The Things You See in a Graveyard - 3

The second time waking up as Tom Riddle was just as disorienting. His life was strange enough for him to accept that he had not only traveled through time but also ended up in the body of a yet-to-be Dark Lord. Still, Slytherin dorms were not common up until now. The foundation of Riddle's memories helped ease the confusion.

He went through his morning routine on auto-pilot. It was amazing to see his hair actually do as instructed. He may have spent a few minutes more than he'd like to admit simply playing with different styles. The image of Tom Riddle walking around with a pompadour did wonders for his mood. His Pureblood minions would probably change to match before breakfast. Instead, he went with a classic comb-over that Tom usually wore.

The thought of his minions made him pause. These were not merely the parents of the students he had initially gone to school with. This was their grandparents, which meant he knew absolutely nothing about them. Thankfully, Tom's knowledge helped fill in the gaps. The information was cold and analytical. Weaknesses, blackmail, and contingency plans were attached to each name. Hopefully, he could do enough to fake it.

Tom put on his best expression of Regal Indifference as he strolled through the common room. A couple of nods were enough to get out to the hallway unapproached. His minions knew better than trying to speak to him unless he initiated it. Even then, they were conversations, more akin to reports.

He found the Great Hall without issue and busied himself with eating until his target arrived. Minerva McGonagall was a year older than him. Laying eyes on the younger version of his Transfiguration Professor muddled his thoughts. Even at this age she had a stern aura. The one thing he wasn't expecting was her being attractive. Tom wasn't a stranger to female companionship but saw it as a way to manipulate witches rather than an actual connection. To him, it was basically aerobic exercise. He was interested in power and function, not carnal pleasures. It was one of the reasons he had at least one ritual that would finally get rid of the annoying animal drive. The new Tom didn't have the same point of view. He appreciated the female form as much as any other wizard his age, and teenage McGonagall was a fox.

Tom stood and approached the Gryffindor Prefect with a calm, practiced stride.

"Miss McGonagall," Tom greeted her.

"Mister Riddle," there was a slight question in her voice. "What do you need?"

"I need your assistance as a prefect," he said with a small incline of his head. "I fear that my involvement would complicate matters."

"Oh?" McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

"Do you know Rubeus Hagrid?" He asked.

"He's a second year in my house," she replied.

"I thought he was in Hufflepuff," he said. "No matter. He is in possession of an adolescent acromantula. I applaud his passion to take care of creatures otherwise treated as monsters, but such an animal needs special care." He paused. "Interference from me, even if it is warranted, would not end well."

"Understood," McGonagall nodded. "I will handle it."

"Thank you, Miss McGonagall," he inclined his head to her once again.

He did not appreciate her backside as she walked away. Any claims otherwise are lies.

~

A special team of magizoologists arrived within an hour. They took the giant spider to a reserve in Brazil. Hagrid pouted for the next few days.

He found the coursework much too easy. The inherited memories showed that Tom had already studied the core subjects through seventh year on his own. He would charm the staff with his ease of progress through the classes. Volunteering to tutor students helped too. It allowed Tom to scout potential minions and keep an eye out for problems.

Professor Slughorn treated him like he hung the moon. Tom would have made an excellent Potions Professor. In fact, he could have taught any subject on par with the staff. It was the extra classes that truly interested him. Runes, Arithmancy, and Alchemy, while easy for the old Tom it was brand new to him. What really interested him was Enchanting. It was an elective class only available to students with a solid grasp in the three mentioned classes. In fact, all of the core classes synchronized with the skill as well. Herbology supported Potions which bolstered Alchemy. Creating and altering spells required Arithmancy which could be enhanced with Runes and Astronomy.

The Charms Professor, Fortinbras was a knowledgeable woman in her older years. She lacked the energy that Professor Flitwick to the subject. While not a bad teacher, she made the subject feel clinical rather than magical.

Transfiguration was taught by Professor Dumbledore. The old man made his dislike for Tom obvious. He didn't outright bully him. Instead, he watched Tom with an intense focus. Dumbledore didn't buy the 'helpful genius' act. Attempts to assist other students in class led to points being taken.

Tom's memories told him it was toward the end of the year. He'd be sent off to Muggle London soon which meant dealing with German air-raids, rationing, and huddling in bomb shelters while unable to use magic. Silent casting was easy enough, but wandless magic eluded him. It was somewhat comforting to find something that Tom hadn't mastered.

He made note to work on it later.

Currently, his focus was on Enchanting. The subject hooked him. Goblin silver was created through alchemy which made it able to hold enchantments better than the standard sort. Yet, the best medium was natural materials. Those harvested from magical creatures were the best.

Which was what led him back to the Chamber. Catalina wasn't there and it didn't look like she had been back. He wouldn't be able to get any fresh Basilisk hide, but multiple shed skin was available. Mundane shedding was not good for crafting anything that needed to be used regularly and tore easily.

The inborn magical properties of basilisk skin did not have such issues. It wasn't nearly as strong as it would be directly from the source but was on par with thick leather. The material needed multiple passes with the standard tools for engraving enchantments.

There wasn't much long left in the term, so he had to focus. It took him the better part of the day to gather the best selection of materials, then an entire night to prep the workspace. Careful and creative application of enchantments usually used by tailors allowed him to make the basilisk leather pliable enough to wear as clothing.

Goblin Silver, unfortunately, was not readily available for experimenting. It was more cost effective to use Sterling Silver, which wasn't nearly on the level of the kind used to make Galleons. Buying it in bulk from Gringotts was ridiculously cheap. The laws didn't cover the 'trash' which opened up an entirely new form of revenue.

Tom didn't realize how much time had passed until the OWLs announced. He breezed through them, leaving him plenty of time to wander around the castle while everyone else was still sweating.

He was left alone, wondering, and without a project to work on. This led him to consider what would happen once the term was complete. He didn't think that the train station was hit in any of the bombing runs, but he wasn't going to rely on a guess. His thoughts naturally turned to Enchanting with a focus on the projects he had been perfecting.

Tom took a seat on a bench and let his eyes drift. His natural paranoia kept him aware of anyone approaching. He had chosen a little courtyard that had a few sculptures and suits of armor dotted around the space. The suits carried a mixture of hammers, axes, and swords.

He watched as one suit of armor started to hum, much to the annoyance of another close to it. Tom got closer to check that it was actually empty. The suit stopped humming once he got close. True enough, no one was inside of it. The armor started to hum again as he walked away.

The other suit of armor picked up a rock and tossed it at the humming one. It hit the helmet which stopped the humming for about a minute. The sound started again after a brief moment of silence. Tom held in his laughter as the annoyed suit of armor stomped over and smacked the humming armor with its weapon, a Warhammer. It didn't stop until the humming armor was spread across the courtyard. Tom didn't bother stifling his laughter as the scattered armor started to hum again.

A dark thought popped in his head as the armor began to reassemble itself. His memories pictured this similar to how the Horcruxes should have worked. Immortality via not staying dead. Avoiding death wasn't a bad goal. It was the approach where the old Tom had gone astray. Granted, it was inspired by not being able to use magic. He didn't worry about getting into trouble for protecting himself if he could just come back.

Armor, enchanted armor, would change the game. It didn't need active use of magic, simply an incantation. He had plenty of Sterling Silver to create a suit of armor, the pieces that needed movement could be fitted with basilisk leather. It would complicate his plans to sell it, but he couldn't spend money if he was dead.

Tom smiled. He had a new project and a deadline fast approaching.

~

Tom spent the rest of the day studying the suits of armor in the courtyard. He summoned a sketchpad and a charcoal stick. Detailed drawings of the pieces, joints, and rough range of motion filled the page as he slipped into a deep focus.

Once the sheet was full, he took a break to summon another. It was then that he realized that the sun was setting and that his Slytherin minions had gathered in the courtyard. They had no idea what he was doing, but it had to be important.

"Yaxley," Tom snapped.

The wizard hurried to his side. Yaxley was a tall, thin wizard with the hint of a mustache that hadn't filled out. He was also one of the few Purebloods that had artistic tendencies.

"I want detailed sketches of each suit of armor in this courtyard," Tom ordered. "How long?"

Yaxley scanned the area.

"Evening meal tomorrow, my lord," he added the last part softly.

"See that it is done," Tom swept his gaze to the rest of his minions. "Malfoy."

The wizard in question snapped to attention. No wonder the old Tom had been so egotistical, seeing these soon-to-be Lords and Ladies scrambling for his attention was addictive.

"My lord," the wizard didn't quite bow, but it was close.

The wizard looked almost exactly like Lucius with the main difference being the shape of the chin. It was pointier than subsequent generations.

"How many variations of the armor are there on the castle grounds?" He asked.

"These are the standard selection," Malfoy replied.

Tom hadn't visited the homes of his minions yet. While powerful, he was currently limited to Hogwarts. In the original timeline, it wouldn't be until Tom had traveled around the world before he started to control them. Some carefully arranged deaths to move the Lordships into the right hands, a few rituals, and a simply insane show of power did wonders for his reputation. He wasn't planning on taking over the Ministry anymore, but he wasn't going to throw away the resources. Plans would still work with a bit of restructuring.

"Take one of each, disenchant them, and shrink them down," Tom ordered. "It will be done before we leave for term."

"Understood," Malfoy said with another not-bow.

"My people," Tom turned to address the others assembled. "This year has been productive. Our influence with continue to grow in the coming years. Expect an exponential increase in power once we are free of this place."

The assembled Purebloods didn't cheer. They were too well mannered for that. Instead, they traded power-hungry glances. He'd figure out how to use them later. For now, he had some armor to design.