I stood in the center of my realm—my vast, impossible, continent-sized world—holding a small, black notebook that pulsed faintly with corrupted magic.
The fragment counter glowed:
49/50 — B-Rank: Diary Tom Riddle
I tapped it once.
A soft chime rang through the air.
50/50 — Complete.Would you like to summon?
"Obviously," I murmured.
Light erupted from the diary—dark, silvery, twisting like smoke reciting forbidden secrets. The magic curled upward, forming a human shape, then solidifying with a sharp, crystalline snap.
And then he appeared.
A boy—sixteen years old—stepped out of the haze.
Tall.Handsome in that sharp, predatory way.Dark hair perfectly parted.Eyes like polished obsidian.A Hogwarts uniform, pristine and arrogant, clinging to him like it belonged to royalty.
Tom Marvolo Riddle.
But he wasn't summoned from a card.
He was taken.
Pulled from his world at the exact moment he had just framed poor Hagrid and gotten him expelled from Hogwarts.
One second he was standing in Hogwarts…The next, he stood in my magical realm, blinking as new memories fused into his soul.
Memories of me.
Recognition bloomed in his gaze—swift, absolute, binding.
He bowed instantly, deeply, reverently.
"My… master."A pause.His lips curved in a small, wicked smile."…or mistress… or king, if that pleases you."
I arched a brow. "I'll accept all of them."
Tom straightened, sharp and elegant. "Then all of them you shall have."
Yes. Perfect.
This was the Tom I wanted. The genius. The prodigy. The cold beauty on the edge of villainy—before he tore his soul into madness.
I lifted my hand.
A ripple of Merlin's magic flowed from my fingertips, pure and ancient. It wrapped around Tom like silk threads, spiraling through his body, into his soul, repairing, fortifying, perfecting.
A soft glow settled around him.
His eyes widened. "You… stopped my aging…"
"And granted you semi-immortality," I said. "I need a lieutenant, not a self-destructing lunatic obsessed with killing everything that breathes."
Tom gave a soft laugh—low, dark, musical. "Wise. My older self is… unrefined."
"Insane," I corrected.
"An unfortunate word," he said politely, "but not inaccurate."
I stepped closer, letting my cloak whisper behind me.
"I chose you as my base," I said softly, "because your mind is brilliant. Your potential is impossible. And when I fuse the older fragments of Voldemort into you…"
Tom inhaled sharply.
"…you will gain his power," I finished, "without his madness."
Tom went silent.
Then he sank to one knee, head bowed, devotion pouring off him like heat.
"I exist for you," he whispered. "Command me, and I will obey. Shape me, and I will become whatever you desire."
The air trembled with his vow.
My first true lieutenant.
Perfect.Loyal.Semi-immortal.And soon, once I fused him—unimaginably powerful.
I touched his chin and lifted his face.
"Welcome to my realm, Tom Riddle."
He smiled—dark, loyal, beautiful.
"My realm," he said softly, "belongs to you."