After ten years of silence, the former Dark Lord returned to Britain from distant Albania, near Greece. His main goal was to restore his power.
He, who once commanded the Death Eaters and turned the British wizarding world upside down, knew very well—there were indeed some Death Eaters truly loyal to him. But more of them were opportunists, pure-blood family factions who wanted to use him for their political ambitions, and Dark Wizards who had no bottom line and hoped to profit from the chaos.
If these people found out he was weak now, they wouldn't lend him a helping hand—they'd turn on him.
After his downfall, his subordinates scattered like monkeys fleeing a fallen tree. Some were captured, some died, some went into hiding, some betrayed him to clear their names, and some had even been undercover spies from the start… He had seen it all.
Ha, wizards were such good actors.
Even as Voldemort, sometimes he couldn't tell who was truly loyal and who was just another hidden trap waiting to be sprung.
But he didn't care.
He knew one thing—once he regained his strength, everything would return to him.
The opportunists, the scheming families, the self-serving Dark Wizards… As long as his banner stood tall, the sycophants would flock to him like hyenas, forming a great force under his lead for the next…
Hunt.
As long as he remained strong and kept winning, did it really matter if his subordinates were truly loyal or just pretending?
Heh, they were all loyal in the end.
So when he received news of the Philosopher's Stone, Voldemort made his move.
If he succeeded, he would save himself a lot of trouble.
But unfortunately, he was one step too late—the best chance had slipped through his fingers.
When they opened the vault at Gringotts, it was empty. The Philosopher's Stone had already been taken.
But he could still find traces of it. Right now, the Philosopher's Stone was at Hogwarts!
Voldemort also knew that the weak wizard he had possessed was already under surveillance.
Severus Snape had once been his subordinate. His abnormal behavior was almost an open signal in Voldemort's eyes.
But it didn't matter.
People only suspected Quirrell. Even if they guessed that Quirrell was after the Philosopher's Stone, that wasn't a big deal.
Since their suspicions were focused on Quirrell, the security measures would only be set against a professor who had been teaching Muggle Studies last year and had suddenly switched to Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.
As long as he was careful and didn't reveal that he was actually Voldemort, it would be easier to act.
…At least, that was how it should have been.
But life was always full of surprises—surprises that Voldemort hated.
A Prophet!
After decades, another powerful Prophet had appeared in the world—one who could make multiple accurate predictions about the future!
And this Prophet was enrolling at Hogwarts this year, coming into close contact with him.
Merlin's beard!
He still had many Horcruxes, many chances for resurrection, but who wanted to die even once if they could avoid it?
In the days after the school year began, Voldemort remained on high alert, ready for the worst at any moment.
But in the end, he realized he had scared himself for nothing.
Nothing happened.
Of course, that didn't mean he was safe. After all, Prophets were unpredictable—who knew when this one would have a sudden vision and mess things up?
Once he was sure nothing major would happen in the short term, Voldemort ordered Quirrell to continue monitoring the Philosopher's Stone while he himself decided to investigate the Prophet.
And once he started digging, Voldemort found quite a few surprises!
Through observing Roger's learning habits and spellcasting during class, Voldemort made a judgment.
This first-year student had a mental strength that far exceeded most Death Eaters!
If not for his lack of spellcasting techniques and limited knowledge, just based on his raw magical power, he was already strong enough to be a valuable asset.
And his learning ability was exceptional.
He seemed to have already built the foundation of his own magical understanding. His control over his mental strength was extremely refined, allowing him to grasp spells quickly.
He also had no shame in asking for guidance—whenever he didn't understand something, he would stop a professor after class to ask questions. Sometimes, he even went to their offices to clarify his doubts.
According to the young Prophet, most of his questions were beyond the curriculum, and asking them in class would take up his classmates' time. Professors had a duty to teach, so naturally, he went to them for answers after class.
And most of the professors welcomed his questions.
On one hand, they were responsible teachers who appreciated hardworking students. On the other, who wouldn't want to maintain a good relationship with a Prophet who might one day offer them guidance at a crucial moment in their lives?
Every day, the young Prophet shuttled between professors and the library, absorbing Hogwarts' knowledge like a sponge.
Voldemort could feel it—he was growing at an astonishing rate.
It wouldn't be long before Roger's magic skills caught up to his immense mental strength.
And this was far from his limit.
He was only eleven!
What was Voldemort's own power like when he was eleven?
Roger still had a long way to grow. If he didn't die prematurely, by the time he reached Voldemort's current age, his strength…
Unimaginable!
But what frightened Voldemort even more than watching this "monster" grow right before his eyes was something else.
Everyone knew that Roger was always deep in thought.
During History of Magic—where the professor was little more than a living audiobook—or in classes where he had already learned the material in advance, Roger would drift into his own world, contemplating problems he hadn't yet solved.
What exactly was he thinking about?
Many people had been curious.
Voldemort chose to have Quirrell ask. After all, it was normal for a professor to question a distracted student—it wouldn't raise suspicion.
And Roger's answer was:
"Immortality."
He didn't elaborate, only saying that he was researching the subject.
But his words sent ripples through Voldemort's mind.
Immortality?
Was that something a first-year at Hogwarts should be researching?!
If Roger was serious, it was absurd.
And if he was lying…
"Is this little Prophet hinting at me?" Voldemort, nestled behind Quirrell's head, frowned.
In modern times, which wizard was most famous for seeking immortality?
Aside from Nicolas Flamel, the 600-year-old alchemist who created the Philosopher's Stone… wasn't it him?!
Uncertain about Roger's intentions, Voldemort decided to dig deeper.
At that moment, he happened to notice a small conflict between Harry Potter and his friends…
How convenient.
Right now, in Harry Potter's eyes, the person who seemed most suspicious was Snape.
At the Start-of-Term Feast, when he looked in Snape's direction, he felt a sudden sense of dread. Then, Snape began targeting him in Potions class for no reason.
"Hmph, the so-called famous Potter (emphasis)."
Sometimes, Harry even dreamed of that mocking voice.
Thanks to Snape's talent for making enemies, Harry overlooked Quirrell, who had been sitting right next to him during the feast.
Since he still trusted Quirrell as a professor, he didn't hesitate to share everything he knew about Roger.
"Roger, huh…"
Harry hesitated. He didn't dislike Roger and believed he was a good person, so he decided to leave out his classmates' prejudices and only mention the good things.
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