Hogwarts: Chill, I'm Not That Riddle

Without a doubt, Herpo the Foul was Voldemort’s idol.

He admired Herpo’s ruthlessness, his merciless nature, and above all, the genius and creativity he had displayed in the Dark Arts.

But that didn’t mean he wanted Herpo back in the world.

In fact, no one loathed Herpo’s existence more than he did... As the one thing Voldemort prized above all else, his uniqueness, was no longer secure.

Dumbledore had overshadowed him. Tom Riddle had played him for a fool. Grindelwald had stolen his glory.

His body had been blown apart twice.

He had even been driven into a miserable retreat by some wizard who had come out of nowhere named Andros.

And yet, through all of it, he had never once believed himself inferior to any of them. No matter how many setbacks he suffered, he was convinced that he would be the one standing at the end.

His Horcruxes were his greatest trump card. With them, he could afford to fail countless times.

Everyone else had one chance. Only he had overcome Death.

And after his latest resurrection, Voldemort had finally learned from his mistakes.

He had been too impatient. And he had placed far too much faith in that prophecy.

Looking back now, the prophecy was complete nonsense. Tom Riddle, another man burdened with a filthy Muggle name just like his own, was his true lifelong enemy.

So after returning from the dead, Voldemort resolved to be patient. He would wait for Dumbledore or Tom Riddle to make a mistake. And if they never did... he’d simply outlive them.

Then, at the worst possible moment... Herpo the Foul returned.

Another person who understood the secret of Horcruxes had appeared in the world.

No... Not just anyone, but the very creator of Horcruxes.

The thing that made Voldemort special was under serious threat.

And if... if Herpo knew of a better way to destroy Horcruxes... then he would become an even greater threat.

A cold light flashed through Voldemort’s narrow eyes before his gaze settled on the utterly unremarkable pit of yellow earth before him.

This was one of the Iraqi ruins he had uncovered through ancient texts and the memories of various wizards.

After the Golden Apple had proven useless to him, Voldemort had become obsessed with searching ancient ruins.

Ancient records, scattered folklore, forgotten memories... Together, they had led him to quite a few clues.

The site before him was said to be the ruins of the ancient Sumerian kingdom. If the information he had gathered was accurate, then the legendary city of Uruk lay buried beneath this stretch of barren desert.

The civilizations spoken of in those old legends had never been ordinary. Every one of them had possessed a brilliant magical civilization hidden behind their history.

...

𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

..

England—

After a simple breakfast, Tom sent messages to Astoria and Hermione to let them know about his departure. He then changed into a slightly more formal set of wizard’s robes and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

By the time he arrived, the Ministry’s senior officials were still locked in endless arguments.

The moment Fudge saw him, relief flooded his face. He hurried over as though he’d just been granted a pardon. "Thank goodness. Merlin has finally sent you to save me."

Fudge was practically babbling, "Mr. Riddle, you’ve always been calm and wise. And as a wizard born to Muggles, you understand both worlds better than anyone."

"Please talk Amelia and Rufus out of this. They’ve completely lost their minds. The Muggles haven’t even become our enemies yet, and they’re already trying to start a civil war."

"No, Cornelius. This isn’t a civil war." Rufus Scrimgeour immediately cut in. "We’re simply acting in the best interests of wizardkind. This isn’t directed against anyone. We’re protecting innocent people."

"And do you honestly think that’s how everyone else will see it?" Fudge shot back impatiently. "How many times have I already said this? If you push through this policy, I guarantee that more than half the Ministry’s staff will oppose it and drag their feet. Do you really not believe that?"

"As long as half of them still obey our orders," Scrimgeour replied coldly, "it will be enough."

"Gentlemen, one moment." Seeing another argument about to erupt, Tom finally stepped in. "Professor Dumbledore has already given me a general overview of the situation before I came. I heard none of you slept last night. You must all be exhausted by now."

With a wave of his hand, dozens of potion bottles appeared across the conference table. "These are my modified Invigoration Potions. They’ll help with the fatigue."

"But before that, I suggest everyone has breakfast. Potions aren’t a substitute for food. At best, they’ll fill your stomach with liquid."

His gaze swept calmly across the room.

It wasn’t threatening. Yet everyone who met his eyes instinctively lowered theirs.

Taking the opportunity, Fudge ordered the house-elves to prepare breakfast.

"Thank you for your hard work, Minister." Tom’s attitude toward Fudge softened noticeably.

For the first time in a long while, he looked at the man with genuine respect.

Indecisiveness had its advantages. Like now.

Oddly enough, Fudge had remained calmer than almost everyone else. He had sided with Dumbledore and firmly opposed the proposal to place every non-pure-blood wizard under surveillance and government control.

Whether it was because he hated trouble or simply because he lacked the nerve didn’t really matter. This time, he had chosen correctly.

Receiving praise from Tom left Fudge almost flustered.

He waved his hands repeatedly, "Mr. Riddle... I-I’m only doing what I should. But with things the way they are now, there’s only so much I can do as Minister. The Ministry needs someone like you to take charge."

To be honest, Fudge was already thinking about fleeing and going into hiding.

Once the conflict between wizards and Muggles finally died down, he could always come back and resume being Minister.

"The overall situation has nothing to do with me," Tom replied with a shake of his head. "But whatever help I can offer, I will."

He then turned toward Amelia Bones, who was still quietly discussing something with Lady Greengrass. "Madam Bones, would you mind talking somewhere else?"

Amelia nodded and rose to follow him out of the conference room.

"This way. My office isn’t far." Lady Greengrass led the two of them to her own office instead. Without lingering, she quietly closed the door behind them, leaving the room to the pair.

Amelia Bones, who had always gotten along well with Tom, now looked unusually nervous.

She remained standing, awkwardly clasping her hands, unsure whether she should sit.

Tom, meanwhile, settled naturally into the chair behind the desk, leaning back comfortably as he studied her. "I’ve always thought we had a good relationship. I’ve admired the fairness and integrity you’ve shown in your work. Even though you come from a pure-blood family, you’ve always treated every wizard equally."

He paused, his eyes fixed on hers. "So why is it that now, when everyone should be standing together, you’ve chosen a course that hurts others without benefiting anyone?"

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