Hogwarts had changed. Under my command, the castle no longer felt like a school but a citadel of magic, a crucible designed to cultivate power and intellect. The moment I stepped onto the grounds, the effects of the King of Magic talent rippled through the staff and students alike. Loyalty, once fragile and conditional, became automatic. Even those who had once whispered doubts in the hallways now bowed subtly, eyes filled with quiet reverence.
I made my way to the Sorting Hat first. With a few precise incantations and subtle compulsion charms, I adjusted its enchantments. Every student who placed it on their head would now perceive me as the ultimate authority, the standard by which magical worth was measured. Blood status, heritage, and tradition—all trivial in the face of raw talent and intelligence.
When the first years arrived, I observed silently from the shadows, letting the sorting proceed. The Hat glimmered faintly, whispering to the students as it always had, yet now every decision subtly reinforced my influence. Muggle-born or pureblood, gifted or prodigious, their potential was assessed and rewarded. Uselessness was not punished by cruelty—at least not yet—but it was rendered irrelevant. Only power mattered.
My attention turned to the faculty. Most of Dumbledore's former staff remained, bound not by fear, but by the invisible weight of my magical authority. I maintained appearances; teachers were allowed to teach, guide, and research, but every lesson subtly reinforced my worldview: power is paramount, intellect is sacred, and loyalty to the wizard who controls destiny itself is non-negotiable.
Meanwhile, my experiments continued, though far more discreetly than before. Magic, in its essence, fascinated me—the currents that flowed through the soul, the subtle differences that dictated talent, the ways in which life force could be quantified, studied, and perhaps even perfected. Each discovery added to my understanding of immortality, magic amplification, and the very structure of the human spirit. The lines between life, death, and magic blurred in my mind, and I realized the world itself was nothing more than a series of rules to be deciphered, bent, and rewritten.
I also used my influence to restructure Hogwarts' curriculum. Classes were no longer a matter of tradition—they were engines of advancement. Advanced elemental magic, dark ritual theory, theoretical transfiguration, and high-level combat magic became core subjects. Students who excelled in these areas were given privileges, resources, and positions of influence even before they graduated. Those who lagged behind? They were quietly redirected to positions that served the institution in a functional, practical way. Power demanded efficiency, and inefficiency had no place in my world.
The castle itself transformed. The wards and enchantments that had once protected against outsiders were now my personal arsenal. Surveillance spells, transfigured constructs, and autonomous defensive charms ensured that even a single unauthorized intruder could not breach the grounds. Every corridor, every classroom, every chamber was mapped and cataloged, a living record of loyalty, skill, and potential.
And yet, despite this perfection, I remained restless. Knowledge was infinite, and my grasp of it was still incomplete. I spent hours in the Forbidden Library, studying ancient grimoires and occult texts, examining theories of cosmic magic and the very fabric of existence. I cataloged every spell I encountered, every magical artifact, and every historical anomaly. With the time turner I had obtained from the Department of Mysteries, I observed moments in history I had once read about, verifying details and uncovering inconsistencies. My understanding of magic and time became a lattice of possibilities, each discovery a stepping stone toward ultimate mastery.
Even as England fell entirely under my control, my thoughts remained forward-looking. I watched the magical world like a chessboard, seeing not only the pieces in front of me, but the ones I would place decades, centuries, even millennia into the future. Hogwarts, the Ministry, Diagon Alley—these were not ends, but tools. Instruments of observation, experimentation, and eventual domination.
From the highest tower, I looked over the grounds, feeling the hum of power beneath my feet, the subtle pulse of the castle responding to my presence. The students below trained, studied, and whispered my name. Some called me "Lord Riddle," others simply "Master." All, without realizing it, obeyed me, their hearts and minds tuned to the rhythm I had set.
For now, England was mine. The kingdom of wizards had been reshaped, refined, and secured. My victory over Dumbledore had cemented my supremacy, but the war of knowledge, power, and influence had only just begun. Across the world, there were secrets yet to uncover, magics yet unmastered, and civilizations whose power could be bent or broken under my will.
I allowed myself a rare smile. The consolidation of England was complete, the foundations of my empire secure. And yet, the horizon stretched endlessly, each moment another opportunity, every second another lesson. The world itself was a puzzle, and I intended to master every piece.
The empire of magic had a new king. And that king, immortal and unrivaled, would not rest.