Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord

The carriage looked small from the outside, but inside, a Seamless Extension Charm had been applied, making it fifty or sixty square meters wide, complete with coffee table, sofa, and several oil paintings hanging on the walls.

On the table were some small snacks, and the moment they boarded, Daphne began dividing desserts between her sister and Tom.

Mrs. Greengrass smiled.

"There's still plenty of time. Why don't I take you around the manor first, so you can get familiar with the place you'll be living from now on?"

With that, the carriage set off at an unhurried pace.

Her wording was interesting—she didn't say "for the next few days," but "from now on."

She truly had no choice. Her daughter's heart seemed to be entirely wrapped around Tom. Don't say that eleven- or twelve-year-olds don't understand love—who hasn't been through that age before? At the rate things were developing, with the way Tom spoiled Daphne, there was little chance of any surprises.

So the Greengrass Manor would, in the future, be… not half his home, but simply his home.

Tom leaned against the carriage window, taking in the scenery outside.

His first impression was: huge.

There was a lake, and in front of it a vast lawn, a castle, and in addition to the main castle, two watchtowers. Even the two mountains behind the main castle were within the estate's bounds.

There were also farmlands and orchards. As the carriage passed by, a house-elf was controlling more than a dozen watering cans to irrigate fruit trees. The elf itself gave a deep bow toward the carriage, only straightening up after they had gone far.

"This is Tapp," Daphne explained. "He's in charge of everything outside the castle—planting trees, tending flowers, buying ingredients, preparing the carriages. If you want to eat something or need to go somewhere, just tell him."

At that moment, Astoria's soft, gentle voice chimed in. "I'm pretty familiar with the house too. You can ask me as well, Tom."

"In that case, I'll choose Astoria," Tom shrugged. "Looking at a house-elf just puts me in a bad mood."

The others laughed, not finding anything strange in his comment.

A proper house-elf was supposed to be so unobtrusive that people barely noticed their existence. At Hogwarts, many spent seven years there without even realizing the school had house-elves at all.

However, certain jobs like orchard work had to be done in daylight—thus Tom had spotted this one.

The carriage circled slowly around the lake. Warm wind flowed in through the windows, the water's surface glittering, with fish occasionally leaping out—tempting Tom to pick up a fishing rod.

They soon arrived at the grounds behind the castle, where Mrs. Greengrass began introducing various facilities.

Tom was puzzled. The place looked like a Muggle noble's estate, with an archery range, a fencing arena, and wooden practice dummies.

Judging from the look of things, these had been unused for quite some time—spotlessly clean from the house-elves' work, but without a single trace of actual wear.

Mrs. Greengrass seemed to read his thoughts and explained with a smile,

"This castle was purchased from the Duke of Norfolk by our ancestors. At that time, Muggle and wizarding society were still closely linked, and even wizards often took part in noble pastimes. So we didn't remove these facilities."

Tom finally understood.

…

Half an hour later, the carriage pulled up in front of the main gates of the castle.

They disembarked, pushing open the grand oak doors, and were greeted by a hall over two hundred square meters in size. For a moment, Tom felt an odd illusion—like he had returned to Hogwarts.

Though the Greengrass family's castle was only half the size of Hogwarts, once inside, the difference didn't feel so noticeable.

This time Mrs. Greengrass didn't lead Tom on a tour. There were simply too many rooms to see in one day. Instead, she let her two daughters take him to the bedroom that had been prepared for him.

Astoria was far quieter than Daphne, speaking little along the way. Tom took the opportunity to observe her closely, searching for signs of the Blood Curse. He even called on Andros and Grindelwald for help, but none of them found anything.

"I've encountered Blood-Cursed Beastmen before, but this family's curse is far worse," Grindelwald said with a frown as he looked at Astoria. "This isn't just about life force being drained too quickly—it's damaged her magical potential as well. She'll never become an exceptional witch."

Andros was equally furious. He lived by honor and despised such cursed magic—especially those inherited through generations. Killing was quick; this kind of torment had lasted for centuries.

He turned to Grindelwald. "You're a rotten-to-the-core Dark Lord. You know more about dark magic than I do—do you know who created this curse?"

Grindelwald, long used to Andros's bluntness, didn't take offense. He thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"There are many origins for blood curses—some from East Asia, some from the southern continents. As for Britain… I can't recall any native wizards particularly skilled in curses."

"Completely useless," Tom muttered.

That silenced them both.

It did seem… they were indeed useless—unable to even break a blood curse.

Ouch. That one stung.

"We're here!"

Daphne pushed open a pair of doors, revealing a suite with bedroom, washroom, study, sitting room, and even a dining area—all furnished in ornate European classical style, clearly expensive.

"My room's to the left when you step outside, Astoria's is diagonally opposite. Parra will come later to put a nameplate on your door so you won't get lost."

Tom tapped her on the head. "My memory isn't as bad as yours."

Daphne stuck out her tongue playfully.

"Astoria," Tom suddenly said.

The silver-haired girl looked over, puzzled.

"Can I examine your body?" Tom asked. "I want to check the state of the curse inside you."

Astoria obediently stepped over, quiet as a doll. Daphne held her breath, afraid to disturb Tom's concentration.

Tom gestured for Astoria to sit on the sofa. He rested his wand lightly on her shoulder.

In Transfiguration, there was a specialized discipline called magical deconstruction—not using the eyes, but one's own magic to sense the essence of an object. This gave a truer understanding of its nature, and was an essential prerequisite for many advanced transfiguration spells.

This was the method Tom used to analyze Astoria.

His magic, guided by his will, flowed into the girl's body. Tom had deconstructed many creatures before—unicorns, owls, bison—and even humans.

The human body was less complex than that of a unicorn, but far more complex than any non-magical creature, and the variations between individuals were also much greater.

As his magic penetrated further, Tom raised his eyebrows.

If other people's bodies—his own included—appeared to his magical senses like perfect spheres, with a complex internal structure like a maze, then Astoria's body was like a sphere with a piece carved out. The inside was directly exposed, and because it wasn't sealed, what was inside naturally leaked out.

Tom suspected that this gap was the direct result of the Blood Curse.

But the time was too short to tell whether the gap was being repaired—or if it was still growing.