I flipped another page of the cursed tome resting in my lap — an ancient book from the Black Family library whose ink shimmered faintly with dark enchantment. The runes whispered power, knowledge that even seasoned Death Eaters would have trembled to wield. And here I was, a first-year student, drinking it all in with greed and clarity.
My mind felt sharper than ever. Voldemort's memories — the sanitized ones I had chosen — had turned my understanding of magic into something terrifyingly efficient. Every wand movement, every spell theory, every cruelty that shaped him… repurposed now for me.
Across the Slytherin common room, Draco sat practicing a cautious wand flick, muttering:
"Protego… Protego…!"
The shield flickered like a candle flame before sputtering out completely. His brows knitted in frustration.
Harry, meanwhile, secluded himself at the far end of the room — pretending not to notice the Slytherin stares. His eyes were closed, face calm, deep in the exercises of Occlumency I had forced upon him for his own sake. For everyone's sake.
Tom Riddle's childhood memories had given him discipline… and just enough fear to obey me without question.
Good.
Everything was proceeding according to plan.
A rustle of movement broke the quiet atmosphere. Pansy Parkinson peeked over a stack of books, her eyes darting suspiciously between us.
Rumors were spreading. They always do.
Slytherins could smell ambition like wolves scenting blood.
Perfect.
My thumb traced the edge of the cursed page beneath me. At the bottom was a complex ritual — one meant to strengthen the connection between souls and magic. It reminded me of necromantic rites I had studied before, only refined… elegant. A spell that could make even a weak wizard a threat if performed properly.
But that wasn't what excited me tonight.
No, tonight my thoughts drifted toward Gandalf.
The journal is planted now. Hermione's curiosity would do the rest. Snape would bring it to Dumbledore. And then?
Then the seeds of belief would spread. Little whispers…
"Who is Gandalf the Grey?"
"What is Middle-earth?"
"Could there be more magic beyond our world?"
The System would reward me handsomely for that.
A soft chime echoed — the Hogwarts clock tower marking evening hours. Draco finally set his wand down with a grumble.
Harry opened his eyes and glanced toward me.
"Is it done?" he whispered.
I smiled, closing the dark tome and rising slowly.
"For now. We've laid the groundwork. But tomorrow, we push harder."
"Harder?" Harry echoed nervously.
I stepped between them, confidence in every motion.
"We are Slytherins," I reminded them softly. "We don't wait for the world to give us power."
My eyes glimmered with ambition.
"We take it."
Draco swallowed. Harry nodded firmly.
They were scared. But loyal.
My pawns… or perhaps future kings beside me.
Time would decide that.
I extinguished the lights with a casual flick of my wand.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we begin training again. Defense, spellcraft, Occlumency… We will become unstoppable."
The common room fell into silence as my cloak swirled behind me. Shadows clung to me like eager servants.
Voldemort had seven Horcruxes.
I had something better.
Knowledge.Followers.A narrative that would rewrite the foundations of this world.
Middle-earth and Wizarding Britain would collide.
And I would stand at the center of the storm.