The cold steel rails of the Hogwarts Express rattled beneath my fingers, but my mind was elsewhere, cataloging the last three months of recovery. The Horcrux was created, the sword heavy in my possession, and my soul had been carefully tended with three separate potions — the body, the mind, and the magic itself. Each sip had burned, each second of agony measured, but now it was healed. Whole again. Or as close to whole as a man who had split himself could be.
I leaned back in the compartment seat, feeling the familiar hum of magic in the train, the low vibration of spells running invisibly along the rails. My silver hair caught the dim sunlight streaming through the window, and for a moment I allowed myself to close my eyes. Eternal youth, the system had told me. My body would no longer betray me to time. No aches, no wrinkles, no deterioration. It was a strange feeling — both liberating and… almost uncanny.
Mimsy, perched quietly on the seat opposite me, tidied the compartment without sound. "Master, will you be at Hogwarts long before you start… training again?" she asked, her voice cautious. She had learned over the years not to ask about the parts of my life that touched death or dark magic.
I smiled faintly. "Very little time. A few days to reacquaint myself, then we continue our plans. You know what to do in my absence."
"Yes, Master," she said, bowing her head.
I turned my gaze to the passing scenery: forests, fields, rivers glinting like liquid silver. The world outside looked unchanged, but I knew differently. I had changed. More than any other year, more than the last six combined. My magic reserves were larger, my soul's anchor safe within a Horcrux, and my body now immune to age. Each passing second of the train ride felt like a rehearsal for the power I would wield.
By the time the train slowed for Hogsmeade, I was already planning my first moves for the year:
Retraining my Death Eaters to account for my new power.
Practising combat using ancient magic and the knowledge of Salazar, Flamel, and the Peverell bloodline.
Preparing my first steps toward recruitment beyond Slytherin — this year, the other houses.
I stepped off the train, boots hitting the platform with measured precision. The crowd of students jostled, some shouting greetings, some chasing friends, but none noticed me. It was always this way — power shields perception.
I whispered in Parseltongue, opening the small alleyway I'd prepared for private entry. Mimsy flitted behind me, silent as ever. The world outside the train and the chaos of students fell away.
As the familiar manor came into view, I allowed myself one small thought:
Everything is in place. Every calculation, every piece, every contingency. Now the next phase begins.
The winter air bit at my skin, but I felt nothing — eternal youth made one invulnerable to such trivialities. My eyes gleamed as I stepped through the threshold of the manor. The sword rested in a specially prepared pedestal in the inner chamber, its metal humming faintly, whispering of the fragment it now carried.
I removed my cloak, setting it carefully aside. Mimsy placed a tray of potions on the table — the last steps of soul restoration completed months ago, now merely a matter of routine upkeep.
I allowed myself a brief smile, thinking of the students at Hogwarts, my Death Eaters waiting, and the long game that had only just begun.
"Master," Mimsy said softly, "shall I summon the others?"
"Soon," I said, placing my hand on the sword. "First… I want to see what the year brings."
And as night fell across the manor, I began to quietly plan, the hum of magic around me thick and palpable. Hogwarts awaited, and I was returning stronger, sharper, and more dangerous than ever.