Chapter 6 – A New Dark Lord

"So what spells did you use?"

"You mean, which ones did I fake?"

"Yeah. It seems like you couldn't do it to too many incantations. I mean, how would you make a Lumos look like a Stunning Spell?"

"I had to pick the right combinations. Right now… I think I've got about four dozen spells I can disguise as other spells – but I've been practicing them and coming up with them for years. Back then, going into my sixth year, I only knew three, and it took me all summer to get them."

"Which ones?"

"How about this… how about I tell you about the first time I used each three?"

Tom Riddle was impatient. He'd spent months working on these three spells, and it was positively killing him to not use them all right away. Heck, he was battling to refrain from doing them all in the first five minutes of the trip on the Hogwarts express.

Still, he knew that patience was sometimes a requirement to being a magician. And that the best way to do a trick was to perform it at the right time.

Luckily, though, he didn't have to wait long. The perfect opportunity arose on his third night at the castle.

The upper years were all clustered in the commons, struggling with an essay for Slughorn. The man was a bit spacey and quite lacking in common sense… but he certainly didn't take it easy on his students after summer vacation.

Tom reached a midpoint of his essay and realized he was going to be required to delve into some underlying theory involving metamorphic materials. Which, of course, required his transmutation book – which he'd left back up in his room. Just his luck: he'd finally gotten comfortable on the stupid bony armchair (why did "Regal" have to be so uncomfortable? Stupid Pure-Bloods.)

He was just about to get up before realizing he'd finally reached a natural point for a performance.

"Mjolin, go get my Transfiguration book from my room for me."

The common room fell utterly silent at this. Tom Riddle had just issued an order to the Head Boy. And while Tom Riddle had the respect of his elder 7th years and wasn't someone people trifled with, that wasn't to say it was the 6th year's place to be casually placing commands on Mjolin – who was not only a 7th year Head Boy, but just happened to be the scion of one of the richest pureblood families in Europe (even if it was Finland instead of England.)

Everyone looked at Mjolin, wondering what he was going to do.

"Get it yourself, Riddle. I've got coursework, too."

Inwardly, Riddle was impressed. A lesser Slytherin would've gotten angry and blustered. A weaker Slytherin would've given in. Instead, Mjolin deflected the issue in a way that still implied that he was the leader of Slytherin.

Still, that wasn't going to stop Tom now. "Imperio," he said as an afterthought, pointing at the older student. "Now, Mjolin, go get my Transfiguration book."

Everyone's jaw fell. Mjolin got up, went into the 6th year dorm, and came back with a book. Without a word, the older student set it on the table beside William before resuming his 7th year studies.

Tom Riddle fought not to react, to pretend that this was just business as usual. His classmates, on the other hand, were in a stunned stupor. Tom Riddle… had just used an Unforgivable Curse… just so he didn't have to get up from his chair?

As for Mjolin? Well, being placed under a Trust Charm really helped his perspective. Sure, Mjolin had NEWTs to work on, but he could see that the 6th years were actually in a tough spot because of Slughorn – and he 'knew' that Tom wouldn't have asked unless he really needed to stay focused on his work.

Oh, there were limitations, of course. A Trust Charm wouldn't have gotten Mjolin to jump out the window to his death, to attack someone without cause, or… well, to do anything remotely dangerous, strange, or out of character. But his classmates didn't think about that, or ask themselves if a different charm could've gotten the same result. All they saw was an unforgivable curse casted with an almost callous relaxation.

The next performance was a little less than a week later. He was trying to get to the great hall to meet up with some younger purebloods trying to suck-up to him (okay, being a dark lord on the rise did have its advantages sometimes) but found himself accosted by an annoying first-year student outside the entrance.

"You are a jerk!" the little 11 year-old said in a half-shout.

"Excuse me?" Riddle said, blinking. The thing that made this most surreal, in his opinion, was the Hufflepuff trim on the robes. While he had respect for Gryffindor, he had to admit that they typically had the most aggressive bluster. But this sort of behavior from a Hufflepuff?

"My brother told me what you did to that bird last year!"

Riddle had no clue what this twerp was talking about. Had he killed a bird or something? Maybe he was doing some sort of charm… oh! That's right. He was learning Aveo that year, and instead of simply banishing his crow, he made it combust. Maybe the Hufflepuff's brother only saw the combustion part, and put it together with Riddle's dark reputation? Maybe the older brother was jealous? Heck, for all he knew, the two brothers were founding members of "Give Our Conjured Animals Dignified Deaths" or something similarly stupid (at least, it sounded pretty Hufflepuff-ish.) Heh, of all the things this kid could be justifiably yelling at me about, this is what he chose?

Well, why not break in the second spell?

"Listen to me you insignificant firstie." Riddle's voice cut like a knife. "I don't have to put up with you yelling at me. I could talk with your prefect, but I think I'm going to solve this my own way. Should be... fun."

Conjuring wasn't complicated. Difficult, maybe, but not complicated. Learning to do it without an incantation might not sound tricky, but of all the things William had to do that summer, that undoubtedly took the longest. But it was well worth the effort. Incantation-less Conjuration was an incredibly flexible tool – with it, he could conjure temporary boils on a person, create a layer of charred skin, pretty much anything that looked like the end result of a hex. And while William would just brush off this annoying 11-year old, Voldemort couldn't let this intransigence pass – and there wasn't any worries about Voldemort costing William sleep – if a first year couldn't deal with someone putting fake lesions on their body, they probably shouldn't go to Hogwarts in the first place.

For the first performance, Riddle kept it simple: Skin Rot. Well, at least that's what it looked like, and it didn't take a whole lot of understanding of latin to figure out what 'Epidurmae Pestilum' was intended to do. Truth be told, it wouldn't be terribly difficult for a victim to figure out that their skin wasn't actually rotting off, as long as they kept a level head...

"Yeeuuurrrrgggghhhhhaaaaahhhh!" screamed the first year hysterically, tearing off to the infirmary.

Or not.

Still, the showstopper was to come at the middle of October. William was walking through the western wing of the castle, trying to ignore the flunkies behind him. He wasn't actually headed for any place in particular; he just felt like strolling around a bit, and he had nearly an hour before his next class.

When he rounded the corner, he came to quite an unusual sight. At first it looked like a 2nd year Ravenclaw (Jullius? Jallad? He wasn't good at remembering some of the newer students) student was fighting a slightly-mishapen man wearing a Gryffindor robe. When he came closer, he saw that it wasn't a grownup, but Rubeus Hagrid, a 4th year half-giant in Gryffindor. And it wasn't exactly a fight. J-Something was trying to wrestle a book away from a strange feral beast, while Hagrid was trying to stop the 2nd year from hurting the animal. Riddle snorted. Only Hagrid would worry about the small kid hurting the untamed beast – any sane person would be worried about the child being injured.

The animal looked like a cross between a wolf and a toad. Riddle had no clue why Hagrid would try to breed a gigantic furry amphibian, but he supposed everyone needed a hobby. Though it was at least surreally funny to see a frog's tongue stuck to a book while a wolf's head croaked angrily. What would you even call something like that? A Labrador Leaper? An English Pit-Frog? Or something latin, like Caninus Amphibia?

Both students looked over at Riddle. The Ravenclaw seemed torn, but eventually said, "Tom Riddle, can you help me out?"

This was a tough one. Technically, cross-species breeding experimentation was a crime, and while first offenses were usually pretty light, all test subjects were to be destroyed with prejudice (the only exception being if the Ministry Office of Magical Creatures granted dispensation.) While it might seem harsh to kill the animal when it didn't do anything wrong, William generally agreed. Who knew what consequences releasing a completely new species into the wild would do? Better for some trained experts at the ministry figure out what the ramifications would be.

So one option would be to simply report the issue. Not Voldemort's style.

He could walk away as if he didn't care. That would be more in character… but it would leave a potentially unsafe beast roaming the castle. If Hagrid's little pet killed someone when William could've stopped it, he wasn't sure he could live with himself.

No, the only good way of handling it…

"Avada Kedavra," Voldemort said, pointing his wand at the strange beast. A green bolt of energy connected before anyone could react.

Both the Ravenclaw and the Gryffindor stared at him, mouths agape. Heck, the Slytherins behind him were dumbfounded as well.

Voldemort leaned down. With one hand, he picked up the young student's book; with the other, he hefted the creature. After silently giving the Ravenclaw their book back, he continued walking down the hallway. No noise came from anyone in the hallway; Riddle loved the effect the quiet had, seeming to amplify the importance and the shock of the moment.

It seemed to even unnerve the Slytherin flunkies, who decided to stay back and leave Riddle alone for a bit. Which was fine. William needed to find McNair. After all, his uncle worked on the Magical Creatures Office and the younger pureblood owed Riddle a favor.

All that time, looking up magic theory, spell variations, and energy matrices – just to turn a simple stunning spell a specific shade of green...

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