Voldemort: I Can't Tell, I Really Can't Tell!

So similar! Too similar!

Voldemort was genuinely starting to wonder if he was a Horcrux.

Because Tom could not only use the Dark Mark, but even spoke exactly like him.

"No! It's fake. It's all fake!"

Voldemort roared, "If the great Voldemort could move freely, he would have gathered the Death Eaters and risen to power in no time. Why would he need the help of some down-and-out Half-blood?!"

Quirrell frowned, feeling a little displeased and nine parts apprehensive. He was afraid his Half-blood status would get the Mark on his wrist taken away.

"See? I told you, you're just a Horcrux. You know you've got a ghost living in your house?" Tom smiled.

"A ghost?"

"The Order of the Phoenix planted a spy in the organization long ago, and he even got the Dark Mark. I'm still weak at the moment, so I can't reveal my true identity."

"How is that possible..." Voldemort's expression froze.

Anyone with the Dark Mark was an absolute core member of the Death Eaters. They had to pass a long period of scrutiny before he would grant them one. How could one of them be a spy?

Could it be...

At that moment, a vague figure surfaced in Voldemort's mind.

Peter Pettigrew, a former member of the Order of the Phoenix.

If he remembered correctly, the reason he had died back then was that Peter Pettigrew had led him to the Potters' old home, where he had been killed by some unknown force.

If there really was a ghost in the house, Peter Pettigrew was the most suspicious—indeed, the only one who could be suspected at the moment.

"I see... Peter Pettigrew, if I ever see you again, I'll make you taste the torments of hell before you die."

Ignoring the shouting from the back of his head, Quirrell looked earnestly at Tom.

"My lord, what do you need me to do?"

"It's simple. Help me get the Philosopher's Stone."

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Quirrell tilted his head.

Wasn't the Philosopher's Stone something used to bring people back to life?

Voldemort had already been resurrected. What did he want with that stupid old stone?

"Do you know where the name Voldemort came from?" Tom asked, not answering directly.

Quirrell shook his head.

Tom raised his wand and began writing something in midair.

Lumos Charm.

By controlling the brightness and color of the light, and adding a little telekinetic force, Tom wrote three words in the air.

[Tom Marvolo Riddle]

With a wave of his wand, the letters in the name began to rearrange themselves, and then became...

[I am Lord Voldemort]

"The word 'Voldemort' means 'steal from death.'" Tom clasped his hands behind his back, his face alight with a fervor that didn't belong to someone his age.

"I won't be constrained by my lifespan. A mere one or two hundred years won't be enough to achieve my goals in life, so I need the Philosopher's Stone to extend my life.

"I'll make the Pure-bloods great again!"

Silence—

The entire office fell utterly quiet.

Quirrell wasn't the only one stunned. Even Voldemort was dumbstruck.

If Quirrell had still harbored even the tiniest doubt about Tom's identity, that doubt had now been completely dispelled.

Even Voldemort himself was muttering, "Really? Could what he said be true? Am I really just a mere Horcrux?"

He had never explained the origin of his name to anyone before. After all, "Voldemort" was basically his screen name, and he was no longer a student going through an edgelord phase. Explaining a screen name was just too embarrassing.

"No, it's fake. No, it's real."

Unable to tell, Voldemort felt his mind descending into utter chaos. He couldn't tell whether the memories in his head were real or false.

["The Born Dark Lord" +10 progress, impression level reached Lv.4, achievement points +1]

["The Born Dark Lord" +50 progress... +100... +100...

...impression level reached Lv.5, achievement points +1]

A devastating critical hit.

Although Voldemort was still struggling to deny it, deep down he had already accepted Tom as his true self, and himself as merely a fragment of Tom's soul.

It worked!

Tom was secretly delighted.

He'd put his transmigrator's advantage to good use. He'd laid out one piece of evidence after another, and even the mighty Dark Lord couldn't withstand this combo.

Of course, the most important factors were the [The Born Dark Lord] and [Death Eater] traits.

Without those two, Tom could only have relied on pure debate to argue with old Tom over who was the "real Voldemort."

That would've been no different from two baby dragons arguing over which one of them was the real baby dragon.

"When should we make our move, Lord Voldemort?" Quirrell asked curiously.

"We're not ready yet. Even if we stole the Philosopher's Stone, we wouldn't be able to hold on to it for long," Tom replied.

He still had to stay here for quite some time. If they rashly took the Philosopher's Stone with Quirrell's help, there was a good chance it would be taken back.

"First, you need to help me regain my former strength. This body is strong enough, but my magical power hasn't yet returned to its peak."

"Of course. What do you need, my lord? I'll do everything I can."

"Lend me the key to your Gringotts vault first." Tom held out his hand.

"?" Quirrell.

"Regaining my strength will take some financial support. I left all my wealth with Bellatrix, and she's still doing advanced studies in Azkaban."

"Well..." Quirrell hesitated.

As a wizard from a humble background, he knew how important money was. Without it, life in society was practically impossible—almost like losing half your life.

Tom took his time. "You need to think long-term. The first followers who risked their lives alongside me became high-ranking Death Eaters. Now you're supporting my return to power. What you'll get in the future will surely be even more..."

Wizards of the twentieth century had never seen this kind of promise of future rewards. Tom hadn't even finished speaking when Quirrell's face turned red and his eyes filled with anticipation.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled a key from the lining of his robes, held it out in both hands, and respectfully presented it to Tom.

"Good. The Death Eaters will remember what you've done for me." Tom calmly accepted it.

Although Quirrell had only become the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor this year, Dumbledore had hired him straight after he graduated at eighteen. He'd spent a full six years teaching Muggle Studies.

With Hogwarts's top-tier salaries, Quirrell's little vault likely held at least several thousand Galleons. With that money, Tom would be able to act with a lot more freedom from now on.

"My lord, aside from money, is there anything else you need me to do?" Quirrell asked cautiously.

"Find me some books about spells and Potions. I'd like to spend some time studying knowledge beyond the textbooks."

"Yes. I'll bring them to you tonight."

As a former Ravenclaw, Quirrell had spent more time in the library than anywhere else. He'd read almost every book outside the Restricted Section, especially those about spells.

This was his chance to show what he could do.

Tom and Quirrell chatted briefly. Once he'd confirmed that Quirrell had the same information as in the original story, they parted ways.

Before leaving the office, Tom made a point of reminding him:

"And be careful from now on. Don't attract the professors' attention. Snape is starting to suspect you."