Legacy of Evil: My middle name is a Marvel (Patreon)

"Oh, I'm a lumberjack and that's ok! I sleep all night and I work all day!"

With the song accompanying me, I continued to cleave the logs into usable firewood, enjoying the physical labor and feeling far happier than I had in a long time. Magic was wonderful, like playing Gmod without limits but more importantly, there was that feeling of knowing this was my little sanctuary. Canada had proven to be an excellent choice of locations, far away off the beaten path that I didn't have to worry about any society save those I involved myself with. I had built myself a log cabin, sturdy and protected and within I had been enjoying the expansion charms as I added rooms as I wished and accomplished magic for the sheer joy of it.

My yard was enclosed by a wooden fence, of which a well for my water needs rested in the yard covered over and for food, I grew what I needed inside and hunted for the rest. When I needed it, it was a simple matter to take the pelts of my protein choices and get some coin set aside for a rainy day. If there was something more expensive than my current savings, I just put my talents to stealing it.

... Alright, so MAYBE I wasn't entirely good but, in my defense, it was easier to satisfy what Dumbledore would have called 'magpie tendencies' than to go full edgelord and start calling myself a lord. Honestly, if the original Riddle had been a kleptomaniac I wouldn't be surprised. Something, something the form shaped the mind, something something weird. I was me, but in all respects, I was also Tom Marvolo Riddle. I remembered my school years and the orphanage, all the bullying and my retaliations, inciting fear to be left alone.

I remember the abiding need to be special, to yearn for more than my current station as well as an urge to discover who of my parents were magical. I remembered Hogwarts and all the love such as I had for it, for a place I considered home even now. I suppose in another sense, I could be seen as Tom Riddle as he could had been, rather than someone else entirely. Some things fell into this theory for me, such as the fact I had no remorse whatsoever for what had happened before.

Framing Hagrid for example or Myrtle's death, both may had been horrible days for the pair of them but for me? It was Tuesday. So much for that.

I was a high-functioning sociopath, and I was alright with that. The first step in self-realization was to recognize your failings and embrace them as part of you after all. I ended up getting a lot of self-help books as well, partly because it amused me, mostly because I did wonder about myself sometimes. At any rate, life while not exactly exciting around these parts, was MY life and had zero interaction with plot hooks, schemes or the like while allowing me to relax and do what I loved best. I answered to no one and had no one answering to me, which was how I liked it. I should had done this earlier.

So of course, six months of this life later, someone would poke their nose into it.

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I was brewing tea when I felt my apparition alert go off. Someone had teleported outside of my fence, but I was more worried to the fact that someone had found me. I didn't look like Riddle so much anymore, if anything I bore more of a resemblance to Hagrid with my full beard and fur clothing. I was also far more muscular than Riddle had ever been, hard labor and the like helping keep me more fit than the average wizard. So, if it came to it, I could always just deck whoever it was and bury the body in several, transfigured pieces to hide my privacy as I grabbed my wand, cracked my neck and peeked outside a window.

My mood immediately turned sour. Only one wizard would wear plum-colored robes and a scarf of vomit green. So much for getting rid of the body. I couldn't think of a single reason that Dumbledore would be wanting to talk to me now, all I knew was that I was not going to like it. So, I cleared my throat, put my wand to my throat and muttered a spell before flinging my door open and roaring, at a volume a few decibels short of a heavy metal concert.

"NOBODY'S HOME! GO AWAY!"

Seeing Dumbledore flinch made my cockles warm as I slammed the door shut. Unfortunately, with the doddering tendencies of the decrepit and mad, he moved past it to walk to my door and knock politely. His voice was the same as it ever was in my memory, and pleasant enough to pull the old 'everyman grandfather' thing that had fooled countless people.

"Hello Tom. I was wondering if we might have a word?"

Inside, I weighed the pros and cons of Dumbledore mysteriously vanishing in Canada before growling. Walking to the door, I opened it and scowled. "You're a bit off the beaten path, Professor."

"Ah, its headmaster now." He said with a smile, and I blinked in real surprise. No shit? I inclined my head grudgingly. ".... Would you like some tea before you go?"

He smiled, wiping his feet carefully before entering my cabin. Jerk.

At least look properly apologetic, you goddamned flashy geriatric!

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I gave him a mug with a broken handle, if only to drive in the fact how unwelcome I found him. Honestly, for as much as I despised Dumbledore, most of it stemmed from issues from Riddle, more for me as being the spike that drove what would be considered the plot hook in this crappy story. That and I wasn't sure what brought him here to me, all things considered. Voldemort was dead and gone, his horcruxes perished in Fiendfyre and some of them never created at all. The world would never know a reign of horror such as he inflicted and I had been out of contact with Wizarding Britain to the point my blood was more maple syrup than tea.

Dumbledore took the mug, we went through the whole process of tea and that little British ritual done, I decided to cut through the shit and get it over with. "So, what brings you out here? A bit out of your jurisdiction, headmaster."

He smiled over those glasses of his, peering at me as he said pleasantly. "Oh indeed. But a habit of old teachers, they tend to cherish every one of their charges."

Bullshit! This blatant flattery made me scowl openly; my gaze distinctly unfriendly now as I called him out on it. "Let's not pretend that I was one of your charges. And let's not pretend I wasn't a little shit in school either, we never had one of those relationships. Let's not pretend now." To my surprise, Dumbledore smiled even wider. As if instead of being insulted, I had praised him and it pissed me off as I asked. "What's that dumb smile for?"

Dumbledore sighed happily. "You've changed and for the better. And I have a confession to make as well. You were indeed, one of my charges and one I had always felt I failed. You were brilliant, very much so but the way you built yourself up had always worried me. And for the longest time, I felt I had failed you. And I am sorry if I had in any way." The sincerity made me uncomfortable and for a moment, I just stared over my mug before speaking gruffly.

"Like I said, I was a little shit too. Don't worry about it."

Dumbledore smiled even wider. "I had kept tabs on you, as had many others. When you left Borgin and Burkes to go hunting for Nazi remnants, I admit to some surprise. Why them?" He asked curiously and I shifted in my seat, careful to look into my tea. What could I say? That I woke up in my room, feeling suddenly empty and hateful? Looking into the mirror and knowing what waited for me on this path? How it had been a desperate act, a way to satiate the more sadist parts of me on worthy targets, while I hunted down my own horcruxes and put them to the flame, one by one? Aloud, I spoke.

"I hate bullies. And I hate Nazi's. I didn't need another reason." Dumbledore sighed.

"I will not lecture you. You are a grown, powerful wizard and as you say, we had never had that sort of relationship. But even so, I wish we had connected earlier Tom. I truly do. For you have become everything I had ever hoped for... A good man."

I burst out laughing. "Not in the least! I just direct it to proper targets. So tell me, what brings the headmaster of Hogwarts here?" Dumbledore smiled, and spoke the words that I dreaded and at the same time, was horribly tempted by as he looked at me.

"I find myself in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and thought of you. When Headmaster Dippet reigned, you asked upon graduation for a job. Though you were too young then, I now ask you. Will you not take up the post?"

Ah.

So that was what the plot hook looked like.