Riddle's pathology is complex: the Horcruxes take their toll. He cannot bear his appearance, so he is happy about his disfigurement. He hates the name given to him by his mother and wants to discard it, etcetera.
Tom, having returned from his travels, finds the Knights of Walpurgis scattered in all directions and tied up in jobs and family. No one has an ear for his plans any more. After the disastrous Christmas ball at the Malfoys', even his closest supporter, Abraxas, turns away. Tom lives completely isolated and on the fringes of magical society. However, the desire to rise socially and finally gather followers around him pushes him forward. When he meets Albus Dumbledore again, fate gives him a hint. However, his illnesses and adversities could plunge him into more than just one abyss.
Part 1: Riddle's calculation
s/13867318/1/Riddle-s-calculation
This story can be read independent from the first, but maybe it is interessting to know what happend before.
Prologue
For Tom Riddle, nostalgia was a foreign word. Even now he had never once looked back. His gaze was always directed towards the future. He did not shy away from change, he strove for it. But now that his last year at school was over, he had a bad feeling. Would he ever find a home again? Tom did not know, and that is why he wanted to become a teacher. He liked to learn, teaching could not be too hard under these circumstances. As a respected Hogwarts professor, he would have a secure standing in the magical world – he would belong to the high society. His name, however much he hated it, would carry weight and mean something. He could influence the minds of young students as a matter of course. A practical occurrence – when he considered his plans.
"Headmaster, thank you for taking the time to see me." Bowing his head, he stepped into the headmaster's office and waited until he was gestured to sit down. When he sat with his back stretched out, far forward on the seat of the chair – as if he was about to jump up again –, he still towered over the professor a little. Relaxed, he put his hands in his lap.
The latter smiled mildly, pleased to see his favourite student so soon after graduation. "Tom, my boy. We were all very happy to see your results in the N.E.W.T. Of course, everyone expected you to graduate with outstanding results." He held his stomach laughing. "But that they will be so phenomenal... – no one could ever have dreamed of that. Is there even an E on your transcript?"
Tom put on a modest smile. He knew that Professor Dippet was very much in the know about his grades. "No, sir, not a single one. They're just Outstandings."
"Fantastic, boy, fantastic. You've been given a chance and you've taken it... – And how you've taken it."
The words stung Tom a little. Given a chance... – that sounded so... inferior. As if he, the great, generous Armando Dippet had condescended to 'give a chance' to the wretched orphan boy Tom Riddle. That he might be forever in his debt and the professor – not he on his own – had made something of himself.
If his expression seemed steely, the aged headmaster didn't notice. He continued to pat his stomach. It could also be that he was trembling. Tom couldn't tell, he was too busy swallowing down the disgust. They sat in front of each other, only the heavy oak desk separating their bodies and yet they lived in two different worlds.
"You have a great future ahead of you, really great. All doors are open to you, no matter where you want to go, they will accept you happily. And if not..." he winked at him mischievously, "you can always turn to me. Don't forget that."
"Thank you, sir."
Dippet nodded grandfatherly and kept murmuring Tom's name. Now his hour had come. He knew it – he felt it. Something special was in the air. "Sir, I have a request."
"Go ahead, Tom, how can I be of service?" the old man asked eagerly.
"Well, sir, you told me that all doors would be open for me. I wondered if that applied to the gates of Hogwarts as well?"
Dippet raised his eyebrows in wonder. "I don't understand, son."
Tom pressed his lips together. Son – What a farce... "I would like to come to Hogwarts. Or stay here, as you see it. Professor Merrythought's teaching position is still vacant, after all, and I would take great pleasure in passing on my knowledge."
"You are exceptionally kind-hearted, Tom, exceptionally so. Even though you graduated from Hogwarts with top marks, you want to stay here and sacrifice yourself for your former classmates." He smiled sublimely. "My dear Tom, I will not do that to you. Go out into the world, travel, continue to learn and make a career. That will be the best way for you."
This was the answer he had been dreading. Tom swallowed the bitter words. The professor was unteachable. How could one be so incompetent and let his best student go? "Sir, I am not asking out of a weak moment. It is a well-considered request."
"I believe you so, but I must refuse this request in your own interest. A man like you – who has not grown up in the magical world – should see more of it than just Hogwarts. When you have, I will welcome you with open arms into the circle of my colleagues."
Tom knew that no argument in the world would bring him back to Hogwarts. For better or worse, he had to go. Perhaps he could take Dippet's wishes to heart. With well-chosen words that masked his disappointment and anger, he said goodbye. When he left a little later, he turned his back on Hogwarts for an indefinite period.