— — — — — —
"Andros, be careful. Grindelwald has completed the magic circuit. I saw him turn an entire snow-covered mountain into solid ice."
Ariana thrived on rebellion. The moment Grindelwald told her not to tell Andros, she went straight back to the castle, slipped into the study space with her consciousness, and tattled.
"He did it?" Andros froze for a second, then burst out laughing. "That old fox. Yesterday I asked him how it was going, and he put on the most miserable face, complaining about how difficult it was. Said he couldn't find the trick, failed countless times. So he was planning to ambush me."
After laughing, Andros waved a hand dismissively, clearly unconcerned.
Seeing Ariana's faint dissatisfaction, he added, "The magic circuit is impressive. It'll boost his spell power quite a bit. But the gap between him and me isn't that easy to close. It improves explosive output, not everything."
"Besides, Tom is already designing a circuit suited to me. By the time that old man challenges me, I might have mine engraved as well."
He grinned. "Then we'll see who surprises whom."
Ariana blinked, imagining the scene, and couldn't help laughing.
Andros' expression softened at the sight. Among everyone in this space, Ariana was the most doted upon. Grindelwald carried guilt. Andros treated her like a daughter. Ravenclaw adored her. As for Jeanne, she was kind to everyone.
Even Jalter was grateful for Ariana's wicked little suggestion that had helped her fully take form, letting her be the first to benefit.
But as Andros laughed, his smile gradually faded into a sigh. "It's a pity I haven't been revived yet. Otherwise, I'd beat your brother senseless for what he put you through."
Warmth spread through Ariana's chest. She hurried to reassure him. "You'll definitely get resurrected. Tom's researching it. And there's nothing he sets his mind to that he can't accomplish."
"One day you'll come back. And when you do, we'll go punch Albus together."
"Deal," Andros said with a firm nod.
The truth was, Tom hadn't been slacking. Resurrection simply wasn't easy.
Ariana had been special. She still had direct blood relatives in this world. There had been material to work with.
Jeanne and Andros were different. They had left almost no traces behind here. If they wanted to avoid limiting their future potential, they needed perfect bodies created from scratch.
Tom had even considered crafting Horcruxes for them first, pulling them from true death into that half-alive, half-dead state. From there, revival would be much simpler. Afterward, the space could reshape their souls.
The problem was the space itself.
It seemed to have a strange obsession with maintaining complete souls. No matter what they tried, even if they acted personally, it would not allow fragmentation.
Try to cut something?
You'd suffer for a split second, then the soul would snap back together instantly. No room to exploit loopholes.
So Tom had changed direction. Instead of obsessing over a flawless body from the start, he began designing an adaptive one, something that could grow and adjust according to the soul and magical power within it.
The workload skyrocketed.
When it would be finished, even he couldn't say.
---
The weekend slipped away in busy preparation, and Monday morning arrived.
At the foot of the stairs, a large notice board had been erected.
Students packed around it so tightly that no one could move. First-years stood on tiptoe, gripping the edges. Older students leaned from the steps above. The air buzzed with excited chatter like a hive of bees. Those upstairs couldn't get down; those below couldn't get up.
{Representatives from the various schools will arrive on Thursday evening, October 23rd. Afternoon classes will end thirty minutes early.}
So it was finally happening.
Excitement rippled through the crowd. Hogwarts was about to grow lively again. According to the professors, this time more students and teachers were coming than in the previous two visits combined.
Their parents never had this much fun when they were students.
Some were already dreaming about becoming champions. Especially after hearing that Tom wouldn't be competing, those hopes burned even brighter.
"Only four days left," Zabini said, eyes gleaming. "Tom, are you really letting the boss sign up?"
Tom twitched at the nickname. "The boss" was what quite a few Slytherins had started calling Daphne. One liked saying it, the other liked hearing it. What could he do?
"She insists on entering," Tom said with a shrug. "I'm not going to stop her. Let her have some fun."
Zabini laughed awkwardly and made a silent vow. Even if he offended Tom one day, he would never cross Daphne. No one would save him then.
"The champion will definitely be Cedric," declared Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, who had overheard them nearby. "I'm going to tell him right now—"
"Cedric Diggory?" Nott snorted. "Hufflepuff really does dream big. That guy thinks he can be champion? If he competes, he'll just embarrass Hogwarts. Has he forgotten how badly he lost last term?"
That did it. Several Hufflepuffs shot him murderous looks.
Yes, you're free to look down on someone, sure. But saying it out loud? That's just asking for trouble.
...
With only four days left until the guests arrived, the mood at Hogwarts shifted almost overnight after the announcement.
In class, professors kept drifting off-topic.
During Charms, Filius Flitwick began explaining how the arc of a wand movement influenced spell strength. Somehow, the discussion wandered to Uagadou.
"I have several pen pals who graduated from Uagadou," Flitwick said cheerfully. "So I'm fairly familiar with their casting style."
The students listened more attentively than they usually did during theory.
"At lower levels, Uagadou students have a difficult time. They must memorize an enormous number of gestures and incantations, and they rarely receive positive feedback early on. Gesture-based casting isn't quite the same as wandless magic, but compared to using a wand, it's much harder."
"However, once they reach the upper years and truly grasp it, the convenience becomes apparent. They also have unique simplification techniques. Those are closely guarded secrets, I'm afraid."
"But it's said that with enough mastery, even a slight movement of the fingers can trigger a spell. Very convenient in daily life. And in combat, it makes certain spells incredibly subtle and hard to detect. You should be prepared."
His final remark carried weight. It was practically intelligence-sharing. Unfortunately for Slytherin, today's class was Gryffindor and Ravenclaw only.
"Professor," Ron called out loudly, "what are the criteria for selecting the champion? And who's in charge of judging?"
"Mr. Weasley, why are you so concerned about the selection?" Flitwick asked with curiosity. "I can't reveal much, but I can assure you the process will be fair."
Ron stammered, face turning red. "I… I have a friend. He wants to contribute to Hogwarts."
Flitwick perked up. "Oh? How are his grades? Is he skilled at dueling? Does he have any particular strengths?"
Ron's ears went scarlet. "His… his academic results are very grounded among the people. In duels, he tends to end up tangled together with everyone else. As for strengths… does desperately wanting to prove himself count?"
"I would advise your friend to reassess himself," Flitwick said kindly. "If he were selected, that would be the real unfairness. And quite possibly dangerous for him."
The class burst into laughter. Even Harry, sitting beside Ron, couldn't help chuckling as he clapped him on the shoulder.
"Ron, since when do you have such a friend? You've got to introduce me. He sounds fascinating."
Ron stared straight ahead in silence.
---
Defense Against the Dark Arts was even more dramatic.
Alastor Moody had come up with another extreme exercise. He planned to cast the Imperius Curse on students so the rest could witness firsthand what it looked like to be under its influence.
His reasoning was airtight. Grindelwald was a Dark Lord. His methods were unpredictable. The Unforgivable Curses were among his specialties. If there were any plots brewing, vigilance was essential.
Tom had begun to suspect that in the original timeline, Barty Jr. had squeezed every lesson plan out of the real Moody using Veritaserum. Their teaching styles were almost identical. The only real difference was that Moody often peppered his classes with stories from his past missions.
Barty hadn't dared include that part. The more he talked, the more likely he'd slip up.
Well, just to be safe, Tom had quietly used every discreet method he knew to scan the entire staff. No replacements. No impostors. Only then did he relax.
By the time Dean Thomas finished an unexpectedly energetic tap dance under the Imperius Curse, the bell rang. The students who hadn't been called up exhaled in massive relief.
They had witnessed far too many humiliating performances in one lesson. Better to stay safely in the audience.
Moody, however, was not without cunning.
He placed Tom and Daphne at the end of the list. The earlier demonstrations conveniently ran long enough that there was no time left for them.
Who says old Aurors can't bend to the darkness?
He had never feared Voldemort. Voldemort had been reckless, blatantly evil, announcing himself to the world.
But Tom was different.
The most dangerous villains often disguised themselves as the best of men.
.
.
.