. "Have I succeeded?" This wasn''t Voldemort''s maiden encounter with success on a spell''s initial performing attempt, but such high-level magic? That was a rarity. Being discovered wasn''t Voldemort''s concern. Night had already descended in France, and Egypt was deep into the midnight hour. Who would be in the vicinity of the pyramids at this ungodly hour? Nonetheless, to ensure safety, he terminated the spell, watching the emerald line vanish into thin air. Afterwards, he exited the large room, retreating to his personal study. ''It time to practice Occlumency again.'' Voldemort was slightly disheartened at the enormity of the task before him, ''It involves a substantial commitment of time.'' This isn''t a feat one can accomplish in a single evening, he would require at least a month to regain his initial proficiency. He was also an accomplished practitioner of Legilimency; according to Severus Snape, he was unparalleled in his skills, achieving heights previously thought to be unattainable. ''But first..'' ''"Arnie." An elf popped up into the room. "You called master?" "Yes, I want to have a talk with you." ''.. let''s see what this elf is hiding.'' Chapter 5: Meeting an idol Arnie was an elf born in the Veirdent Castle; both his mother and father were house elves of this family and, in his own words, just despicable slaves. Because they were too preoccupied serving their masters, his parents never showed him any affection. They didn''t mind whether he suffered from hunger or froze from the cold. They said that a house elf must get used to hardships from a young age, so they only gave him just enough care to prevent him from dying. As he grew up, he began working for the family members. Though not physically harsh, he felt that their treatment of him was impolite. He was regarded by them as just another slave. He had always admired how humans treated each other, the way parents looked at their children with warmth and ensured their safety, how the eldest daughter liked to crack jokes from time to time, and how the rest would laugh spontaneously. The youngest son was full of a desire to explore and always got himself into trouble. After a lengthy scolding, the mother would embrace him and tenderly ask him not to do it again. The father had numerous stories and tales that never failed to pique his children''s interest. The little elf also liked to listen to these stories and wished his mother would hug him. In fact, he wished to become human. After several years, the elf began to accompany the family on their travels abroad. He was utterly amazed; he hadn''t expected the outside world to be so vast, diverse, and beautiful. He wanted to roam everywhere and taste every food, but he was restrained by his masters; he couldn''t leave. Twenty years passed, and Arnie noticed that he didn''t resemble the rest of his race. He didn''t want to refer to himself in the third person and appear backward. He wanted to speak fluently and sensibly as a human without stuttering. When he shared this idea with his parents, he was severely beaten until his bones were broken. "A house elf is a creature lower than its masters, its only duty is to serve and obey." "A house elf is nothing without its master!" That''s what his father told him. From that day, he despised his family and his entire race. But a few days later, something unexpected happened. The family went to Paris to attend a wedding of an acquaintance in Paris and took his parents with them; he couldn''t leave because of his broken bones. He waited several days, but neither the family nor his parents returned. After he healed, he went to Paris to investigate and discovered that the entire family had been killed during an attack by Lord Grindelwald! The fate of his parents was unknown; had they died or been taken by the Ministry? No one cares about the fate of a miserable slave; there are many of them! Even he didn''t care! He stood frozen in place for hours trying to grasp what was happening; the Veirdent family was dead and had no blood relatives! This means he was... free? How could this be? A free elf? But he was indeed free; there was no one to give him orders anymore! Arnie jumped in joy; now he could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted! And that''s what happened.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. He visited many places around the world, when he was hungry, he could steal food from a random human family. But suddenly, he was overcome with a terrible sense of emptiness. Travel no longer satisfied him, and eating plenty of food no longer filled him. He didn''t know what to do anymore; he was just full of energy and wanted to do something, but he didn''t know what he could do! This feeling was terrible, like thousands of ants crawling on his body, but he couldn''t move. He had despised his parents, he had despised his race, but at that moment, he also despised himself! He cursed his wretched self because he realized that his father''s words were true and that a house elf is nothing without its master. After accepting that truth, he returned to Paris and presented himself to a magical creature seller as an elf looking for a master. The seller was not surprised at all; it seems he receives such requests frequently. After verifying his skills, the seller agreed to sell him. He waited several weeks in a small cage until someone came and bought him. The man introduced himself as Bernard Maurice, a chef who had recently opened a restaurant and needed an elf to look after it and clean. In the early days, Arnie was happy; Master Maurice had many orders for him. Cleaning the floors, washing the dishes, laundering clothes... Arnie was now content because he had something to do. But the good days didn''t last; the chef''s work was not successful, and the number of customers was not enough to cover the costs; Bernard was burning through his savings to keep the restaurant running. The chef became nervous and found no way to vent his anger and stress except on the elf. The first time was spontaneous when he hit the elf with a chair. But since then, it became intentional and increased when he figured that he enjoyed torturing the elf. The sound of the whip''s lashes and the cook''s laughter as he flogged him were etched into the elf''s memory just as they were etched onto his skin. The cook wasn''t satisfied until he saw the elf drenched in his own blood; he didn''t care if he died. After all, who cares about a wretched elf? He could just buy another. One night, Arnie had had enough of the abuse. He went to the chef''s bedroom where he found him asleep, took his wand, and threw it aside. Arnie glared at the chef with hatred and began to strike him with bolts of lightning. House elves are magical creatures and, like wizards and witches, they too can use magic to attack, a fact not much cared about in the magical world. The chef began to scream, ordering Arnie to stop, but he did not. Usually, an elf is bound by his master''s orders and cannot disobey even if he wants to, because there is a magical contract that binds him to his master. However, the contract between him and the chef did not exist because the contract binding him to the Veirdent family was still in effect. When the last member of the family dies, the contract is nullified, so Arnie had long realized that there must be a Veirdent heir somewhere in the world; he just hadn''t shown himself yet or he didn''t know about his origins. The chef''s commanding screams turned to pleas for mercy, but Arnie did not want the chef to die so easily. He found it ridiculous how this wizard became completely helpless after his wand was taken from him, but he wasn''t foolish enough to think that all wizards were like that. The next morning, Arnie left the restaurant leaving behind the man''s corpse, and left France altogether, heading to London where he presented himself to another magical creature seller. This time he didn''t wait long to be sold because the Ministry of Magic had placed an order for twenty house elves, and from then on, Arnie worked at the Ministry of Magic. However, the elves there competed to complete tasks, leaving him with little to do. He felt bored and empty again, so he started occupying himself by following random workers outside the ministry, he could leave for hours and would not be noticed by anyone each day. No one cared about him. His best days at the Ministry were during the rise of the new Dark Lord, Voldemort. The ministry was always bustling, there was plenty of work, and there was no shortage of Death Eaters who attacked it. He was there when the Dark Lord declared war with a devastating attack on the Ministry, causing the death of everyone who was unfortunate enough to be present at that time. Not even the humble house-elves were spared from his Death Eaters'' merciless onslaught. Arnie didn''t know why he felt his spirits lift like that, he almost got himself killed there too! Was it because he was so terribly bored that any change was welcome? Or was it because he hated wizards and elves so much that seeing them dead brought him joy? Or perhaps it had something to do with being a downtrodden servant all his life, and witnessing someone do as they pleased, crushing everyone and actually getting away with it, was incredibly fascinating to him? Whatever the reason, this Lord Voldemort had piqued his interest so he started following the news. Arnie became very happy, he finally felt part of something. He would read the newspapers daily to know the latest moves of this Lord. He felt anticipation and excitement, what would he do next, would he attack the Ministry again? Would he kill random people again? When would the next battle happen? The destruction was everywhere, and the scenery of the battle was beautiful, especially when spells collided in the air. Arnie didn''t care much about the lives or deaths of humans, but he was very excited after something finally broke the monotony of his daily life after decades. The Dark Lord has a very simple way of life. You know my name, but if you dare to say it you''ll die! And his followers are everywhere! One never knows what will happen, he might be sitting quietly sunbathing and BAM! Suddenly a group of madmen in white masks storm in and start killing everyone! Arnie struggled to contain his laughter when he heard the wizards speaking but not daring to say Voldemort''s name, always using words like or while making the face "You know who I''m talking about" Arnie tried to imitate the expression several times, but the muscles of an elf''s face could not do it, to his great disappointment. Also, whenever they talk about him, they lower their voices and become terribly frightened. Arnie never thought he would see the haughty wizards scared; this refreshed him. For the first time in a long time, life seemed shiny and worth living that''s why he became one of the biggest fans and supporters of Voldemort. One of Arnie''s most cherished recollections was the night he ventured stealthily behind a Ministry Auror. Fate would have it that the wizard joined his comrades in a desperate clash against the Dark Lord''s minions. And then, the unthinkable: Voldemort materialized, from the shadows, his presence chilling the air. With a flick of his wand, a green bolt of death consumed the Aurors, their lives extinguished like candles in a tempest. To the Dark Lord, it was a mere skirmish, a fleeting obstacle. Yet for Arnie, a young elf witnessing his idol''s malevolent power, it was an indelible memory etched upon his soul. It was the first time he saw the man who had terrified everyone, but it was also the last. After ten years of war, he received devastating news; the Dark Lord was dead, killed by a one-year-old child! What kind of jest was this? What a trivial joke the newspaper was writing for readers? Don''t journalists these days have any respect for people''s minds?! That was his opinion and that of many others until Dumbledore appeared and announced that Voldemort was indeed killed by the child of the prophecy, Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Arnie was very angry; he wanted to find that child and tear him to pieces, but finding him was impossible because Dumbledore hid him well. Every time he saw a Death Eater being led to court, it felt as if his heart was being crushed. Everything was over, truly over! Arnie returned to his monotonous life until one day he felt the magic he had placed on the castle alert him to someone''s entry. Arnie used a vanishing cabinet he knew its location and left for Paris, then moved to the castle. He froze at the sight of a familiar figure. Though he hadn''t seen his face, as he always wore a mask like his followers, his distinctive aura and commanding presence were unmistakable. "Is anyone here?" The elf''s entire being trembled. It was his voice¡ªit was him, no doubt, the Dark Lord! Chapter 6: Going to London Voldemort sat motionless, his calm emerald eyes fixed on Arnie as he listened to the trembling servant''s story. His long, pale fingers idly twirled his wand ¨C a gesture that sent shivers down Arnie''s spine. The Dark Lord''s face was an unreadable mask, but the tension in the air was palpable. Without warning, Voldemort''s wand snapped towards Arnie. "Crucio!" Agony exploded through Arnie''s body. His bones felt as if they were shattering and reforming in an endless cycle of torment. This pain surpassed even the worst he had endured at the hands of his previous tormentor, the cook. Though the pain lasted mere moments, to Arnie, it felt like an eternity. As suddenly as it began, the pain ceased. Voldemort''s cold voice cut through the silence. "Get up." Arnie struggled to his feet, his body still trembling from the aftershocks. He kept his head bowed, afraid to meet his master''s gaze. "Look at me," Voldemort commanded. Reluctantly, Arnie raised his eyes. The moment their gazes locked, he felt a foreign presence invade his mind. Memories flashed before him ¨C snippets of his past, his fears, his secrets ¨C as Voldemort sifted through his thoughts at will. When the Dark Lord finally withdrew, Arnie felt violated and exposed. Voldemort''s thin lips curled into a sneer. "You think I was harsh with you." "I... I dare not question your methods, Master," Arnie stammered. A heavy silence fell over the room before Voldemort spoke again, his voice dangerously soft. "Actually, I''ve been lenient." Surprise flitted across Arnie''s face before he could suppress it. "There are a few things I cannot abide," Voldemort continued, his eyes narrowing. "Betrayal. Weakness. Failure. And above all, lying." He leaned forward slightly, causing Arnie to flinch. "When I ask a question, I expect the truth. A single Cruciatus Curse is indeed merciful of me." Arnie swallowed hard. "Thank you for your mercy, Master. I am undeserving of such kindness." Voldemort rose from his seat, towering over the diminutive servant. "I''m leaving for London. In my absence, you will oversee the manor and hire some house-elves." "As you command, Master," Arnie replied, bowing deeply. Voldemort''s gaze swept over Arnie''s ragged form. "And get yourself some new attire. Something more... fitting." This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Terror gripped Arnie''s heart. "Master, please! Are you freeing me? I beg your forgiveness. I''ll do anything¡ª" "Silence!" Voldemort''s voice cracked like a whip. "I''m not freeing you, you fool. You''ll choose your own clothes ¨C but you remain bound to me." With a fluid motion of his wand, Voldemort conjured a shimmering portal. Through it, Arnie glimpsed an empty London street. "I''ll return in a few days," Voldemort said, stepping towards the magical gateway. As his master disappeared through the portal, Arnie stared in awe. ''Such power,'' he thought. ''I''ve never seen magic like this, despite my years of service to wizards.'' Arnie examined his trembling hands, his emotions in turmoil. His new master was undoubtedly brilliant, creating spells beyond imagination. Yet, the Dark Lord''s casual cruelty was terrifying. A bitter laugh escaped Arnie''s lips. "The Dark Lord, nice? What a foolish thought that I had. I''ve seen what he does to his enemies." He felt the invisible bonds of servitude tighten as Voldemort donned his ring this evening at Gringotts Bank. Arnie knew then that true freedom was no longer an option ¨C nor did he desire it. His path was clear: obey and survive. With a deep breath, Arnie straightened his posture. He had work to do, and failure was not an option. Not with Lord Voldemort as his master. ----©\--------------------- In a deserted London street, cloaked in shadows, Voldemort retrieved a vial of Polyjuice Potion he had procured from Paris. He drank it swiftly, feeling his features contort and shift. Despite the transformation, he kept his face concealed beneath his hood as he emerged from the alley. His destination was the British branch of Gringotts Bank. It was nearly closing time, with just ten minutes left before the doors would shut for the night¡ªoperating hours being from six in the morning until eight in the evening. Voldemort approached the reception desk, he requested to exchange a sum of Galleons for Muggle currency. The goblin behind the counter blinked in surprise at the unusual request. According to Ministry of Magic regulations, goblins were accustomed to facilitating such transactions for Muggle-born wizards entering the magical world for the first time. This typically involved swapping their shining Galleons for the worn paper notes of the Muggle realm. Muggles need galleons to buy things in the wizarding world. But why would a wizard need muggle money? Despite his disdain for this stupid move, the goblin was eager to rid himself of the worthless paper money and quickly completed the exchange with a look of disdain. Voldemort barely acknowledged the goblin, his mind focused on more pressing matters. He loathed the goblin race, and nothing could deepen that hatred further. Instead, he concentrated on the connection he felt to his Horcrux, ensuring it remained secure. ''Fortunately, it seems to still be in its place,'' he mused, sensing the golden cup safely ensconced in the bank''s labyrinthine vaults, specifically the Lestrange family vault. The shifting tides of the magical world had unsettled him, raising concerns about the safety of his Horcruxes. Yet, this one appeared untouched. ''Still secure,'' he thought with satisfaction as he exited the bank. He wasn''t in a hurry to retrieve the Horcrux. His plan was to wait until he had gathered all of them before attempting to destroy any. Acting too soon might alert the original Voldemort¡ªsomething he was determined to avoid. He would not under any circumstances want two Voldemorts to appear in the same place at the same time in front of everyone, it would ruin his reputation and prestige. The original Voldemort is more than capable of causing problems for him, even more so for Dumbledore because it would make his followers doubt and lose their trust in him. Voldemort had a plan for the Muggle money. He intended to blend in with Muggles for a time, driven by an unexpected desire: to be a good father. He envisioned spending time with his son, hoping to form a bond before revealing his true identity. Engaging in activities within the magical world was too risky; he couldn''t afford exposure. Yes, Voldemort wants to be good father. Ewan''s obsession was fatherhood, imagining what could have been if his children had survived the accident and grow up. Voldemort mused that if his son showed promise, he might spare his life. But meeting his high standards would be no easy feat. His visit to Britain had multiple objectives. First, he needed to assess his son''s circumstances, though he decided to remain incognito for a month. Second, he aimed to gauge the political climate of the magical world and refine his strategies. Third, he needed to hire staff for his manor, particularly a skilled gardener to tend the medicinal plants. He considered seeking help from Lucius Malfoy but dismissed the idea. Revealing himself prematurely was unwise, especially since his power was not yet fully restored. His most loyal followers languished in Azkaban, and those outside served him more out of fear than loyalty. After completing his tasks, Voldemort left Diagon Alley and ventured into a Muggle restaurant. He enjoyed a surprisingly satisfying meal, then selected a clean, well-appointed hotel room for the night. Exhausted from the day''s transformations¡ªfrom Ewan to Voldemort + Ewan ¡ª he cast protective spells around the room and called it a day, pondering the unexpected path his life had taken. Chapter 7 - A walk in London. Voldemort awoke late the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. Deciding to skip breakfast, he planned to have lunch later since he wasn''t hungry. The effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off; the standard brew he carried only lasted twelve hours. After drinking a fresh dose, he headed to Diagon Alley and picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet. An intriguing article caught his eye. ¡¶ ANCIENT EUROPEAN FAMILY RISES FROM EXTINCTION PARIS - In a stunning turn of events, one of Europe''s oldest magical families has made an unexpected return from the brink of extinction. Late last night, Gringotts Bank notified the French Ministry of Magic that a new Lord Veirdant had successfully passed the inheritance test and presented the family seal. The resurrection of this legendary lineage has sent shockwaves through the magical community. However, those hoping for an immediate public appearance may be disappointed. According to a statement released through Gringotts, the new Lord Veirdant has expressed a desire to remain out of the spotlight for the time being, focusing instead on family affairs. "The new lord wishes to abstain from political and social events at this time," the letter from Gringotts stated. "He has requested privacy as he attends to matters within the Veirdant family." Efforts to obtain further information from Gringotts Bank were met with silence. "We know nothing about him," stated a spokesperson for the French Ministry of Magic. "His past, his appearance, even his name are all unknown." This announcement has only fueled the growing curiosity surrounding the mysterious new lord. Details about his identity remain shrouded in secrecy, sparking intense speculation and debate in magical circles across France and Europe. "It''s unprecedented," said Magical Historian Alicia Davison. "We''ve never seen a case where the identity of a newly instated lord of an ancient house has been kept so tightly under wraps." As the magical community eagerly awaits more information, one thing is certain: the return of the Veirdant family is sure to have far-reaching implications for magical society. This newspaper will continue to follow this developing story closely and provide updates as they become available. ¡· A satisfied smile played on his lips as he finished reading. Approaching the newspaper vendor, he spoke with a low, compelling voice. "I''d like a copy of every issue from the past three years."This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. The vendor looked taken aback but quickly recovered. "All of them?" "Yes. Will two hours be enough to gather them?" "Certainly, sir. That''s more than enough time." Voldemort paid for the newspapers and made his way to a private investigator''s office, a location suggested during his brief chat with the vendor. After placing his order at the office, he wandered the streets aimlessly, eventually arriving at a rundown restaurant. Voldemort opened the door, surprised to find an empty restaurant. "Ah, a customer! Please, have a seat! What''s your order?" A young man approached with boundless enthusiasm. Seeing it was lunchtime, Voldemort decided to eat here. "What do you serve?" The young man rattled off a few dishes with gusto. Voldemort chose a few and opened the newspaper to continue reading while he waited. ¡¶LUCIUS MALFOY LEADS HOGWARTS BOARD .. Lucius Malfoy''s admirable philanthropy and dedication to empowering the magical community is known to everyone, so it wasn''t surprising that the man took it open himself to help the new generation with his wisdom and experience and secure funds to the only magical school in the island...¡· He read the article with interest, chuckling at the obvious flattery paid for by Malfoy. ''This man has thick skin! But I understand his need to whitewash his reputation after the Death Eater scandal.'' After being suspected of being a Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy claimed that he was under the influence of Imperius. After bribing and blackmailing many people in the Ministry, he actually escaped prosecution. But his reputation is still tarnished and he is trying by all means to repair it. As he pondered how to deal with Lucius, the chef placed the food on his table, standing expectantly. ''Does he want my opinion on the food, or is he worried I¡¯ll leave without paying?'' Voldemort wondered. He tasted the food and nodded. "It''s good." The chef beamed with pride. "Sit down," Voldemort commanded. The chef hesitated but obliged, clearly puzzled. "Where did you learn to cook?" "From my family. My parents had a small restaurant in London. Dad cooked, Mom served. I started learning at eight..." The chef dove into his story, animatedly sharing his life while Voldemort ate silently. "So, you were ambitious, but renting this place was a mistake because you thought good food alone would bring customers?" The chef looked sheepish. "Yes, sir. I was naive." ''And you still are. You''ve told me everything I didn''t ask for.'' Finishing his meal, Voldemort wiped his mouth. "How will you handle your debts?" The chef lowered his head further, embarrassed by his financial woes. Voldemort placed a sum of money on the table. "Sir, this is much more than the meal costs!" "I know," Voldemort replied calmly. "Mr. Claus, I''m looking for a chef. I enjoyed your food despite the simple ingredients. This money covers the meal and tonight''s dinner budget. Impress me with a luxurious dinner, and I''ll hire you and clear your debts." The chef was so shocked he forgot to breathe. "Really? Truly, sir? Will you really do that?" Voldemort was momentarily taken aback by the over-the-top response. "If tonight''s dinner meets my standards." "Of course, sir! I won''t let you down!" The chef dashed to the kitchen with renewed energy, leaving a bemused Voldemort behind. As he left the restaurant, Voldemort mused, ''Is hiring him wise? He seems a bit scatterbrained. But perhaps that''s what I need.'' Voldemort headed to the newsstand where he was met by a salesman who handed him a large stack of newspapers. He put them in his enchanted bag and headed for the hotel where he had stayed the night before. He would begin reading everything immediately. He intends to use the newspapers as a way to find out what he has missed in the past four years since his disappearance. He knows there are many lies out there, but he believes he has the knowledge and common sense to distinguish between truth and falsehood. As he was walking he noted the peculiar number of suspicious characters in Diagon Alley this day. There are a lot of people in cloaks that hide their identity and they are hovering around as if they are doing reconnaissance. Voldemort shook his head, that''s not his problem. Not for now, not until he takes over. Chapter 8 - A fight in Knockturn Alley The headlines screamed at Voldemort from the yellowed pages of old newspapers. His face darkened with each turn, the weight of four years'' absence pressing down on him. [The trial of Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rodolphus Lestrange, along with Rabastan Lestrange and Bartemius Crouch Jr. has finally ended! These ruthless criminals will spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban...] "These reckless fools!" Voldemort hissed, his fingers clenching the brittle paper. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. After the incident at the Potter house, he had vanished without a trace. His most fanatical followers¡ªthe Lestrange family and young Bartemius¡ªhad searched for him relentlessly, their desperation leading them to unspeakable acts. The torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity was just one of the loose ends he now had to tie up. A cocktail of emotions swirled within him: frustration, pride, and something unfamiliar¡ªwas it concern? He was no longer just Lord Voldemort. The memories, emotions, and power of the Dark Lord had merged with the soul of Ewan Eldrin, a seemingly ordinary professional journalist. Though Voldemort''s personality dominated due to his greater age and wealth of experiences, Ewan''s influence lingered, softening edges that were once razor-sharp. Voldemort''s gaze drifted back to the article, focusing on Bellatrix''s quoted outburst in court. "The Dark Lord will rise again!" she had screamed. "He will reward us, his most faithful!" A small smile tugged at his lips. "Your loyalty is impressive, Bella," he murmured. "And it shall not go unrewarded. Be patient, my faithful ones. Freedom approaches." He reached for another newspaper, his mind already formulating plans for a precisely executed prison break. But first, there were matters of the Veirdant family and his son to attend to. As he read on, a burst of laughter escaped him. [Bartemius Crouch Senior, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during the First Wizarding War, is transferred from his position to become the new Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.] "How the mighty have fallen," Voldemort smirked, savoring the irony of Crouch''s demotion. '' The annoying man had been demoted.'' It seemed the Ministry of Magic couldn''t get past the fact that he was the father of one of the most notorious Death Eaters or his extreme measures during the wizarding war. Hours passed as he absorbed years of magical history. When he finally stood, stretching to dispel the stiffness in his limbs, the magical world had taken shape in his mind. A delicate balance had been struck in his absence, with Millicent Bagnold securing re-election as Minister for Magic on the back of her supposed ''victory'' over him. ''Enjoy the glory you didn''t earn, Millicent,'' he thought, recalling the Harry Potter books'' mention of Cornelius Fudge taking over in 1990. ''My plans have no place for an idiot like him.'' Half an hour later, Voldemort entered the restaurant and was surprised to see the decor had changed. The tables were pushed to the sides, leaving one central table adorned with candles and flowers. "Sir, you have arrived," John Claus greeted him with a cheerful grin. "Please have a seat, I¡¯ll serve dinner right away." Voldemort took his seat as John hurried to the kitchen. With a wave of his wand, the dishes floated gracefully onto the table. ''Visually, the dishes look beautiful. Let''s see how they taste,'' Voldemort thought. John stood nervously by as Voldemort sampled the food with calm deliberation. After a moment, Voldemort set down his spoon and spoke words more meaningful than a thousand praises. "I want to hire you!" Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. John laughed, his face lighting up with joy. "I agree, sir! I want to work for you!" "Don''t rush. Sit down and read the contract first." John returned the dishes to the kitchen, cleaned the table, and then sat to read the contract Voldemort handed him. "Be aware, we¡¯ll finalize the contract with a blood oath if you agree." John seemed unfazed at first, but soon his hand began to tremble. "What¡¯s wrong?" Voldemort asked. John looked up, eyes brimming with tears. "Sir, will you actually pay me this salary?" Voldemort was taken aback. ''Oh, the simple-minded!'' Minutes later, the contract was signed, making it official. "So, sir, when will I start working?" John asked excitedly. "First, we need to settle your debts. Show me the way." "Sir, there¡¯s no need for you to come; I can go alone," John said quickly. "Ha!" Voldemort laughed, a hint of mockery in his voice. "You''ve borrowed from loan sharks. Do you think they''ll accept the money from you that easily?" "Sir, they''re not that kind of people!" John replied innocently. Voldemort put on a sarcastic smile. "Do you think they hang a sign saying, ¡®We¡¯re bad people, don¡¯t approach us¡¯? Tell me, what respectable financial institution would loan money to a restaurant with no future or profit opportunities? Who advised you to open here in the first place?¡± John''s eyes widened with realization. ¡°Montero Financial Transactions, the company I borrowed from!¡± Voldemort observed the young man, crestfallen and disappointed. ''I must be more tactful with this naive boy.'' ¡°These people prey on those in financial distress. Once you take their money, the interest will inflate ridiculously over and over, and thus you will spend the rest of your life trying to repay a debt that has become hundreds of times bigger. You¡¯ll be trapped in debt forever. Paying early isn¡¯t allowed because it is a loss to them and if you try, they might send thugs to ruin your business and take away your money..¡± John looked down, tears welling up. Voldemort quickly added, "But don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll handle everything." John looked up, eyes hopeful. ¡°Sir, will you really do that? I¡¯ll follow your every command!¡± ''As per the contract, you have no choice,'' Voldemort thought. He sighed and said, ¡°Lead the way.¡± John donned a cloak. ¡°Please cover your face, sir. It¡¯s dangerous.¡± ¡®Really?¡¯ Voldemort thought as they entered a shadowy alley filled with cloaked figures. ¡®Knockturn Alley,¡¯ he mused. ¡®Does he not realize every business here is shady?¡¯ ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± John said as they approached a building with a worn sign: . John addressed a worker. ¡°Hello, can you call Mr. Montero? I¡¯m here to settle a debt!¡± The man raised an eyebrow but got up. ¡°That¡¯s fine, Donald, I heard,¡± said a lanky wizard with sharp eyes. ¡°Hello, it¡¯s rare to have visitors. May I know your name?¡± John began to speak, but Voldemort interjected, ¡°John, return to the restaurant. I¡¯ll take care of this.¡± John left quickly, leaving confusion in his wake. Montero spoke, ¡°I¡¯m confused. Can you explain?¡± Voldemort noticed some reaching for their wands. "I''m here to settle John Claus''s debt." Montero retrieved a notebook from his enchanted bag. "Let me see.. John Claus... Ah, we can¡¯t accept payment now since the due date hasn''t arrived." "Mr. Claus won¡¯t be available. You must accept the money." Montero narrowed his eyes. "Even if we could, Mr. Claus must do it himself. Who are you?" Voldemort sighed, his patience thinning. Montero sensed danger and ordered, "Take him down!" --- Inside the dilapidated building, chaos erupted as Voldemort faced off against a band of seven rogue wizards led by Montero. Unaware of his true identity, they foolishly challenged the Dark Lord. A torrent of curses flew toward Voldemort, but he remained unscathed within a shimmering magical barrier. "Weak," he muttered, exasperated by their feeble attempts. Determined to avoid attracting attention, Voldemort decided to end the fight swiftly. He raised his wand with precision. "Avada Kedavra!" he intoned, and a flash of green light struck Montero, leaving him lifeless. The remaining wizards froze in shock at their leader''s sudden demise. Desperation fueled their next assault, their wands casting spells that ricocheted uselessly off Voldemort''s shield. Realizing their futility, they tried to flee, but the door remained unyielding. Voldemort smirked, dispatching green bolts with deadly accuracy. In mere moments, he stood alone amidst the fallen. ''What a gang of useless wizards,'' he thought, surveying the scene. To cover his tracks and protect John, Voldemort gathered Montero''s enchanted bag and the wizards'' belongings, staging the scene to resemble a theft. Suddenly, he heard voices approaching. "Come, this way... the lights are coming from here0!" ''What?'' Voldemort was startled by the unexpected development. "The door won''t open!" "Alohomora!" "The unlocking charm isn''t working!" "Move aside! -- Reducto!" The door exploded, revealing three Aurors, two males and one female. "Immobilus!" The Auror leader wasted no time, firing a spell at the hooded figure standing amidst the bodies. "Expelliarmus!" "Stupefy!" The others joined in quickly. Though the hooded figure''s face was obscured, they caught a glimpse of a smile as he effortlessly dodged their attacks. "Expelliarmus!" shouted the leader again, sending a disarming charm toward Voldemort. With fluid grace, he sidestepped, gliding through the chaos. Another Stunner followed, but he evaded it with ease. "Confundus!" The spell hit its mark. A wave of confusion momentarily disoriented Voldemort, but his Occlumency quickly cleared his mind. With precision, he deflected a barrage of Incarcerous spells. As the battle continued, Voldemort moved with both elegance and unpredictability, dodging, parrying, and deflecting the Aurors'' spells effortlessly, clearly toying with them. "We need to restrain him!" the leader exclaimed. He conjured corporeal chains, but they melted through Voldemort''s cloak like smoke. "Impedimenta!" shouted the third Auror. "Protego!" Voldemort countered, shielding himself. Predicting their non-lethal tactics was easy for Voldemort. But then, as he dodged another Stunner, something unexpected happened. "Immobilus!" One of the male Aurors tried to freeze Voldemort in his place. Just as Voldemort is dodging the spell "Revelio!" the female Auror casted. "Flipendo!" the leader chanted half a second later. ''She anticipated where I would move to.'' The revelation spell hit Voldemort. His bones shifted and his skin contorted as the Polyjuice Potion''s effects were forcibly ended. Now he can''t move until the effects of Polyjuice Potion completely undone but then the knockback spell hit him and throw him away to the end of the hall. Only his cloak now concealed his true identity now. "Lumos Maxima!" Voldemort chanted, blinding everyone with a burst of light. The Aurors knew, even without sight, that their target had slipped away successfully. Chapter 9 Voldemort Apparated into his hotel room, then used a light portal to escape to a distant forest. He would never return to that hotel room, knowing Apparition is traceable. Still, he wasn''t worrid, there was nothing there that could reveal his true identity. The light portal was a unique magic unknown to the world, operating on a different mechanism, making it untraceable. ''That was unexpected!'' he thought. The gang of wizards had been laughable, no challenge at all. So when a small group of Aurors appeared, he decided to test his skills against them. The Aurors'' team chemistry was nonexistent; even their leader was like a monkey with a stick, failing to give proper instructions. ''I know the war against me depleted their ranks, but I didn''t expect the Ministry to fill vacancies with just anyone!'' Voldemort had been confident he could escape easily, but he hadn''t anticipated someone using a revelation charm against him. ''That witch was impressive. How did she deduce I was using a potion to alter my appearance and use a revealing spell to counter it? Was she aware capturing me was impossible and just wanted to know my true form for later pursuit? Or did she realize that canceling the potion would immobilize me for a moment, giving her a chance to catch me?'' Voldemort chuckled. ''Clever move. What impressed me most was her ability to predict my moves in the latter half. Unfortunately for her, her colleague''s push-back spell gave me the opportunity to escape.'' ''In fact, she''s quite lucky. If my true face had been revealed, I¡¯d have had no choice but to kill them.'' Voldemort straightened his clothes, composed himself, and drank the Polyjuice Potion to resume his previous form. He then used the portal to appear in John Claus''s restaurant. The young chef paced nervously inside the restaurant. When a circle of light appeared, he stumbled in shock and fell to the ground. John''s eyes widened as a shadow emerged. "S¡­ Sir?!" "John? Why are you on the ground?" Awkwardly standing, John asked, "Is this a spell? I¡¯ve never heard of it." Voldemort, with a hint of amusement, replied, "It''s a spell I developed." "You created a spell? Is that really possible?" John asked, wide-eyed. "Yes, magic evolves through innovation," Voldemort said, appreciating the chance to share knowledge. "But keep it to yourself." He thought, '' That''s not a problem, the contract ensures he won''t reveal anything without permission or he will die.''If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Voldemort handed John an enchanted bag. "Your debts are settled. Organize your affairs and prepare. You can keep running the restaurant for a few more days. I''ll send an owl when I need you." "An enchanted bag? Those must be expensive!" John said, eyes sparkling with curiosity. ''These Polyjuice Potions are far more costly, but necessary,'' Voldemort mused. As a master potion-maker, the thought of buying a potion of such moderate complexity felt like a personal insult. Yet, he found himself with no alternatives; the potion demanded a variety of ingredients, a fully equipped laboratory, and a lengthy brewing process¡ª Things he simply did not possess at that moment. Seeing John''s confusion, Voldemort said, "If there¡¯s nothing else, I¡¯ll see you tomorrow." "Alright, good night, sir¡­ Wait! I don¡¯t know your name yet!" Voldemort chuckled inwardly. ''Curious timing for such a question.'' He gave a slight smile and vanished, leaving a puzzled John behind. ------ The next morning, Voldemort sat in a sunny spot in a secluded garden, reading the latest issue of The Daily Prophet. [GRINGOTTS BANK ATTACK! Who could be the perpetrator?] Voldemort was shocked and quickly scanned the details: [Last night, a group of unidentified masked individuals attacked Gringotts, resulting in the deaths of several goblins and serious injuries to the dragon guarding the labyrinths and vaults of the bank. The attack ended with urgent intervention from the Auror forces, who scattered the attackers.] [Gringotts remains tight-lipped about the losses; many depositors are demanding to verify their deposits, but the bank remains closed under the pretext of an investigation.] Without hesitation, Voldemort concealed his face with cloak and Apparated to a nearby neighborhood, looking at the direction of the bank and activating his Transmigrator Privilege. ''Fortunately, the cup is still in place!'' He returned to the garden, deep in thought. ''I don¡¯t recall anything like this in the books. Gringotts was supposed to be impregnable. What happened last night? Did this occur in the original story? I need to relocate the cup quickly; the bank isn¡¯t as secure as I believed.'' To calm his nerves, he turned to another article. [CARNAGE IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY! Seven wizards killed at once!] [In the search for the escaped bank attackers, a shocked Auror team encountered a heinous crime committed by an unknown wizard. After a fierce battle, they managed to subdue the wizard but were ambushed by three rescuers...] ''They managed to subdue me? I was rescued by three wizards? What nonsense is this?'' Voldemort was astonished by the story. ''Is this the Aurors'' story to the Ministry, or a Ministry fabrication for the press to save face?'' [The Ministry believes that this escaped murderer and his accomplices are linked to the bank attackers. Investigations are underway to apprehend the criminals and bring them to justice.] Voldemort chuckled sarcastically. ''They may be incompetent, but they are good storytellers.'' His mood lifted after reading the absurd article. ''With all these fabricated details, any chance of finding me is obliterated¡ªnot that there was any chance, as I''m officially a dead man.'' After reading for a while, he rose and entered a large, vibrant house. Today, he was in Dorset to see his son for the first time. Voldemort shook his head in disappointment. ''At seven, he¡¯s old enough to form opinions. He probably already hates me.'' He delved into his memories. ''I hated my parents, too, for leaving me in an orphanage surrounded by foolish children and a matron who couldn¡¯t provide enough for us.'' Determined, he headed to the orphanage. ''I need to see this for myself.'' Introducing himself to the director, he said, "My name is Ewan Eldrin, and I¡¯d like to support your orphanage financially." The director didn¡¯t question the mysterious donor, thanks to a Confundus Charm Voldemort had cast. Voldemort chuckled to himself; it was the same charm Dumbledore once used to convince the matron to send young Tom Riddle to Hogwarts with pride and confidence. The director rambled about the orphanage¡¯s prestigious history. "As you see, sir, this place was established by Mrs. Maureen during World War II to care for war orphans. Our county was one of the most bombed areas in the kingdom!" ''Was it? I thought it was London!'' Voldemort mused. While the director talked, his assistant prepared the orphans and soon returned. "Now, sir, I won''t bore you with more talk. Please meet the children." Voldemort entered a dining room where tables were pushed aside, and the children stood in a neat line. "Children, this is Mr. Ewan Eldrin, visiting us today. Please be kind." "Hello, Mr. Eldrin!" the children chorused. The children shouted in unison. The director began introducing them and their skills. There were about forty children; Voldemort smiled warmly, though he was largely uninterested¡ªuntil he reached a particular child. "This is Adrian Smith, seven years old. He has very high grades at school." Adrian was a handsome boy with green eyes and long black hair that obscured much of his face. He seemed indifferent, avoiding direct eye contact and showing little interest in the wealthy visitor. "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Eldrin." "The honor is mine," Voldemort replied, momentarily at a loss as Adrian lowered his head, concealing his features. ''Can''t he even look at me?'' He looked at his son in annoyance as the orphanage director continued to introduce the rest of the children. In that instant, Voldemort had a feeling that approaching this child won''t be easy feat. Chapter 10 - Echoes of the Unknown After introducing the children, the director led Voldemort to the office. "So, Mr. Eldrin, what are your impressions of our establishment?" the director asked, a hint of pride in his voice. Voldemort''s lips curled into a practiced smile. "It''s... adequate. I can see the effort you''ve invested here." His words were carefully chosen, but genuine. "Thank you, we do our best," the director beamed. Voldemort leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Now, to the real reason for my visit. I recently discovered I have a son, and he''s under your care." The director''s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. "I... that''s... highly unusual. May I ask which child you''re referring to?" "Adrian Smith," Voldemort said flatly. The director gasped, his face paling. "Adrian? But... how... I mean, the resemblance is there, now that you mention it, but..." "Indeed," Voldemort cut in, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me about the boy." The director took a deep breath, collecting himself. "Adrian is... exceptional. Brilliant, really. He keeps to himself mostly, but he can be quite charming when he wants to be." Voldemort''s eyebrow arched slightly. "Go on." "The staff adore him. He''s unfailingly polite, mature beyond his years. When there''s a problem to solve, he''s always eager to help. But..." the director hesitated. "But?" Voldemort prompted, a edge creeping into his voice. "He doesn''t form deep connections with the other children. It''s as if... as if he''s just playing a part sometimes." A flicker of something¡ªpride, perhaps¡ªcrossed Voldemort''s face. "His intelligence. Tell me more." The director shook his head in amazement. "He''s far beyond his peers. We''ve had him skip several grades, but even then, nothing seems to challenge him. It''s like... like..." "Like placing a human among monkeys?" Voldemort supplied, his tone deceptively light. "Y-yes, exactly," the director agreed, looking slightly uncomfortable. Voldemort leaned back, steepling his fingers. "What about his mother? What do you know?" The director''s face fell. "I''m afraid very little, sir. He was left here as an infant, on a rainy night. There was a letter, but..." "But?" Voldemort''s eyes glinted dangerously. "We gave it to Adrian on his sixth birthday. I can''t recall the details, but I''m certain it didn''t reveal the mother''s identity." Voldemort''s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I see. And the boy''s age when he arrived?" "Five months, according to the letter." Voldemort leaned back, his expression unreadable. "I see. This is... unexpected news for me. I''ll need time to process this information."The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The director nodded sympathetically. "Of course, Mr. Eldrin. It''s a lot to take in." Voldemort''s eyes narrowed slightly. "I have a proposal. I''d like to spend some time here, observing Adrian. Not as his father, but as a... potential benefactor for the orphanage." The director''s eyebrows shot up. "A benefactor? That''s very generous, Mr. Eldrin. But may I ask why you don''t want to reveal yourself to Adrian?" Voldemort''s lip curled into a practiced smile. "I believe it''s best to ease into such life-changing news. I want to get to know him first, to ensure I can provide the... appropriate environment for a child of his caliber." "I suppose that makes sense," the director said slowly. "How long were you thinking of staying?" "A month should suffice," Voldemort replied smoothly. "It will give me ample time to observe Adrian and evaluate the needs of your establishment." The director beamed. "That''s wonderful! We''d be honored to have you, Mr. Eldrin. I''m sure the children, especially Adrian, will benefit greatly from your presence." Voldemort stood, extending his hand. "Excellent. I''ll make the necessary arrangements. And director," his grip tightened slightly, "I trust you''ll keep our earlier conversation about Adrian''s parentage confidential. For the boy''s sake, of course." The director winced slightly at the firm handshake. "Of course, Mr. Eldrin. Your secret is safe with me." After concluding the conversation, Voldemort strode away, his mind churning. A grand children''s shop caught his eye, and he paused. With a sneer, he entered, purchasing an extravagant array of clothes and toys to be delivered to the orphanage. Sometimes Something a benefactor would do. Once alone, Voldemort''s mask slipped, revealing a rare moment of uncertainty. He pressed his fingers to his temples, probing his own mind. Seven years ago... Nothing. A void where memories should be. ''Who is this woman?'' he snarled internally. ''And how could she bear my child without my knowledge?'' Voldemort''s eyes narrowed dangerously. He, a master of Legilimency and Occlumency, unable to recall such a significant event? Impossible. A chilling realization dawned. ''Someone has tampered with my memories.'' The thought sent a wave of cold fury through him. Who could invade his mind, alter his memories without him knowing? ''The Society? Rhys?'' He can''t figure out how and why buy it was an unforgivable violation. With practiced movements, Voldemort retrieved a vial of Polyjuice Potion. He had shown his true face at the orphanage, a calculated risk. But now, as he prepared to meet with the private investigator, anonymity was crucial. As the potion took effect, Voldemort''s features shifted and blurred. ''I will uncover this mystery,'' he vowed silently. ''And those responsible will pay dearly.'' With a sharp crack, he Disapparated, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread. .... "Mr. Zenard, is my order ready?" The cloaked figure''s voice was cold and imperious. Zenard''s eyes gleamed with barely concealed curiosity. "Ah! Welcome, my esteemed client! Indeed, it is ready. Please, have a look." Voldemort, disguised by both Polyjuice and a cloak, picked up the envelope filled with files and leafed through them briefly. "So, what do you think of my work, my dear client?" Zenard''s cheerful tone seemed at odds with the tension in the room. "I''ll reserve judgment until I''ve thoroughly examined the information," Voldemort replied curtly. "Of course, of course. Do consider us for future inquiries if you find the results... satisfactory." Voldemort nodded curtly, paid, and left without another word, his mind already on exploring the Veirdent properties in England. As the door closed, Zenard''s cheerful demeanor melted away, replaced by intense concentration. His assistant, Anna, watched him curiously. "He''s... peculiar," Zenard murmured. Anna sighed, accustomed to her boss''s cryptic observations. "How so?" "That ''anonymous'' client is using Polyjuice Potion, yet still concealing himself with a cloak." "And you know this how?" Anna asked, intrigued despite herself. "The scent, Anna. A faint whiff of Polyjuice. He must have taken it moments before arriving." Anna shrugged. "Many clients hide their identities. What makes this one special?" Zenard''s eyes glinted. "Why would someone request information on noble magical families of Europe? Basic, public information at that?" "Perhaps he''s new to magical politics?" Anna suggested. "Or," Zenard leaned forward, "he''s the newly appointed Lord Veirdent himself!" Anna rolled her eyes. "Why would a French lord come all the way here for information?" "Not necessarily him, perhaps an agent. With all eyes on him in France, seeking information abroad makes sense." "So, what''s our next move?" Anna asked, curiosity piqued. "Nothing," Zenard said, leaning back in his chair. Anna sighed, feeling let down. But Zenard''s mind was racing. He wouldn''t actively pursue the client''s identity - that would be unprofessional. But he could track the use of the information provided. His instincts told him this would lead to something extraordinary, and his instincts rarely erred. ------------- In the depths of Gringotts, a chamber glittered with the reflection of countless golden treasures. Around a massive stone table, goblins huddled in tense discussion, their voices low and urgent. Gornuk, a senior goblin, spoke first. "The wizards grow restless. They crowd our entrance, demanding access to their vaults." "Let them wait," Ragnok, the chief, growled. "Our security takes precedence." Bogrod, head of security, cleared his throat. "What of our losses? What did these intruders take?" "That''s the peculiar thing," Gornuk replied, his brow furrowed. "Not a single coin was stolen. Yet in the chaos, many wizards helped themselves to whatever they could grab." Ragnok''s fist crashed onto the table, sending tremors through the golden artifacts. "Thieves! We''ll¡ª" The heavy door creaked open, cutting off his tirade. A younger goblin entered, looking pale. "Speak, Griphook," Ragnok commanded. "One of our guards has regained consciousness," Griphook said, his voice quavering. "He... he had some disturbing information." The chamber fell silent, all eyes on Griphook. "The intruders," he continued, "they were searching for the Lestrange vault." Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the gathering. "But that''s not all," Griphook added, his voice barely above a whisper. "He believes... he believes the attackers weren''t wizards at all." "Impossible!" Bogrod exclaimed. "He swears not a single spell was cast," Griphook insisted. "All that destruction, without magic." A heavy silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the distant clink of gold. The goblins exchanged worried glances, each contemplating the implications of this revelation. Ragnok''s voice, when he spoke, was grave. "If not wizards, then who? Or what? And why target the Lestranges?" No one had an answer. The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken fears of a threat they didn''t understand and couldn''t predict. Chapter 11- The Botanist and the wannabe Death Eater Roland Thal, a Belgian pureblood wizard from a family obsessed with blood purity, found the whole notion absurd. "This ridiculous pureblood nonsense is the only thing that makes a bunch of failures feel superior and privileged!" he often grumbled. Roland despised those who clung to the idea of blood purity, including his own parents. "Instead of clinging to a silly idea, wouldn''t it be better if they looked for ways to make money?" he mused aloud. "Blood purity won''t fill my stomach!" Today, Roland was visiting London, having received an intriguing invitation from an unknown sender to discuss unspecified but important matters. Normally, he wouldn¡¯t entertain such messages, but the sender had covered his travel expenses. "There might be sinister intentions behind this," he thought, "but I''m confident I can defend myself." The invitation included a map. Following its directions, Roland found himself in a public park. He continued until a voice called out. "Mr. Thal, thank you for accepting the invitation." Roland glanced up from the map to see a man with ordinary features¡ªbrown eyes and black hair. Yet, there was something unsettling about him. ''There''s something strange about this man, an aura not to be trifled with,'' Roland thought, feeling a twinge of anxiety. "I hope meeting here suits you," the man continued. "I considered a caf¨¦, but given your personality, I thought this setting was more appropriate." ''He really did his research!'' Roland realized. As a specialist in herbology, he preferred forests and green spaces over bustling cities. After exchanging greetings, the two sat down. "Mr. Thal, I understand you''re seeking funding for an ecological reserve. How is that progressing?" Roland shook his head, disappointed. "Nothing so far. No one wants to approach me because of my bad reputation." His bad reputation stemmed from his former mentor, Gerald Brax. ''After using me like a slave for ten years, he cursed me at every scientific gathering on the planet when I asked to become independent. No one will believe that most of his recent research was actually written by me.'' "I don¡¯t know your name yet. Meister. " "I prefer anonymity for now." Roland hesitated. "I assume then you''d tell me when ready." ''This man is really strange. If he doesn''t want to give his real name, he could at least make one up!'' "Very well, Mr. Anonymous, did you call me to offer funding?" "Not quite. I have a proposition to employ your skills."This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Hire me?" "Indeed. I have a need for someone with your expertise in herbology. I possess land suitable for cultivating rare and powerful plants." ''This isn''t the job I want, but my family is poor, and I''m broke. I don''t have the luxury of choice. But I can''t agree too quickly.'' Roland considered. "What are your requirements?" "There is a neglected medicinal garden, abandoned for over forty years. A Mandrake blocks the entrance, ancient and formidable. Can you manage it?" ''A Mandrake plant that old is terrifying. I''ve faced similar situations, but never with a plant of this age.'' Roland thought for a moment. "It''ll be difficult, but I can handle it. Anything else?" "You''ll have a list of specific plants to cultivate. Manage the garden as you see fit." Voldemort handed Roland a paper. "This contract outlines our arrangement, your compensation, and other terms. The position is for ten years. Consider your options." "No need!" Roland interrupted. "I agree!" "Indeed?" Voldemort''s eyes glinted. "Yes, sir! Everything is perfect!" "The contract is sealed with a Blood Oath." "What?" "I insist on it." Roland hesitated, recalling the contract terms. "I can''t disclose his identity or secrets without permission. I can''t harm him or his family intentionally, nor conspire against him. He also must not harm me or my family." ''Is he hiding because he''s a criminal? No, that''s ridiculous!'' He pondered. ''The salary is high, and the job includes accommodation and food. After ten years, I''ll have enough to establish my reserve!'' Roland spoke with determination. "I agree to your terms." When you offer water to a thirsty person in the desert, no matter how suspicious you seem, they won''t care. They''ll accept the water and see you as the best and kindest person. ''Perhaps he''s operating on this principle? But I have nothing to lose!'' "Since you agree, let''s begin." The man produced a sheet of leather. Roland inspected it, noting it matched the terms precisely. ''It''s my first time seeing a Blood Oath. Not commonly used¡ªless binding than an Unbreakable Vow, but more flexible. The penalty for breaking it is a random blood curse, leading inevitably to a miserable death.'' At the contract''s end were two sections: Party A and Party B. ''0 "I''m ready." "Very well, I''ll begin." The man pricked his finger with a uniquely shaped needle, his voice cold and commanding. "The Blood Oath shall not break until the blood vanishes and dissipates." A drop of blood fell onto Party A''s section. He handed the magically cleaned needle to Roland, who repeated the process. As Roland''s blood touched the contract, it glowed red, signaling the Oath''s activation. "And now?" Roland asked. The man tucked the contract away with an air of authority. "Prepare yourself. I will summon you in due course." "But, sir..." Roland hesitated, "You still haven''t told me your name." The man''s smile was chilling. ''It feels like a wolf is smiling at me!'' "In time, you will know it. Patience, Mr. Thal." After exchanging farewells, the man departed first. "This really doesn''t bode well," Roland muttered, feeling as if he''d entangled himself with someone he shouldn''t even be near. -- - - -- As Voldemort walked away, he allowed himself a quiet laugh. ''This man''s thoughts are truly amusing,'' he mused, noting how easily he had accessed them. ''He should be taught Occlumency someday.'' Initially, he sought only to exploit the expertise Roland had gained under Gerald Brax. However, he hadn''t anticipated discovering that the esteemed scientist''s recent work was actually penned by his apprentice. ''According to Investigator Zenard''s report, Brax thoroughly tarnished Thal''s reputation. Labeled him as irresponsible, destructive, unintelligent, and wasteful firm believer in pureblood superiority. Enough to ruin his career entirely.'' Yet, Voldemort found such a reputation inconsequential. He had followers from all walks of life, and now he would meet a particularly intriguing one¡ªa Muggle-born that wants to be a Death Eater. At first, he wondered if the woman had suffered a head injury to embrace Death Eater ideology so fervently. But upon delving into her mind, he uncovered a tapestry of sad backstories and traumas that drove her allegiance. Naturally, he couldn''t simply allow a Muggle-born to join the Death Eaters, so he orchestrated her attempt to infiltrate the Order of the Phoenix. But then, he had fallen, and the war had ended. In a secluded corner of the park, Voldemort found Rosa Martine seated on a bench, her gaze vacant and forlorn. Ensuring privacy with a series of protective spells, he approached her. "Rosa Martine?" he inquired, his voice smooth yet commanding. "I''m not in the mood for talking," she replied, eyes fixed on the ground. Voldemort chuckled darkly. "It''s amusing how much you''ve let yourself decline." At his words, Rosa snapped to attention, her wand drawn in anger but she froze upon recognizing the face before her¡ªone she revered and thought lost. After several tense seconds, she managed to whisper, "Lord?" "It''s good to see you again, Rosa." Her mind raced with disbelief and confusion. "I thought... I thought you were gone." A flash of irritation crossed his features. "Gone? I am not so easily killed." Rosa quickly corrected herself, "Forgive me, my Lord. It¡¯s just what they said." "Many have thought so. But I have returned, and I have need of you." Rosa''s heart swelled with a mixture of reverence and ambition. "What can I do for you, my Lord?" "First, lower your Occlumency shields," Voldemort commanded softly, his eyes piercing. "I must see your true intentions." Rosa hesitated briefly, then nodded, allowing her mind to open to him. She felt his presence probing her thoughts, searching for deceit. Satisfied, Voldemort withdrew. "Your loyalty remains intact. I want you to manage my affairs, to be my housekeeper." Her eyes flared with fierce devotion. "I would be honored. I¡¯ve always believed in your vision." "I know," Voldemort replied, a hint of approval in his tone. "This will be the contract between us, it will be sealed it Blood Oath." Rosa was confused for a few seconds but then she remembered one of Voldemort''s characteristics, he never trusts anyone.