An Invitation from Voldemort

[Death Eaters (Lv.1): A member of pure blood, a symbol of nobility, bearing the Dark Mark and the ability to summon the Dark Mark.]

["Death Eaters" +50 progress... +100... +50... Impression level reached Lv.2, Achievement Points +1]

"Did I do something recently to cause this?"

Watching the [Death Eaters] persona skyrocket in the box, Tom felt a bit panicked on the spot.

He thought to himself, he hadn't done anything bad lately.

Could it be that his nighttime wandering had been discovered?

Impossible—if he'd been identified as a Death Eater while sneaking around, the dormitory should already be swarming with professors by now.

Since the professors hadn't shown up, it meant they didn't know exactly who was wandering at night.

They must have mistaken him for an invading Death Eater based on the traces he left behind.

"I see..." Tom understood.

To gain a new persona, it wasn't necessary for people to know his exact identity—as long as they knew the deed was done by someone, and had a vague impression of who that someone was, it could still increase the persona's progress.

Having figured that out, the next step was to study the persona's functions.

Tom pulled up his sleeve in one swift motion and found his arm completely smooth, with no tattoo or brand anywhere.

"Strange? Wasn't there supposed to be a Dark Mark?"

Voldemort had established an inner circle within the Death Eaters—only those who had made outstanding contributions and shown unwavering loyalty could have the Dark Mark branded onto their bodies.

According to the effects of the [Death Eaters] persona, there should have been a mark on his arm as well.

Just then.

[Due to a conflict between the "Born Dark Lord" and "Death Eaters" effects, the "Dark Mark" disappears, replaced by acquiring the "Dark Mark" spell.]

Tom felt a cool sensation in his mind, and a spell never recorded in any textbook appeared in his thoughts.

"It can do that!" Tom was stunned.

The Dark Mark was Voldemort's exclusive magic; only he knew how to cast it. And now Tom had mastered it too.

Still, this was for the best.

If the Dark Mark had simply appeared on his arm out of nowhere, he would have had to consider deleting this persona.

If any wizard's Dark Mark was discovered on them, being sent to Azkaban would be the lightest punishment.

"I need to test this."

Raising his wand, Tom pointed the tip at his bedside table.

"Dark..."

Before he could even finish the incantation, a green light flashed from the wand tip. The bedside table gave off a burnt smell, and a clear, pure black brand appeared on its surface.

The brand was very distinct, like a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth—a symbol representing the legacy between Voldemort and Slytherin.

"Nonverbal casting?"

Even though he had only just learned how to use the Dark Mark, Tom felt as if he had cast this spell countless times before during his first attempt. He was even confident he could cast it nonverbally without a wand.

At this rate, who in the world could tell the difference between him and Voldemort?

He wondered what the real Voldemort would think when he saw this trick.

"reh-PAH-roh!"

A Repairing Charm restored the damaged bedside table to its original state—it wouldn't do for someone to see the Dark Mark.

The next day.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts suddenly became much more serious.

While training, Tom saw many adult wizards in suits passing by. They searched everywhere on campus, occasionally stopping to question students.

Clearly, they were Aurors.

As for who they were looking for, Tom knew full well.

Every time an Auror passed by Tom, they would pause to observe him for a moment, double-checking that the person before them was a child and not a troll before reluctantly walking away, looking back repeatedly.

[Innate Divine Strength +10 progress, Impression level reached Lv.3, Achievement Points +1]

The first class of the day was the most popular one at Hogwarts: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It was the most thrilling, practical, and realistic course of them all.

Potions and History of Magic might not be useful in life after graduation, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was a different story.

The wizarding war had only ended ten years ago, and many Death Eaters were still at large. Almost every year, the newspapers reported on Death Eaters attacking people before being arrested.

Word had it that a new teacher had been hired this year, and all the students were excited.

Harry and Ron were no exception, especially Harry.

Before class, he even said he wanted to learn magic well so he could protect his big brother in the future.

Unfortunately.

Things didn't go as planned.

As soon as the class bell rang, the first thing to enter the classroom ahead of Professor Quirrell was that pungent smell of garlic.

A young wizard by the window was quick-eyed and quick-handed, throwing the window open to let in some air.

Tom was very clever this time, deliberately sitting in the very last row, where the garlic smell had the least impact.

"Students, please don't mind this smell—it's what I use to ward off vampires," Quirrell said with a chuckle as he stepped up to the podium.

The students all bought it, but Tom didn't think so.

"Professor, this is Hogwarts. Do you really think any vampire would dare come here to attack you?" Tom raised his hand and spoke up directly.

"Hahaha!!"

The moment he said that, the whole room burst into laughter.

Everyone knew Hogwarts was under the protection of the greatest white wizard of the century, and the school was packed with professors—all top experts in their respective fields.

A mere vampire? If it dared show up at Hogwarts, it'd be split nine ways in no time.

Sliced into nine pieces in a second for the professors to study, just to see where it got its nerve.

"!" Quirrell had just started thinking about how to answer when he suddenly felt a jolt at the back of his head.

At that moment, Voldemort was losing his mind.

He hadn't even gone looking for Tom's trouble yet, and here this brat was, picking a fight with him first!

It was utterly outrageous.

If his situation weren't so inconvenient, he'd have given the little bastard behind his eyes a taste of the Cruciatus Curse.

"I think you make a fair point, but I'm a professor too. Handling a vampire is a small matter—no need to trouble the headmaster. Once I've dealt with the vampire that's been secretly following me, I'll naturally get rid of this smell," Quirrell said.

He'd long anticipated someone asking him this, so he'd already prepared a set of responses in his mind.

"So when will you be able to deal with the vampire? As a professor, it shouldn't take long, right?" Tom pressed on.

The other students also looked over with great anticipation. Being shrouded in a cloud of garlic smell really made it hard to focus on class.

Besides, they were eager to see a live, thrilling battle between a professor and a vampire—vampires hadn't appeared in public for a long time.

"Uh... that's a very... question..." Quirrell suddenly became flustered.

He really hadn't thought ahead about how to answer that one.

Looking at the expectant eyes below him, Quirrell suddenly felt the pain at the back of his head stop.

As if some invisible person had whispered a few words to him, Quirrell suddenly turned to Tom: "What an inquisitive Slytherin. I'll award you five points for your behavior. If you're interested in vampires, you can come to my office after class for a private chat. I'm worried there might be a vampire nearby eavesdropping on my lecture."

No need to guess—those words were definitely put in Quirrell's mouth by Voldemort, all to lure Tom into a private setting.

"No problem, Professor." Tom agreed readily.