I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 590 My name is Tom Riddle

The two spells collided violently.

It sounded like a cannonball exploding.

Harry saw golden flames erupt from the spells they fired right at the point where the spells collided.

He saw Voldemort's green light weaken, golden flames entered his hand, and then the Elder Wand flew into the air.

Spinning like snowflakes, it flew into his hand in a way that defied all physical logic.

Finally, the Elder Wand returned to its rightful owner.

Everything was so natural.

Harry held his Phoenix Wand in one hand and the Elder Wand in the other, calmly looking at Voldemort, whose eyes were wide open in the distance.

"This—is impossible!"

Voldemort staggered backward, his arms outstretched.

The death curse rebounded onto his body, causing severe damage.

Like cracked tree bark, peeling off little by little.

"No—no!"

Voldemort's soul screamed.

But the sound could not be transmitted into the real world at all.

Soon, like firewood that has burned out, his consciousness fell into nothingness and darkness.

dark.

It was still dark.

It's like an eternal sigh after the universe has ceased to exist.

There's nothing here.

A desolate place.

It may be a fleeting moment, or it may last a long time.

Suddenly, a glimmer of light appeared in the endless darkness, like a star bursting forth from a sky obscured by dark clouds.

It was so faint, as if a single breath could extinguish it, and it was dim and unclear.

But it is a signal.

After what may be an eternity, such light, such stars, will become more and more numerous.

Finally, the darkness was pierced, and more and more faint lights appeared around us.

A constellation of stars.

At that moment, a monster materialized from among the stars.

The monster had wings and was about twenty arms square, consisting of six constantly wriggling human arms.

It was enormous, with a single tooth that gleamed coldly and was the size of an adult... and it was still growing.

Four emerald green eyes, like a killing curse, looked down ahead.

His eyes were cold. Or perhaps it was a hunger. Under such circumstances, it was truly difficult to tell.

Beneath its feet, a purple liquid churned and expanded.

It was both fast and slow.

Gradually, it filled the entire darkness, forming a pale purple ocean.

"My true form has made you uncomfortable," it said, its tone surprisingly calm.

Its voice was deafening, shaking the sea beneath its feet, and thousands upon thousands of Void Remoras poured out of the seawater.

This sound bends and crushes everything; it is both a whisper and a roar. The seawater cascades endlessly, boundless. A million voices combine to form an aria.

Tom Riddle's soul lies peacefully on a pale purple sea.

A gleaming, broken dagger tip was stuck in his chest.

A strange magic flowed from the dagger.

"Why?" Voldemort asked mechanically.

His body was pierced by this dagger.

It was also covered with six other deep, knife-like wounds.

This is precisely the wound left from creating Horcruxes.

Upon closer inspection, there seemed to be tiny, larval-like, tentacle-like, or blood vessel-like things within those wounds. Like a Muggle surgical procedure, the wounds were roughly stitched together.

"【Star Blade】—A flame of eternal soul fire, invisible to mortals. Using it allows mortals to ignite their soul fire and become gods."

The monster's voice was everywhere.

"It needs a soul imbued with the magic of stars as kindling to reignite it."

"What matters is the star—not the magic. You lack a vessel."

"And you are about to become my food. In that sense, you will become a god."

The monster's magnificent body was covered in bristling whiskers and hair. Starlight cast faint patterns on its ray-like form, outlining a false sun on a pale purple sea, like the halo of a dying world.

The newborn body swayed against a tide of nothingness, its veins briefly glowing before peeling away from its skin, each one a living entity in its own right.

A school of millions of Void Remoras circled around their goddess, like birds soaring over distant mountain peaks.

It is absolutely gorgeous.

If gods exist in the starry sky, this must be the scene before you. Abnormal and terrifying, grotesque and bizarre, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

"No!" Tom Riddle roared in frustration, as if he had just woken up.

His magic, all his efforts on the path to immortality, had all been rendered useless. Under the influence of a strange force, his body was shattering, and he was about to become nothingness.

Power, immortality, eternal life—it was all a laughable dream, and now that dream is over!

But he was still struggling.

The last struggle of a dying person.

"You cannot do it," the many voices of the gods answered in unison. "You are powerless to resist even the slightest. By accepting my power, you were destined to become salt in this pale purple sea. The only difference is that if you succeed, the fragments of you that remain will retain your full sanity; if you fail..."

The gods are enjoying Tom Riddle's soul.

Enjoying this delicious food.

"You lied to me," Tom finally roared. "You lied to me!"

"I never deceive, mortals," the deity said. "For I need not. My ultimate victory is an unshakeable, absolute fact. No lies, embellishments, or doubts are needed. Open your eyes, and I will let you witness."

The ocean began to shrink. The god's enormous body stretched, twisted, and then contracted—shrinking to a more recognizable form.

She floated down silently and hovered in front of Tom.

The curls and eye stalks shifted positions and reassembled into an ellipsoid composed of several pieces of different shapes—resembling a human head.

She gazed upon her audience with two faces, while simultaneously covering her body with wings, revealing the imposing figure of a woman of noble status.

A head of long hair, as white as the Milky Way. Fine, soft, and glossy, it danced even without wind.

His emerald green eyes were deep and cold.

Wearing a magnificent ancient British court dress, the gown is embroidered with gold thread, intricate and exquisite. The wide and elegant skirt reveals delicate legs and feet that seem like exquisitely crafted works of art as they sway gently.

The goddess has the same appearance as Irving.

This was the last thing Voldemort saw—his mouth was open, as if he wanted to say something.

But his throat had already sunk into the pale purple sea.

At that moment, time seemed to stand still.

His thoughts, his spirit, everything about him is entering eternal sleep.

In a daze, he felt a faint warm current flowing from his heart.

Tom didn't know what it was.

But it's like a match on a cold night.

He instinctively felt, attached, and embraced.

Am I going to die?

"Is this what death is?"

Suddenly, Tom heard a voice.

I saw someone.

He found himself seemingly at King's Cross Station.

The bustling crowd and the clamor of voices made everything around him feel familiar.

"This is" Tom recognized without needing to look closely; it was the day he first boarded the train and went to Hogwarts.

"I"

I stared at King's Cross Station, frantically searching for something.

Soon—he found his younger self.

That was the first time I left the orphanage and went to a faraway place.

The endless scenery outside the train window, and the boundless imagination for the future ahead, made me feel exceptionally relaxed.

During my eleven years in the orphanage, this was something I had never experienced before.

Tom seemed to be watching a movie.

Looking at another part of his life.

------

1938, April 9.

I came to Hogwarts because, as an orphan, I was especially eager to find news about my parents in this castle.

I know that if they are wizards, they must have studied here.

perhaps--

Perhaps I discovered that abandoned classroom during one of my nighttime adventures.

They also found the Mirror of Erised in that dusty classroom.

In the magic mirror, I saw a warm family—they came together not because of love potions, but because of love.

They stood right behind me, stroking my cheeks and expressing their love for me.

I couldn't help but sneak to the mirror every night and frequently meet them.

If Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher, finds me, he will tell me: Tom, the Magic Mirror shows us the deepest, most fervent desires within us.

I immediately denied it; no, I didn't want to see my parents.

But I dared not look directly into the gleaming gaze behind Dumbledore's crescent-shaped eyes.

Without a doubt, I still discovered my Slytherin bloodline through Parsley's ability.

In fifth grade, I found the Chamber of Secrets in Slytherin, opened it, and killed Moaning Myrtle.

When I saw that people were actually dying, I started to panic.

I'm afraid the school will close because I never want to go back to that orphanage full of abandoned children.

Perhaps—perhaps this time I didn't hide anything. Nor did I choose to frame someone.

I found Professor Dumbledore, the Transfiguration professor. I told him that I was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets.

Dumbledore remained silent for a long time before finally telling me: No one is perfect; the most important thing is to become a better person.

Then he gave me something.

Tell me if everything goes well tonight, and I will save an innocent life.

Three turns are enough.

This is a time converter.

It is under the strict protection of the Ministry of Magic, and only the most outstanding model students of Hogwarts can apply for one with the professor's permission.

And I—just so happens to be the most outstanding student in the history of Hogwarts.

I used the time-traveling device to go back in time and closed the secret chamber before Myrtle encountered the Basilisk.

Therefore, the school does not need to close.

I don't need to go back to the orphanage.

During summer vacation, I returned to the old house in Gunter.

I learned about my origins and realized that I am not the fruit of love, but a product of aphrodisiacs.

My wizard mother used a potion to seduce my Muggle father, and that's how I came to be of noble Slytherin blood.

I was devastated. Filled with resentment, I arrived at Riddle's mansion.

I gripped my wand tightly, almost shouting the spell.

But—at the critical moment, perhaps it was the warm home in the Mirror of Erised that restrained my arm, preventing me from casting the spell in the end.

But I still harbor resentment, and in my anger, I'll use magic to turn my father into a balloon. This is my way of punishing him for abandoning my mother and me.

I received a warning letter from the Ministry of Magic because I used magic outside of school.

Dumbledore bailed me out at the Ministry of Magic and took me back to school.

On the way, he said: What determines our lives is not our ability, nor our background, but our choices.

I'm annoyed by his pedantic rhetoric, and even more annoyed by his argument that love is the magic weapon.

But two years later, in 1945, after I witnessed Dumbledore defeat Grindelwald and imprison him in Nurmengard, things changed.

That night, Dumbledore looked ten years older; he wandered the rooftop like a lost soul.

I bumped into him.

That year I graduated, and I wanted to stay at Hogwarts to teach. So I didn't leave the school during the summer vacation.

That night, I talked with Dumbledore all night long. He said a lot of things, many of which I didn't understand.

But Dumbledore insisted on telling me everything. He said he hoped I wouldn't follow in his footsteps.

I don't understand. He's clearly the most powerful wizard in the world.

Why do I feel like I have nothing?

Is there anything that magic cannot obtain?

The next day, I received a reply from Headmaster Armando Dippert. He rejected my application to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts assistant, but asked me to be an assistant to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

And so, I stayed at Hogwarts.

Twenty-six years later, I became the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the head of Slytherin House.

I never gave up studying dark magic, and a thin student caught my attention; his name was Severus Snape.

He was also very interested in black magic, and therefore idolized me greatly.

He also frequently clashed with the Gryffindor group of four, and I often caught them using Marauder's Map to wander around at night.

I would deduct points from Gryffindor without hesitation every time.

I live alone and still don't trust anyone.

I still don't believe Dumbledore's claim that love can conquer death.

People admire me and are fascinated by me. They respect me because of my academic achievements.

But I am still lonely.

I still study Horcruxes out of fear of death, and I even couldn't resist the temptation to create one myself.

At that moment, Dumbledore asked me for a small favor.

His friend Nicolas Flamel wants to destroy the Philosopher's Stone and hopes I can help him with the basilisk's fangs.

I am shocked that there would be someone in this world who would voluntarily give up immortality?

Dumbledore told me: "For a man of sound mind, death is only the beginning of another great adventure."

I neither agreed nor disagreed with this, after helping him with this small favor.

I put my research on Horcruxes on hold.

Many years later, a new batch of students entered Hogwarts.

James Potter and Lily Evans take their son Harry Potter to school together.

They both work at the Ministry of Magic, and James is an Auror.

Just a second before Harry boarded the train, his godfather Sirius Black and Lupin arrived. Sirius handed Harry an old map and told him to open it if he encountered any trouble at Hogwarts.

(End of this chapter)