The feeling of resurrection was, in truth, far from pleasant.
Splitting the soul from the body to create a Horcrux was already agony beyond words. Drawing the fragment left inside that Horcrux back into himself, reversing the entire process, was even worse.
Tom Riddle leapt into the cauldron and felt the scalding potion consume him, remaking his flesh.
That useless Muggle body no longer mattered.
Now he would forge a new one from his father's bones, his servant's flesh, and his enemy's blood.
So he endured.
And waited.
His consciousness slowly sank into chaos, then drifted toward nothingness.
...
After an unknown span of time, the Dark Lord awoke from his "sleep."
Perhaps only seconds had passed.
He could feel it at once, the new body around him. Strong. Whole. Powerful.
In all these years, he had never felt so mighty.
Never so comfortable.
"Master!"
Severus Snape stood nearby, waiting with devout patience. The moment he saw Voldemort rise from the cauldron, joy lit his face.
On the other side, Aiden braced his wounded, fragile body and celebrated the Dark Lord's rebirth.
"I will not forget what you have done for me, especially you, Severus," Tom Riddle said with a smile. "You will be rewarded generously."
"I am deeply honored, Master."
Snape dropped to his knees and kissed Tom's boots.
Tom suppressed the smile tugging at his lips and turned his gaze toward the extra presence in the room.
Harry Potter.
The Boy Who Lived.
He had escaped the Dark Lord again and again.
But this time was different.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Voldemort raised his wand without hesitation.
Before the pitiful boy could react, green light flashed.
Then he was dead.
Harry's eyes remained wide open, as if he still had not understood what had happened.
"Hahahahaha!"
Voldemort threw back his head and laughed.
Sixteen years.
After sixteen years, he had finally shattered that cursed prophecy.
He had killed Harry Potter.
He lashed his wand through the air, humiliating the corpse, venting every ounce of long-buried rage.
...
One week later.
Azkaban, in the North Sea.
Auror corpses lay scattered around the Dark Lord.
Their pathetic strength had been utterly incapable of stopping him.
The Dementors switched sides one after another. Compared to serving the Ministry of Magic, they much preferred serving the Dark Lord.
He had promised them freedom to feed on souls.
Cell doors opened one by one.
Loyal Death Eaters were released one by one.
Each knelt before the Dark Lord and kissed his boots with reverence.
Antonin Dolohov.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Corban Yaxley.
Tom called each loyal name in turn.
And then the one he trusted most.
Barty Crouch.
Barty Jr.'s face was as pale as ever, perhaps from too many years in Azkaban. He knelt before the Dark Lord, trembling as tears streamed down his face.
Tom gently patted Barty's head, telling him without words not to cry, promising revenge for every injustice he had suffered.
Of course, Lucius Malfoy was there as well.
That damned traitor fell to his knees, begging forgiveness, swearing he would serve once more.
But Tom had no intention of forgiving him again.
Right in front of Lucius, Tom personally killed Draco Malfoy.
Then Narcissa Malfoy.
Lucius stared at them with nothing left in his eyes but despair.
The Dementors rushed forward eagerly and sucked away his soul.
His corpse was hung high upon Azkaban's walls, a warning to the world of what became of those who betrayed the Dark Lord.
...
Three days later.
London.
The Ministry of Magic.
The attack came without warning.
And it was a complete success.
Yaxley, Travers, and Sinnix had already infiltrated the Ministry from within and seized control.
So when Tom arrived leading the Death Eaters in force, the Ministry barely reacted.
Even if they had, it would have made no difference.
Aurors fell one after another, as fragile as paper.
The wiser witches and wizards surrendered quickly, declaring loyalty to the Dark Lord.
Tom did not accept all of them.
Only those of pure blood were worthy.
As for the Muggle-borns, those with filthy blood in their veins, Dementors took their souls on the spot.
Minister Amelia Bones attempted resistance.
The Dark Lord killed her effortlessly.
Rufus Scrimgeour of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement collapsed to his knees in terror and begged to serve.
He was a pure-blood wizard.
Tom accepted.
In only a few hours, the Ministry of Magic belonged to him.
The wizarding world had changed hands.
...
One final stop remained.
Hogwarts.
Seven days later.
Jon Hart gathered the members of the Order of the Phoenix and attempted to make a final stand at Hogwarts.
They were fools.
The Order was far too small. They were no match for the Death Eaters.
Tom arrived in Hogsmeade with hundreds of followers at his back.
The Order and Hogwarts professors had only a few dozen defenders in total.
They tried to rely on Hogwarts' protective enchantments to halt the Dark Lord's advance.
Tom casually tapped his wand once.
Those laughable defenses shattered.
The Death Eaters stormed into Hogwarts like a flood.
Members of the Order and many professors fell where they stood, bodies covering the ground.
They had no power to resist.
They were slaughtered with ease.
The students of Hogwarts were given two choices.
Swear loyalty to the Dark Lord.
Or face a flash of green light.
As for the Muggle-born students, they were not even granted the right to choose.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Tom caught Jon.
The pathetic coward had tried to flee.
Tom was never going to let him escape.
He would force this coward to watch everything.
How Hogwarts would be destroyed.
How Dumbledore's tomb would be defiled.
How a new Hogwarts would rise, one devoted only to the Dark Lord.
After making him witness Hogwarts Castle reduced to ruins—
"Hahahahaha!"
Tom laughed wildly as he raised his wand toward Jon Hart.
"Avada Kedavra!"
But this time, no green light appeared.
Because...
He woke up.