— — — — — —
For a moment, Bellatrix felt as if her heart had torn open.
Had her brilliant, once-invincible master really lost his memory and turned into some wandering ghost with no self?
...Thankfully, the worst didn't happen.
Voldemort had indeed been beaten senseless, but his instinctive refusal to die slowly dragged him back. Bit by bit, his mind cleared, his memories returned.
And once he remembered everything, the very first thing he did was roar, "TOM RIIIIIIIIDDLE!"
The venom in his voice made both Lockhart and Bellatrix shudder. Just how deep did that hatred run, to make Voldemort sound like he wanted to tear Riddle apart with his bare hands?
"Master, you encountered Riddle?" Bellatrix asked cautiously. "Then the item you were looking for…"
"What item!" the black mist around him thrashed violently as Voldemort snarled, "Look at me! I'm back in this pathetic excuse for a form. What exactly do you think I could've brought back?!"
"That damned brat ruined everything!"
"M… Master," Bellatrix stammered. "What happened? With your greatness, how could Riddle possibly defeat you?"
Voldemort said nothing.
Yes… he was the great Lord Voldemort, the true Dark Lord, heir to the noble bloodline of Salazar Slytherin. By what right could Riddle win?
But facts were facts.
Tom's power surpassed anything he had imagined—so much so it had filled him with fear… and jealousy that bordered on lunacy.
What had he been doing in fourth year?
Attending classes obediently, trying to make friends, making himself look respectable and well-liked. Then sneaking into the Restricted Section late at night, gulping down forbidden knowledge while praying no one noticed a thing.
But now… thinking of the way Tom fought just now, Voldemort wasn't even certain that his strongest self could have beaten the boy.
With Voldemort silent, Lockhart and Bellatrix didn't dare make a sound. The air fell into an oppressive, suffocating stillness.
Only after a long while did Voldemort free himself from that tangle of emotions. His mood settled. "Bella. Never underestimate Riddle. After this fight, I understand completely—his threat is no less than Dumbledore or Grindelwald."
"With only a fragment of a body, I was no match for him. It was… it was a miserable defeat."
Bellatrix's eyes widened in disbelief, while despair flickered behind Lockhart's.
How was he supposed to take revenge against a monster like that?
Sensing their change in mood, Voldemort actually chuckled, "This isn't the end. It's only the beginning. Now, we must be more careful. And more patient."
His voice softened, almost like a teacher giving advice. "The world is changing quickly. Competitors are everywhere. But it's fine. If I defeat them all, I'll prove myself the strongest."
"Tear of Isis? Whatever. I have leads on other relics."
"Yes!" Lockhart hurried to agree. "Master, anyway, we did manage to steal the water that came from the legendary Fountain of Fair Fortune…"
"Steal?" Voldemort repeated the word, and his voice dropped to an icy chill. "I don't like that choice of words. It wasn't stolen. That water belonged to my ancestors and was entrusted to Gringotts. I merely took it back, understood?"
"U-understood!"
"Good."
The black mist shot toward Bellatrix and fused into her body. Voldemort sounded weak as he said. "Let's go. Keep heading south. There's something I want in Chad."
---
Tom slept in until he woke naturally.
The next morning, he resumed yesterday's unfinished business: checking on his girl's physical condition. The two stayed wrapped up together until noon before finally stepping out the door.
Today was blazing hot, the sun burning in a cloudless sky. Just like most summer days in Egypt, but from anywhere in the Heka Corridor, as long as your view wasn't blocked by a roof, you could look up and see the battered ruins of Gringotts.
Thankfully, far fewer enforcers patrolled the streets today, and the goblin frenzy had finally quieted.
Clearly, the goblins trusted Tom's information: with Voldemort out of the picture for now, Gringotts was safe. And there was no reason to waste manpower hunting him down—better to bring everyone back and concentrate on rebuilding.
The dragons' destruction was saturated with magic, and paired with all the wards and enchantments embedded in the building, it wasn't something a simple Reparo could fix.
Restoring Gringotts to its former state would cost a ridiculous amount of money and manpower.
The worst part was… they also had to find new dragons.
The goblins absolutely loathed Voldemort, and they were just as furious at Tom for swooping in during the chaos and making off with his spoils.
Tom and Hermione, however, were in great spirits. Since the Heka Corridor was a no-go for now, they just kept wandering on the Muggle side. Plenty of fun things to do there anyway.
Along the way, Tom had to take out his Codex every now and then to respond to messages from all over.
The bigger the incident, the faster it spread. Gringotts had been robbed, a dragon riot had followed, and within one night the news had spread across half the planet. A bunch of wizarding newspapers ran it as front-page headlines.
Everyone from the girls to Newt sent him messages. They weren't worried for his safety, but they still wanted to check in and make sure he was fine.
When Tom saw that Dumbledore had sent him a message too, he grinned. While they rested in a café, he started chatting with the old man.
『Tom Riddle』: Professor, guess who attacked Gringotts last night?
Far away at Hogwarts, Dumbledore suddenly felt a bad premonition and scribbled back quickly.
『Albus Dumbledore』: Was it Voldemort?
『Tom Riddle』: Truly perceptive as always. I actually ran into him... [photo attached]
The photo made Dumbledore's white eyebrows knot together. Tom didn't even need to say it. Just by looking, he could tell it was Voldemort.
Appearances could change, but that poisonous gaze and that aura—no one else had it.
After a few back-and-forths, Dumbledore got the general story.
『Albus Dumbledore』: That was a magnificent battle. Tom, you defeated him head-on. Good.
『Tom Riddle』: Just a damaged, half-form Voldemort. Hardly counts as magnificent. Fighting you would be another story, Professor.
『Albus Dumbledore』: Spare these old bones… Tom, what exactly was inside the Egyptian Gringotts that he cared so much about?
Tom took the chance to tell him about Tears of Isis and the Fountain of Fair Fortune's water. He'd mentioned Voldemort partly because he wanted leads, hoping Dumbledore might know something.
But Dumbledore was just as surprised that the mythical relics actually existed. No leads at all.
After chatting for a bit, Tom closed the codex empty-handed.
Well, not entirely empty-handed. At least Dumbledore was now nervous and apparently considering a trip to Africa.
Across from him, Hermione finished her video call with her father.
She sighed and smiled helplessly. "Dad suggested we change destinations. It took me a long time to convince him to relax."
"Can't blame him. Who'd expect us to run right into something like that on day one? Crazy luck, really."
"Do you want to switch?" Hermione asked.
Tom shook his head. "Not necessary. Let's just stay here. We'll go to another country next trip."
"Okay, your call. So where to now?"
"The pyramids. There's a little market over there. Old Newt said they sell mummy shrouds. I want to bring some back."
For the next few days, they explored everywhere, hitting all the famous sights and taking tons of photos. Hermione picked her favorites, printed multiple copies, and sent them back home with postcards.
In the meantime, the goblins tracked Tom down once and delivered the balance scale they'd promised.
And they had another request.
"Mr. Riddle, we'd like you to design a defensive system for Gringotts," Noby said, respectfully setting down a gift of fifty thousand Galleons.
Too bad Tom wasn't interested in money at the moment. He refused without hesitation.
So Gringotts made a new offer—help him establish guilds in Egypt and several nearby countries.
That offer actually tempted Tom.
The guild network across continental Europe had gone smoothly. Almost every country had one now, except the tiny ones. But beyond Europe, progress stalled.
In the end, Tom agreed. He spent four hours designing a complete defensive and alert system for Gringotts. It was flawless—just one look made it clear it was far superior to anything they'd seen before.
The goblins tried to get Tom to install it himself and got booted out the door on the spot.
Alchemists and experts in ancient runes could handle the actual deployment. Free labor? Not happening.
After sending off the greedy goblins, Tom headed into his small world.
The five dragons were already awake, chained up again and kept inside a makeshift dragon den.
Tom's original plan had been to slaughter them for materials, but he realized that would be wasteful.
They might have lived underground without sunlight, but Gringotts hadn't abused their dragons. On the contrary, they were well taken care of, and all five were elite specimens of their species.
To put it in gamer terms: dragons from wildlife preserves were elite mobs; Gringotts-raised dragons were epic or even champion-level pets.
Killing them for parts now would be like smashing the goose that laid the golden eggs.
He'd need dragons later anyway, so he decided to keep them and raise them for a while.
Though… five might be too many.
Maybe he could send one back to Hogwarts to guard the place. But how much should he charge for renting a dragon?
...
Meanwhile, in Scotland, Dumbledore was packing for a trip to Africa. He suddenly sneezed, rubbed his nose, and quietly added another thick coat to his suitcase.
.
.
.