The first breath he took felt too clean—too alive.

  Tom Marvolo Riddle, once known as Lord Voldemort, jolted upright in the dark alley. The st thing he remembered was Harry Potter, the boy who lived... no, the man who ended it all. But he wasn’t in the Forbidden Forest anymore.

  He stood, brushing off dirt from a sleek bck robe that looked too modern, too intact. A pulse of residual magic crackled around him as if the ws of nature were slightly... off.

  “This isn’t London,” he muttered. He stepped forward. The alley opened into a bustling street. Yellow taxis honked. Bright digital billboards fshed everywhere. The skyline was massive, filled with gss towers.

  New York City.

  And then he saw it—graffiti on a crumbling wall. Tony Stark. Iron Man. A mural of a man in a red-and-gold suit with glowing eyes. Next to it, murals of others: Captain America, Thor, the Hulk, Hawkeye, Bck Widow.

  “Who are these... warriors?” Voldemort whispered. His fingers twitched. He could still feel his wand’s connection. Magic was here—but not as he knew it. The air shimmered with different ley lines, charged with energy unlike any he’d sensed before.

  “This world... is not mine. But it is one of power. And where there is power—there is purpose.”

  He pulled up his colr, walking deeper into the city’s heart. Somewhere out there, he would find this world’s secrets... and perhaps, its masters of magic.

  But first, he had to learn the rules of this new game.