Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord Chapter 5 5: System Awakens

"Mr. Ollivander, did you not get a good night's rest? You're wobbling like a sapling in the wind."

Dumbledore reacted quickly, striding forward to steady Garrick Ollivander, casually offering him an excuse in the process.

"Albus, your eyes are as sharp as a hawk's. I spent all night racking my brains over new wand materials," Ollivander replied, realizing his reaction had been a little too dramatic. He gratefully accepted Dumbledore's outstretched hand—both literally and figuratively—and forced a smile as he turned to Tom. "But don't worry, my boy. Even if I had to crawl, I'd still help you find the wand that suits you best."

...

It looked like Ollivander had accepted the coincidence of the na, at least on the surface. But inside, he was still deeply unsettled.

After taking Tom's asurents, the first wand he offered was crafted from yew—making Dumbledore's eyelids twitch.

Yew symbolized both death and rebirth, a favorite among powerful Dark wizards. It was particularly suited for Dark Arts and defensive magic.

And the last Tom... had used a wand made of yew.

The mont flas burst from the wand's tip, Ollivander shook his head and snatched it back, clearly dissatisfied. He opened another box.

"Too gentle. Not a match for you. Try this one."

Tom accepted it. A flock of birds erupted from the tip in a dazzling display.

"No, still not right. Thestral hair doesn't seem to resonate with you. Let's try this one."

As Tom took the third wand in hand, an unfamiliar sensation of perfect harmony surged through him. He casually flicked the wand toward a shattered flowerpot in the corner—and the pot exploded into fine dust.

[Host has successfully locked in a future developnt path. System targeting in progress... Targeting complete. The Supre Learning System is now at your service.]

Tom lowered his gaze, expression unreadable, as if he hadn't heard the voice at all.

But Ollivander clapped his hands in delight. "A perfect match! Fourteen and a half inches, yew wood, dragon heartstring core. I can already imagine the sheer power of your spells in the years to co."

"I'll use it well, Mr. Ollivander."

"Rember, a wand is not just a tool—it's a companion, my boy."

"And that will be eight Galleons, if you please."

Tom paid, idly twirling the wand in his fingers.

Though he didn't feel any magical "bond," casting spells with it felt effortlessly smooth.

Ollivander truly lived up to his reputation, and perhaps the saying that "the wand chooses the wizard" wasn't just old folklore after all.

Before a wizard reaches a certain level of skill, a well-matched wand can significantly affect their performance.

Ard with a basic maintenance kit gifted by the master wandmaker, Tom left Ollivanders with his new wand in hand.

The mont the door shut behind them, Ollivander's polite smile vanished completely, replaced by a cold sweat dripping down his forehead.

Wands longer than thirteen and a half inches were considered exceptionally long, typically suited for wizards with extraordinary self-confidence—and an overpowering desire for control.

Conversely, a very short wand was a sign of narrow-mindedness and cruelty.

Ollivander recalled the shortest wand he'd ever sold—one that had gone to a witch nad Dolores Umbridge.

And the longest?

The one he had just sold to Tom.

Combined with the dragon heartstring core—sothing only powerful witches and wizards could truly command...

"Dumbledore, you know what this combination ans, don't you?"

Ollivander murmured under his breath as he silently reorganized the scattered wand boxes.

"Ah, Mr. Riddle, I just rembered sothing I nearly forgot," Dumbledore said, pointing across the street to the pet shop. "First-years are allowed to bring a pet. Want to have a look?"

"No need, Professor."

Tom shook his head. "Owls are used for sending letters—I don't have anyone to write to. And as for toads or rats... well, let's just say they don't appeal to aesthetically."

Dumbledore nodded, not pressing the issue. "In that case, our shopping trip ends here. Let's grab a drink with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, and then I'll see you ho."

Tom didn't refuse.

They returned to the Leaky Cauldron. By now, it was dinner ti, and there were only two empty seats left—one of them reserved by the innkeeper for Dumbledore and Tom.

Dumbledore's presence alone was enough to hush even the rowdiest conversations, but thankfully he and Tom only ordered drinks. They didn't linger long.

For the first ti, Tom began to understand the lonely aura Dumbledore had always seed to carry in the Harry Potter books.

The man stood so high above the rest that nearly everyone in the wizarding world had once been his student. He lived like an emperor, isolated at the top.

At least emperors had queens.

And Dumbledore... well, he'd sent his "queen" to prison himself.

The thought made Tom glance at the smiling old man with a touch of pity in his eyes.

An hour and a half later, Dumbledore escorted Tom back to the orphanage.

"I look forward to our next eting, Mr. Riddle."

"And I, too, Professor."

Tom watched him leave before turning and heading inside.

Arman had already finished cooking and gone ho for the night. Seth and the other three boys were still eating—Tom's dinner had been set aside with a generous portion.

"Boss, are you really going to that old white-beard's school?"

When Tom returned, the other three boys quickly wolfed down their food, washed their dishes, and scurried back to their rooms like mice fleeing a cat. Only Seth remained, looking up at Tom with curiosity.

Currently, only Tom and Seth were permanent residents at the orphanage. The other three troublemakers were recent arrivals—each of whom had been properly "handled" by Tom not long after moving in. Since then, they'd behaved like trained puppies.

"That's none of your business," Tom said, mouth full of steak. "But if I hear your grades slipped while I'm away, don't bla for what happens when I co back on holiday."

Seth shrank back, not daring to talk back.

Still, he couldn't help but feel upset on Tom's behalf.

That school—so secretive he'd never even heard of it—was stealing away the best fighter, the smartest student in the whole school.

To him, his big bro could've gone to Harrow or Eton and crushed it.

But damn those ridiculous tuition fees—they'd forced his big bro to take so mysterious offer instead.

Tom had no idea Seth was silently brooding on his behalf.

He didn't explain much, either—Dumbledore had specifically warned him not to talk about the wizarding world to Muggles, nor to let any magical items fall into their hands.

He was just a first-year; he had no power to defy wizarding law.

After dinner, Tom washed the dishes and went back to his bedroom.

"Open system panel."