Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord Chapter 209: A Gamble with Fate

Rouse gave a shy little smile. "You're the Supre Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. I was hoping you might help get this wanted notice lifted."

Rouse's request was, in fact, perfectly reasonable. And it was clear this was his true purpose.

Dumbledore, however, fell silent. As expected—no one who volunteers to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts is ever a simple case.

Rouse Wilkinson, it turned out, was a wanted man. And here he was, standing brazenly in Dumbledore's office, utterly unafraid of being arrested on the spot.

Yet, just as Rouse himself had said, it was personal. Graves was clearly abusing his power, using public authority for private vengeance. Compared to the usual crop of dubious applicants, Rouse was almost respectable—his family na was clean, his record otherwise untainted.

Seeing Dumbledore's silence, Rouse thought he was about to be rejected. Quickly, he added, "You have my word, sir—what happened was nothing but an act of revenge. I'm not the sort of man who… misbehaves all the ti.

"And besides, I did my howork before coming here. I checked on so of Hogwarts' professors. Most of them are single, aren't they? So, no… temptations to worry about!"

Dumbledore's eyelid twitched violently.

rlin's beard—who was even worried about that?!

"Mr. Wilkinson," Dumbledore said at last, changing the subject, "could you demonstrate your magical abilities? The students' trust in this subject is badly shaken. They are desperate for a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor of true skill."

"No problem," Rouse replied cheerfully, and launched into a display right there in the office.

Don't be fooled by the way he had once been chased like a stray dog by four Aurors. One-on-one, Rouse might not always win, but he could certainly hold his ground. Not quite the level of the most accomplished professors, perhaps, but more than enough to teach students.

Dumbledore nodded repeatedly. Compared to Rouse, Lockhart was a fraud and Quirrell—well, Quirrell had been nothing but rotten at wrapped in cloth.

"Mr. Wilkinson, I truly appreciate your interest in Hogwarts," Dumbledore said at length. "But I still need ti to consider your suitability, and to evaluate other candidates."

Rouse's face fell. "Professor Dumbledore, I don't know a soul in Britain. I don't even have a place to stay…"

"That's easily redied." Dumbledore offered him a small smile. "I'll arrange lodging for you until I reach a decision."

And so, Dumbledore escorted Rouse to the Hog's Head Inn at Hogsade, left him in Aberforth's care, and set about investigating further.

He didn't bother wasting ti with Arica. Instead, he went straight to the International Confederation of Wizards' branch office in Britain and pulled Rouse Wilkinson's entire file.

After reading through it all, he found nothing concealed. No hidden scandals, no buried secrets. Rouse's background was, in fact, remarkably straightforward.

Still, Rouse's appearance gave Dumbledore a new idea.

Why limit himself to the tiny pool of candidates in Britain? The world was wide—surely it would be easier to find suitable professors if he broadened his search.

The very next day, Dumbledore told Rouse he had been hired. That evening, he would be formally introduced to the students.

anwhile, inside the castle, Tom had just finished Snape's substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. After parting ways with Daphne, he made his way to the Room of Requirent on the eighth floor.

Seven days had passed. The mission status had shifted to completed.

[Host has completed the expulsion mission within seven days. Reward: Level advancent. Congratulations, host—you have earned 1,000 credits, 100 achievent points, and one advanced lottery draw.]

Tom now had over 800 achievent points. Summoning a third King of the Century was not far off.

But he hesitated. Should he summon another King of the Century? Or save his points for sothing greater—a true Immortal Legend as a teacher?

He already had Andros and Grindelwald—one light, one dark, one rooted in ancient magic, the other in modern sorcery. Together, they had given him everything he needed. Another King of the Century would surely help—each had their own unique mastery—but the benefit would never be as great as the first two.

What he really craved were the innate gifts of the Immortal Legends. His external resources were growing strong, but his own "hardware" still needed upgrading.

"Forget it. I'm still nearly two hundred points short. I'll decide once I have enough."

With that, Tom casually triggered the advanced lottery, hoping for a reward similar to the ditation Room.

The lottery flared into radiant streams of light that filled his vision. Then, before him appeared a weathered, ancient scroll in the system's inventory.

He checked the details:

[Private Tutor's Contract (Advanced): Use to summon one private tutor at no cost. 5% chance of summoning an Immortal Legend, 20% chance of summoning a King of the Century, 75% chance of summoning a Great Figure of their Era.]

Tom's brows furrowed.

So… this is one of those gambles. Bet small, win big?

He hated gas of chance. He always preferred to plan for the worst.

Yes, there was a 25% chance he could gain a teacher worth 1,000—or even 5,000—achievent points. But the other 75% ant he'd basically wasted it, getting soone worth only 100.

Still… if it's fate, it's fate. If it's disaster, you can't dodge it.

With a decisive breath, Tom activated the scroll.

His consciousness shifted into the study space, and he called Andros and Grindelwald to him.

"Get ready to et a new colleague," Tom announced.

Andros's face lit with delight. "Finally, soone new!" The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novęlfire

Even Grindelwald's eyes glead.

He had theorized about Tom's mysterious thods often, but never had the chance to witness it firsthand. Today, he would.

At Tom's command, the scroll dissolved in his hands. Golden and silver light burst forth, streaming from his body and soaring into the endless fog of the void.

Tom's heart sank halfway, then froze in confusion.

Gold was still gold. Silver still silver.

What in rlin's na did that an?