— — — — — —
After morning classes, Tom sent out a message summoning Astoria and the others to the Room of Requirement for what he grandly dubbed a "fruit sightseeing tour."
They weren't allowed to eat it, but admiring it up close was entirely permitted.
"It ripened already?" Hermione stared at the golden apple on the table, clearly stunned.
She had spent the latter half of summer apprenticing under Nicolas Flamel and had seen the golden apple tree in the plantation with her own eyes. Back then, Nicolas had confidently declared it would take ages to bear fruit. Yet somehow, here it was.
Tom then explained what had happened with the Tear of Isis.
He didn't tell the girls everything he did. Some secrets, once leaked, would send the entire wizarding world into a frenzy. But the less sensitive matters, especially things that would soon come to light anyway, he shared openly. It kept them from overthinking and reminded them he wasn't off slacking somewhere.
The golden apple. The Tear of Isis. Those weren't classified.
"That tree is incredible." Daphne's eyes shone after hearing the story. "Even something you and Grandpa Flamel couldn't deal with just… swallowed it?"
"If we could drag it into a fight, it'd be amazing, wouldn't it?"
"You're not planning to yank the whole tree out of the ground, are you?" Astoria shot her sister a look. She picked up the golden apple and rolled it in her palm a few times, feeling the smooth warmth of its skin. "Nice texture..."
As for lifespan, none of them reacted much. They were far too young to worry about aging. Curiosity satisfied, they handed the apple back to Tom without the slightest reluctance.
Instead, they became fascinated by the mythology behind it.
The golden apple was real. The Tear of Isis had proven to be an extraordinary treasure, capable of instantly maturing a mythic tree.
This meant that the bottle from The Fountain of Fair Fortune in Voldemort's possession was probably the real thing as well.
If that was true, how many other items from The Tales of Beedle the Bard and various myths were genuine artifacts still hidden somewhere in the world?
They spent the entire lunch break speculating about legendary relics. Only Luna kept veering the topic toward creatures mentioned in The Quibbler.
Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Blibbering Humdinger. Wrackspurts.
Hermione looked utterly baffled, but considering they were already discussing mythical objects, she couldn't exactly argue about plausibility.
And honestly, Luna might not be wrong.
In the original timeline, after graduating, she traveled the world and discovered numerous new magical species not recorded in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, eventually becoming a respected magizoologist.
...
Finally, they dispersed when the next class loomed. Tom and Daphne rushed off to Greenhouse Three for Herbology.
Professor Sprout greeted them cheerfully, had them take their places, and then unveiled the plant of the day.
The collective reaction was immediate disgust.
They had never seen something so revolting. It was slick, lumpy, and rubbery, barely plant-like at all. If anything, it resembled a giant slug dredged from a swamp, its surface dotted with glistening, swollen pustules. Just looking at it made their stomachs churn.
"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout announced brightly. "Today's task is to collect their pus. It has excellent medicinal value, so don't waste any. Make sure you collect it in bottles. And remember to wear your dragon-hide gloves. Undiluted Bubotuber pus can damage skin. It's highly corrosive."
After distributing materials and bottles, she moved off to check on other students' preparations.
Tom seized the moment.
He slipped off one dragon-hide glove and grabbed one of the swollen sacs barehanded, giving it a gentle squeeze. He was testing the defensive strength of his body.
Hmm.
Slimy. Warm. The texture reminded him of slugs.
The corrosiveness at this level didn't even tickle him anymore.
Satisfied, Tom wiped his hand clean and put the glove back on.
As disgusting as popping those swollen sacs was, it carried a strange sense of satisfaction. Like crushing instant noodles in their packet. Every burst came with a quiet, internal sigh of relief.
Before long, he was hooked.
He sped up, squeezing one after another. Daphne had initially looked utterly revolted and tried to hand her share over to him, but seeing how absorbed he was, she slowly took hers back and gave it a try.
Moments later, she discovered the appeal too.
The two of them worked with alarming enthusiasm. By the end of class, not only had they completed their assignment, they had decimated Professor Sprout's reserves. She looked pleased… and faintly troubled.
Now she'd have to rethink the next few lesson plans.
"Madam Pomfrey will be delighted," Sprout said, surveying the pile of filled bottles. "Bubotuber pus is the best natural remedy for acne. Poor Miss Midgen… such a foolish girl."
The entire class burst out laughing.
Because Eloise Midgen had terrible acne, she tried using a spell to get rid of her pimples, only to end up blasting off her own nose. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey was able to reattach it, but Eloise still spent three days recovering in the hospital wing.
Several girls stared longingly as Sprout carried away the bottles, clearly regretting not secretly pocketing some.
They were at that age. Acne had begun to make its appearance. Sure, it symbolized youth, but no one wanted that symbol plastered across their face every day.
Daphne generously promised a few of her friends that she'd brew acne-clearing potions for them. It was hardly a big deal. She wouldn't even need Tom's help. She could just ask Zabini to handle it.
After that, the two of them promptly skipped Care of Magical Creatures.
Hagrid, after behaving himself for a whole year, had apparently grown bold again. Over the summer, he'd pulled off something outrageous: crossbreeding a Manticore with a Fire Crab to create a bizarre hybrid known as a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
"Gross" was the most accurate word for it. Or maybe the Skrewt itself was the perfect definition of the word.
Tom had taken one look at the creatures in last week's class and immediately bailed. He'd already warned Hagrid last semester, which counted as doing his duty and repaying the favor Hagrid had done him by helping collect Acromantula venom.
If Hagrid insisted on playing with fire, that was Dumbledore's headache now. Not his. Just the other day he'd overheard Draco and a few other pure-bloods muttering about reporting the whole thing to the Ministry.
---
Back in his dorm, Tom let his consciousness sink into the study space.
Inside, Grindelwald and Andros were in the middle of a duel. Jeanne and Ariana sat in the arena stands, watching like it was a sporting event.
The moment Tom appeared, both girls hurried over.
Their hair was the same brilliant gold, glowing warmly under the soft sunlight of the space.
"Tom!" Ariana greeted brightly.
"Welcome back," Jeanne said softly, her voice as gentle as ever.
He rewarded each of them with a fond pat on the head before settling down between them to watch the fight.
Grindelwald and Andros were going at it in a straight-up clash of power. This wasn't about tactics or feints. It was a sparring session meant to test and refine what they'd learned recently. Every spell was met head-on. No dodging. No tricks.
Ariana and Jeanne couldn't fully grasp what they were seeing. One lacked the experience; the other relied mostly on talent. But Tom could clearly feel the difference.
Andros had grown stronger. Much stronger.
The magic surging from him felt vast enough to rival the world itself. It was his unique talent. Even though Tom had inherited every spell Andros knew, and in some ways surpassed him, he still fell short when it came to sheer aura.
Ravenclaw had once said that even Gryffindor and Slytherin did not possess this trait. Andros stood there as if declaring to the world itself, "I am invincible."
Those weaker than him would falter under the pressure of that presence. Against stronger foes, he possessed an unyielding will to defy the odds.
Now, with the pressure Tom provided and Ravenclaw occasionally sharing insights into the legendary tier, Andros was significantly stronger than he had been at the peak of his life.
...
After enduring several terrifying attacks at full force, Grindelwald finally raised a hand, signaling a switch. They reversed roles and began another round of exchanges.
"So," Tom asked the girl beside him, "getting used to Durmstrang?"
Ariana nodded. "It's just a bit cold. Otherwise it's fine. Grindelwald turned all the old professors into assistants. The new professors are all Acolytes. In every class, someone gets carried out."
Her status at Durmstrang was basically Tom's position at Hogwarts, except more exaggerated.
Tom still showed basic respect to his professors. Ariana didn't have to. When they spoke to her, they phrased things like polite suggestions.
As for the students, they'd already been thoroughly beaten into submission.
Tom nodded. It seemed Grindelwald was taking good care of her.
He chatted with Jeanne for a bit too, casually taking the hand of the Maid of Orléans and leaving her blushing furiously. By then, Grindelwald and Andros had finished and made their way up to the stands.
"Not bad, old man," Tom said with a grin. "You can actually tank a few of Andros's moves now."
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. The compliment sounded suspiciously like mockery. But at the moment, all he wanted was for Andros to resurrect as soon as possible so he could watch Dumbledore get beaten senseless.
"I've got a task for you," Tom continued.
Grindelwald nodded without hesitation. "Who's the target?"
Tom waved him off. "Relax. We're civilized people. Not everything has to be about killing. This time I don't need you to assassinate anyone. Send some men to Japan and catch me a few Yuki-onna."
.
.
.