"How can you be sure he's a Horcrux?" Russell read the last few pages of the forbidden book with peace of mind, and pressed back the lion's head that jumped out of the last page.

"Because I'm the Being." Quirrell said confidently, and then he looked at the forbidden book that was still struggling in Russell's hands, and couldn't help but kindly remind:

"This book "Lion Transforming Witchcraft" should be fed with fresh flesh and blood after reading it."

"You've seen it?" Russell's hand holding the book lit up with a red flame, and the cover was immediately curled by the sudden rise in temperature.

Forbidden books don't dare to move.

Quirrell coughed dryly, rather speechless, "That's what I wrote, some dark wizards don't think deeply about the bloodline transformation ideas in it, and prefer to build a circus to earn Muggle money." ”

"Of course, I didn't instigate them to turn Muggles into lions, which is inhumane, and I don't approve of it."

Russell nodded and put the forbidden book on the shelf, "Mr. Voldemort, how do you prove that you are the main body in front of the so-called Horcruxes?" ”

Quirrell smiled confidently and said, "The connection between the Horcrux and the main body is like iron filings and magnets, as long as I lift some of the spells on the Horcrux, it will return to me. ”

"I guess I understand." Russell laughed too, with an expression of invitation on his face.

"Mr. Voldemort, you may not know that the Horcrux you are talking about was found by me, and it is called Tom Riddle's Diary."

Quirrell's heart fluttered when he heard this, and the ominous feeling was as strong as diarrhea.

"You find the difference between what you call iron filings and magnets, and you can't help but have a little surgery on it."

"What, what surgery?" Quirrell's throat was inexplicably dry, and his heart was clenched.

"I turned iron filings into magnets." Russell opened his hands and drew a large circle, "Surprise, Mr. Voldemort?" ”

“……”

Quirrell's whole body shuddered as if he had been slashed out of his heart, and a suppressed, tearing cry of despair twisted out of his throat.

"Russell!!"

Russell smiled and waved his hand, a soundproof barrier blocking Quirrell's voice before it could be heard, "Be quiet in the library, Mr. Voldemort." ”

"No, I should have called you Professor Quirrell. Because on the outside world, that is the real Voldemort, right? ”

"Of course, I like to call that one Tom. But you wizarding circles don't seem to be happy to admit that he's not Voldemort. ”

"However, without the Horcrux counterspell, you can't prove that you're Voldemort, but you have more material to prove that you're Professor Quirrell."

Quirrell took out his wand and pointed at Russell tremblingly, "You are a dark wizard more than a dark wizard in this way!" Transform other people's souls without permission, and I will remove you as a scourge for the wizarding world. ”

Russell indifferently looked at the green light from Quirrell's wand, and said unhurriedly, "I'm just rescuing a soul who has been enslaved. ”

Quirrell's brain throbbed, and the magic of the Killing Curse faded instantly.

Russell's spell to transform the soul has once again taken effect.

Quirrell's expression twisted instantly.

A serious question suddenly occurred to him, if Voldemort in the newspaper had a true soul essence, could he still change from the good guy Quirrell to Voldemort?

No, it shouldn't be that simple.

Quirrell had another thought that made him even more desperate, so desperate that he couldn't hide it, and he just lost his voice:

"You put a spell on that Voldemort's soul, right?"

"Guess what, hee-hee."

……

Tom Riddle has lush hair and a full-fledged back haircut.

The eyebrows are straight and gentle, the eyes are sky-blue, the bridge of the nose is high, and the mouth has just the right smile.

He sat in an ordinary attic with no expensive ornaments on all sides.

Standing next to him was Peter, the former Wormtail and now the handsome butler.

Tom's current residence is a little shabby, at least the Dark Lord who once hugged him now doesn't even have a servant.

"Peter, do you think I'm going to make it?" Tom's voice echoed like the wind in the forest, making people listen to it without feeling distant or intimate.

"You'll make it, Lord Riddle." Peter lowered his head slightly and said flatly.

"Only you'll call me that, Peter. I don't really like the name Voldemort. Tom Riddle got used to Peter's unchanged expression.

He knew that this was the habit of his partner, and he had no intention of looking down on Peter, even if he was only a servant of that one.

In front of that one, even if the most gifted wizard of all ages was reborn, he could only shine like fireflies.

Even Nicolame, even Merlin, is just a bigger firefly.

There is no possibility of comparing it with the bright moon in the sky.

Ever since he went from an ordinary Horcrux to a whole person, Tom has placed Russell in an absolutely unattainable position in his heart.

Himself, or the Being, who doesn't know where, and Dumbledore, are no different from a leaf of the world in His eyes.

He called Himself Tom Riddle, so he was Tom.

He is a free, independent Tom.

"After reading the Muggle, no, ordinary people's history development books you prepared for me, I feel more and more that my previous ontology is like an uneducated retard."

Tom said to himself, a disdainful smile coming out of his eyes.

"If you want pureblood to rule the wizarding world, this is not in line with the law of the development of objective things, he is turning back the wheel of history."

"The proportion of half-blood wizards is increasing year by year, and the world is not loving purebloods, but treating everyone equally."

"Insightful, Lord Riddle." Peter answered appropriately, and used his magic to prepare a cup of hot tea for himself and Tom.

"Thank you, Peter." Tom picked up the teacup and gave Peter a gentle salute before tasting it slowly.

"In order to speed history back into normal course, I am ready to speak up for half-blood wizards."

"Alas, this is bound to offend some vested interests. Those pure-blood followers at the beginning, I don't know how many people will betray me. ”

Tom sighed sadly, then smiled and dissipated his disguise, "Still, I wish they had come and assassinated me." ”

"My spells that I haven't used for a long time are about to rust."

Peter looked at his watch and said, "Your Excellency Riddle, the next public press conference is about to begin." ”

"Well, I'll go."

Peter nodded, and waved his wand to open the attic door.

Tom Riddle got up and came to the gate amid the noise and strobe lights in front of the door.

The reporters stood at the foot of the steps, their heads tilted, their bodies shaking, their fingers stiff and snapping one magical photo after another.

Thanks to the mysterious people for not killing, it is so merciful to allow them to use their cameras.

Tom looked at everyone's expressions and smiled.

He stood much higher than the reporters, as if he was born to stand here.

The reporters didn't have the courage to stand side by side with him, they humbly held the microphone, and some even begged the returning Dark Lord not to click on him.

Rita Skeeter was either active or passive in the first position, and her legs were also weak.

She believes that the bitches who pushed her to the front will be scared to pee if they stand in her place!

This is the Dark Lord who set off a bloody storm back then!

Until now, no one has dared to call him by his name behind his back.

Even if he graciously allowed them to conduct interviews in the open.

But!

Rita won't forget what happened to a few people who died and took pictures.

The cold, frightened corpse reminded her that the mysterious man had not forgotten how to punish the offender.

"Friends, I wish you would call me Tom Riddle from this day." Tom smiled gently, his face unusually amiable in the sun.

Journalists shivered in the sun.

"Ms. Skeeter." He lowered his head and set his eyes on the "warrior" closest to him, "The gold medal reporter of the Daily Prophet, right? ”

"Yes, yes, Your Excellency." Rita shuddered and shuddered as she replied, her head lower than the microphone she had raised.

In the past, the sharp teeth and sharp mouths were gnawed to pieces in front of Tom.

If it weren't for the mystery man not allowing reporters to kneel to him, she would have knelt long ago.

"Don't be nervous, lucky lady, I'll allow you to be the first to report on my new policy." Tom stood still and didn't go down to reassure.

Although he is not the Dark Lord of the storm, he also considers himself a pioneer in stirring up the storm.

Keeping your distance will give your truth authority in front of these blind followers.

It is necessary. Tom's mind was clearer than ever.

"You, please speak." Rita swallowed, she could feel the movement of her peers behind her.

But she also understood the reason why these people didn't rush to ask-

These words may be a new way for mysterious people to induce murder.

"This wizarding world is generally sick, and not only because of the wrong things I did before." Tom spoke, and his voice became so loud that even the whole street could hear his voice.

"What the previous Dark Lord did should also be counted. And this time, I just want to correct those previous mistakes. ”

Tom paused for a moment, looked at the reporters who were gradually raising their heads, and then threw a thunderclap:

"First of all, I think: half-blood wizards deserve a higher status."

Rita:???

Other Journalists: ???

Lucius Malfoy: ???

Nope

(End of chapter)