Wool's Orphanage stood exactly as I remembered it.
Smaller than it once seemed.
Simpler.
Weaker.
And yet… unchanged.
I stood across the street for a moment, watching in silence as the wind brushed against the worn brick walls. The faint sounds of children echoed from within—laughter, arguments, life. It was strange how something so insignificant in the grand scale of the world could feel… anchored in my memory.
This place had raised me.
Not well.
Not kindly.
But it had kept me alive.
And that alone made it… different.
I stepped forward.
No wards.
No magic.
No resistance.
Just a building in the Muggle world, fragile and exposed.
I entered quietly, my presence masked—not through illusion this time, but subtlety. A simple adjustment of perception, enough that no one questioned me, no one lingered on my presence.
A man passing through.
Nothing more.
The interior was just as I remembered.
Plain walls.
Worn furniture.
The faint scent of cheap food and cleaning chemicals.
I walked slowly through the halls, my footsteps silent as memories surfaced—fragments of a boy who once lived here. A boy who had nothing.
No name that mattered.
No power.
No future.
I paused briefly outside one of the old dormitory rooms.
For a moment… I said nothing.
Then I exhaled softly.
"…How far I've come."
I moved to the office.
The woman inside barely looked up as I entered, her attention buried in paperwork.
"Can I help you?" she asked absently.
I placed a briefcase on the desk.
"No need."
She frowned slightly, finally looking up.
"What is—"
I opened it.
Stacks of neatly arranged Muggle currency.
Her expression froze.
"…I—what is this?"
"A donation."
Her mouth opened, then closed again.
"This… this is too much—who—"
"It's anonymous."
My voice was calm.
Final.
She stared at me, clearly overwhelmed.
"…Why?"
A simple question.
I considered it for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
"Because this place served its purpose."
She didn't understand.
She couldn't.
But that didn't matter.
I turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
"There's one condition."
She straightened slightly.
"Yes?"
I glanced back, my eyes colder now.
"This place remains untouched."
A subtle pulse of magic followed my words—not enough to harm, not enough to be noticed… but enough to bind.
Not a curse.
A safeguard.
No war would reach here.
No Death Eater would step foot inside with hostile intent.
No chaos would touch these walls.
This place would remain… separate.
Protected.
She nodded quickly, still stunned.
"Yes—of course—"
I left before she could say anything else.
Outside, I stood still for a moment.
The wind brushed past again, quieter now.
This place…
Was one of the few things I would not destroy.
Not out of weakness.
Not out of sentimentality.
But because even I understood—
Some things had value beyond power.
My mind shifted as I walked.
Back to the present.
Back to reality.
Wealth.
Power.
Influence.
I had built an empire across two worlds.
In the Muggle world, I owned companies that generated endless streams of money—fashion, mining, industry. My spell for detecting valuable minerals had made me absurdly wealthy, allowing me to claim the richest diamond veins and resource deposits on the planet.
In the wizarding world…
It was even greater.
Potion empires.
Magical creature breeding.
Rare ingredients.
Artifacts.
Everything that mattered.
Money was no longer a concern.
Only power.
I exhaled once more.
Then vanished.
Peverell Castle welcomed me back in silence.
The wards recognized me instantly, parting without resistance as I stepped inside. The air here was different—thicker, heavier with magic, alive with purpose.
This was my true home.
My throne.
My war room.
I walked through the halls, my mind already shifting back to strategy.
Germany.
France.
Britain.
America.
My forces were growing.
My influence spreading.
And soon—
The war would no longer be shadows and skirmishes.
It would become something far greater.
But for now…
I allowed myself one final thought.
Wool's Orphanage.
Untouched.
Unbroken.
Safe.
Then I pushed it aside.
Because the world did not run on sentiment.
It ran on power.
And I intended to rule it.