"Although I really don't want you to know, Professor, given the current situation, I can't hide it anymore," Tom Riddle said as he put down the parchment and quill with a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on the empty white space as if lost in thought.
Albus Dumbledore remained silent, whatever hope he had was completely shattered at that moment.
Horcrux.
A forbidden object created by splitting the soul through the darkest means.
"Tom, you have chosen the wrong path," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes gradually returning to calm as he looked at him.
"Are you talking about my future self?" Tom replied calmly, far less tense than Dumbledore.
[Live Broadcast Q&A System]
"Analysis complete. Now distributing Tom Riddle's reward."
As the new text appeared, Tom instinctively lowered his head to look at the parchment again, a faint smile forming on his lips.
At his core, he was a gambler.
Someone who would seize everything to achieve his goals.
Past, present, or future.
"Yes, your future self is beyond saving," Dumbledore said.
"Just because of Horcruxes?" Tom asked.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
"Because you lost your humanity and became cruel and unstable."
"Just because of that?"
"Just because of that."
Tom suddenly lowered his head, his body trembling slightly as if holding something back, until he finally burst into laughter and said, "Professor, you really haven't changed at all, still just as hypocritical," then he raised his head, his gaze cold, and added, "But I can assure you, at least for now, we are not enemies."
"I hope so," Dumbledore replied with a nod before continuing, "But I do not trust you, Tom."
"Neither do I trust you, Professor."
For a brief moment, they stared at each other, the air frozen like a captured photograph, before the tension broke naturally.
Tom no longer looked at Dumbledore.
To him, it only meant that they would inevitably face each other again in the future.
If he lost, he would be buried in Hogwarts forever.
If he won, the world would be his.
[Live Broadcast Q&A System]
"Cloak of Justice."
"Description: A magical artifact created by a wizard from another world, modeled after a certain type of clothing, with the word Justice engraved on the back."
"Level: Powerful. When worn, the cloak gains a constant flowing effect."
"Holder: Tom Riddle."
"Function: Greatly enhances non-Dark Arts spells, increases magical power, grants partial immunity to soul damage, and significantly improves physical and magical resistance."
"Note: Wearing this cloak will influence the holder's personality to a certain extent. This effect is permanent."
Seeing the description, Tom's eyes lit up, though he paused briefly at the final note.
Anything that could affect his personality was dangerous.
It could influence his decisions.
But hesitation was not in his nature.
The moment the system equipped it, he accepted it without resistance.
A white cloak appeared over his black wizard robes, fluttering gently as if moved by an unseen wind, with the word Justice clearly engraved upon it.
At that instant, Tom's expression changed.
He became more composed.
More resolute.
There was even a faint sense of authority about him.
The cloak swayed as he lifted his head and met Dumbledore's gaze.
One calm and warm.
One firm and imposing.
For a moment, even Dumbledore was surprised.
This boy now appeared like someone who stood for justice.
But that thought made him pause.
Regaining his focus, Dumbledore quietly reinforced his Occlumency and observed Tom carefully.
He could clearly feel the difference.
Before, Tom carried a dark and oppressive aura.
Now, he felt like a rising sun.
Bright.
Commanding.
As for Tom himself, the moment he wore the cloak, something shifted in his thoughts.
He began to reconsider everything.
Was it power he sought?
Pure-blood ideals?
Or something greater?
His vision suddenly felt too narrow.
He had lived through the era of Gellert Grindelwald and witnessed the clash of ideologies.
His ambitions should not be so limited.
If Grindelwald could attempt to reshape the world, why couldn't he?
The wizarding world felt stagnant.
Decaying.
People were still arguing over bloodlines.
Pure-bloods.
Muggle-borns.
It all seemed meaningless.
Even he had once been trapped in that way of thinking.
But now he saw it differently.
Blood status meant nothing.
What mattered was something beyond that.
The wizarding world needed change.
It needed a new order.
A new form of justice.
Tom fell into thought.
Perhaps the answer was not here.
Perhaps he needed to leave Hogwarts to find it.
The long night would eventually pass.
Only justice would remain.
...
📢 Author's Note
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