— — — — — —
Late at night, in the dead quiet, Tom returned to his manor—and very unethically woke up Nicolas, who had only just gone to bed.
"If you don't give me a proper explanation, I'm tearing your entire house down."
Nicolas sat up, full of irritation, his cloudy eyes fixed sharply on Tom.
"Teacher, why's your temper so bad? A calm mind brings inner strength, y'know." Tom shook his head with exaggerated disappointment, then had the nerve to lecture him in return. The earnest look on his face made the old man's eyes widen, his chest heaving with anger.
What explanation could Tom possibly have? He was just getting back at the old man for mocking him earlier.
If Nicolas knew that, he'd probably drop dead on the spot from sheer rage.
This ungrateful brat had nearly scared him to death, then taken over his home like it was his personal training ground. All Nicolas had done was throw a couple sarcastic remarks his way, and the kid was already holding a grudge.
"Teacher, I've found one of the Deathly Hallows, the Resurrection Stone. And Hufflepuff's Cup. Both of them have been turned into Horcruxes by Voldemort."
Tom flicked his hand.
The Resurrection Stone, wrapped in layers of golden crystalline sealing, and Hufflepuff's Cup floated onto the table and settled gently.
The cup had no protective measures at all. It was just a plain Horcrux. You could hold it without any immediate side effects. That alone spoke volumes about Voldemort's attitude toward these relics and the founders themselves.
He'd chosen the cup simply because it belonged to Hufflepuff. The only reason he valued it was because Hufflepuff stood as an equal founder alongside Slytherin.
Voldemort might not care, but others certainly knew its worth.
Nicolas's drowsiness vanished instantly. "Explain everything. In detail."
Tom gave a brief account of what he'd seen at the Gaunt shack and inside the Lestrange vault.
Even as he listened, ever-cautious, Nicolas put on a specially crafted anti-curse glove before carefully picking up the cup to examine it.
His fingers traced the aged patterns on its surface. Gradually, his brows knitted together, his expression turning extremely grave.
"What a waste… such a waste." The old man shook his head repeatedly, his tone edged with anger. "The Slytherin locket is one thing. It's his ancestor's property. What he does with it is his own business."
"But turning legendary artifacts into Horcruxes one after another… just how insecure is he?"
In Nicolas's eyes, Voldemort's actions might look like a display of status, but in truth, they screamed insecurity.
Only someone insecure would obsess over using external objects to prove their worth.
Someone truly confident, or born into power, would either keep a low profile or simply let things be.
"Teacher, maybe don't worry so much about Voldemort's mental health." Tom sipped his tea leisurely. "Oh, and you might not know this. Trelawney just made a prophecy about him. Said he'd bring disaster to the world."
"I see…" Nicolas didn't look particularly concerned.
In his six hundred years of life, he'd seen countless so-called disasters. Plagues, wars, dark wizard uprisings. One prophecy wasn't going to scare him.
Besides, Tom was here.
If the sky really fell, someone even more troublesome would be there to hold it up. The perfect target was standing right in front of him.
It could only be said: like teacher, like student. Both of them were quietly plotting how to dump trouble onto the other.
"So why bring these to me?" Nicolas suddenly felt a bad premonition and looked at Tom warily.
Tom gave a shy smile. "The capable should do more, right? The Resurrection Stone still has a curse on it. It's risky for you to study right now. I'll figure out a way to remove the curse without damaging it first, then pass it to you."
As he spoke, he casually put the Resurrection Stone away again, then pointed at the cup, signaling Nicolas to take it and do as he pleased.
"This one's different. Voldemort didn't set up any protection on it. Just remove the soul fragment, and you can study it freely. I'm curious too what exactly the cup can do."
Nicolas: "..."
He knew it. The moment this kid showed up, his peaceful life was over.
He wanted to refuse, to remind Tom that he was a teacher, not some hired laborer. But the temptation of a legendary artifact sat right in front of him. The words just wouldn't come out.
"Rowena, you really don't know what the cup does?" Inside the study space, Tom looked at Ravenclaw with curiosity.
He wasn't an idiot. Why struggle to figure it out himself when Hufflepuff's close friend was right here?
But the answer he got was unexpected.
Even Ravenclaw didn't know all of the cup's functions.
After Hogwarts was founded, the cup had been used as a kind of relay between the kitchens and the dining tables. Any food that passed through it would be purified, toxins stripped away to ensure the students' safety.
That was one confirmed function.
But Ravenclaw was certain it could do more.
She and Hufflepuff had drunk from it many times, and every time, the wine tasted far purer and smoother than before.
And considering what passed for alcohol back in those primitive days… anyone with even a bit of knowledge would understand. By modern standards, it could barely be called wine at all. At best, it was fermented swill. Sour, harsh, and almost undrinkable.
"Helga may have seemed gentle," Ravenclaw said, a faint smile appearing on her usually cold, rational face, "but she was always a bit of a mystery."
Thinking back on her old friend, even someone as detached as her couldn't help softening.
"We were close, but she never once told me where she came from. It was as if she'd just stepped out of a book overnight, and suddenly the wizarding world had a brilliant new witch."
"And after we got to know each other, the day after I dreamed of that warty hog, she came to me with Godric and Salazar, already holding a complete plan to found a school. Don't believe what those history books say about Hogwarts being Salazar's castle. That's nonsense. When I found this place, it was still just a swamp."
"They say I'm the wisest witch, but in my eyes, Helga was no less capable. She just… hid her brilliance behind an ordinary facade."
"Real wisdom doesn't always look smart," Tom summed up neatly.
Ravenclaw shot him an approving glance.
"Oh, so you know idioms now?"
Tom rolled his eyes. This woman was getting harder and harder to read. But after watching her for a while, he figured out the root of it.
Jealousy.
That's right. Ravenclaw was actually jealous of him.
Maybe she felt the pressure of being caught up to. Whenever Tom showed even a bit of progress lately, she'd start making snide remarks, acting a little temperamental. It didn't suit her age at all.
An old woman throwing little fits… honestly.
Just insecurity at work.
"How's your research on the diadem going?" Tom changed the subject. "If it's too much trouble, just erase the soul fragment directly. I don't really need Horcruxes anyway."
Back when he'd first suggested converting Voldemort's Horcruxes into his own, it had just been a casual idea. He hadn't expected anything to come of it.
But Ravenclaw had taken it seriously. She'd poured most of her energy into it.
"Who said I haven't made progress?" She stretched lazily, her mature, graceful figure drawing Tom's gaze. She noticed, but ignored it completely, continuing in a self-satisfied tone, "If I had no leads, I wouldn't have spent this long on it. Just wait. I'll have a surprise for you soon."
"Alright." Tom nodded. "I'll have a surprise for you soon too."
Ravenclaw knew exactly what he meant, and she couldn't help feeling a bit of anticipation herself.
A wizard even stronger than her… just who would it be?
...
The next day, Tom woke up naturally and made his way to the manor's laboratory at an unhurried pace.
Pushing the door open, he found Nicolas standing over a cauldron, hard at work. His silver-white hair glowed faintly in the firelight, and the potion inside the cauldron bubbled steadily.
Hufflepuff's cup sat quietly on the nearby worktable, looking somehow… cleaner than before.
Tom nodded in satisfaction, then gently closed the door again, careful not to disturb Nicolas, who was fully immersed in his research.
That was more like it. Only six hundred years old. Still in his prime.
He was just looking out for his teacher's health, after all.
Even the best mind would rust if it went unused for too long.
---
It was Saturday, and Tom had no intention of returning to school. Instead, he headed to Elaina Workshop and unveiled his latest creation.
With a new teacher within reach and no suitable paper to publish, he could only make progress through other tasks.
The mission progress for "New World" was 45%. Once it hit the fifty mark, he'd have enough points to meet the summoning requirement.
Perfect timing.
He could use this opportunity to build hype for the Tournament and the wizard ranking system. Two birds with one stone.
That very evening, major outlets like the Daily Prophet, European Wizard, and media platforms on the Lume-Lens all released teasers for the new product…
.
.
.