Marvel, start by marrying the Scarlet Witch

"It was just built recently. No wonder I couldn't find it before."

After considerable searching, Carl finally found the address of wool's Orphanage. As it turned out, the facility had only been completed on December 5th. During the previous weeks, Carl had been occupied with magical training back at the manor. He'd taken some time to look for the orphanage now and then, but with no success. The main issue was his hazy memory—he vaguely remembered it being either November or December, but the exact day escaped him. After all, it had been a very long time.

As the second-generation Dark Lord, Voldemort's magical prowess was undeniable. Taking him under his wing as a baby would give Carl a powerful ally in the future—one he could shape and guide.

Voldemort had even invented original spells, the most famous being his own flight magic. Unlike traditional wizards who required enchanted items to fly, Voldemort soared freely through the skies. That kind of magical innovation could not be ignored.

Just as Carl stepped into the orphanage, a young girl—around eighteen or nineteen, dressed in a caregiver's uniform—hurried toward him.

"Hello, sir. May I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like to speak with your director, Mrs. Cole. I'm interested in making a financial contribution to support your orphanage."

Before arriving, Carl had already investigated the history of the place. It was established by a woman named Cole, whose husband and son had tragically died in World War I. She had poured all her savings into building a sanctuary for abandoned children.

The girl's eyes lit up with cautious hope. "Madam is currently attending to Mrs. Merope. I can take you to her if you'd like?"

Carl's expression shifted at the name. Merope. He remembered clearly—Voldemort's mother was called Merope Gaunt.

"Mrs. Merope? I thought this was an orphanage."

"Oh, it is," the girl explained. "But something strange happened. On the first snowy day—just the second day after we opened—Mrs. Merope collapsed right in front of our gates. She looked sickly and heavily pregnant. The director took pity on her and brought her inside."

So, Voldemort hadn't even been born yet.

Carl's mind immediately began to formulate a plan.

Under the girl's guidance, Carl followed her to a modest room inside. Mrs. Cole, a firm yet kind-looking woman in her sixties, was spoon-feeding warm porridge to a weak, heavily pregnant woman—Merope. Her eyes were lifeless, and she coughed sporadically, barely acknowledging anything around her.

The despair in her face was unmistakable—someone who had given up on life.

"Director," the girl whispered from the door. "A gentleman is here to see you. He's interested in donating."

Mrs. Cole stood up, surprised but intrigued. After setting the bowl aside, she approached Carl.

"Good afternoon, sir. I'm Cole. How can I help you?"

Carl smiled politely. "My name is Tom Foley. I heard about the new orphanage in the area and came to offer some support. I'd like to make a donation to assist your efforts."

The moment Mrs. Cole heard the word "donation," her eyes lit up with gratitude. Funds had been tight since the very beginning. A benefactor like this was a godsend.

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Foley. Please, let's speak more comfortably in my office."

They spent the next half hour in pleasant discussion. Carl learned that Mrs. Cole was, indeed, a dedicated woman with a heavy heart, trying to help others despite her losses. He, in turn, subtly hinted at the resources of the Foley family—a respected pure-blood line with deep magical and financial reserves.

What he didn't mention was that much of their treasure trove was being funneled through the Hudson Group, the business arm he had developed in the Muggle world to convert magical wealth into Muggle currency. Selling rare magical antiques, sometimes disguised as mundane artifacts, fetched astronomical prices in London's underground auctions.

Adopting one child would barely dent his resources.

More importantly, he needed to wait. Voldemort wasn't born yet—his window of action hadn't arrived. Trying to adopt a child who didn't exist would raise too many questions.

So he waited.

In the days that followed, Carl returned to the manor and continued teaching Credence more advanced spells. He also took Credence to visit Newt Scamander, who was always welcoming thanks to their earlier bond in New York. Newt shared his expertise on magical beasts, and the two often exchanged spells and theories.

Carl's magical skills improved steadily, particularly with spells related to space expansion, such as the Traceless Extension Charm. He eventually developed a pocket-dimension pouch with the capacity of an entire house.

He checked in on the orphanage from time to time. Thanks to his substantial donations, Mrs. Cole treated him like royalty. The children, too, had started to recognize and adore him.

Then, on December 31st, everything changed.

Tom Marvolo Riddle was born.

When Carl arrived at the orphanage, the birth had already occurred—and Merope had passed away.

"She told me," Mrs. Cole said gently, cradling the newborn, "that she hoped he would look like his father. She named him Tom, after the man she loved. His middle name is Marvolo, after her father. The surname is Riddle."

Carl looked at the infant in her arms—fragile, innocent, but with so much darkness yet to awaken.

"What a coincidence," he said, feigning amusement. "My name is Tom, too. Perhaps it's fate. Mrs. Cole, would it be possible for me to adopt this child?"

Mrs. Cole looked stunned for a moment, then softened with relief. "Oh, Mr. Foley, that would be wonderful. The poor boy was born into tragedy, but with someone like you to raise him, I'm sure he'll have a better life."

In her eyes, Carl was the perfect guardian—wealthy, kind, and devoted to children.

Carl accepted the boy gently into his arms. "He's a child of sorrow," he said softly. "But don't worry. I'll raise him well. You have my word."

Before leaving the orphanage, Carl laid a bouquet of winter roses at Merope Gaunt's grave.

She had lived a tragic life, abused by her father and raised in fear. Her desperate love for a Muggle—Tom Riddle Sr.—led her to use a love potion to coerce him into marriage. But when she foolishly believed his love had turned genuine and stopped using the potion, he abandoned her in disgust.

Carl didn't blame the Muggle. In his view, the man had been a victim of magical manipulation. It was mercy that he hadn't sought revenge through fire and pitchforks.

Still, Merope deserved a moment of peace. Whatever her sins, she had loved her child.

As Carl held baby Tom in his arms, he whispered, "This time, I'll make sure your path is different "