Hogwarts : this dark lord is so evil

Chapter 2: voldemort

The boy stared at Jacob with a grim expression. This guy had wasted so much time talking to him, only to reject him outright in the end?

"So… are you kidding me?"

Jacob waved his hand dismissively. "No, I'm not joking. I seriously considered your proposal and even agree with your theory about fear. But… with all due respect, you don't have the ability to make me afraid. So, naturally, I have no reason to obey you. After all, I don't have a pet rabbit or anything like that..."

The boy's mouth snapped shut, and for a brief moment, a glimmer of red flashed in his dark eyes. Jacob's words felt like pure mockery to him.

"If you have nothing else to say, please leave. I still have to fix the door lock you broke," Jacob said calmly, making it clear he was done with the conversation.

"You're provoking me... But you are right about one thing. A lack of power isn't enough to instill fear in others. So... what makes you think I don't have that kind of power?" The boy's cold, teasing tone made him seem like a venomous snake staring down its prey.

Jacob was about to respond when he suddenly noticed something strange—all the shattered pieces of the chair he had thrown on the ground were floating in the air! And he was sure he wasn't the one doing it.

"So, this is what you rely on?" Jacob's gaze flicked to the floating debris, a flash of surprise and realization in his eyes.

It was clear now—there were others in this world with the same special abilities as him. And one of them was standing right in front of him.

The boy expected Jacob to be shocked or afraid, but instead, he saw only mild interest. The lack of fear unsettled him. However, his confusion wasn't enough to stop him from teaching Jacob a lesson.

With a flick of his will, the floating chair fragments shot toward Jacob with force.

Any other child might have been terrified upon witnessing such an unnatural scene. But Jacob wasn't an ordinary child.

In fact, from Jacob's perspective—someone who had conducted countless experiments and practiced his abilities extensively—the boy's control over this power seemed crude, almost amateurish.

Jacob didn't flinch. He didn't even glance at the flying debris. Instead, he looked at the boy as if studying an intriguing experiment subject.

"Swish, swish, swish!"

The fragments halted mid-air, mere inches from Jacob, as if hitting an invisible barrier. They could no longer move forward.

There was no doubt—Jacob's mastery over this strange ability far surpassed the boy's.

The boy's eyes widened in shock.

"What?! No... This is impossible! How can you do this too? This is my power! I'm supposed to be the only one who can—"

"Why do you think you're the only special one?" Jacob asked, his tone laced with amusement.

The boy's pride took a heavy blow.

"So… we're the same kind of people?" he asked hesitantly.

"The same kind? No. You have a special talent, yet I see no signs of practice or discipline in you. You're wasting your potential on something as petty as scaring ordinary people. If that's all you use your power for, then, quite frankly, it's a pathetic waste."

Jacob waved his hand, and the chair fragments dropped to the floor with a loud clatter.

The boy's face twisted with rage, his eyes burning with anger. "You may have abilities like me, but that doesn't mean you can—"

"Bang!"

The next second, the boy found himself on the ground, completely immobilized. There was nothing physically restraining him, yet he couldn't move a muscle. It felt as if an enormous, invisible hand was pinning him down.

Jacob walked over slowly and looked down at him. "What were you saying just now?"

The boy stared at Jacob's worn shoes in shock and fury. He couldn't even lift his head!

"N-no... I didn't say anything..."

The unseen pressure on his back seemed to grow heavier, making his breathing uneven. Panic started to creep in.

"I can sense fear in you," Jacob said softly. "So, by your own theory… shouldn't you be listening to me now?"

His voice was calm, almost gentle—but to the boy, it sounded like the whisper of a devil.

Gritting his teeth, he nodded stiffly, his eyes now much clearer.

Almost immediately, the pressure lifted, vanishing as if it had never been there.

"Good," Jacob said approvingly, reaching out to pull the boy to his feet. He even brushed the dust off his clothes, as if taking care of a younger sibling. "By the way, I don't believe I caught your name."

The boy took a deep, shaky breath, still recovering from the sheer terror of what had just happened. He had felt it—Jacob could have killed him in that moment.

"My name is Voldemort (Tom Riddle)..."

"Ding! The host has encountered the future Dark Lord! The Merit System is now officially activated!"

"Ding! The host has successfully taught a misbehaving child a lesson! Reward: 50 merit points!"

Jacob: …?

Voldemort? The future Dark Lord? A merit system...?

Jacob felt a surge of realization.

"I see... Voldemort..."

His gaze sharpened as he studied the boy in front of him.

Voldemort's heart pounded under Jacob's piercing stare. Despite his future reputation as a terrifying Dark Lord, right now, he was just a child who had been utterly overpowered—and he had no desire to die.

A sudden weight on his shoulder made him stiffen.

Jacob had placed a hand on him.

Cold sweat trickled down voldemort forehead.

"Relax, voldemort," Jacob said lightly. "I just think your name sounds familiar."

And it did sound familiar.

Jacob pieced together two critical details he had overlooked before:

This orphanage was Wool's Orphanage, and its matron was Mrs. Cole.

There was no doubt—this was the very place where the infamous second-generation Dark Lord, Voldemort, had grown up.

Jacob finally understood.

He had somehow ended up in the Harry Potter universe, decades before the main story took place.

In other words… this strange ability of his wasn't just some supernatural power.

It was magic.