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DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, the Wizarding World and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims of ownership.

PROLOGUE : THE DADA PROFESSOR

October 2, 1970

Tom Marvolo Riddle strode confidently across the Corridor of the Gargoyle as his robes whipped behind him. He spoke calmly to the gargoyle, giving it the password, "Liquorice Laces" - another of Dumbledore's Muggle sweets, he mused as the stairway rotated and he found himself in front of the door.

"Come in, Tom!" Dumbledore called before he knocked, and Tom smiled to himself as he opened the door. He paused just for a moment to compose his thoughts. Albus always was too good at the Mind Arts for his own good.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair, peering at Tom as he entered over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "I trust you have been well? It has been quite a few years since we have met."

"Oh, you know me, Headmaster. I was quite extensively into research - it leaves one feeling a bit removed from the world of people. But after my paper expounding the uses of sympathetic associations in spell-crafting, I found needing a bit of respite - these things do drain one's mind."

"Of course, my boy. With the kind of reputation you have gained among research circles, I can imagine. Such prodigious work is rarely achieved in combination with leisure, after all."

That much is true, Tom thought with some amusement. He had indeed been at the forefront of some of the more pioneering works of his generation. Due to his unique background from the Muggle world, he had managed to apply several principles of science to Magic that most wizards struggled to comprehend. Dumbledore gestured for Tom to sit as he leaned back in his chair. The motion caught Tom's eye and his pupil widened imperceptibly as he sensed, not a second late, Dumbledore's entry into his mind.

Showing no outward signs of anything being amiss, Tom very carefully allowed Dumbledore's probe to access the specific mental construct he had built for the purpose of this interview. It had taken a lot of time and effort on his part (not to mention that the magic involved wasn't exactly legal), but it was necessary for Tom to maintain appearances. Dumbledore had never trusted Tom, and he knew a mental probe was one of the first things that Dumbledore would do to quell his doubts. Presumably satisfied with what he saw, Tom felt Dumbledore withdraw the probe.

"When I heard that you had decided to go into academia, Tom, I must confess that you surprised me very much." Oh, I'm sure I did, you old codger. After all, you were expecting me to go into the Dark Arts. "I had always thought that your charisma and charm was more suited for a position in the bureaucracy. I recall you once telling me about how you wished to reform several practices in the wizarding world you saw as outdated." Dumbledore pressed his palms together and Tom noted with some detachment that it seemed to be a nervous habit. "What made you change your mind?"

"Oh, a chain of events, Headmaster. Among other things, a conversation with Professor Slughorn that made me realize the futility of reforming a corrupt system." Tom winced inwardly as he realized too late how his words sounded. He really should have practiced keeping up mental barriers more while conversing. But Dumbledore's eyes merely twinkled brighter at this, and he gave Tom a brighter smile than he had before.

Tom was mildly amused - it was exactly like Dumbledore to have believed that Tom had come around to his way of thinking. The man's nature was to trust, and he believed in second choices far too often. And while Tom did agree with Dumbledore that the Ministry was corrupt, he was satisfied that his mental construct had prevented Dumbledore from finding about his rather…radical ideas for reform.

As Dumbledore continued to enquire about his research and what exactly he was looking for in the DADA teacher's post, Tom thought back to that conversation with Professor Slughorn which had changed his course.

May 1, 1945

"Come in, Tom!" Slughorn's booming voice called as Tom entered the private quarters of his Head of House and Potions Professor.

"You called for me, Professor?"

"Aye, I did. I wanted company to enjoy this fine bottle of Ogden, and your brilliance never ceases to amaze me. Sit." Tom smiled as he sank into the comfy armchair; these talks were a constant source of enjoyment for him. Slughorn was very well connected indeed, and Tom always enjoyed listening to stories of what the powerful and famous people of the times were doing.

An hour later, Slughorn had become considerably more inebriated, while Tom was relatively unaffected, having consumed the alcohol only in moderation.

"What is your true ambition, Tom?"

"Well, sir, I want to work at the Ministry. I want to try and remove some of the…orthodoxy that has crept into the wizarding world."

"You do, eh? But what are your real ambitions?"

Tom froze slightly but carried on smoothly. "What exactly do you mean, sir?"

"Drop the masquerade, my boy. You're a brilliant Slytherin, perhaps even the best of this generation. But your pride does you no good. As Head of your House, I am a Slytherin too, and not a shabby one at that. So, I pose my question to you once again. What are your real ambitions?"

Tom was shocked. Horace Slughorn seemed to know his plans! He hadn't revealed them to anyone, not even written them down in his diary for fear of being read. But as he quickly processed what the Professor had said to him, he realized that his true schemes were still safe. Slughorn had merely gathered that he had certain…ambitions that went beyond simply getting a Ministry job.

Gathering his wits about him, Tom quickly countered Slughorn. "Sir, my ambitions are very much the same; I wish to try and eliminate some of the orthodoxy that has crept into our system." He deliberately enunciated eliminate and Slughorn acknowledged that with the faintest of inclinations of his head. "My path, however…" he trailed off.

"...seems to be obstructed by the incompetent buffoons at the Ministry?"

Tom slightly inclined his head and Slughorn laughed, in that booming voice of his. Then, leaning in, the older man spoke in a bare whisper, "You're an ambitious boy, Tom, with more potential than any student I've ever had. But you must realize that the traditions of the wizarding world are unique and have their own place. Besides, I have long given up on reforming our society, the Muggle-loving fools that they are. In this world, it is your personal ambitions alone whose fulfilment can cause true change."

Tom's anger exploded, but he slammed down hard with the still-imperfect Occlumency shields he had been developing. Horace Slughorn may have been his Head of House, but Tom was already ten times the Slytherin the old drunkard was. How did he ever think that Tom would adhere to his childish standards of ambition? His jaw clenched imperceptibly and he tried to calm his mind down as he looked away momentarily.

Suddenly his gaze fell upon a photograph on the wall and he froze. With a quick glance, he confirmed what he was seeing, and then turned towards the Potions professor.

"Sir, is that photograph of the batch of 1876?"

"Indeed, my boy," Slughorn boomed. "Quite a few Members of the current Wizengamot in there. There is, of course, Cassilda Boot, the current Head Examiner for the NEWTS, and also Michel Dodderige, the current representative of Britain in the ICW. Just last week Michel sent me a wonderful set of dragon-hide gloves he'd bought in Hungary."

Slughorn continued in the same vein, pointing out an adjacent photograph, "Can you believe that Archer Evermonde was obsessed with becoming an Enchanter for the Department of Mysteries before I convinced him that with skills like his, he could be Minister? That's Adam Jones beside him - a brilliant chaser in his day, but he would never have broken into a professional Quidditch team had the proper connections not presented themselves. Of course, when you've taught as many people as I have, connections are never a problem," Slughorn chuckled. "It's a very convenient system after all, having every witch and wizard in Britain go through the same school!"

As Slughorn bragged about his various students and what "gifts" they still sent him, Tom's watchful eyes roved the room. They took in the photographs. The people in them. The posts they were in currently. And in his mind, a plot began to blossom. A path that was far less risky than his current path. If he could not raise Hell, he would simply move Heaven.

As Tom thanked Dumbledore for giving him the position of the DADA teacher, he was positively gleeful under his mask of controlled happiness. For he had begun on his route to success, and not even the world's second greatest wizard could stop him now.

Edited on 28 July 2020 to correct some minor grammatical errors.