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Chapter 123 — Voldemort's Mind
Voldemort first began to consider Darren worthy of being his heir the night the boy killed the troll.
The troll he had arranged.
Even Hogwarts professors would have needed time to bring down such a creature.
Yet a first-year child had slain one alone.
When Voldemort examined the magical traces Darren left behind, he was shocked.
Among the spells were those Voldemort had subtly slipped into Quirrell's teaching… and others he had never taught at all.
Some curses Quirrell had only mentioned in passing—barely a word or two—yet Darren wielded them with instinctive precision.
Such talent in the Dark Arts was not merely inherited.
It was magnificent.
This heir would make the Death Eaters ecstatic. So, to prevent Dumbledore from suspecting anything, Voldemort erased the remnants of Dark magic at the scene.
That talent didn't need to be exposed publicly.
Luckily, everyone was too busy watching Snape's shouting match with Harry Potter to pay attention to poor, trembling Professor Quirrell.
The scene was wiped clean perfectly.
Except for Dumbledore and Snape.
Those two seemed to accept—without question—that Darren was capable of killing a troll.
That made it even more interesting.
Dumbledore had no idea what Darren was truly becoming—right under his nose.
Darren would grow to be like Voldemort: a leader of pure-blood supremacy, a wizard who could drive out those filthy Muggles.
A natural path, for someone with such Dark magic affinity.
Voldemort was delighted for days.
That same night he sent Quirrell to steal the potion. Quirrell was meant to distract Darren, but the boy refused to leave.
If Darren stayed, Voldemort would lose one of the best opportunities he'd ever get.
Quirrell even slipped out his wand, intending to cast Obliviate on Darren.
But Voldemort stopped him.
No need.
He could still maneuver around it.
So instead, he engaged Darren in conversation and began teaching him more about the wizarding world—things the Muggles who raised him would never know.
It was Voldemort's duty, after all.
But before he could finish, Snape arrived.
The look on the man's face told Voldemort he had been noticed.
After all, who wanders into the dungeons to casually chat with Harry Potter's brother?
But Voldemort wasn't worried.
Snape had no proof. At best, he could rage uselessly.
Voldemort retreated with calm satisfaction.
This cub… truly fascinated him.
He had gathered Slytherin's respect, charmed the professors, and displayed raw Dark magic talent that rivaled Voldemort's own.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
Merlin himself must have pitied Voldemort and gifted him a child so similar to himself—a chance to begin anew.
When Christmas came, Voldemort was in such a good mood that he sent Darren a collection of his own Dark Arts writings.
Spells he had invented or mastered.
What kind of father wouldn't share such treasures?
But Darren had the audacity to hand the book straight to Dumbledore.
Voldemort was enraged.
Clearly Dumbledore believed Darren was fundamentally different from Voldemort.
He had no idea how alike they truly were.
Because not long after, Voldemort secretly witnessed Darren practicing one of the curses from the book. Unconsciously. Naturally.
Halfway through the incantation, Darren abruptly stopped—but Voldemort had already felt triumph surge through him.
The boy was learning.
Whether consciously or instinctively drawn to Dark magic by bloodline, Voldemort didn't care.
He only knew one thing:
His heir would be extraordinary.
Perhaps not surpassing him… but certainly powerful enough to make the world remember the name Potter for reasons far removed from the so-called "Boy Who Lived."
He would wait patiently for his cub to grow.
Their next unexpected meeting was in the Forbidden Forest.
Voldemort was draining a unicorn.
When Darren appeared, Voldemort suspected Dumbledore had sent the boy to threaten him. They each knew the other existed, yet neither spoke of it.
But Dumbledore didn't interfere—didn't even approach Darren.
Whether the old fool was too righteous to use a child as leverage or simply believed Darren couldn't threaten the Dark Lord, Voldemort wasn't sure.
But when they parted, Voldemort confirmed that Darren was unharmed… and that Dumbledore's true focus was still on training the so-called Savior.
Only then did he continue hunting for the unicorn's last trail of blood.
Unicorn blood symbolized cursed immortality. A steep price—but a necessary one.
He would have preferred willing blood, but that luxury was long gone.
Fortunately, Quirrell drank the cursed blood for him.
The man had recently grown cowardly—hesitating, wavering. Voldemort had already decided Quirrell would die when this was over.
Darren's true nature—Voldemort's own blood—must remain hidden from the world.
Until the cub grew strong enough, there would always be those who sought to use him.
And Voldemort would allow no one to touch what belonged to him.
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