After purchasing every book that interested me, I decided not to return to Wool’s Orphanage.
There was another destination that had been on my mind ever since I had inherited Tom Riddle’s memories.
Walking over to the nearest street, I raised my wand and called for the Knight Bus.
A few moments later, the familiar purple triple-decker bus came screeching around the corner with an enormous bang before stopping inches away from me.
The conductor swung open the door with a grin.
“Where to, young wizard?” “Little Hangleton.” “That’ll be a few Sickles.” I paid the fare before climbing aboard.
Fortunately, there weren’t many passengers, allowing me to claim an entire bed for myself.
Since the journey would take a while, I decided there was no reason to waste the time.
Pulling out my first-year textbooks, I immediately began reading.
My photographic memory truly was absurd.
Every page I turned became permanently engraved within my mind.
Every diagram, every spell description, every potion recipe, every historical date—none of it would ever be forgotten.
Understanding everything would naturally require practice and experience, but memorizing the information itself was effortless.
By the time the Knight Bus reached Little Hangleton, I would probably have memorized every single first-year textbook.
I couldn’t help smiling.
“So this is what Hermione Granger is going to be like in the future.” Then I shook my head.
“No.” “Actually…” “My talent is much higher than hers.” Hermione was undeniably brilliant.
She possessed incredible dedication and studied harder than almost anyone else.
But according to my system, my magical talent already stood at the highest level of the century in several fields.
Combined with photographic memory, enhanced intelligence, accelerated thinking, and Tom Riddle’s natural genius, the difference between us wasn’t small.
It was enormous.
Of course, raw talent alone meant nothing without effort.
Fortunately…
I enjoyed studying.
Magic fascinated me far more than anything from my previous life ever had.
Every new spell opened another door.
Every magical theory hinted at even greater mysteries waiting to be uncovered.
The deeper I studied, the more I realized how little I actually knew.
The wizarding world had thousands of years of accumulated knowledge, and I intended to master as much of it as possible.
As the Knight Bus bounced violently along the roads, I continued turning page after page.
Most passengers looked ready to vomit from the constant movement, but after Apparating with Dumbledore earlier, this honestly didn’t seem nearly as bad.
Occasionally, I paused to mentally organize everything I had read before continuing.
With Occlumency, I could neatly categorize entire subjects inside my mind, making future recall even easier.
Charms occupied one section.
Potion theory another.
Transfiguration another.
Instead of becoming a chaotic pile of memories, my knowledge resembled a perfectly organized library.
Eventually, I closed the final textbook and stretched slightly.
“Done.” Every first-year textbook…
Memorized.
Now all that remained was actually practicing the magic.
Looking out the window, the scenery gradually changed.
Busy streets disappeared, replaced by open countryside, rolling fields, and quiet villages.
Before long, the Knight Bus began slowing down.
“We’re here!” The conductor called out cheerfully.
“Little Hangleton!” Stepping off the bus, I adjusted the strap of my book bag before looking around.
The village was peaceful, almost isolated from the rest of Britain.
Most people walking through the streets had no idea that a magical world even existed beyond their understanding.
To them, this was simply another quiet English village.
To me…
This was home.
Or at least…
Part of it.
Somewhere nearby lived my biological father.
Thomas Riddle.
Along with my grandparents.
Tobias Riddle and Mary Riddle.
In the original timeline, my future self murdered every one of them without hesitation.
Honestly…
That had always struck me as incredibly shortsighted.
The Riddle family wasn’t poor.
Quite the opposite.
They were wealthy landowners with influence in the Muggle world, valuable business connections, and considerable financial resources.
Instead of using those advantages, the original Voldemort had simply erased them from existence out of hatred.
“What an idiot.” There was no strategic benefit.
No political advantage.
No financial gain.
Just pointless revenge.
That wasn’t how I intended to operate.
Besides…
They were my family.
At least biologically.
Whether they accepted me or not remained to be seen, but I intended to find out for myself instead of blindly following the original timeline.
As for my uncle Morfin Gaunt…
that meeting would have to wait.
Morfin was an adult wizard, and while I possessed the magical reserves of one, I lacked practical combat experience.
I had only recently acquired my wand and hadn’t even mastered the first-year curriculum yet.
Facing an experienced wizard now would be reckless.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later.” For now…
My destination was Riddle Manor.
I wanted to meet my father.
My grandparents.
And perhaps…
Begin changing history from the very beginning.