Hogwarts: Tom is not the Dark Lord

Slytherin finally cleared away his 'grievance'. Although the little snakes found it strange, they still held their heads high and vividly demonstrated their tall image of 'bearing humiliation and bearing the burden'.

A perfect interpretation of what true greatness is.

As for those idiots jumping around and shouting about pure-blood supremacy, they are all the fools of the Sorting Hat who sorted such trash into Slytherin.

The true heirs shared their precious memories and were stamped with recognition by that old madman Dumbledore.

How can someone who doesn't understand what it means to assess the situation be a real Slytherin?

Anyway, they have had enough "dirty water" thrown on them, so there are not many less.

Tom's reputation and prestige skyrocketed, and even the headmaster of Ilvermorny was visited by reporters, hoping to dig out more stories about the Slytherin heir.

Sitting in the office and reading the newspaper, Tom once again lamented Abu's methods. People who can control public opinion have already gained control of most people's hearts.

The voice of doubt will sooner or later disappear completely amid the praise.

Who can have evidence that... these are all 'conspiracies'? He is... just showing the truth that is about to be lost in history to the world...

"Grindelwald..."

Pouting his lips, Tom took a sip from the wine glass. The former king... even though he was old, he could still hold up the scepter in his hand.

...............................

"Is it fate...what exactly did you see...Trelawney...the third eye...the prophet..."

Whispering softly, Tom squinted his eyes and stared at the candlelight swinging in the air. He still could not convince himself to believe in any damn prophecy...

But thinking about the ghost in the bathroom... Tom sighed and looked away, thinking about whether to solve the root cause of the trouble.

He remembered... Mr. Trelawney was married to a Muggle woman and had only one child...

Raising his hand to block his eyes that turned scarlet again, Tom gave up on this plan, took off the Resurrection Stone ring in his hand, and raised it to his eyes for a closer look.

His guess was good. Whether it was a wizard or a magical creature, it only needed to provide life force to nourish this 'thing'...

'If you don't want to disappear completely, you know what to do...right...'

'.............yes...'

The childish Parseltongue still made people feel cold, but Tom still heard a sense of grievance from it.

With a cold snort, Tom summoned a black leather suitcase from the corner.

Mr. Scamander, apart from being a bit of a talker about magical creatures, is also very generous~

Especially in front of his old friend...

'Troublesome stuff..'

Angrily, he threw the Resurrection Stone into the suitcase full of Acromantulas. Tom took out the parchment with an ugly face, picked up the quill and started writing a reply.

and Mr. Scamander, on to the damned Riem cows, and how to get used to the English climate!

Can't those creatures continue to live in the wilderness of North America and the Far East?

When will the wizard let the poor magical creatures go? If you want to increase your strength, why don't you just learn from Muggle exercises?

Why should he pay attention to these, the huge Riem cattle with shiny golden fur!