I walked toward my next class alongside Abraxas, Orion, and Arnold, my mind already occupied with the plans I had been constructing for the future.
Potions was one subject I absolutely needed to excel in.
I couldn’t afford to merely be good at it.
I needed to demonstrate exceptional talent from the very beginning.
Professor Slughorn was one of the most socially connected professors at Hogwarts, and his future Slug Club would eventually become an excellent network of influential witches and wizards.
If I could establish a relationship with him early, I could gain access to people who might become extremely valuable to me later in life.
Connections were power, and I intended to accumulate as much power as possible.
My long-term political ambitions had already begun taking shape in my mind.
My preferred route was becoming Minister of Magic.
It was considerably cleaner than simply conquering Britain, and if I could manipulate the political system properly, I wouldn’t even need to openly seize power.
The Ministry already possessed enormous authority during times of crisis.
A sufficiently serious threat could justify emergency measures, expanded governmental authority, and restrictions that would normally be unacceptable during peacetime.
In my previous life, I had learned about countless dictators who had exploited crises to consolidate power.
One particular example immediately came to mind.
Palpatine.
The man had practically written the book on manipulating a political system into handing him absolute authority.
I wasn’t planning to copy everything he had done, obviously.
But the fundamental concept was brilliant.
Create or manipulate a crisis, allow society to become desperate for stability, position yourself as the person capable of restoring order, and then convince everyone that the extraordinary powers you acquired are necessary for the protection of the people.
Once those powers became normalized, removing them would become considerably more difficult.
My version would be considerably more complicated.
I would need enemies.
Real enemies.
A Dark Lord powerful enough to unite the darker elements of Britain under one banner would be extremely useful.
Meanwhile, I could position myself as the reasonable alternative—the leader of the Light and neutral factions, the person promising stability and protection.
Eventually, the conflict between those factions could become a massive magical civil war.
I would remain behind the scenes as much as possible, allowing the conflict to weaken my eventual political opponents while gradually building my own influence.
Then, when the situation reached its breaking point, I would emerge.
I would defeat the great threat.
I would save Britain.
And afterward, the wizarding population would be far more willing to accept whatever political reforms I proposed.
It was, admittedly, an absolutely ridiculous plan.
Which was precisely why I liked it.
The only major problem was the Dark Lord.
I needed someone powerful enough to serve as the centerpiece of such a conflict.
Someone at the Legendary tier would probably be necessary if I wanted the threat to be genuinely convincing.
Unfortunately, legendary wizards weren’t exactly available at the local market.
Could I create one?
Perhaps.
A Horcrux was one possibility.
If I eventually perfected the process, I might theoretically use a portion of my soul to create another version of myself.
The idea was fascinating, although I immediately rejected the thought of creating another full version of Tom Riddle.
I didn’t trust myself enough for that.
Creating another genius with my memories and personality sounded like an excellent way to eventually get murdered by myself.
A homunculus might be another possibility.
Perhaps magical cloning could eventually provide an answer.
There were also ancient forms of magical life creation that I hadn’t even begun researching.
And then there was the system.
I suddenly remembered something.
I had a system shop.
If I couldn’t create the perfect person myself, perhaps the system could simply provide one.
I mentally opened the shop and navigated toward the section containing purchasable magical individuals.
[System Shop — Wizard Personnel] [Junior Wizard — 100 System Points] [Intermediate Wizard — 1,000 System Points] [Senior Wizard — 10,000 System Points] [Legendary Wizard — 100,000 System Points] I stared at the prices.
One hundred thousand points.
I slowly closed the menu.
That was absurd.
A Senior Wizard was already roughly comparable to a Hogwarts professor, depending on their specialization, while a Legendary Wizard belonged to an entirely different category.
The price difference reflected that.
And there was another interesting feature.
When purchasing an individual, I could apparently select their specialization.
Potion Master.
Charms Master.
Healing Master.
Battle Mage.
Transfiguration Master.
Defensive Magic specialist.
And numerous others.
The purchased individual would also possess absolute loyalty toward me.
That was incredibly useful.
It was also incredibly expensive.
For 100,000 points, I could theoretically purchase ten Senior Wizards instead of one Legendary Wizard.
Ten highly skilled professors working together could probably accomplish considerably more than one legendary individual in many situations.
Still, having a Legendary Wizard completely loyal to me would be an extraordinary asset.
Unfortunately, I currently had nowhere near enough points.
I closed the shop.
One hundred thousand points.
I’d need to work toward that eventually.
Perhaps I could start with a Senior Wizard.
Ten thousand points was still an enormous amount compared with my current balance, but it was at least achievable.
If I wanted to rebuild the Riddle family into a genuine magical powerhouse, I couldn’t rely entirely on myself.
I needed talented people around me.
Powerful allies.
Researchers.
Healers.
Potion masters.
Battle mages.
Political supporters.
The Riddle family would eventually need an entire organization behind it.
But that was a problem for the future.
Right now, I was an eleven-year-old first-year student who had been at Hogwarts for approximately a day.
I needed to stop thinking like an emperor and start thinking like a student.
My first objective was simple.
Professor Slughorn.
I needed to impress him.
If I could become one of his favorite students, I would eventually have access to the Slug Club and its network of influential families.
Those connections could become extremely useful when I eventually entered the Ministry.
My political career would begin long before I ever entered the Ministry itself.
It would begin here.
At Hogwarts.
I pushed open the classroom door.
The smell of potion ingredients immediately reached my nose.
Glass containers lined the shelves.
Cauldrons were arranged throughout the classroom, and numerous strange ingredients were displayed around the room.
The entire place smelled of herbs, minerals, animal parts, and things that I couldn’t immediately identify.
My eyes swept across the classroom.
Professor Horace Slughorn stood at the front.
He was a short, stout wizard with a prominent belly, a shiny bald head, and an impressive silver mustache.
His clothing was considerably more extravagant than what I had seen from most professors, although it still somehow looked comfortable.
He had the appearance of someone who enjoyed good food, good company, and even better connections.
His eyes immediately began scanning the students.
I knew exactly what he was looking for.
Talent.
Potential.
Influence.
Connections.
Slughorn wasn’t merely a teacher.
He was a collector of promising students.
And today, I intended to make myself his most interesting acquisition.
I took my seat beside Abraxas and quietly placed my books on the desk.
I glanced toward Slughorn.
Then I smiled.
Time to see just how talented the new Tom Riddle really was.