Now that England was mine, the true work began. Conquering was easy; building a stable world under my rule would determine whether my reign would last for centuries or fade into memory like the others before me.
I sat in the Minister's office — though technically my office — gazing at the enormous map of magical Britain that hung on the wall. Every inch of it, every ley line and magical node, pulsed faintly in resonance with my power. England was stable now, and I intended to keep it that way.
The first thing I did was summon my allies and loyal followers to reward them. A king who fails to reward loyalty breeds rebellion, and I had no patience for such things.
The Goblins of Gringotts
The goblins were the first. For centuries they had been treated as second-class citizens, denied wands, denied true magical freedom. They respected only strength — and I had demonstrated more than enough of that.
I summoned Ragnok, the chief of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts, to the Ministry. When he arrived, his sharp eyes studied me carefully.
"You have conquered wizardkind," he said slowly, his tone edged with both caution and respect. "What will you do with goblinkind?"
I smiled faintly and motioned for him to sit. "Reward loyalty. Recognize power. And establish balance."
With a wave of my wand, a black velvet box appeared on the table. Inside rested ten elegantly crafted wands — not ordinary ones, but my own creation. Goblin-forged cores, enchanted to respond to goblin magic rather than reject it.
"These," I said softly, "belong to your people. Ten of the greatest goblin warriors and artisans may wield them. I have altered the magical laws themselves to permit goblins to channel wand magic without backlash."
For the first time, Ragnok's hard expression softened into something that might have been gratitude. "You are not like the others, Lord Riddle."
"No," I replied simply. "I never was."
The goblins bowed — bowed — before leaving. Their loyalty was now secured beyond question.
The Werewolves
Next came the werewolves.
The war had left many of them scattered, leaderless, and feared. Even now, the public whispered about the "monsters" lurking in the countryside. But I had use for them — soldiers, enforcers, and trackers. All they lacked was control.
Using the soul magic I had mastered from Dumbledore's knowledge and my own research, I delved into the ancient curse of lycanthropy itself. Combined with Snape's unmatched potion-making techniques — now absorbed into my mind through Dumbledore's memories and my own improvements — I created something revolutionary: the Superior Wolfsbane Potion.
Unlike its crude predecessor, mine didn't merely suppress transformation. It prevented it entirely.
Under the full moon, the werewolves would remain perfectly human — strong, aware, and free.
When I presented it to Fenrir Greyback, even he fell silent. "You can… cure it?" he whispered, staring at the shimmering silver potion.
"Not a cure," I corrected. "A gift. You remain as you are — powerful — but no longer a slave to the moon."
I handed him several vials. "Distribute them to your pack. Then swear your loyalty to me."
He did so without hesitation.
The werewolves were now mine — loyal, intelligent, and capable soldiers for my empire.
The Vampires
After the werewolves came the vampires. Their problem was simple: the sun. Their kind ruled the night but burned in daylight. But as I learned from experimenting with the werewolf curse, vampirism was another form of magical infection — a distortion of the soul itself.
Using that same research, I formulated the Solar Draught, a potion capable of shielding a vampire's body from the sun for up to eight hours. It wasn't perfect, but it was revolutionary.
I met with their coven leaders deep beneath the ruins of an old cathedral. Their leader, Countess Valeria, regarded me with predatory interest. "And what do you want, Wizard King?" she asked.
"Peace," I replied. "Your kind will live openly under my protection, no longer hunted. In return, you serve my empire. And this—" I handed her a vial glowing with pale gold light "—will let your people walk beneath the sun."
Her crimson eyes widened slightly. "You would give this… to us?"
"I reward loyalty," I said simply.
She took the potion and knelt. "Then you have ours."
The vampires, too, joined my reign.
The Pureblood Houses
The war had taken its toll. Many of the old pureblood families had been wiped out — the result of their arrogance and unwillingness to adapt. Those that remained were too few to maintain the old order.
So I reshaped it.
The families of my loyal followers, my Death Eaters, and the new generation of Slytherin graduates filled the void. I granted them estates, titles, and seats in the reformed Wizengamot — though their power existed only at my pleasure.
They believed themselves noble. In truth, they were my pawns, carefully arranged on the board to keep England stable.
The Giants
The giants were simpler. Brute force with little intellect. I didn't need them in cities, but their strength was useful for large-scale projects and border defense. I found a region in the Scottish Highlands suitable for their settlement, filled with mountainous terrain and little human interference.
In exchange for protection and supplies, they would serve as my enforcers in the north. Their leader, Karkog, accepted easily enough.
The Trolls and Other Creatures
As for the trolls, acromantulas, and other beasts — I designated the Forbidden Forest as their domain. With new magical barriers and runic wards, the forest expanded and grew more stable, becoming a controlled sanctuary for dangerous creatures under my rule.
Few would dare enter without my permission.
By the end of that week, my new world had taken shape. Every race, every faction, every corner of magical England was now organized beneath one banner — mine.
The Goblins served as my financial arm.The Werewolves, my soldiers.The Vampires, my spies.The Purebloods, my politicians.The Giants, my enforcers.The monsters, my deterrent.
England was no longer divided.
It was united — under the King of Magic.
I leaned back in my chair within the Minister's office, gazing out the tall windows at the stormy night sky over London. Lightning flashed across the clouds, and I felt the pulse of magic within the land itself respond to my presence.
The world outside had not yet realized it, but history had already changed.
The Dark Lord was gone.
In his place stood the Magic King — and the age of chaos had only just begun.