Chapter 176: Insights
24th January 1995, Riddle Manor Earth 2
(Tom Riddle POV)
Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he was known today, wasn’t sure how he was feeling about his progress in conquering Magical Britain. Things were going fine, in recruiting his forces. The werewolves were pretty much all under his control with Greyback as an alpha, the giants were arriving soon from the continent, the dementors have already sworn themselves to him for the opportunity of feeding on the muggles; they couldn’t be seen by the savages, so the Statute wouldn’t be breached.
Even, his inner circle was back to his side, although diminished from their stay in Azkaban, they were still fearsome fighters who were quickly gaining back their former might.
Everything was going according to plan, even the Ministry ignored his return thanks to Lucius’ manipulations of the idiotic man they elected as the Minister. As far as the Dark Lord was concerned, there haven’t been a single setback, other than in retrieving the prophecy that concerns him and Potter.
It was something that he was planning on rectifying soon, especially with Rookwood back at his side. The former Unspeakable was very knowledgeable about the details of the Department of Mysteries and had given him very detailed information on the protections around the prophecy orbs.
It was an ancient spell, created to protect seers and prophets from those that would use them. No one could touch a prophecy orb other than its subjects, meaning only himself and Potter would be able to retrieve it.
That constituted a conundrum. The protections of the Department of Mysteries, while not impregnable to someone of his power, would alert the entire Ministry of intruders, which would reveal his return. This meant that, to be able to get the prophecy orb, he had to be ready to reveal himself first, and finish his preparations. Either that or somehow get Potter to get it for him, but that was a longshot at best, the boy being constantly under Dumbledore’s view.
Voldemort had his own spies in Hogwarts, namely Severus Snape, that would be able to tell him if the boy leaves the castle, in case Dumbledore chooses to use him to get the prophecy himself. So as far as the prophecy goes, everything was on hold until he was ready.
It still was imperative that he properly listens to the contents of the damn thing, at least for his own peace of mind. He couldn’t risk losing his body again, even with his immortality assured by the Horcruxes, getting another body with Harry Potter’s blood would be far harder, now that Dumbledore knew that he needed it to circumvent the mudblood’s blood protection.
Speaking of the Horcruxes, his greatest creations and greatest treasures were the first things he checked when he returned. Bellatrix had given him access to her Gringotts account ledger, which meant that he was able to check if someone had entered the vault to remove something, having been nervous that the Ministry would try to confiscate Bellatrix’s gold for her crimes. Luckily, no one had attempted to touch the Lestrange’s vaults ever since they went to Azkaban; The goblins have refused to involve themselves in wizarding affairs. It was the first time the little beasts were good for something, in Voldemort’s opinion.
He had gone to the Gaunt shack, to see if someone had tried to find the ring. As for the rest, his blood alarm ward over the inferi cavern hasn’t been triggered in decades which meant that the locket was undisturbed. Now, the diadem was safe in Hogwarts; he was certain no one had discovered the hidden room on the seventh floor, and even then, no one would be able to find something in the mess that is the room of hidden things, even if they somehow got access to the room.
Nagini was safe, next to him, of course, but the only issue was the diary. Lucius had been very severely punished for his mistake in using it in a childish feud with the Weasleys of all people and getting a part of Voldemort’s soul destroyed. If it wasn’t for the man’s financial contributions to his cause and influence in the Ministry, he would have killed him that night. Even then, it was a near thing. How dare that worm lose something that he had entrusted him. He was nervous that Dumbledore would recognize what it was, even if he had concealed the diary’s true nature, he didn’t think it would have fooled Dumbledore. But alas, even his younger self was superior to the old man, and the diary was destroyed before the man had a chance to examine it properly. The fact that he hadn’t hunted down the Horcruxes ever since was proof of his ignorance in the matter. Even then, Dumbledore hadn’t walked down the path of dark magic like himself, being too weak to understand its power.
The soul anchors really were the Dark Lord’s greatest creations. He remembered when he was still a boy, still Tom Riddle, in that damned orphanage, during the London Blitz, listening to the bombs explode around the city, not knowing if he would ever see another day, if his life, miserable as it was, would have an unremarkable end, without even having achieved any of his dreams or ambitions. Tom Riddle would have ended up nothing but a name in Hogwarts’ book of students, full of potential that was never realized, only to be forgotten barely a few months later, the world having moved it.
It was then that the young boy that was Tom Riddle chose to rise up against his mortality, fight against death itself and emerge victorious as Lord Voldemort. He had lived for years trying to overcome the last enemy, and after years of research to even the darkest magics, he had found his answer in soul magic, more precisely in Horcruxes, and he hadn’t regretted it since.
The day that he created his first Horcrux was the day that the young orphan Tom Riddle had officially died, and the Dark Lord Voldemort was born. On that day, he had cast away his weakness, his humanity, to become more, to become a god.
And that was the closest thing he could describe himself as. Lord Voldemort was immortal, with power far beyond the understanding of other wizards, and with followers so dedicated to himself and his cause that it could be easily described as worship. The loss of his body had served as a lesson, to not lose himself in his invincibility, that he could be tricked, like with Lily Potter’s trap. He had learnt from what happened, and now he was closer than ever to his final victory. The only things standing in his way were Dumbledore and his prophecy.
There was a small hiccup in the form of Jasmine Sayre, another descendant of the noble line of Slytherin and a pureblood from a very distinguished house no less. The woman made him cautious for some reason. It wasn’t just the political power she represented; it was mostly her little display with Fudge. If he was honest, Voldemort would admit that he wouldn’t have been able to do the same in an equally elegant manner. The woman’s intellect could cause trouble in the long run, so he had chosen not to make an enemy of her. She would eventually join him when he takes over Britain. There wouldn’t be any other side for her to have, after all. And if she chose to resist, then she would die by his hand, like many others have.
In other news, the miraculous recovery of the Longbottoms was making him nervous. Bellatrix did end up ranting and raving about someone undoing her work, but the Dark Lord wanted to unravel what the Longbottoms being healed meant, especially right after the Lestranges had escaped from Azkaban. It was a message, one that Voldemort did fully understand, and it grated him. Did Dumbledore convince some new prodigal healer to his side? Severus had told him that the Headmaster was as perplexed as he was. Was there someone else in the shadows, opposing him without him even knowing?
This little revelation had made him more cautious of his own moves and chose to spend the previous month consolidating his own forces. He had cast wards over the entirety of Little Hangleton, telling him if anyone without a Dark Mark cast any magic in the area. It was a measure to stop anyone from spying on his forces. He had also reinforced the wards on Riddle manor, making it almost an impenetrable fortress that would take the entire Auror force and the Order of the Phoenix to even attempt to break in.
Suddenly, Voldemort felt the wards flare out. Someone without a Dark Mark had cast a spell in Little Hangleton, and it was a powerful one as well. He triangulated the location to discover that it was near the Gaunt shack, where his Horcrux resided. Panicked, he yelled out, “Bellatrix, come with me.”
The deranged woman practically ran towards him, “Yes, master.”
As soon as she touched him, he apparated with her. He then held his arm out, revealing her Dark Mark, where he summoned to entirety of his inner circle in front of the Gaunt shack.
The shack itself, was burning, and the Dark Lord could sense the nature of the fire. It was Fiendfyre, one of the few substances that could destroy Horcruxes.
He felt his bubbling rage almost boil over, behind him, the members of his inner circle were apparating, one by one, confused by his summons.
He didn’t answer them and with a wave of his wand, the entire shack was immediately ripped off the ground, and the fire was banished away. Kneeling in front of him was an elderly man, who started to get up with a pained gasp. This was Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort looked at the man, at his burned robe. He took a better look at his left hand, only to find it blackened, with a familiar curse, his withering curse, that was quickly spreading up his arm. On his right hand, though, he was still holding onto his wand.
Had Dumbledore of all people fallen prey to the compulsion and had put on the ring? The compulsion was powerful, but it shouldn’t have breached his mental barriers like this. The man had panicked and used Fiendfyre to destroy the Horcrux but had gotten himself cursed in the process. There was no counter curse to this particular Egyptian withering curse. Albus Dumbledore was a dead man walking, and the thought sent a joyful thrill through him.
He had defeated his enemy without even trying. Yes, he had lost a Horcrux in the process, but it was his weakest one. But this also had a lot of troubling implications. Dumbledore knew of his Horcruxes, which means that he could have told someone about them. With Nagini being there, he was still safe, but for how long. After this, he will need to hunt down anyone that he could have told, just to be safe or even go as far as to hide them in other more secure locations.
Still, even weakened and dying Dumbledore was a dangerous foe, “Dumbledore.”
The aged Headmaster nodded at him, “Tom.”
“You found my ring.”
Dumbledore chuckled, “yes, after all this time, you still fear the inevitable.”
The Dark Lord repressed his fury, “I do not fear Death, Albus Dumbledore, for I have conquered it.”
The dying man chuckled, “After all this time, you’re still a fool, Tom.”
“And yet, I’m not the one who’s dying.”
“I was a fool as well, Tom, I will never deny it.”
The thought sent a thrill through Voldemort’s spine, “Yes, you admit it, then. You were a fool to oppose me.”
The man sent him a pained chuckle, “No, I was right to oppose you. What I regret the most, is creating you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It would take far more time than I have left to explain things properly,” the fool looked at the night sky, “it’s not a bad night to die, after all.”
His complete disregard to his own imminent demise angered Voldemort on a fundamental level, “So, that’s it. You have lost and I have won. The magical world is mine to take.”
“No, it’s not. I still have faith that you’ll be defeated Tom.”
“Is this about your precious little prophecy.”
Dumbledore looked pensive for a second, “the prophecy…” then the older man’s eyes brightened up in realization and he burst into hysterical laughter.
“What is it? What did I miss?” Voldemort bellowed to the dying man.
Dumbledore, though, kept laughing and ignored him, “I see it now, this was always meant to happen, she just wanted it to happen earlier. She said exactly what I needed to hear for me to come here, for me to die at this exact moment. She knew I wouldn’t resist the ring, she chose exactly for it to happen during Fawkes’ burning day so that I wouldn’t be able to call on him and survive for a few months, she’s been playing me, playing us, like little chess pieces all along. She’s been playing you, too, Tom. And she really doesn’t like you. Oh, you have no idea what you’re dealing with, Tom. Even now, I don’t fully understand the extent of her manipulations. It’s quite different when you’re the one being fooled, I’ll admit.”
“Speak clearly, old man.”
The man just kept chuckling and shook his head, “I’m a dead man, Tom. You’re one as well, you just don’t know it yet. You will die at Harry Potter’s hand. It was prophesied, after all.”
Voldemort froze for a second, “You’re placing your hope in a boy, who still hasn’t even completed his OWLs, to kill me. That’s the prophecy. Without your protection, the boy will not last a day.”
“There are things that you’re so ignorant of, Tom. It disappoints me as an educator.”
“Is this about Love again?” Voldemort sneered at him.
“You really are a disappointing student, Tom.”
The Dark Lord sneered at his hated enemy. He wouldn’t be getting any more answers out of the old man. He raised his wand, and sent a killing curse at the elder man, who didn’t even try to attack back. Instead, the man had snapped his own wand, for some reason.
Voldemort shook his head, if that wasn’t confirmation that Dumbledore was a senile old man, then nothing was. The man was laughing while being slowly killed by a withering curse, after all. He looked at the corpse of the man in front of him and grinned.
“Albus Dumbledore is dead by my hand.”
The Dark Lord ignored the celebrations from his servants behind him and kept staring at the old man’s corpse. He turned towards his Death Eaters and ginned, “My Death Eaters, our most powerful enemy just perished but the night was still young. There’s still a symbol of hope left, Harry Potter. The child who has survived me many times, through nothing but chance and Dumbledore’s machinations. And yet, now, without Dumbledore he’s nothing but a mediocre boy who people have died for, in the hope that he would one day destroy me. I say we make our victory absolute; we destroy their little symbol of hope. Tonight, we go to Hogwarts and kill Harry Potter.”
The Dark Lord enjoyed the looks of adoration his Death Eaters gave him and their obvious bloodthirsty expressions. He was still wary of people knowing about his Horcruxes, but if he took Nagini with him, kept her safe, then his victory was guaranteed. The Gaunt ring was his least protected Horcrux, and he knew for a fact that no one had touched the Lestrange vault in Gringotts. Perhaps, he would even go check on the Diadem when he goes to Hogwarts. For now, he only needed to stop the damn prophecy and kill Harry Potter while the boy is still weak.
Tonight, was going to be his ultimate victory and the start of his world order. Even if it was earlier than he wished, it was time for him to reveal his return. After all, there was no one left to oppose him.
Chapter 176: Insights
24th January 1995, Riddle Manor Earth 2
(Tom Riddle POV)
Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he was known today, wasn’t sure how he was feeling about his progress in conquering Magical Britain. Things were going fine, in recruiting his forces. The werewolves were pretty much all under his control with Greyback as an alpha, the giants were arriving soon from the continent, the dementors have already sworn themselves to him for the opportunity of feeding on the muggles; they couldn’t be seen by the savages, so the Statute wouldn’t be breached.
Even, his inner circle was back to his side, although diminished from their stay in Azkaban, they were still fearsome fighters who were quickly gaining back their former might.
Everything was going according to plan, even the Ministry ignored his return thanks to Lucius’ manipulations of the idiotic man they elected as the Minister. As far as the Dark Lord was concerned, there haven’t been a single setback, other than in retrieving the prophecy that concerns him and Potter.
It was something that he was planning on rectifying soon, especially with Rookwood back at his side. The former Unspeakable was very knowledgeable about the details of the Department of Mysteries and had given him very detailed information on the protections around the prophecy orbs.
It was an ancient spell, created to protect seers and prophets from those that would use them. No one could touch a prophecy orb other than its subjects, meaning only himself and Potter would be able to retrieve it.
That constituted a conundrum. The protections of the Department of Mysteries, while not impregnable to someone of his power, would alert the entire Ministry of intruders, which would reveal his return. This meant that, to be able to get the prophecy orb, he had to be ready to reveal himself first, and finish his preparations. Either that or somehow get Potter to get it for him, but that was a longshot at best, the boy being constantly under Dumbledore’s view.
Voldemort had his own spies in Hogwarts, namely Severus Snape, that would be able to tell him if the boy leaves the castle, in case Dumbledore chooses to use him to get the prophecy himself. So as far as the prophecy goes, everything was on hold until he was ready.
It still was imperative that he properly listens to the contents of the damn thing, at least for his own peace of mind. He couldn’t risk losing his body again, even with his immortality assured by the Horcruxes, getting another body with Harry Potter’s blood would be far harder, now that Dumbledore knew that he needed it to circumvent the mudblood’s blood protection.
Speaking of the Horcruxes, his greatest creations and greatest treasures were the first things he checked when he returned. Bellatrix had given him access to her Gringotts account ledger, which meant that he was able to check if someone had entered the vault to remove something, having been nervous that the Ministry would try to confiscate Bellatrix’s gold for her crimes. Luckily, no one had attempted to touch the Lestrange’s vaults ever since they went to Azkaban; The goblins have refused to involve themselves in wizarding affairs. It was the first time the little beasts were good for something, in Voldemort’s opinion.
He had gone to the Gaunt shack, to see if someone had tried to find the ring. As for the rest, his blood alarm ward over the inferi cavern hasn’t been triggered in decades which meant that the locket was undisturbed. Now, the diadem was safe in Hogwarts; he was certain no one had discovered the hidden room on the seventh floor, and even then, no one would be able to find something in the mess that is the room of hidden things, even if they somehow got access to the room.
Nagini was safe, next to him, of course, but the only issue was the diary. Lucius had been very severely punished for his mistake in using it in a childish feud with the Weasleys of all people and getting a part of Voldemort’s soul destroyed. If it wasn’t for the man’s financial contributions to his cause and influence in the Ministry, he would have killed him that night. Even then, it was a near thing. How dare that worm lose something that he had entrusted him. He was nervous that Dumbledore would recognize what it was, even if he had concealed the diary’s true nature, he didn’t think it would have fooled Dumbledore. But alas, even his younger self was superior to the old man, and the diary was destroyed before the man had a chance to examine it properly. The fact that he hadn’t hunted down the Horcruxes ever since was proof of his ignorance in the matter. Even then, Dumbledore hadn’t walked down the path of dark magic like himself, being too weak to understand its power.
The soul anchors really were the Dark Lord’s greatest creations. He remembered when he was still a boy, still Tom Riddle, in that damned orphanage, during the London Blitz, listening to the bombs explode around the city, not knowing if he would ever see another day, if his life, miserable as it was, would have an unremarkable end, without even having achieved any of his dreams or ambitions. Tom Riddle would have ended up nothing but a name in Hogwarts’ book of students, full of potential that was never realized, only to be forgotten barely a few months later, the world having moved it.
It was then that the young boy that was Tom Riddle chose to rise up against his mortality, fight against death itself and emerge victorious as Lord Voldemort. He had lived for years trying to overcome the last enemy, and after years of research to even the darkest magics, he had found his answer in soul magic, more precisely in Horcruxes, and he hadn’t regretted it since.
The day that he created his first Horcrux was the day that the young orphan Tom Riddle had officially died, and the Dark Lord Voldemort was born. On that day, he had cast away his weakness, his humanity, to become more, to become a god.
And that was the closest thing he could describe himself as. Lord Voldemort was immortal, with power far beyond the understanding of other wizards, and with followers so dedicated to himself and his cause that it could be easily described as worship. The loss of his body had served as a lesson, to not lose himself in his invincibility, that he could be tricked, like with Lily Potter’s trap. He had learnt from what happened, and now he was closer than ever to his final victory. The only things standing in his way were Dumbledore and his prophecy.
There was a small hiccup in the form of Jasmine Sayre, another descendant of the noble line of Slytherin and a pureblood from a very distinguished house no less. The woman made him cautious for some reason. It wasn’t just the political power she represented; it was mostly her little display with Fudge. If he was honest, Voldemort would admit that he wouldn’t have been able to do the same in an equally elegant manner. The woman’s intellect could cause trouble in the long run, so he had chosen not to make an enemy of her. She would eventually join him when he takes over Britain. There wouldn’t be any other side for her to have, after all. And if she chose to resist, then she would die by his hand, like many others have.
In other news, the miraculous recovery of the Longbottoms was making him nervous. Bellatrix did end up ranting and raving about someone undoing her work, but the Dark Lord wanted to unravel what the Longbottoms being healed meant, especially right after the Lestranges had escaped from Azkaban. It was a message, one that Voldemort did fully understand, and it grated him. Did Dumbledore convince some new prodigal healer to his side? Severus had told him that the Headmaster was as perplexed as he was. Was there someone else in the shadows, opposing him without him even knowing?
This little revelation had made him more cautious of his own moves and chose to spend the previous month consolidating his own forces. He had cast wards over the entirety of Little Hangleton, telling him if anyone without a Dark Mark cast any magic in the area. It was a measure to stop anyone from spying on his forces. He had also reinforced the wards on Riddle manor, making it almost an impenetrable fortress that would take the entire Auror force and the Order of the Phoenix to even attempt to break in.
Suddenly, Voldemort felt the wards flare out. Someone without a Dark Mark had cast a spell in Little Hangleton, and it was a powerful one as well. He triangulated the location to discover that it was near the Gaunt shack, where his Horcrux resided. Panicked, he yelled out, “Bellatrix, come with me.”
The deranged woman practically ran towards him, “Yes, master.”
As soon as she touched him, he apparated with her. He then held his arm out, revealing her Dark Mark, where he summoned to entirety of his inner circle in front of the Gaunt shack.
The shack itself, was burning, and the Dark Lord could sense the nature of the fire. It was Fiendfyre, one of the few substances that could destroy Horcruxes.
He felt his bubbling rage almost boil over, behind him, the members of his inner circle were apparating, one by one, confused by his summons.
He didn’t answer them and with a wave of his wand, the entire shack was immediately ripped off the ground, and the fire was banished away. Kneeling in front of him was an elderly man, who started to get up with a pained gasp. This was Albus Dumbledore.
Voldemort looked at the man, at his burned robe. He took a better look at his left hand, only to find it blackened, with a familiar curse, his withering curse, that was quickly spreading up his arm. On his right hand, though, he was still holding onto his wand.
Had Dumbledore of all people fallen prey to the compulsion and had put on the ring? The compulsion was powerful, but it shouldn’t have breached his mental barriers like this. The man had panicked and used Fiendfyre to destroy the Horcrux but had gotten himself cursed in the process. There was no counter curse to this particular Egyptian withering curse. Albus Dumbledore was a dead man walking, and the thought sent a joyful thrill through him.
He had defeated his enemy without even trying. Yes, he had lost a Horcrux in the process, but it was his weakest one. But this also had a lot of troubling implications. Dumbledore knew of his Horcruxes, which means that he could have told someone about them. With Nagini being there, he was still safe, but for how long. After this, he will need to hunt down anyone that he could have told, just to be safe or even go as far as to hide them in other more secure locations.
Still, even weakened and dying Dumbledore was a dangerous foe, “Dumbledore.”
The aged Headmaster nodded at him, “Tom.”
“You found my ring.”
Dumbledore chuckled, “yes, after all this time, you still fear the inevitable.”
The Dark Lord repressed his fury, “I do not fear Death, Albus Dumbledore, for I have conquered it.”
The dying man chuckled, “After all this time, you’re still a fool, Tom.”
“And yet, I’m not the one who’s dying.”
“I was a fool as well, Tom, I will never deny it.”
The thought sent a thrill through Voldemort’s spine, “Yes, you admit it, then. You were a fool to oppose me.”
The man sent him a pained chuckle, “No, I was right to oppose you. What I regret the most, is creating you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It would take far more time than I have left to explain things properly,” the fool looked at the night sky, “it’s not a bad night to die, after all.”
His complete disregard to his own imminent demise angered Voldemort on a fundamental level, “So, that’s it. You have lost and I have won. The magical world is mine to take.”
“No, it’s not. I still have faith that you’ll be defeated Tom.”
“Is this about your precious little prophecy.”
Dumbledore looked pensive for a second, “the prophecy…” then the older man’s eyes brightened up in realization and he burst into hysterical laughter.
“What is it? What did I miss?” Voldemort bellowed to the dying man.
Dumbledore, though, kept laughing and ignored him, “I see it now, this was always meant to happen, she just wanted it to happen earlier. She said exactly what I needed to hear for me to come here, for me to die at this exact moment. She knew I wouldn’t resist the ring, she chose exactly for it to happen during Fawkes’ burning day so that I wouldn’t be able to call on him and survive for a few months, she’s been playing me, playing us, like little chess pieces all along. She’s been playing you, too, Tom. And she really doesn’t like you. Oh, you have no idea what you’re dealing with, Tom. Even now, I don’t fully understand the extent of her manipulations. It’s quite different when you’re the one being fooled, I’ll admit.”
“Speak clearly, old man.”
The man just kept chuckling and shook his head, “I’m a dead man, Tom. You’re one as well, you just don’t know it yet. You will die at Harry Potter’s hand. It was prophesied, after all.”
Voldemort froze for a second, “You’re placing your hope in a boy, who still hasn’t even completed his OWLs, to kill me. That’s the prophecy. Without your protection, the boy will not last a day.”
“There are things that you’re so ignorant of, Tom. It disappoints me as an educator.”
“Is this about Love again?” Voldemort sneered at him.
“You really are a disappointing student, Tom.”
The Dark Lord sneered at his hated enemy. He wouldn’t be getting any more answers out of the old man. He raised his wand, and sent a killing curse at the elder man, who didn’t even try to attack back. Instead, the man had snapped his own wand, for some reason.
Voldemort shook his head, if that wasn’t confirmation that Dumbledore was a senile old man, then nothing was. The man was laughing while being slowly killed by a withering curse, after all. He looked at the corpse of the man in front of him and grinned.
“Albus Dumbledore is dead by my hand.”
The Dark Lord ignored the celebrations from his servants behind him and kept staring at the old man’s corpse. He turned towards his Death Eaters and ginned, “My Death Eaters, our most powerful enemy just perished but the night was still young. There’s still a symbol of hope left, Harry Potter. The child who has survived me many times, through nothing but chance and Dumbledore’s machinations. And yet, now, without Dumbledore he’s nothing but a mediocre boy who people have died for, in the hope that he would one day destroy me. I say we make our victory absolute; we destroy their little symbol of hope. Tonight, we go to Hogwarts and kill Harry Potter.”
The Dark Lord enjoyed the looks of adoration his Death Eaters gave him and their obvious bloodthirsty expressions. He was still wary of people knowing about his Horcruxes, but if he took Nagini with him, kept her safe, then his victory was guaranteed. The Gaunt ring was his least protected Horcrux, and he knew for a fact that no one had touched the Lestrange vault in Gringotts. Perhaps, he would even go check on the Diadem when he goes to Hogwarts. For now, he only needed to stop the damn prophecy and kill Harry Potter while the boy is still weak.
Tonight, was going to be his ultimate victory and the start of his world order. Even if it was earlier than he wished, it was time for him to reveal his return. After all, there was no one left to oppose him.
