I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 558 First Time with Tom

Irving didn't care what the anti-Voldemort alliance negotiated.

After the memorial service, he left Thornfield Castle with Harry, led by Sirius Black, and headed to Paris.

His aunt Roy, who was traveling with him, told him that Bella had been in Paris for more than two months.

Human alchemy is an extremely complex and difficult forbidden technique, and two months is not entirely enough time.

If she wants to achieve her goal, it will take at least another ten weeks.

Using the timepiece that Owen carried with him, the group easily left England.

Stepping into Rozier's estate again, everything was still the same, unchanged for years.

Sunlight streamed through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling into the hallway.

It was gentle yet tinged with a sense of desolation.

The manor is too empty.

Living here alone is definitely a test.

Without sufficient mental fortitude, once the initial novelty wears off, an endless sense of loneliness will follow.

"So, Bellatrix lives here now?" Harry asked, following behind Sirius.

The group walked quickly toward the end of the corridor, where there were stairs leading to the second and third floors.

"Yes, she lives on the fourth floor," Roy said.

"Ha—she's really carefree," Owen scoffed.

"Aren't you afraid we'll tamper with her?"

"If it weren't for Horcruxes, who would bother with them?" Sirius said dismissively, clearly looking down on his cousin.

"It's not just her," Roy suddenly said, then looked down and smiled at the three of them.

"Not just her?" Owen raised an eyebrow. "Is Senior Tom here too?"

"Ah—" Harry exclaimed, looking at Roy in disbelief, "Volvo—that person is here too? This—"

"Yes, he is indeed here." Roy smiled without saying anything.

She quickened her pace, and soon the group arrived on the fourth floor.

Unlike the lower three floors.

The fourth floor, half of which is occupied by a room as big as the Hogwarts infirmary.

Roy pushed open the door and entered.

Instantly, a strong herbal scent, mixed with the pungent odor of some kind of molten metal, spread out.

Harry instinctively covered his nose.

Owen didn't mind; he was used to this kind of strangeness since he often brewed potions.

If Fred and George were here, the smell would surely give them a sense of home, as their alchemy workshop is also filled with this scent.

Pushing open the door, he was greeted by rows of bookshelves. The walls were lined with cabinets displaying all sorts of magical materials, some common, some rare. Even Owen couldn't recognize all the glistening, rare herbs.

On a long table in the middle of the distance, a crucible was bubbling and steaming over a furnace, the steam carrying strange colors swirling in the air.

"What are you doing?"

The four of them stopped in their tracks.

Before them, at the long table, stood the familiar witch, Wenda Rozier, wand in hand. Floating before her was a complex, cube-like magical object. As she waved her wand, drawing out intricate ancient runes, the cube spun continuously, emanating a misty aura that 'flowed' into the cauldron directly below.

The next second, the crucible burst into bubbles violently, releasing a strange color.

"I don't know, maybe they're poisoning me," Owen answered Harry's question nonchalantly.

He himself didn't quite understand human alchemy, so how could he possibly understand what his grandmother was doing?

"This is the 'Glimmer' potion," Grandma Wenda explained in a low voice without turning her head.

"Victor improved upon the previous technology."

As she spoke, she turned around and said, "Do you think anyone can easily merge with ancient magic? Especially an unborn baby."

"A glimmer of light?" Owen asked intently. "So, integrating ancient magic requires a certain level of physical ability?"

"Yes!" Wenda replied.

"What about before? How did it work?"

"Some forms of dark magic can also enhance physical strength," Wenda said expressionlessly, "but they require some blood."

"Alright—Roy, take this week's supply to that woman."

"Yes, teacher."

"Let's go together, we need to talk to her anyway," Owen suggested.

"Hmm—" Grandma nodded indifferently.

They were then led deeper into the 'alchemy workshop'.

At the end, there is a door.

Behind the door was a spacious and bright room, complete with a bed, desk, bookshelves, and various magical items.

Of course, none of these are the most important things.

Most importantly, everyone saw a familiar face.

A young man was sitting in a chair, intently studying the parchment in his hands.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, brushing against his face, making it appear as if white jade were wrapped in orange silk.

The man was very handsome.

With jet-black hair and dark eyes, he wore a well-tailored suit, resembling a noble young man.

Of course, everyone present knew his identity very well—Tom Riddle.

"It seems you haven't met our conditions yet."

Beside Tom, Bellatrix Lestrange sat obediently, holding a teapot.

She wore a long silk robe, her belly slightly protruding, making her appear considerably younger. It was likely the potency of the elixir; this magical potion, capable of enhancing the body's constitution, could practically be sold as an elixir of immortality, since a stronger constitution naturally leads to youthfulness. Of course—this required long-term use.

"It didn't work out, but you should at least show some sincerity," Aunt Roy said unhappily. "You're eating and staying here for free, don't you need to pay for that? And these potions? Do you know how many Galleons a bottle of 'Glimmer' potion costs outside?"

"That's none of our business," Bellatrix said firmly.

"None of your business?" Aunt Roy said bluntly. "Fine, then we'll have one potion left over. Now get out of here."

"You—I'm warning you, don't!" Bellatrix became angry, stood up, and was about to say something harsh when Owen's voice rang out, "A 45-year-old auntie, it's not easy to have a child at this age, be careful not to miscarry the baby."

Irving shut down Bellatrix's idea with a single sentence.

Her face changed, her expression stiffened, and then she rubbed her stomach and sat down again.

"That's more like it—" Owen's lips curled up slightly. "So, where is the Gaunt ring? We've put in so much effort over the past two months, we should see some return on our investment."

Tom sat to the side, silently observing everything, and finally looked up when Owen mentioned the Gaunt ring.

He made eye contact with Irving.

With just one glance, Owen knew that Tom before him—he was still the same boy he used to be, unchanged in the slightest, simply back to his state at Hogwarts. Perhaps knowing the truth about Horcruxes had made him no longer pursue immortality through splitting his soul, or perhaps knowing ancient magic had given him a greater ambition.

In short, at first glance, this guy is still no good.

Perhaps his union with Bella was also to get closer to ancient magic, and since only an infant can control it, it would be easier to control his own child than to just pick one up from outside.

As for whether he truly loves Bella and the child in her womb—Owen can only say, "Don't be ridiculous. If he could love her, the sun would rise in the west."

"As expected, although your soul has undergone unpredictable mutations and is severed from the main soul, you're still that cunning boy. What are you plotting this time? Ancient magic? Or—" Owen glanced at the parchment beside Tom. "Wow—what a bold idea."

The parchment Tom had was a hand-drawn bas-relief of the Divinely Granted Tower in Canada.

These things should only be available to the Federation.

But now it's in his hands, so there are only two possibilities: either it was given to him by his grandmother, or it belongs to someone in the Federation.

However, this guy is still fearless and makes no attempt to cover up his exposure. Irving speculates that these things might have been given to him by his grandmother.

"Everyone needs to have aspirations," Tom said slowly.

His dark eyes stared intently at Irving, as if he were looking at a precious treasure.

"Incredible, the ancient magic power on you is so concentrated that it's almost unbelievable."

"Can you sense ancient magic?"

"I couldn't before, but—didn't you just say that my soul has mutated?" Tom smiled without saying anything.

"Oh—" Owen remembered that Tom's broken soul was repaired by him using ancient magic, and now this guy is just like Harry, so he can sense ancient magic.

"Deconstructing the bas-relief of the Divine Tower requires the participation of many wizards, especially those proficient in ancient runes," Wenda said from behind them. "The reality is that there are too few wizards in the magical world today who are proficient in ancient runes."

"Then you can't let him get involved." Sirius said, frowning. Even when facing a seventeen or eighteen-year-old Voldemort, he felt a sense of pressure.

The secrets behind ancient magic are too shocking to be true; it's the power of the gods. If this younger version of Voldemort were to gain control of it, he would become an even more terrifying being than the current Voldemort.

Having learned from past mistakes, he will certainly not repeat them.

This will be an unprecedented catastrophe for the entire wizarding world.

"I understand your concerns, Blake," Wenda said casually, "but your concerns are trivial."

If our struggle fails, the world will be unified. If we succeed, some people's power will swell to surpass that of our ancestors. Neither way will the scenario you fear occur.

"You're right." Tom continued, still looking at Owen. "You're trying to create a god, aren't you? It's such an addictive technology. In the past, I had no idea that ancient magic even existed in this world."

"Creating a god?" Irving was taken aback.

Harry and Sirius, who were standing next to him, both wore the same expression.

"Mortals cannot completely defeat gods. Not even you—" Tom nodded slightly, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism, and said, "Therefore, there is only one way to resolve the current predicament—that is to reclaim the ancient technology and reopen the [Age of the Gods]."

"Heh—" Irving chuckled coldly, his lips twitching.

Clearly, this guy has misunderstood something.

Upon closer reflection, perhaps even his maternal grandmother, Wenda, might have misunderstood something.

They misunderstood Merlin's plan.

Judging from the current situation, it does indeed seem like the creation of a god.

But Owen knew very well that the ultimate purpose of doing this was definitely not some nonsense about creating a god. What use are gods? They're just idiots who would go mad at the mere sight of a supreme will. If Merlin hadn't gone mad, then he must have a much deeper plan.

But creating a god—that's a great concept, perfect for keeping Tom hanging on. It saves him from researching other unknown things.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in any of that nonsense. I only have one thought right now," Owen said seriously. "That is, how to kill the other you. Enough with the chit-chat."

"Now answer the question: Who has the Gauntlet ring?"

Faced with Irving's aggressive approach.

Tom wasn't angry.

He lazily closed the parchment and his own draft.

Then, casually, he said, "In the hands of Batu Tikrach."

"Barty Crouch Jr.?" Irving said, "I knew it—"

"Dumbledore talked to Barty Crouch for a long time, but still didn't get the ring. Was it you who interfered?"

"No—" Tom retorted, "It's because he doesn't want to give it to me."

"Don't you want to give it?"

"The ring has a resurrection stone."

"and then?"

"Old Crouch isn't as tough as he seems," Tom chuckled. "His guilt towards his wife made the ring easily control him."

"Are you wondering why someone like old Crouch would follow me?"

"The reason is actually quite simple: the Resurrection Stone. His son used the Resurrection Stone and his own guilt to control him. Most of the time, it was old Crouch himself who confronted Dumbledore in front of everyone at the Ministry of Magic, but his son could take his place whenever we needed him."

"I see—" Irving finally understood a question that had been bothering him.

He then added, "I thought you'd never discover the secret of the Resurrection Stone in your entire life."

"No—" Tom said, "When I split my soul, the part of my soul on the ring discovered the secret of the Resurrection Stone, but the original body didn't know it."

"And then what happened?"

"And then?" Tom continued, "When the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic raided the Riddle family home, the original took the ring and entrusted it to one of his most loyal servants, Barty Crouch Jr., for safekeeping. And he soon discovered the secret of the Resurrection Stone."

"Oh! That's true—what can the Dark Lord see when he holds the Resurrection Stone? To him, it's just an ordinary stone. I guess I need someone else to remind me."

(End of this chapter)