Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

— — — — — —

Before starting school, Tom imagined his student life would go something like this: Harry Potter stirring up chaos, while he stayed tucked away in an ivory tower, quietly studying and enjoying his own little world.

After actually starting school, reality turned out to be: Harry still couldn't sit still… and neither could he. In fact, he was getting more and more involved, almost looking like some mastermind in the making—on track to become the next Dark Lord.

It wasn't his fault. This world clearly had no intention of giving him a peaceful learning environment. Well, if the world wouldn't cooperate, then he'd just have to change it himself.

And better to lend Dumbledore a hand than let the man run around like a headless chicken.

Finding an Acolyte to be his DADA professor really wasn't about planting a spy at Dumbledore's side—it was just about having someone he could trust to keep things from blowing up, so he could worry less.

Unfortunately, Vinda Rosier didn't quite see it that way.

And yesterday, when Grindelwald heard Tom's idea, he couldn't praise it enough. He even assumed that kicking Lockhart out had been part of Tom's grand plan all along, and that this kind of calculated foresight was exactly what a Dark Wizard successor needed to inherit his legacy.

The world really misunderstood him. All he wanted was to study in peace.

...

When classes ended for the day, Tom headed to the Forbidden Forest for his usual extra lessons with the centaurs.

Dealing with Lockhart didn't interfere with his studies—he hadn't missed a single centaur herbology class these days. In fact, he'd already made progress, finding two herbal recipes that could replace some rare and expensive ingredients.

He and Nicolas Flamel had been on the right track: centaurs understood magic differently from wizards, and that fresh perspective was proving useful. With Firenze and Magorian, two master herbalists, as his tutors, improvements came along much faster.

What Tom didn't know was that Firenze and Magorian had been suffering these past few days. Many of Tom's questions were so out there that they couldn't answer them on the spot. After class, they had to burn the midnight oil doing research, just to make sure they had answers for him the next day.

For the honor and dignity of the centaurs, they had to act as if nothing bothered them… unfortunately, that only made Tom's questions grow more and more bizarre.

---

The next morning, Tom received a message from Vinda Rosier.

The candidate was confirmed. Vinda had sent over their file, and if there were no objections, the new professor could be in Britain by tomorrow.

Tom glanced at the file, his expression turning a little odd.

"The world may be huge, but sometimes it feels awfully small."

After jotting down his approval on the parchment, Tom closed his notebook. He was already looking forward to meeting his new professor.

— — —

The weekend passed quietly.

On Monday morning, Professor McGonagall brought news that sent Dumbledore—who had just been turned down by another old friend—hurrying back to Hogwarts. Someone had actually volunteered to apply for the job, and he wanted to see this brave soul in person.

"Mr. Dumbledore! A pleasure to meet you at last—finally, a live one!"

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. 'What, have you met the dead me before?'

"And you are…?" Dumbledore deliberately left a pause, giving the applicant a chance to introduce himself.

"Oh! My fault, I got too excited meeting you and forgot."

The man beamed, shaking Dumbledore's hand again. "Laos Wilkinson. That's my name."

"I'm a wizard from the States, graduated from Ilvermorny's Horned Serpent House. Had a little… incident a while back, so I was staying in Germany."

Yes, the Acolyte Vinda Rosier had chosen was none other than Laos Wilkinson—the same man Tom had once rescued from four Aurors, and the same lunatic who had once slept with his teacher's wife.*

(A/N: You might want to reread chapters 84 & 85*.)

Wilkinson's relatives in Germany were part of the Acolyte faction. That wasn't anything too suspicious; in the wizarding world, most pure-blood families were tangled together somehow. The wizarding war back in the day had basically been relatives fighting relatives. As long as he and his immediate family weren't trouble, it was fine.

Because Grindelwald had once tricked the Graves family, Wilkinson had idolized him ever since. He'd recently joined the Acolytes and passed the contract's loyalty test, so there was no need to worry about betrayal.

Grinning, Wilkinson said, "So when I heard Hogwarts was hiring, I thought—why not? I've admired you for ages, and I've got nothing better to do right now, so I figured I'd give it a shot."

"Wilkinson…"

Catching the distinct West Coast accent, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Any relation to Charity Wilkinson, one of the original Twelve Aurors?"

Wilkinson's eyes lit up and he gave a big thumbs-up. "See, that's why you're the greatest wizard of the century! You even know history from across the ocean. You guessed right—I'm the thirteenth-generation heir of the Wilkinson family."

A distinguished pedigree, then.

But Dumbledore didn't relax. Too many… incidents had come out of people applying for this position lately.

Some had changed their names to dodge Ministry arrest warrants in the past. Others were poachers after the magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest. There had even been black wizards trying to get into the Restricted Section. At this point, nothing would surprise him.

Still, outwardly, he smiled. "Mr. Wilkinson, you mentioned… an incident. Could you tell me more about it?"

"Please don't take it the wrong way," Dumbledore added mildly. "I just think it's important to have a full understanding of anyone teaching here."

"Of course, no problem," Wilkinson said cheerfully. "It's no secret—you can check in the U.S. and hear all about it.

"I got into bad blood with Graves, who's now head of the International Auror Office. So last year, I… slept with his wife. He got mad as hell and slapped a warrant on me, so I had to skip over to Germany. Things have been quiet lately, but I still don't dare go back."

He grinned. "I'm here partly because I admire you, the greatest white wizard of our age. Partly because I've always been curious about Hogwarts—Ilvermorny's founders dreamed of coming here, you know. And third… well, I was hoping you could help me out."

With a sheepish smile, he added, "You're Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. I was hoping you might get my warrant lifted."

Dumbledore's title was honorary—the day-to-day leadership was handled by Babajide Akinbade, a wizard from Nigeria.

Still, with Dumbledore's influence, clearing a warrant like this—especially one built on questionable grounds—wouldn't be hard.

Wilkinson's reasons were perfectly plausible, and they were, in fact, exactly what he wanted.

Dumbledore sat in thoughtful silence. As expected, nobody who volunteered for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position was ever simple.

Laos Wilkinson might technically be a wanted man, but here he was, waltzing right up to him, completely unfazed by the risk of being arrested on the spot.

Still, just as Wilkinson had said, it was a personal grudge. Graves was clearly abusing his position, and in truth, this wasn't anything major.

Among the long list of questionable professors, Wilkinson was practically squeaky clean.

Seeing Dumbledore's silence, Wilkinson assumed he was about to be rejected and quickly added, "Don't worry, Professor Dumbledore. That incident was purely an act of revenge—I'm not the type to sleep around."

"Besides, I did my homework before coming here. Most of Hogwarts' professors are… well, single. So it's not like I'd even have the chance."

Dumbledore's eyelid twitched violently.

That's not what I was worried about! And do they have to be married for you to make a move?

"Mr. Wilkinson, could you show me your magic?" Dumbledore didn't address the comment and smoothly changed the subject. "The students have lost a lot of faith in their DADA professors lately. They badly need someone who's truly skilled."

"No problem." Wilkinson agreed readily and gave a demonstration right there in the office.

Sure, he'd looked pretty pathetic when four Aurors had been chasing him down like a dog, but in a fair one-on-one fight? He might not win every time, but he'd at least fight to a draw.

He wasn't on the level of the top-tier professors, but more than qualified to teach students. Watching him perform, Dumbledore found himself nodding in approval—compared to Wilkinson, Lockhart and the Quirrell had been a pair of useless frauds.

"Mr. Wilkinson, thank you for choosing Hogwarts," Dumbledore said at last. "I still need some time to decide if you're the right fit, and to interview a few more candidates."

Wilkinson's face fell. "But Professor Dumbledore, I don't know anyone in Britain, and I don't even have a place to stay…"

"That's easily solved," Dumbledore replied with a faint smile. "I'll arrange accommodations for you until I make my decision."

He escorted Wilkinson to the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade, settled him in, and then went to dig into the man's background.

No need to waste time chasing contacts in America—Dumbledore went straight to the British office of the International Confederation of Wizards and pulled Wilkinson's warrant and personal file.

After reading through everything, he found that Wilkinson hadn't hidden any sensitive details and that his family history was indeed clean. Only then did he relax.

And the visit gave him a new idea. Why keep looking for candidates within the tiny population of the British wizarding world? The world was vast—surely finding the right professor would be much easier if he cast a wider net.

The very next day, Dumbledore informed Wilkinson that he had the job, and that he'd be meeting the students that evening.

---

Inside the castle, after finishing a DADA class taught by Snape as a substitute, Tom parted ways with Daphne and headed for the Room of Requirement on the Seventh floor.

[Mission: Bye-Bye, Braggart]

Seven days had just passed, and the task status had switched to "complete."

[Expulsion within 7 days. Reward tier increased.]

[Congratulations, Host: You have received 1,000 study credits, 100 achievement points, and 1 Advanced Gacha draw.]

With more than 800 achievement points now, he was getting close to summoning a third "King of the Century."

But Tom hesitated. Should he go ahead and summon another SS-tier… or save up enough to bring in an SSS-tier legend as his teacher?

Between Andros and Grindelwald—one light, one dark, one ancient, one modern—he already had all the bases covered. Another King would definitely be helpful, since each had their own specialties and he could learn from them, but the improvement wouldn't be as dramatic as the first two.

What really tempted him was the talent of a Legend. The external conditions were almost in place, but his own "hardware" needed upgrading too.

You can't pair an RTX 5090 with just 2 GB of RAM.

Of course, Tom's talent wasn't anywhere near that bad—in fact, even Andros and Grindelwald admitted his talent outshone theirs.

"Forget it. Still short about two hundred points anyway. I'll decide when I have enough."

For now, Tom opened the Advanced Gacha, hoping for something as useful as the Meditation Room.

The shimmering draw filled his vision for a moment, and then a plain-looking scroll appeared in his inventory.

He checked the description:

[Advanced Private Teacher Contract: When used, you may summon a personal teacher at no cost. 5% chance of summoning a Legend (SSS), 20% chance of summoning a King (SS), 75% chance of summoning a Hero (S).]

…

"So this is basically 'spin the wheel and maybe you hit the jackpot."

Tom frowned. He hated luck-based gambles, always planning for the worst-case scenario.

Sure, there was a 20% chance of getting someone worth a thousand achievement points… but also a 75% chance of ending up with a teacher worth barely a hundred.

"Whatever. If it's fate, it's fate. No point running from it. Let's just get it over with."

In his mind, Tom stepped into the Study space and called Andros and Grindelwald over.

"Get ready to meet the new guy," he said.

Andros's face lit up. "Finally, some fresh blood."

Even Grindelwald looked intrigued.

He'd speculated plenty about this mysterious ability, but without seeing it firsthand, it had remained an unanswered question.

Tom activated the contract. Gold-and-silver light burst from it and shot into the endless fog beyond.

Tom froze. His heart lifted halfway… then sank into confusion.

Gold was Legend. Silver was King.

What the hell does half-and-half even mean?

.

.