— — — — — —
"Tom, when are the dragons arriving?"
Classes were in session, the errand boy had long since run off, and the corridor was empty. With no one around, Daphne grew bolder. She tugged on Tom's sleeve, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Tonight, probably. I'll take you to have a look when they get here." Tom pinched her cheek lightly. Her face was still soft with youth, but the baby fat was fading—she was finally growing into her looks.
"Huh?" Daphne stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. "You're serious? You're actually taking me to see the dragons? What happened to fairness and impartiality?"
Tom shrugged, sounding completely unconcerned. "That only applies to the parts I'm responsible for. This was arranged in advance by the other schools—it's not my call, so there's no need to play fair. Besides, bending the rules has always been part of the Tournament tradition. Just wait—tonight won't just be about dragons. You'll probably run into a lot of familiar faces too."
Whether she was shocked or just thinking something over, Daphne stayed quiet all the way to the classroom door. Then she shot him a sidelong look.
"I'm sure of it now, you were messing with us on purpose in the first task."
Tom: "..."
This girl really held a grudge. It had been almost half a month, and he'd even taken her on a full-on food-and-fun trip to Paris, yet she still wouldn't let it go.
Pretending not to hear, he pushed the door open and walked in.
The room was already crowded—not just the champions, but also judges and a special guest for the day. They were the last to arrive, which wasn't surprising given how remote the Potions classroom was.
Tom hadn't understood why he'd been invited in the first place, but the moment he spotted Ollivander waggling his eyebrows at him, it all made sense.
"Ah, everyone's here at last!" Ludo Bagman, who had been chatting with Rita Skeeter, immediately ditched her and hurried over with an overly eager smile. Rita stood out in the crowd—heavy makeup, exaggerated waves of hair, impossible to miss.
Her sharp, almost shrill laughter cut off the instant Tom entered.
He wasn't just her employer or her source of income; he held her life in his hands. Rita Skeeter feared no one, but every time she saw Tom, she felt as though her fate rested on a single thought of his.
Bagman's obsequious attitude, on the other hand, made the champions—and even Ollivander—feel vaguely sick. But Bagman himself didn't care in the slightest.
Ever since the day of the champion selection, when he'd said a single kind word to Daphne, the Ministry of Magic had advanced him two months' worth of salary the very next day. It had done wonders for easing his debt crisis.
The message was clear: for at least the next few years, his position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports was secure.
And that wasn't even the best part.
What thrilled Bagman most was that his post as Head of the Department wasn't going anywhere. With the rapid spread of magical Lume-Lens, interest in all kinds of sporting events had skyrocketed. Even Exploding Snap was getting talk of a league. The influence and importance of his position were growing by the day.
He'd gladly work for free if it meant keeping that seat. As long as he held onto his position, his creditors wouldn't dare push him too hard—and he'd have time to earn the money to pay them back.
"Mr. Riddle, please. Have a seat." Bagman guided Tom to a private armchair, lowering his voice. "There was really no need to trouble you with something as trivial as wand inspection, but Ollivander insisted on seeing you. I couldn't refuse him."
Tom nodded casually. "I know. Go ahead and handle your business—no need to worry about me."
Bagman hurried off to gather the champions in a corner and go over the procedures. Ollivander wasted no time, swooping in with a look of clear displeasure.
"Riddle! We had an agreement; you were supposed to come to my shop regularly to work on wand research. It's been half a year since I last saw you!"
Before obtaining the "Hakuna Matata," Tom had worried about not having a suitable wand, so he'd struck a deal like that with Ollivander.
But now? Young as he was, he seemed to have developed a selective memory. Ever since getting his new wand, he'd completely forgotten about the arrangement. Ollivander had clearly come today to call him out on it.
Tom smiled. "You can't blame me. After several sessions with no progress at all, I figured I'd be better off relying on myself. So I focused on mastering wandless magic instead. Now I don't need a wand anymore."
He had no intention of mentioning the "Hakuna Matata." The old man was obsessed with wand-making to an almost unhealthy degree. If he discovered how unusual it was, he'd cling to Tom like glue and never let go.
"How can that be the same?" Ollivander shook his head repeatedly. "A wand is the soul of magic. It's a wizard's third hand. Take Dumbledore, for instance—he's powerful, yes, and he can cast without a wand, but even he can't reach the same heights that way."
Tom spread his hands. "Maybe. But my talent for wandless magic is better than his. Instead of wasting time going in circles, I'd rather focus on something else."
Ollivander tried to keep persuading him, but the incentives he offered had zero appeal. In the end, Bagman called everyone over, and the old wandmaker reluctantly went back to work inspecting the champions' wands.
Once he got into it, though, Ollivander was all business. Completely focused, not the slightest bit distracted.
Fleur stepped up first. The veela hair in her wand immediately caught his attention.
"I rarely use veela hair," he said, eyes lighting up. "Too temperamental, too human in nature… but for you, Miss Delacour, it works perfectly. Orchids, bloom!"
A cluster of pale blue orchids blossomed at the tip of her wand.
"Excellent condition."
He returned it to Fleur and motioned for Ariana to come forward.
"Dragon heartstring, hornbeam… very nice. Hmm?"
Ollivander paused, frowning slightly. "Miss Dumbledore… may I ask who made this wand?"
He could see traces of technique from the three greatest wandmakers in Europe all blended into one.
"I'm not sure," Ariana said, shaking her head. "Grindelwald brought me a whole batch to choose from. I picked this one. Is there a problem?"
"No… no problem." Ollivander hesitated, then shook his head. The moment Grindelwald's name came up, his curiosity shrank back. There was nothing truly groundbreaking here anyway. Just a careful fusion of strengths from multiple masters, resulting in a highly refined wand. Not worth poking into, not if it meant attracting Grindelwald's attention.
Ariana glanced at Tom, a faint smile flickering in her eyes, then walked off with her wand.
Tom didn't leave after Daphne finished her inspection. He was curious how Ollivander would handle the Uagadou champion. After all, they didn't even use wands.
"Another fascinating wand," Ollivander said when it was Hozumi Kamio's turn, catching something unusual again. "This core… is that fox tail hair?"
"That's right." Her smile stayed sweet and gentle. "From a very rare fox."
As she spoke, she glanced at Tom. He met her gaze, and for a moment, he could almost imagine three fluffy tails swaying behind her.
Finally, it was Nassim from Uagadou. He was the only one who stepped forward empty-handed, which drew everyone's attention.
Ollivander walked out from behind the table and had him extend his arm, mimicking his usual casting motion. Then he poked and prodded here and there before nodding in satisfaction.
"Good. Your hands are okay. Nothing will interfere with your spellcasting."
Tom: "..."
With the inspections finished, Rita Skeeter, who had been keeping a low profile until now, stood up with a bright smile and walked over to Bagman.
"Mr. Bagman, I'm planning a special feature on the champions for the Daily Prophet and Wizarding News. Would now be a good time?"
"Of course!" Bagman beamed. "I'm sure the champions will be happy to cooperate, right?"
He looked to the group, and after getting their agreement, a sharp glint flashed in Rita's eyes, like a hunter spotting prey. She quickly settled on her target.
"Mr. Jauncey? May I have a word?"
Daniel Jauncey hadn't expected to be approached first. He froze for a moment, then nodded with restrained composure, though inwardly he was thrilled.
It made sense, really. He'd placed second in the first task. Excluding that cheating champion from Mahoutokoro who had somehow slept through it, he was effectively first.
"This isn't the best place. Please, come with me." Rita clutched her crocodile-skin handbag and led the way out, pushing open a nearby door.
Jauncey followed, only to find himself in a cramped storage room filled with brooms. He frowned slightly.
"Here?"
"It's perfect. Private enough."
Rita sat down on an upturned bucket, pulled out her parchment and quill. "Now then… let me think."
She flashed a dazzling smile. "Let's start here. Mr. Jauncey, I've heard you only recently enrolled at Ilvermorny and had never appeared at the school before. Not just students from other schools, even your own classmates barely know you. Is that correct?"
Jauncey smiled modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "My family background is… decent. My parents placed a lot of emphasis on my education, so I've always been taught privately by renowned tutors. Professors from Ilvermorny have visited as well."
"Just because my classmates don't know me doesn't mean the professors and headmaster don't. They have great confidence in me. That's why they specially invited me to participate in this tournament and win glory for Ilvermorny."
"Very good, very good…" Rita nodded repeatedly.
Her Quick-Quotes Quill had already started writing on its own, scratching out line after line:
{Shocking Scandal! Headmaster and Professors Secretly Handpick Champion—Backroom Deal Exposed!}
{Ilvermorny Champion Jauncey Admits: "I'm Close with the Headmaster—Everything I Have Comes from My Family Background!"}
Jauncey: "????"
…That's not what he said at all.
.
.
.