Meanwhile, in another part of ancient Pompeii…
In an alchemy shop that catered not only to wizards but also to ordinary people, a handsome young boy was enthusiastically selling the store's wares.
"Madam, this skincare potion is exactly what you need. It's not cheap, but it's absolutely worth every galleon; it'll make your already-beautiful face even more radiant."
"Friend, perhaps you came here for a hair-regrowth potion, but I think this seductive fragrance would suit you just as well. Your wife and your lover will both fall for you all over again."
"Oh, you're in the wrong place. We don't sell dark magic items… at least not during the day."
This eloquent eleven-year-old had, in just half a month, become the top salesman of the store. He seemed to have a natural gift for persuasion, gliding through his role as if born to it.
In the trade of black magic items, he had earned the store owner's deep appreciation.
"You've clearly done this kind of work before!"
The shopkeeper, whose skin had a noticeable blue hue, evidence of magical modification, looked at the now-empty shelves and genuinely felt admiration for the poor child laborer he had taken in.
"It's all thanks to your excellent teaching. If I recall correctly, I haven't formally thanked you for taking me in yet." The well-mannered boy bowed slightly, perfectly courteous, to the shopkeeper, praising him.
He looked humble and respectful.
The blue-skinned shopkeeper beamed and patted the boy's shoulder happily.
"You're destined for great things. I'll teach you everything I know, so that one day, you'll be as outstanding as I am."
Clearly, the shopkeeper was selling him dreams.
"I look forward to that day," The boy replied with a smile.
He then turned his gaze toward the window, where the outline of a volcano was crystal clear.
"I don't think that day is far off."
His words were vague and hard to interpret.
The shopkeeper paused briefly, puzzled, but quickly assumed the boy had simply been moved by his encouragement. He patted his shoulder again, smiling, and went into the back room to work overtime on crafting more goods.
"What a beautiful world… This is where it all begins for me." In his spare time, the boy liked to stand by the window, gazing at the volcano in the distance.
He was the one who had crossed over into this world before Ian.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Now inhabiting the body of a young Malfoy, Voldemort had returned to the age of eleven. And Ian likely had no idea that the Dark Lord himself was hiding as an ordinary shop assistant in this modest store.
Odd as it was, this kind of side job was right up Riddle's alley. He had been here for some time already, constantly searching for ways to use the powers of this era to strengthen himself.
All while calculating when the apocalypse would arrive.
Riddle's heart was full of anticipation.
And just as he was gazing at the volcano, A group of figures entered the shop, clad in bright red robes, with faces marked by runes.
"Outsider. Our leader wants to see you." The lead Watcher said sternly to Riddle.
Sitting at the edge of his bed, Riddle paused for a moment, then slowly smiled.
"Oh? Is that so? Then I'm honored." His expression was calm and gentle. He didn't reach for his wand, but simply stood up and adjusted his robes with grace.
"Time is short. Let's go."
Still maintaining his dignified composure, the Watcher stared at him. Riddle responded with a warm smile.
"Follow."
Several Watchers surrounded Riddle and escorted him outside. He shrugged, letting them guide him through a maze of narrow alleys until they arrived at a hidden building.
Outside, guards in red armor stood watch. They weren't wizards, but the long swords in their hands caught Riddle's attention more than once.
"Impressive craftsmanship," He remarked.
The Watchers led him inside. Riddle entered and found the interior extraordinarily lavish, unlike anything he had seen so far in this era.
"Such extravagant taste…"
At the center sat a petite woman wearing a silver mask, her face obscured except for a pair of cold, piercing eyes.
Once Riddle was in the room, the Watchers exited.
"You don't belong to this era. What's your purpose here?" The leader asked bluntly, going straight to the heart of the matter. The directness of her wording made Riddle's eyes narrow slightly.
"I'm not sure what you mean. I don't understand." Riddle's expression remained composed. He even put on a slight look of confusion, perfectly measured and convincingly innocent.
He was a superb actor. However, The leader merely let out a cold chuckle.
"Don't pretend. From the moment you entered this city, I sensed your soul, broken and steeped in darkness."
Clearly, she was a powerful witch as well.
"I'm just someone who wants to survive." Riddle's expression didn't change. His gaze remained steady and sincere.
"I don't care about your origins. I don't care about your past… I only want to know one thing: Are you connected to the recent disasters in the city?" The masked leader stood from her seat.
"What disaster?" Riddle genuinely looked confused.
"You can't hide anything from me," The masked leader said coldly. She stepped forward and raised her hand toward Riddle's head, clearly intending to perform Legilimency.
Naturally, Riddle wasn't going to allow such a thing.
"I absolutely won't let anyone peer into my secrets." He initially appeared cooperative, but the moment she got close, he slipped his wand from his sleeve.
"Imperio!" Riddle attempted to use the Imperius Curse to control the enforcer-leader of the city.
His performance had been excellent until now.
However…
Even though he cast the spell loudly and forcefully, not even the faintest glimmer of light appeared on the tip of his wand. Riddle's pupils shrank in disbelief.
"You really are a pathetic little dark wizard." The Watcher leader didn't look the least bit surprised. Her expression remained calm as she glanced at Riddle's wand, her tone full of disdain.
"What the hell is going on?!" Riddle immediately backed away.
"Damn it! How could something like this exist?!"
He scanned the room and locked eyes on four stones in the corners.
"So you're not completely incompetent," The woman said as she observed him. She clearly understood that Riddle had realized the room was a magic-restricted field.
"If I said just now was a misunderstanding, a bit of light-hearted fun, would you believe me?" Riddle swallowed hard, clearly prepared to bolt at any moment.
He might be the Dark Lord… But when it came to close-quarters combat, he didn't have much confidence.
As the masked leader stepped closer, Sweat began to form on Riddle's brow. He prepared to spin a tale and talk his way out, when suddenly, the air around him twisted violently.
Riddle stared in shock as the very fabric of space distorted.
He was being pulled by a powerful force into an unknown domain. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a dim, shadowy temple.
"What is this now?"
At sixteen, what Riddle lacked most was knowledge, particularly the kind of magical understanding that might have warned him about anti-magic fields.
The young and arrogant Dark Lord looked around warily.
In the center of the temple stood a robed figure with their back turned.
Without hesitation, Riddle raised his wand and cast a spell:
"Avada Kedavra!"
His signature move. Yet to his astonishment, the moment the Killing Curse hit the robed figure, it simply burst apart like fireworks, harmless and ineffective.
The robed figure remained unmoved, still facing away.
"Impossible! The Killing Curse never fails once it hits!"
This was the second time today Riddle's understanding of magic had been shattered.
"Who are you?!"
The figure began to slowly turn around.
"The Killing Curse doesn't fail. But you can't kill someone who's already dead." The raspy voice came from within the shadows of the robe.
"Who are you?!" Riddle raised his wand again, light flaring at its tip.
But in the very next instant, His magic froze mid-casting, stuck in its incantation.
"Like you… I'm a wizard who refused to accept death, my apprentice." The figure pulled back his hood, revealing a face that made Riddle instinctively recoil.
A serpent-like visage.
"I am Herpo… the Angel who defied death."
That face, imprinted itself deep into Riddle's mind, like a mark that could never fade.
(End of Chapter)
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