Voldemort's Return

Ewan passed out from shock. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying below the canopy.

The phone began to vibrate, signaling that there was a new message.

[You finally woke up!]

[If you are ready, I want to explain your situation in greater detail.]

[You are in France on July 18th, 1985, in the magical world, six years before the launch of the plot.]

[You are not the only person sent to the otherworlds, but you are the only one in the HP world.]

[You are now a player, and there will be some occurrences we call events.]

[In the first years, you will pass the events individually, but later, the events will be in multiplayer mode.]

[Each event brings immense items and presents to the winner.]

[The competition will be cruel, so I advise you to try to get stronger.]

[Last thing before I leave, each person we send to the otherworlds will get something we call the Transmigrator Privilege, which is a small ability we think you are in dire need of.]

[Your Privilege is: The ability to know the location of every Horcrux of Lord Voldemort, and the ability to absorb it.]

[By the way, I figured out that you are going to be homeless, so I teleported you near the castle from Beauty and the Beast.]

[In the modified history, after the end of the Beauty and the Beast story, the castle became vacant until a wizard named 'Victor Veirdent' bought it and renovated it. His family owned this castle for many generations before they were all killed when The Dark Lord Grindelwald attacked Paris.]

[I pulled some strings here, and your great-grandfather was a Squib who was banished from this family to England, given a lot of money to live a good life, and changed his family name to Riddle. I believe you know what to do.]

[Also, last thing, I suggest you go and pick up your son from the orphanage in England before the end of your first month here. The exact address is on the phone. By the way, the boy seems like a mix between Johan Liebert and Conan, so he will need special care.]

[Remember, this is not a game!]

[Take care of yourself.]

[Goodbye.]

Ewan looked at his phone with conflicted feelings.

"Rhys?"

He didn't receive any reply.

He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself.

He looked at his image through the phone's camera.

He received everything from Voldemort: his memories, his feelings, his personality, his talents, his habits. Even this body is a copy of Voldemort's original body.

He is so sure, he is not Ewan anymore.

That honest, funny journalist who fought corruption and injustice by the power of words is now perfectly merged with the dark lord, the epitome of tyranny and madness who made the lives of others a living hell.

Voldemort was the quality of people Ewan hated the most, the quality that killed his children to take revenge on him for exposing them.

'No, not exactly. Lord Voldemort would have killed Ewan. He wouldn't let a nuisance live if he could crush them.'

'I am not Ewan but also not Voldemort. I am a mix between them, but to everyone's eyes, I am Voldemort, so I will call myself by this name too.'

He rose up and composed himself.

'Rhys, I don't know how you've done this to me, but if a chance offers itself to give payback to you and your society, I won't show you any mercy.'

Not far from where he was standing, he could see a castle.

The Veirdant castle.

He opened the gate easily, and the wards recognized him.

'Veirdent is one of the most ancient families in Europe, and now I am their only heir. This is very useful.'

The castle was in a terrible state; after all, it had been abandoned for more than fifty years.

He opened the door and was assaulted by dusty air inside.

Hastily hiding his nose and mouth with his hand, he moved the other one to take his wand from his robes and perform a simple cleaning spell.

Voldemort frowned. He had just moved out of habit. Currently, he didn't have a wand, and he wasn't even wearing wizard robes but normal Muggle clothes.

He tried to cast the spell wandlessly.

"Scourgify"

He frowned, seeing the feeble effects of his spell that only cleaned a few meters ahead of him.

'Why? This is Voldemort's body, one of the strongest wizards in history! It shouldn't be like this.. unless..'

This is Voldemort's body, but he is not Voldemort!

'No, this is not the reason..'

He tried remembering how wizards use magic.

'Am I moving my hand right?.. Yes, I am'

'Wandless magic is naturally weaker than standard magic with a wand, but this is far too weak for a wizard of Voldemort's caliber,' he pondered silently.

He wondered if it was because of the lack of muscle memory that he was unable to cast a spell.

'This is not Voldemort's body, just a copy. The original one was destroyed when he was trying to kill Harry Potter.'

'This is the first time this body uses magic; the magical energy flow in my body is so slow and rigid. I will need some training.'

A fresh body aged a few minutes, this is not going to be easy.

'I must train, but first, I need a wand.'

'If I can get some help, it will be great.'

With a little bit of skepticism, Voldemort decided to do something else.

"Is there anyone here?"

Voldemort wanted to see if there was a House Elf.

House-Elves have a long lifespan, so it is quite possible that the family Elf is still alive.

'If a house-elf's master had no living heirs, the house-elf would be relocated to the Ministry of Magic.'

"Anybody around?"

Ewan looked again at the dusty place and felt that the chance of a house-elf showing up was slim, but then...

PUFF!

A small, wrinkled creature appeared before him, large brown eyes peering up with a mix of hope and trepidation. "Is... is master a descendant of the noble Veirdent family?" the house-elf asked, his voice quavering.

Voldemort studied the creature, noting its trembling hands and the way it seemed to shrink under his gaze. "I am," he replied coolly. "The wards allowed me entry. You may verify if you wish."

The elf shook his head vigorously. "No need, no need. Arnie already felt the wards recognize master when he entered." Tears welled up in the elf's eyes. "Arnie has waited so long! Arnie wanted to stay, but the Ministry, they took me away..."

Suddenly, the elf burst into hysterics, pounding his head against the floor. "Bad Arnie! I Should have stayed! Bad, bad elf!"

Voldemort felt a flash of disgust, quickly followed by an unfamiliar twinge of... was that pity? He pushed the feeling aside. "Enough," he commanded sharply. "Cease this display at once."

The elf froze mid-motion, then slowly straightened, sniffling.

"Now," Voldemort continued, his voice low and measured, "I am Lord Voldemort, heir to the Veirdent family. Tell me where have you been all this time."

Arnie's eyes widened impossibly further. "The... the Dark Lord?"

The elf was visibly shaking. "After Arnie was forced to leave, he worked for a few years in the White Jewel restaurant in Paris until it closed. Then Arnie was sold to the British Ministry. Since then, Arnie has been cleaning the ministry building."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed with interest. "So that's how you learned English. But how did you return here? Surely you didn't apparate all the way from London?"

"No, master," Arnie replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "Arnie used one of the vanishing cabinets that connect London to Paris, and then apparated to the castle."

'This house-elf is far from ordinary,' Voldemort thought. Aloud, he said, "Impressive, Arnie. But tell me, how did you hear about me specifically?"

Arnie's eyes lit up at the praise. "Master praised Arnie! Arnie wasn't praised at all in the past 45 years!" Then, composing himself, he continued,  "Arnie knows master, yes. Arnie hears things, reads papers when no one is looking. They speak of master in hushed tones, fear him even after..."

"After what?" Voldemort prompted, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"After... after master's supposed death," Arnie finished, cowering slightly.

Voldemort's lips curled into a cold smile. "Interesting. And tell me, Arnie, how is it you came to be here? Surely you're not still bound to this place after so long?"

The elf drew himself up, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Arnie was born in this castle and will die here. Arnie is always loyal to the Veirdent family!"

Voldemort didn't need Legilimency to sense the lie beneath Arnie's words. Curiosity warred with suspicion in his mind. This elf was more than it seemed, and that could be either useful or dangerous.

"Very well," he said at last. "Since you're here, make yourself useful. Show me around the castle."

Arnie's face split into a wide, eager smile. "Yes, master! Arnie would be delighted!"

Voldemort looked at the Elf with scrutinizing eyes.

Thanks to the elf, he doesn't have to start looking for the nearest human settlement, then head to Paris, and then to the magical streets there. The elf can simply transport him there with a snap of his finger.

As the elf scurried ahead, chattering about the castle's history, Voldemort followed, his mind racing.  He had set a foothold in this new world. His journey was just beginning, and he intended to use every resource at his disposal. Even if that resource came in the form of a mysteriously knowledgeable house-elf.