— — — — — —
Borgin was a clever man, but goodness had never been one of his virtues. Normally, he wouldn't have been so enthusiastic about delivering intelligence to Tom. But the old man had his reasons.
Back then, just after the Astra Abyssum Guild was founded, Tom had paid him a personal visit and shared a long, warm, exceedingly friendly conversation with old Borgin.
And from that moment on, Borgin became remarkably well-behaved.
In his own mind, he was now Tom Riddle's ally. In reality, he was just an informant. A spy.
...
"Finally..." Tom already expected this to happen.
After all, whenever a new power sits down at the table, it's bound to cut into the old players' slice of the cake.
Even if the newcomer can make the cake bigger and the table wider, the division still follows proportions. No one gives up their share willingly.
"Win-win" is a nice idea, but it's rare. Most people want it all.
Reasonable people were far too few.
The appearance of the Astra Abyssum had hit Knockturn Alley right at its core. From shop-owning suppliers to the low-level thugs who made a living robbing people in dark corners, business had been collapsing across the board.
Tom had expected trouble and made preparations, but in the end, he still decided to go himself. If nothing else, he could treat it as a way to relax.
『Tom Riddle』: Don't be vague. Tell me everything you know.
『Borgin』: Mr. Riddle, I don't know much. Roughly speaking, the people involved are…..
『Borgin』: As for when they'll make their move, it should be early tomorrow night, just past midnight. They don't want to drag it out.
Borgin rattled off a list of names. Tom hadn't heard of a single one and had no idea what kind of bottom-feeding trash they were, so Borgin patiently explained who they were and what they did.
Potion dealers. Smugglers of banned materials. Loan sharks. A few werewolves.
The ones putting in the most effort, and the ones who hated Tom the most, were two small families dealing in sensitive potions and illegal ingredients. Tom had dug up a lot of rare goodies from Newt's little world and stocked them in the Guild. Their businesses had been dying day by day. Of course they hated him.
Tomorrow night, huh.
Tom looked disappointed. He'd been hoping to blow off some steam tonight.
『Tom Riddle』: Old Borgin, if I don't see anyone tomorrow, I'll go tear your shop down myself.
In Knockturn Alley, Borgin wiped the cold sweat off his face and closed the codex.
Wait... From his tone, it almost sounded like he was hoping someone would attack his property.
Remembering the enthusiastic, almost blazing methods Tom had used during their last "friendly chat," Borgin's lingering resentment at being treated so casually vanished without a trace.
Not worth provoking. Absolutely not worth provoking.
---
Saturday Morning
After breakfast, the students all headed toward the Quidditch pitch to assemble.
Don't get the wrong idea. Today wasn't match day. The dueling competition was being held there instead.
Tom walked alongside Daphne, with a sea of heads behind them.
"Ginny's going to win today, right?" Daphne looked at Tom, clearly hoping for reassurance.
Ginny Weasley really did have that social butterfly vibe. She'd always been close with Astoria, which naturally brought her closer to Daphne as well. As for Hermione, that went without saying. They were in the same house.
Tom nodded without hesitation. "If Ginny doesn't win today, that won't be her fault. It'll mean the competition was rigged."
He didn't bother lowering his voice. A few students from other schools overheard and immediately looked offended, clearly thinking Tom's tone was far too arrogant.
Everyone here was the best of the best in their year. No one was willing to admit they were inferior to someone else.
Still, they were outnumbered and far from home, so no one stepped forward to openly challenge him.
"Line up properly! Go up in order! Don't push, and don't stand so close together! Malfoy, Potter! You two, stop sticking to each other. You'll trip and fall!"
Professor Flitwick stood on a tall chair, directing traffic like a tiny general. Malfoy and Harry, both called out by name, flushed red, shot each other a vicious glare, and quickly moved apart.
Luckily, the Quidditch stands had been modified for the event. This competition wasn't taking place in the air, and the field itself was far too wide.
Sitting too high up gave you a good overall view, but it was impossible to see details clearly. So several rows of closer seating had been temporarily conjured beneath the main stands using Transfiguration.
The matches were scheduled to start at nine. By eight thirty, the entire school was already present. The stands buzzed with noise, packed shoulder to shoulder.
Tom couldn't help thinking that if someone came out selling snacks and sweets right now, they'd make a killing. Sadly, Hogwarts students lacked that kind of business sense. Even the twins hadn't thought of it.
At this moment, the two of them were busy helping Ginny adjust her cheering banner, trying to make it even more eye-catching so it might distract her opponents.
...
Right at nine o'clock, cheers exploded across the stadium. Led by Professor McGonagall, five competitors walked out of the players' lounge in a neat line.
Thunderous applause followed them, carrying everyone's encouragement.
The rules were simple. There were five competitors, and each one would duel every other participant once. A win earned one point, a loss earned zero. Draws were not allowed.
If there was a tie at the end, extra matches would be held until one person emerged with the highest score and claimed overall victory.
Injuries weren't a concern. Snape had long since prepared for this, ready to quickly eliminate any lingering effects from spells.
And there were three judges: Dumbledore, Crouch, and Grindelwald.
Originally, the rules forbade the use of Dark Magic. But under Grindelwald's insistence, Dumbledore ultimately gave in and allowed students to use certain dark spells, as long as their consequences weren't severe.
Dumbledore's concession wasn't just because Grindelwald refused to back down. He also wanted to use this chance to make Hogwarts students aware of the dangers of Dark Magic and strengthen their defenses against it.
As for whether someone might go astray and become obsessed with Dark Magic because of this?
That didn't really matter.
They weren't Tom. They weren't Voldemort. Mediocre people could learn all the Dark Magic they wanted and still wouldn't make waves. A person's limits were defined by who they were, not by spells.
...
Finally, once the rules and matchups were announced, students from Ilvermorny and Durmstrang stepped into the center of the field. At Dumbledore's signal, two red flashes collided almost instantly.
Second-year matches usually weren't much to watch. Most people were here just for the atmosphere.
But once it started, many changed their minds. The spells weren't especially complex, but the competitors cast them smoothly and confidently. They'd clearly received proper dueling training. Their footwork was disciplined, their skill levels close. The fight turned out to be surprisingly engaging.
After three intense minutes, the Durmstrang student claimed victory. Krum stood up first to applaud his junior, and many Hogwarts students followed suit.
Next up was Ginny.
Oddly enough, this match was less entertaining than the previous one. It was a complete blowout. The Beauxbatons student was crushed with ease. The little girl ran back behind Madame Maxime in tears, sobbing even harder once she got there.
Of the six Beauxbatons competitors, only one was male. They were seriously outnumbered.
Then the rest of the matches held no real suspense. With Ginny's natural talent, Tom's personal training, and strengthening potions, Ginny was on an entirely different tier compared to her peers.
Across four battles, no one managed to break through her Shield Charm. Her Bat-Bogey Hex was unstoppable, and her clever use of freezing spells combined with the terrain left her opponents miserable and helpless.
Professor McGonagall beamed, applauding Ginny nonstop.
How many years had it been?
Gryffindor had finally shown its face properly.
---
Just after 11 AM, all the matches were over.
Hogwarts took first place, Durmstrang second, Ilvermorny third, Castelobruxo fourth. Beauxbatons Last.
Well... the Beauxbatons girl had completely collapsed mentally after the first match and went on to lose all three remaining bouts, finishing dead last.
Madame Maxime wanted to scold her, but seeing the exhausted, sobbing little girl, she swallowed her anger for now. She'd wait until the child recovered a bit before letting her have it.
After all, losing every single match was humiliating. Her pride, and Beauxbatons' pride, had been dragged through the mud. If it had been a clear gap in strength, she could have accepted it as a teaching issue.
But aside from Ginny, the other students were all roughly on the same level. Wins and losses came down to performance on the day and a bit of luck. That kind of defeat only made Maxime angrier.
...
Meanwhile, Tom was trying to reason with Ginny.
He'd promised her beforehand that if she won today, he'd spend the evening with her. But plans never survive contact with reality. He had somewhere urgent to be, and people to kill. The time would have to change.
Ginny flat-out refused. She sulked, stubborn as could be, until finally she snapped and declared, "Even if you're going to kill someone tonight, I'll watch you do it, and then you're coming back to be with me!"
Tom froze for a moment. Then his smile turned strange, playful, and dangerous all at once.
"And what if I really am going to kill someone?"
This time, Ginny was the one left speechless. But seeing that Tom wasn't joking, she understood that he truly was about to do something serious tonight.
She clenched her teeth and said, "Fine. Whatever you're doing, wherever you're going, I'm going with you."
.
.
.