Barberton, a quaint Muggle town.
"Sir, where are we headed?"
Harry tore his curious gaze away from the mundane Muggle houses, focusing on Tom Riddle, the tall, black-clad figure leading the way.
"We're here to find someone, Harry."
Tom's tone was light. "That old man Dumbledore is still playing house, so he asked me to find another Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for him."
Harry looked surprised. "But isn't Grindelwald still teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
After all, Gellert Grindelwald was alive and kicking, still happily working himself to the bone.
"He was last year's professor."
Tom mused, "Though… keeping him on as a substitute wouldn't be the worst thing."
Clearly, he hadn't completely abandoned his plan to keep Grindelwald under his thumb.
"Sir, that guy might be a bit… eccentric, but he certainly lives up to your reputation."
Harry sighed. "Even you can't break the curse he left behind, sir?"
Tom remained silent.
The truth was, he could break the curse easily.
Back when he was merely a "legendary wizard," the only solution had been to "kill the cursed spirit and, in the process, break the binding curse."
But now that he was on par with Merlin himself, he knew at least ten different ways to deal with the meager curse.
"Let's just leave it at that."
Tom didn't want to delve deeper into the matter. He couldn't exactly admit that his twisted sense of humor was the only reason he played around with the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, could he?
He personally handpicked each professor every semester... truth be told, he'd originally planned to give the job to Newt Scamander this year.
After all, it made perfect sense for Newt, who had drawn Grindelwald's "first blood," to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, right?
But then Dumbledore sent Fawkes with a letter, requesting that he find someone else.
Tom had considered tearing the letter up and going straight to Newt.
But after giving it some thought, Tom realized that Dumbledore's suggestion was, in fact, quite interesting.
Not because of the man's strength or mastery of defensive arts, but because he was curious to see what the man would do on his turf.
Would he boast about his past accomplishments as a teacher in front of his new students?
Or would he try to recruit his students and followers as his prized pupils?
Tom knew the man's personality, and he was intrigued.
However, Newt was tossed aside by the heartless Tom after only a moment's hesitation.
...
The Muggle town was eerily quiet late at night.
Tom and his two companions, clad in black robes, looked like figures ripped straight from a classic horror film as they walked through the silent streets.
As they spoke, they arrived at a house that looked like it had been practically given away.
Tom, thinking While kidnapping them directly would be easier, why not use Harry as bait? looked over the residence, its aesthetic screaming "horror movie."
"Harry, Cassandra, I'll need your help here."
"Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!"
Harry, eager to be of service, nodded enthusiastically.
Cassandra, meanwhile, had been silently wondering, Why bring Potter along as a third wheel? "Oh? Tom needs my help?"
Her tone brightened with a playful edge. "Sure, what good is Harry Potter? I'm all you need. I can do everything he can, and far more; all you have to do is ask, Tom… Ouch!"
"Let's go."
Tom, having flicked Cassandra on the forehead, led the way towards the house.
Harry shot a nervous glance at Cassandra's "dangerous eyes" before hurrying after Tom. "Sir, wait for me!"
"..."
Cassandra glared resentfully at the tall, dark figure, thinking, Hmph, Tom, you idiot. Keep pretending.
...
Click.
The interior of the house looked as if it had been ransacked by robbers.
Cabinets were overturned, chairs were smashed, and furniture was scattered everywhere.
The room was plunged into near darkness, giving it the ambiance of a haunted house.
"You didn't think you could hide from me, did you?"
Tom scanned the house, as if annoyed that the owner hadn't come out to greet his guest.
"…"
"Still not coming out? Think I'm bluffing? Heh…"
Tom's tone dripped with disdain before his gaze landed on a blue and white armchair. "Harry, chop that sofa to pieces."
"Yes, sir!"
Harry drew his wand from his pocket, transforming it into a pink longsword, before rushing forward to strike down the armchair.
"What?! Wait!"
Suddenly, the "armchair" leapt up, narrowly dodging Harry's strike, its form shrinking to reveal an elderly, obese man in blue and white pajamas.
Seeing the meter-long, centimeter-deep gash on the floor where he had been sitting, the old man's eyes widened in disbelief. "Merlin's ghost! Is this for real?!"
Snap!
Tom snapped his fingers, and the room was flooded with light. "Professor Slughorn, how good of you to grace us with your presence."
"..."
Slughorn, momentarily distracted by Harry's unique weapon, snapped back to reality and met Tom's mocking gaze and serpentine green eyes.
"A guest has arrived. Why did you deliberately hide yourself instead of meeting him at the door?"
Tom feigned a thoughtful expression. "Did you perhaps not want to see me? Or... are you afraid of me?"
Tom narrowed his eyes, and Slughorn broke into a cold sweat, stammering an explanation. "Oh! Tom... no... I mean... uh... long time no see?"
"..."
Tom remained serious for a few seconds before breaking into a soft chuckle. "Alright, Professor, I know you would never dream of such things."
"Phew~"
Feeling "saved," Slughorn breathed a sigh of relief, scratching his head with a complicated expression. "Uh... Tom, let's sit down..."
He stopped abruptly, remembering the state of his house.
Tom casually waved his hand, casting the Repair Charm to restore the house to its original state. "There, Professor, let's sit down and talk."
"Oh, ah! Okay, yes, you're right."
Slughorn looked at the handsome young man with conflicted emotions.
Although he had no idea why Tom Riddle looked so young, he instantly knew, just as he had back at Hogwarts, that the man before him was undeniably Tom Marvolo Riddle.
He had been somewhat skeptical when he first saw the news in the Daily Prophet, but meeting Riddle in person left no doubt: This wasn't an imposter or some powerful wizard impersonating the Dark Lord… this was the Dark Lord!
This was his most talented and cherished student, but also the root of his greatest regret.
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