The quiet of the Slytherin common room belied the intensity of my thoughts.
I had grown comfortable here—not because Hogwarts had changed, but because I had. Every corner of this school, every corridor, every whispered rumor and hidden passage, now felt like an extension of my mind. And today, I would add something new to that mind: the Animagus transformation.
I found Abraxas Malfoy in one of the quieter corners of the common room. He looked up at me with a mixture of curiosity and quiet reverence.
"Ingredients?" I asked, keeping my voice casual, though my eyes betrayed my excitement.
A few weeks had passed since I instructed him, and now a small collection of jars, leaves, and powders rested neatly on the table between us.
"Everything you need," Abraxas said, his tone respectful. "I got the rarest components I could. Some of these are nearly impossible to find without drawing attention."
I smiled faintly. "Good. Very good."
Later that night, in the sanctuary of the Room of Requirement, I began the painstaking ritual.
The leaf—a rare herb known to stabilize Animagus transformations—was carefully placed on my tongue. A sticking charm ensured it stayed perfectly in place, bitter and potent.
The world narrowed to focus: the rhythm of my breathing, the precise movements of my wand, the flow of magic through every vein of my body.
Weeks of preparation, practice, and mental discipline culminated in this moment. Every spell I had learned, every lesson with Dumbledore, every dark experiment from Salazar's notes—all of it converged here.
I could feel the shift in my body before it even happened. Cells aligning. Magic pulsing. Form condensing.
And then it came: a sudden, profound clarity. My consciousness stretched, my senses sharpened. When I looked down, I caught the shimmer of scales, the glint of eyes not my own—but mine in essence.
A serpent.
A perfect, fluid form. I had done it.
As I shifted back into my human form, the exhilaration lingered like fire in my veins. But there was no time to linger. My ambitions did not wait.
Recruitment. Strategy. Power.
I checked my current roster in my mind: the Neutral Aid Society's inner circle, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw recruits, and now—most importantly—Alistair Moody.
Yes. Alistair.
A mind as sharp as any I had ever encountered. Powerful. Tactical. Loyal—or at least, someone I could sway with patience and skill.
He represented the upper tier of magical talent, the rare few who could one day stand alongside figures like Dumbledore—or perhaps, even surpass him under the right guidance.
And now, he was mine to cultivate.
I allowed myself a brief smile.
The pieces were coming together.
The Animagus, the recruits, the inner circle, the spells, the artifacts, the knowledge—I was no longer simply Tom Riddle.
I was shaping a new world.
A golden age of magic.
And this was only the beginning.