"Enough about me," Erwin said with a grin. "Let's discuss you, dear Voldemort. What shall we do next?"
Tom's response was icy. "You know exactly what you want. I'm a Horcrux. There's nothing I can give you."
He had no intention of trying to possess Erwin again. He'd already attempted it—and failed miserably. At seventeen, his magic was no match for Erwin's defenses. Useless as he was, Tom couldn't help wondering during their chat if he'd ended up in the Professor's clutches instead.
Erwin shook his head. "No, no, Mr. Tom, you're underselling yourself. You might be worthless to me personally, but think of the others! I've got just the plan. Ever considered a teaching post?"
Tom blinked, stunned. "What?"
Had he misheard? A teacher? This fool was joking.
"I've got an idea," Erwin continued smoothly. "We'll place you somewhere secure and link you to a few notebooks via some clever spells. Young wizards can then consult you for advice and homework help. You're one of Slytherin's finest, after all—brilliant mind, top marks. With your guidance, they'll advance by leaps and bounds!"
Tom's brow furrowed. A moment later, his eyes widened in realization. "You're planning to turn every Hogwarts student into your followers? That's... audacious. More than even I dared dream. Hogwarts as your personal army?"
Erwin chuckled. "Spot on, as expected from the Dark Lord himself. Precisely! I need them sharper, stronger—loyal forces to back me. Brilliant, isn't it, Mr. Voldemort?"
Tom had been ready to scoff at the mad scheme, but memories flooded back: how Erwin had cleared the room with a single word earlier. These people trusted him implicitly. Though Tom despised Erwin, he couldn't deny the boy's potential. He might actually pull it off.
"At your age," Tom admitted grudgingly, "I wasn't half as bold. Terrifying, yet impressive. You could make it happen."
Erwin beamed. "High praise from you! So, you'll do it?"
Tom sneered. "Not a chance. Why would I help you? What makes you think you're worthy? Who are you to command me? I am Voldemort!"
Erwin shrugged casually. "Fair enough. I was overreaching. Master, you're right—my charm's not enough to sway a Dark Lord. Guess you'll handle it solo, then."
Tom's expression shattered. He began to tremble.
A faint Ravenclaw emblem flickered on Erwin's forehead. The boy laughed. "Well played, little Erwin. You lost the bet. One favor owed."
Erwin nodded. "Agreed, Your Majesty. Now, if you'll kindly chat with our guest?"
He turned and strode toward the passage, ignoring Tom's frantic calls of "Wait! Stop!" Erwin paused just out of sight, absently petting Ebony curled atop the basilisk's head.
Screams erupted from the chamber—raw, piercing wails that echoed like shattering glass. Erwin winced. Ravenclaw didn't hold back.
"Poor chap," Erwin muttered. "Hope it doesn't scar him for life."
The cries faded abruptly. Ravenclaw emerged, serene as ever. "Sorted."
"He compliant now?" Erwin asked.
"Utterly," Ravenclaw replied. "A seventeen-year-old Dark Lord? Talented, sure, but still just a schoolboy at heart."
He eyed Erwin pointedly.
"If Your Majesty fancies a lesson," Erwin quipped, "you'll have to wait till I'm six feet under."
Ravenclaw smirked. "Pity. You'll outlive us all, I suspect." With that, he vanished back into Erwin's mind. Starlight gleamed briefly on his brow.
Erwin's lips twitched into a satisfied smile. "Knew it."
He schooled his features and reentered the chamber.
Tom's soul lay sprawled on the stone floor, face etched with despair. Fresh scars marred his pale features, and he seemed... plumper, somehow, as if the ordeal had sapped his ethereal vigor.
Footsteps approached. Tom glanced up, then away, fixing his gaze on the ceiling.
Erwin crouched beside him. "Staring at the stars, Mr. Tom? Or just the mold up there?"
Silence.
Erwin sighed. "Not in the mood for chat? Fine—Lady Ravenclaw would love to continue your discussion."
Tom bolted upright. "Hold on! What now?"
"Just as I said," Erwin replied evenly. "You'll stay at Hogwarts, linked to notebooks. We'll duplicate your essence so you can tutor the students—answer queries, boost their skills. Noble work, really!"
Tom hesitated. "I... I can assist. But duplication? That's Horcrux magic. Unique to me. Unless you track down my other fragments—and trust me, you won't—it's impossible."
Erwin waved it off. "Simple fix. I've puzzled this out ages ago."
Tom stared, skeptical. He couldn't refuse, not after Ravenclaw's "persuasion." But the magic? It defied logic.
"Here's how I see it," Erwin explained. "Your ability stems from two things: you're a Horcrux, and you're bound to a diary. To replicate it, we recreate both—a soul anchor in enchanted notebooks. Easy as pie."
Tom's eyes narrowed, but defeat lingered in his posture. The "Voldemort Tutor Project" was underway, whether he liked it or not.
...
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