[Fleur: Any plans for Christmas?]
Tom blinked, then smiled faintly.
[Tom: We've barely started the term, and you're already thinking of the holidays?]
[Fleur: Of course. You have to plan ahead. France gets far too cold in winter… so how about the desert instead?]
[Tom: If winter isn't cold, can you even call it winter? It just feels wrong.]
[Fleur: Then let's go skiing in Austria. I'm really good at skiing, you know.]
Austria?
Tom's thoughts flickered—should he take this chance to pay old Gregorovitch a visit?
[Tom: I can't confirm anything yet. It's too early. If I promise you now but something comes up later and I can't go, wouldn't that be irresponsible?]
Fleur was clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but she also knew Tom was speaking honestly.
[Fleur: Fine… but once you've decided your Christmas plans, you must tell me.]
[Tom: Promise—you'll be the second person I tell. Don't worry.]
[Fleur: Who's the first?!]
[Tom: Gabrielle.]
[Fleur: …Goodbye!]
At Beauxbatons, in a lavishly decorated, feminine dorm room, Fleur slammed her enchanted notebook shut with a loud bang. Her two roommates jumped in fright.
"D-Delacour, are you okay?" one stammered.
"I'm fine," Fleur replied curtly, already marching out without sparing them a glance.
That bastard! How dare he…
Fine, I'll just go pinch little Gabrielle's cute cheeks until they're swollen. Let's see if you still like her then.
Inside the dorm, Fleur's roommates actually looked relieved once she was gone. They weren't upset at being ignored—in fact, her presence had always made them uneasy.
Among the boys, Fleur was the most sought-after girl in the school. But among girls, all she drew was jealousy and exclusion. In the past, Fleur had always acted above it all, ignoring gossip and isolation. But lately, something about her had changed—perhaps influenced by someone.
Now, if she was left alone, she would leave you be. But if you provoked her, she wouldn't waste a single word—she'd crush you without hesitation.
Her two roommates had learned that the hard way.
Meanwhile, Tom had no idea that poor Gabrielle's adorable little face was about to be in grave danger. After teasing Fleur, his time management charms nudged him: it was time to spend some hours with Ariana.
In recent days, Tom had asked Mrs. Greengrass to purchase several psychology books from the Muggle world. After skimming them, he was able to confirm Ariana's condition.
In simple terms: childhood trauma leading to classic PTSD.
To treat it, multiple steps were necessary.
The first was something he had already been doing—building trust. Ariana needed to feel utterly safe with him, so his words and actions carried weight.
The second step was cognitive correction: using desensitization therapy and high-frequency word replacement to reshape Ariana's perception of magic. But this method was risky—if applied too forcefully, it could backfire.
The final and most crucial step: self-acceptance.
Ariana not only had to accept her identity as a witch, but also face the Obscurial lurking within her.
Tom, being an Obscurial himself, had been feeding and studying the Obscurus within him. He discovered that Obscurials weren't entirely uncontrollable—even with their own awareness, they could be bent to his will.
After all, this was his learning space. If he could slay the King of Centuries here, then controlling an Obscurus was hardly impossible.
He hadn't erased its consciousness yet, though. If he did it too soon, the treatment for Ariana would lose its impact.
"Tom!"
At the Greengrass estate, Ariana looked up from the television, eyes bright with delight. She had been watching Tom and Jerry and waved happily as soon as he appeared.
Tom gave her a small nod and sat beside her. "You've read through the materials I gave you, right?"
Ariana blushed and lowered her head. "Mm… I read most of them. Twice."
She wasn't like Grindelwald or Andros, who spent endless hours studying magic and meditating. Ariana's life here was simpler. Aside from the two hours Tom let her go outside, she spent her time either watching TV or reading books conjured from his memories.
Her favorite? The carefree chaos of Tom and Jerry.
"I haven't read them all either," Tom admitted casually. "When the holidays come, we can go through the rest together."
"Oh, right," he added, suddenly remembering. "I bought a new house, but I've never even stayed there. I don't know how the renovations turned out."
Ariana tilted her head curiously. "Where's your house?"
"In London. In a Muggle neighborhood—no wizards around."
As expected, Ariana's face stiffened, fear creeping into her eyes.
"Ariana," Tom's voice softened, his tone gentle, "not all Muggles are bad people."
Her expression stayed tense. "But… what if we meet bad ones?"
"Then we'll be worse."
Tom's lips curled into a cold smile. "If someone dares to bully me, I'll make sure they regret ever being born. That's why I push myself every day to master magic."
"But… Albus and Mama always said we shouldn't hurt people."
"They were wrong." Tom's rebuke was sharp and absolute. "Never try to be a good person. Good people only get bullied. Others will take your kindness for granted and keep pushing until you break. Look at Grindelwald—doesn't he live happily?"
The mention of Grindelwald made Ariana shrink. It was one of her deepest taboos. If her trust in Tom weren't nearly seventy percent by now, she might have run away.
"Ariana," Tom continued softly, "let me tell you about Grindelwald after your death. He can't hurt you anymore. There's no need to fear him. Listen, and then you can decide for yourself—was it your brother, the Headmaster, who lived happily? Or was it Grindelwald?"