— — — — — —
With the first round underway, the young witches and wizards quickly received the details of their evaluation.
Their reactions were almost identical. Confusion, disbelief… and a shared thought: Wasn't this way too easy?
All they had to do was… sit there and zone out?
That was it?
Only the professors seemed to appreciate the brilliance behind it.
Students these days were far too restless. They simply didn't understand how crucial a steady mindset was when it came to learning magic.
Give two people the same talent, the same intelligence. The one who could sit still and truly focus would always go further than the one who rushed ahead impatiently. In the long run, the difference in their achievements would be worlds apart.
"No wonder Riddle has accomplished so much at such a young age."
Professor Flitwick adjusted his round glasses and sighed to Professor McGonagall, his tone full of admiration and satisfaction.
"He doesn't just have extraordinary talent. More importantly, he has the patience to turn that talent into real achievement. I only hope Miss Greengrass can learn something from this."
McGonagall nodded in agreement.
Daphne's talent wasn't lacking at all. If anything, she was more than capable. The problem was her flighty nature. Her mind was rarely where it should be.
More than once in class, McGonagall had caught her staring blankly at Tom, completely lost in her own thoughts.
It wasn't as if McGonagall could even properly scold her. Daphne completed every assignment with ease and never disrupted the class. There was nothing concrete to fault.
And yet… it was frustrating.
With her potential, the school's curriculum should have been the bare minimum for her, not the ceiling she was content to rest under.
While the professors were busy exchanging thoughts, Snape stood off to the side, deep in contemplation.
His eyes were filled with suspicion.
He refused to believe Tom would set something like this out of pure goodwill.
Aside from a select few he cared about, when had that boy ever gone out of his way for others?
This test had to be a setup. No question. A trap designed purely to mess with people.
"Ah-choo!"
Elsewhere, Tom, who had been leisurely wandering through the castle, suddenly sneezed. He stopped in his tracks, frowning as he rubbed the tip of his nose.
'Damn it… which bastard is thinking about me now?'
Was it Fontaine?
Ever since Tom showed up, that old fox had been obsessively using Occlumency. Probably scared Tom would notice something.
Without hesitation, Tom pinned the blame on him.
With his current physical condition, there was no way he'd sneeze for no reason. Someone must be thinking about him. In a bad way.
Tom had already placed a spell on his true name, something similar to the effect of Voldemort's name. If someone spoke or fixated on it, he'd feel it.
Though if they were just muttering in their head… that was harder to track.
Morgan, who had been following his perspective from within the study space, chuckled softly.
"When we get back, I'll teach you a spell. If anyone harbors ill intent toward you, you'll be able to sense it—and even curse them in return."
"It won't work on powerful wizards, but it's perfect for dealing with small fry."
"Sounds good. Then learn it quickly," Tom replied casually, his tone a little distracted. "Actually, why don't we stop here for today? You can go attend lessons with Rowena. I've got other things to handle."
He had originally planned to prepare gifts for Fleur and Daphne, to smooth things over a bit.
But Morgan had stubbornly dragged him along, insisting he act as her tour guide around Hogwarts. Unable to shake her off, Tom had no choice but to put his plans on hold and play along.
At least he was used to the role by now. He'd gone through this same routine with others before.
"Well, whose fault is it for trying to mess with people in the first place?" Morgan pouted inside the space.
They had only just met, yet it already felt like they'd known each other for ages. Their conversations were effortless, casual.
And after hearing about what Tom had done earlier that day, Morgan had laughed nonstop.
Even screwing over his own people? That kind of personality suited her perfectly.
Tom had been worried Morgan and Rowena might hit it off a little too well…
What he didn't realize was that he himself was the most troublesome one of the bunch.
Because of that, Morgan's approval of him rose again, breaking past the fifty-point mark.
Honestly, the two of them just clicked. The speed of Morgan's approval growth was second only to Jeanne, who had practically handed hers over for free.
And with that, Tom gained his first talent from Morgan.
[Talent: Witch's Heart]
[You call that dark magic? This is dark magic.]
The description was vague. Barely even a description at all.
But Tom could clearly feel the change.
All his knowledge of dark magic suddenly sharpened, as if a fog had lifted from his mind. At the same time, entirely new ideas surfaced out of nowhere—fresh insights, unexpected angles, and paths toward breakthroughs he'd never considered before.
He already possessed a rare balance between opposing forces, so he would never develop unevenly. As his dark magic grew stronger, his light magic would accelerate to keep pace.
Gaining the Witch's Heart was essentially like receiving an equal boost to his light magic talent as well.
A massive win. No, a double win.
And it was exactly because Morgan had, more or less by accident, handed him such an incredible gift that Tom was willing to spend time strolling around the castle with her.
Everything fascinated her.
The architecture, the strange objects she had never seen before, even the smallest details felt new.
It was as if even the air itself was different from her era.
Thinking back to the notification she had heard earlier, Morgan hesitated for a moment before asking, "Tom… can I experience it myself?"
Tom didn't quite see what difference that would make, but he was in a good mood, so he nodded and activated his ability.
In an instant, Morgan took control of his body.
A faint blue glimmer flashed through the boy's deep black eyes.
"Tom" closed his eyes, his nose twitching slightly as he took a slow breath in.
…So different.
The air in her time had been clean, thin, almost sharp. Nothing like this—heavy, dense, and faintly impure.
If this had been before, she would have been disgusted enough to throw up on the spot, then flatten the entire area in a fit of irritation.
But now, all she felt was curiosity.
She looked around the corridor, then pushed open a window and leaned out, gazing toward the Forbidden Forest in the distance. A cold breeze brushed past, lifting strands of her hair as she soaked in the feeling of this era.
A full five minutes passed before she finally closed the window.
Then she lowered her gaze, examining the young body she was inhabiting.
So this is… a man's body?
As the thought formed, her hand drifted downward on instinct—
Bang!
Tom's face went completely dark as he forcibly kicked Morgan's consciousness back into the space. He hurriedly adjusted his clothes, glaring.
"So this is what you meant by 'experiencing it'?"
What the hell was wrong with these women?
"Ahem," Morgan, completely unfazed, replied, "I don't have one, of course I'd be curious. What's wrong with taking a look? It's not like anything would fall off."
"Oh? Then if I take a look at yours, nothing will fall off either, right?" Tom shot back.
"How is that the same?" Morgan shook her head immediately. "I'm a woman. Women need to protect themselves when they're out in the world."
"Wasn't that the same lesson you kept repeating to Ariana and Jeanne? Or was that a lie? Why don't I tell them your new ideas?"
"…Now that I think about it, what you said actually makes sense." Tom let out a dry laugh.
Morgan learned fast, he'd give her that. One night was all it took for her to start pulling this kind of logic on him.
...
After nearly getting taken advantage of, Tom had no interest in continuing their little tour.
With two quick Apparitions, he left the Scottish Highlands behind and arrived in Paris, walking straight into a large shopping mall.
Morgan was still chattering away in the study space.
But something Ravenclaw had mentioned the night before had been bothering her ever since.
The Order of Merlin.
Britain's highest magical honor… named after Merlin?
Unacceptable.
What bothered her even more was that Tom had already received the First Class Order of Merlin three times.
That simply wouldn't do.
'You're my student, and you're out there accepting awards named after my enemy? That's basically slapping me in the face.'
"Tom," Morgan began, her tone coaxing, almost bewitching, "you basically control the British magical world now. Calling you an uncrowned king wouldn't be an exaggeration. So why not change the award?"
"What right does Merlin have to name it? If you ask me, you're the one chosen by fate. Why not rename it the Riddle Medallion? You could even establish an Order of Riddle Knights. What do you think?"
Tom, who had been picking out a dress for Fleur, paused slightly, his fingers tightening on the silk fabric.
He had to admit… it was tempting.
He wasn't exactly a saint. Wealth, power, status, influence—he wanted all of it.
And having a medal named after him, personally awarding it to other wizards… that was the ultimate symbol of prestige.
He was just starting to seriously consider it when Morgan's next sentence nearly made him lose control of his expression.
"If you're feeling too embarrassed, I suppose I could generously lend you my name. Let's call it the Morgan le Fay Medallion! Umm... Somehow, it just sounds better than 'Riddle,' and after all, my name carries a bit of prestige."
"…Morgan le Fay Medallion?"
Was that supposed to be a medal specifically for Dark Lords?
If something like that actually existed, the first recipient would probably be Grindelwald. Then Voldemort.
As for himself… well, he would qualify too.
"Alright, that's enough," Tom said with a sigh. "If you want to start your own Morgan medallion, go study properly with Rowena. When you can come out on your own, you can do whatever you like. Don't count on me."
"You said it!" Morgan immediately seized on his words, taking it as a promise. Delighted, she cut the connection and ran off to find Ravenclaw for more lessons.
At last, Tom could focus on picking out gifts in peace.
He knew exactly how miserable Daphne and Fleur must be during the test right now.
And he knew just as well how furious they'd be once it was over.
In fact, the two young witches were already on the verge of breaking down.
The crushing pressure in their hearts made it hard to breathe. Tears slipped uncontrollably from the corners of their eyes. At this point, they didn't even have the energy to regret entering the competition.
Faced with something as vast as the universe, under that overwhelming sense of despair…
There was simply no room left to think about anything else.
The Overview effect wasn't a joke.
.
.
.