— — — — — —
In truth, the Ministers of Magic were overthinking things and scaring themselves.
For Tom, creating puppets with "Elite Wizard"–level combat ability wasn't nearly as easy as they imagined. The limitation wasn't technical skill, but cost versus return.
A proper puppet required large amounts of rare, magic-conductive metals. On top of that, it needed intricate runes carved by hand. It took time, effort, and expensive materials.
And what did you get in the end?
Something Tom could crush in bulk without much effort.
No one wages war by mass-producing cannon fodder at that kind of cost.
Well… unless you were that old eccentric Nicolas Flamel, who had more money than he knew what to do with, refused to leave any of it to his "filial" apprentice, and had the time to churn out piles of what others would call "junk."
As for the puppets on the field right now, they were basically for show. Disposable, one-time-use props.
Tom had only temporarily tuned them to Tonks's level for today's evaluation. Once this was over, they'd be scrapped and melted down for reuse.
Later, he'd make a proper batch of durable ones and distribute them to his guilds for long-term assessments.
Still, there had been an unexpected bonus.
He'd unintentionally intimidated quite a few Ministers of Magic. For a while, the expansion of the Astra Abyssum Guild suddenly became much smoother.
...
With no referees and not even a host, the professors participating in the evaluation gathered on the field, quietly discussing the order of appearance.
The students from Ravenclaw and Slytherin were especially excited. They stood on tiptoe, craning their necks to watch.
Representing Hogwarts this time were Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape—the heads of their respective houses.
Everyone knew their Heads of House were strong.
But how strong?
No one really knew.
Now they finally had a chance to find out.
"I thought Professor Moody would take part too," Ron said, sounding disappointed.
There had been plenty of speculation that Dumbledore invited Moody this year specifically for this evaluation. No one doubted his strength. He would definitely have scored well.
"Hmph. This kind of test is no different from a staged performance. Victory in a duel has never been decided by raw power alone. Do you know how many cases I've seen where someone was taken down by a sneak attack?"
"A Killing Curse doesn't care if you're an Elite Wizard or an Arcane Wizard. It'll end you all the same."
The voice came from behind them, making both Harry and Ron jump. Their faces went pale.
"Professor Moody…"
Alastor Moody had somehow appeared behind them and taken a seat. He looked down at the field with clear disdain.
Before the boys could even process what was happening—
"You're exactly the kind of fossil holding the wizarding world back. No wonder it's been stagnating for years."
Crack.
Tom appeared beside Moody in an instant.
Now it was Moody's turn to tense up. His magical eye spun wildly, scanning the surroundings. His grip tightened on his cane until his knuckles turned white.
The thought flashed through his mind— This kid isn't about to throw hands right here, is he?
But Tom had no intention of using force. If he wanted to change Moody's mindset, brute pressure would only backfire.
Besides, with so many students around, he needed to make his point convincingly. Let the message spread through their voices.
Tom looked at Moody with open disdain.
"The purpose of ranking is to give wizards a clear understanding of their own strength. To show them how far they are from the next level."
"You say a Killing Curse can solve everything?"
"Fine. I'm right here. Use one on me. Let's see if it solves me."
Moody lowered his head and said nothing.
The atmosphere turned painfully awkward. Plenty of nearby students had heard Tom's blunt challenge.
Tom snorted and continued, "Not everyone has a clear sense of their own level or a plan for growth. Only by establishing a universal standard can we spark ambition and help organizations recruit the right people."
"Professor Moody, you may be an expert when it comes to hunting Dark Wizards. But when it comes to things outside your field, you'd do better to speak less."
With that, Tom vanished as abruptly as he'd appeared.
Moody was left standing there, his face shifting between red and pale. He didn't know whether to stay or leave. The embarrassment was suffocating.
Fortunately, a sudden wave of thunderous applause broke out across the venue, neatly saving him from further humiliation.
The first professor had been chosen.
It was Ravenclaw's Head of House— Filius Flitwick.
Since everyone knew about the evaluation in advance, each school had carefully selected which professors to bring. After all, this test was also an unspoken competition.
Failing would be… embarrassing.
The professors were confident in themselves, but none of them knew exactly how strong "Tonks-level" really was. So most preferred to go later and observe first.
Flitwick didn't have that concern.
He was here partly for fun and partly because he trusted his own ability.
Seeing that no one else was stepping forward, he simply volunteered.
---
Back at the Ministry, Tonks straightened, fully focused.
She wanted to see it for herself. Were these puppets really as incredible as Tom claimed? Did they truly replicate her abilities perfectly?
And if they did…
After all these years since graduation, how big was the gap between her and the professors?
If it's three against one… I should have the advantage, right?
...
It didn't take long for the test to begin.
Flitwick opened with a probing spell at one of the trial puppets. Instantly, it raised its wand. With a sharp clang, the spell was deflected by a Shield Charm, sparks flying.
At the same time, the other two puppets Apparated away, each taking a position about ten meters apart, forming a triangle that boxed Flitwick in.
A classic Auror formation.
It allowed them to support one another while completely sealing off any escape routes.
A flicker of interest passed through Flitwick's eyes. So they didn't just have power—they understood tactics too.
The moment they settled into position, the puppets attacked.
All three moved almost in perfect sync, their wand tips flaring with blinding light. Flitwick sidestepped one spell with ease, then deftly redirected two others so they collided midair, exploding and gouging craters into the ground.
Then his body stiffened for a split second. One of the puppets had hit him with a Body-Bind Curse.
But Flitwick's combat instincts were sharp. He silently countered it almost instantly, shrugging off the effect.
Spells crisscrossed the field, flashes of light bursting in rapid succession. The battle looked intense, a constant exchange of attacks and defenses.
Most of the time, Flitwick stayed on the defensive.
And yet, he handled every attack with precision.
It looked dangerous, like he could slip at any moment. Ravenclaw students clenched their fists, hearts in their throats.
Meanwhile, Tonks was completely convinced.
These puppets really were modeled after her.
The power of their spells was almost identical. The speed, the control, even their casting habits… she could see her own reflection in them.
And that was the depressing part.
Tonks realized that in a straight fight, she might not even be able to beat one of them.
The reason was simple.
The puppets were steadier than her. More composed.
At the same level, the one who stays calm has the higher chance of winning.
"Attention." Suddenly, Kingsley looked up from the Lume-Lens and announced something that made everyone freeze.
"Minister Fudge and Director Scrimgeour have issued a directive. Over the next month, all Aurors are required to undergo evaluation at the Astra Abyssum Guild. Those who fail will be reassigned as Hit Wizards."
Tonks's face—and her hair—turned pale in an instant.
Oh no.
The original might actually lose to the copy!
The other Aurors didn't look much better.
Tonks might still be relatively new, fresh out of her probation period, but that didn't mean she was weak. On the contrary, she usually performed quite well in dueling training.
Among the dozen or so people present, at least half didn't think they could beat her.
...
..
Back on the field, time was running out.
With fifteen seconds left, Flitwick finally got serious.
He swept his wand in a wide arc, releasing a cloud of golden mist. From within that mist, countless tiny needles shot out, striking the puppets.
Their Shield Charms rang under the barrage, cracks forming across the surface.
In the next instant, the mist condensed, forming a massive golden scimitar nearly five meters long. With a howling roar, it slashed horizontally.
The already weakened shields shattered.
The three puppets were sent flying one after another, crashing heavily to the ground and losing all ability to move.
Seeing this, Tom snapped his fingers.
The ground rippled. The grass opened like three enormous mouths and swallowed the fallen puppets whole.
Ravenclaw erupted. Students completely lost their composure, cheering wildly for their Head of House.
The rest of Hogwarts followed with thunderous applause, openly admiring Flitwick's strength.
Anyone with a keen eye could tell what had happened.
For most of the match, Flitwick had simply been playing around.
Only in those final seconds had he gotten serious, clearing the test right at the limit.
Fifteen seconds. Three Auror-level opponents.
That kind of power was overwhelming.
As his students, the Hogwarts kids felt a surge of pride.
"Honestly… the title 'Arcane Wizard' doesn't even feel like enough for Professor Flitwick."
Someone said it, and many immediately agreed.
Now everyone was even more curious.
If this was just "Arcane Wizard," then what lay above it? What standards would those tiers have?
Flitwick smiled and waved to the audience, looking completely at ease as he stepped into the lift and returned to the professors' box.
The second professor stepped forward.
It was Laos Wilkinson.
The Durmstrang students erupted in cheers, which was only to be expected. But then they noticed Hogwarts cheering even louder.
The other schools—including Durmstrang itself—were left completely dumbfounded.
...
In the Arena, Laos took a deep breath. He wasn't as relaxed as Flitwick, but he still carried a measure of confidence.
In the VIP box, Grindelwald leaned forward slightly, then glanced at Dumbledore.
"Do you think he'll pass?"
After a moment's thought, Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "Mr. Wilkinson has talent. But he still has room to grow."
Grindelwald smiled mysteriously, "Let's make a bet, Albus. I say he passes."
"You win," Dumbledore said immediately.
Grindelwald: "???"
.
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