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Tom Riddle had planned everything carefully.
He brought these Slytherins not because he needed their strength, but because he wanted Darren frightened—cornered—eager to submit.
Once his soul touched Darren's… Darren's "weak soul" would be swallowed in an instant.
Then he would wear Darren Potter's identity like a perfect mask.
But things had gone very wrong, very quickly.
The "loyal" Slytherins he brought as muscle had been flattened within seconds.
Only Flint remained standing, still believing Voldemort would save him.
"If you bring him over," Tom said smoothly, "I'll spare your life."
He should have known better than to let these useless students take action first.
He had imagined a grand mont—Slytherin's heir presenting Darren like an offering.
Instead… embarrassing.
Flint was beginning to regret every life choice that brought him here.
A real Dark Lord wouldn't be dragging around second-year Slytherins as lackeys.
And then letting Darren beat them senseless.
Stupid.
He should've known.
That's when Flint suddenly rembered why he'd brought Darren here in the first place.
He shouted desperately:
"Darren Potter! Don't you want to know Harry Potter's secret?!
Even if you kill —he knows it! The Dark Lord knows! Can you kill him? Can you?!"
Darren's face went pale.
Flint's voice grew bolder.
"So co here! If you do, I'll destroy the secret right in front of you—here, now! But only if you co alone!"
He moved to stand beside Tom, looking triumphant.
Tom nearly hexed him on the spot.
Idiot!
Who would willingly walk into this obvious trap?
But then—
Darren hesitated.
Lowered his wand.
"Hurry or we'll blow the secret across the whole castle!"
Flint almost smiled.
Yes, this was the weakness he had counted on.
Threaten Harry Potter, and Darren Potter will always fold.
"If I co… you'll keep your word and destroy it?" Darren whispered.
Flint nodded arrogantly.
"Hand over your wand."
Darren trembled—but nodded.
"Expelliarmus!"
Flint flicked his wand. Darren's wand flew through the air, landing near the lake.
"Good boy," Flint sneered. "Co here."
But Darren's gaze twitched in amusent.
Hidden beneath his sleeve, his fingers closed around a second wand.
He had the Aura of the Unlost Wand.
Throw it away—it returns to his hand.
Really, so people were born to be fooled.
Darren walked forward, trembling, face pale.
Tom Riddle placed a translucent hand atop Darren's head.
Finally.
His vessel.
His perfect body.
Tom pushed his soul forward—only to slam into a solid wall.
"What—?!"
Nothing.
No entry.
No connection.
No soul contact at all.
Darren lifted his head and smiled—cold.
"Is there a problem?"
Flint panicked.
"Y-you can't kill ! You don't have a wand! It's—It's—why is your wand—?!"
Empty ground.
No wand.
He turned back.
Darren's wand was in his hand.
"Oh? Surprise?"
Darren's smile widened.
"You really thought I only had one wand?"
Tom finally understood.
Darren had acted weak.
Acted scared.
Acted naïve.
"You were pretending!" Tom sputtered. "You—You want to be a Dark Lord too! No wonder no one noticed—your disguise was perfect! Even I—"
He changed tactics instantly.
"I can teach you. Horcruxes. Immortality. Hidden truths Dumbledore never told—keep , and you'll gain—"
A wand rose between them.
"Your death is arriving."
"W-wait—!"
A phantom figure of Death appeared behind Tom.
The young Voldemort scread as Darren slamd a mory charm into him.
"Obliviate."
He erased the entire encounter from Tom's consciousness—especially anything involving Darren's true abilities.
Of course, mory charms weren't foolproof.
Tom Riddle could resist.
So Darren activated the final safeguard.
[System, use the forged card. Rewrite everything.]
[Ding! Forged card used successfully]
A surge of magic rushed outward.
Forged cards didn't just alter mory—they rewrote reality itself.
Even Voldemort couldn't escape.
When the ripples settled:
Nine students—Flint included—lay dead on the ground.
Six others were rely unconscious, spared because they had been unwilling participants.
Their mories shifted seamlessly into a new, controlled version of events.
Tom's diary returned to Ginny's dormitory through forged reality.
And Darren?
He stood alone beside the lake, wind brushing his robes, the night once again quiet.
Perfect.
The plot remained intact.
Tom Riddle still had his diary.
And Harry…
Harry still had plenty of missions left for Darren to exploit for Father Values.
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