It had been a month and a half since Gilderoy Lockhart's arrest. The delay wasn't due to leniency—quite the opposite. Lockhart's crimes had entangled far too many people and incidents; the Ministry of Magic had to collect every piece of evidence before rendering a sentence.
That, they called procedural justice.
To be honest, the efficiency surprised Tom. From what he knew of the Ministry, he wouldn't have blinked if the investigation had dragged on until the end of the school year.
The verdict was finally announced:
"Gilderoy Lockhart is convicted of altering the memories of eighteen individuals, falsifying records, and bribing members of the Wizengamot to fraudulently obtain a Third-Class Order of Merlin. The Ministry of Magic has ruled that he will serve fifteen years in Azkaban. Furthermore, all parents and students who purchased his textbooks this term will receive full refunds within ten months."
The Great Hall erupted in applause—even the Slytherins joined in. The punishment was a rare moment of justice everyone could agree on.
Tom noticed Ron Weasley clapping so hard his palms turned red. To Ron, this refund was like receiving several years' worth of pocket money all at once—an unexpected windfall.
But Tom wasn't truly focused on Ron. His eyes had been on Ginny.
Compared to the start of term, Ginny looked paler, thinner. Even while the rest of the hall buzzed with excitement, she barely touched her food, listlessly pushing potatoes around her plate. Every so often, though, she would glance toward Penelope Clearwater.
Tom's expression tightened. He finished his meal quickly and left the table.
That evening, Slytherin had Astronomy. To Tom, Astronomy was the most useless class Hogwarts had to offer. Even Divination was more practical—at least those with a knack for it might learn something. Astronomy, however, was nothing more than memorizing star charts. Predicting the weather by the stars? Laughable—Muggle meteorologists were more accurate.
And yet, it was compulsory until fifth year.
When Tom returned to the Slytherin common room, Daphne was already yawning wide enough to crack her jaw. He considered asking her to check whether Astoria had gone to bed, but seeing her drowsy state, he let it go.
The next morning, as usual, it was Astoria who accompanied him to breakfast.
But when they passed a small side-parlor, Tom stopped and stepped inside with her.
"Astoria, how well do you know Ginny Weasley?"
Astoria blinked at the unexpected question. "Not well. We share a few classes, that's all. But…" Her eyes brightened slightly. "I'm friendly with her friend, Luna Lovegood. We both love magical creatures. She's… one of my few friends."
Now that made Tom pause.
Astoria and Luna—friends? He hadn't paid much attention to Luna, but even he'd heard of the "Loony Lovegood" nickname floating around the school.
"Tom?" Astoria tugged softly at his sleeve when he fell silent.
"Oh, it's nothing." He refocused, then leaned closer. "I want you to observe Ginny more closely. See where she spends her time. Especially when she's alone."
The request sounded… well, creepy, to say the least. But Astoria was bright enough not to misinterpret. Her face paled as the implication struck her.
"…Ginny Weasley is the Heir of Slytherin?"
"Highly possible," Tom said flatly. "After Penelope was attacked, Ginny fell mysteriously ill. And yesterday, when Penelope returned to the Great Hall, Ginny kept stealing glances at her."
Astoria frowned. "But she's only a first-year! And the Weasleys are all Gryffindors. How could she possibly have anything to do with Slytherin?"
"We'll find out once we catch her alone," Tom replied simply.
The plan was straightforward, but not reckless. He wouldn't risk exposing Ginny in front of others. Even if she were proven guilty later, the stigma would crush her; a first-year girl might never recover. Better to confirm in secret.
Astoria's small hands clenched at her robes, but then she nodded with surprising determination. "I understand."
After her initial shock came a spark of pride and excitement. For once, she could help Tom—not just be protected by him. She could finally contribute.
Over the following days, she quietly shadowed Ginny, and soon confirmed Tom's suspicions: Ginny's odd behavior persisted. Even though her supposed "illness" had passed, she often drifted off into daydreams. As Tom had said, she fixated on Penelope, watching her from afar. Yet whenever they crossed paths in the corridors, Ginny would scurry away with flimsy excuses.
Meanwhile, far beyond Hogwarts, Rosier had set Tom's other plan into motion.
Power could be measured in many ways. Dumbledore had once said Voldemort had pushed the boundaries of dark magic further than any wizard before him. But if asked who was more dangerous—Voldemort or Grindelwald—Dumbledore's answer had always been the same.
Grindelwald.
Because dark magic could terrify, but ideas could conquer.
Grindelwald's ideology spread like a plague. It turned admiration into fanaticism, and fanatics into willing martyrs. His vision lived in those who would gladly sacrifice everything for it.
Voldemort, in contrast, relied on fear. His followers were pawns—tools to display his power.
And Lady Vinda Rosier… she had absorbed Grindelwald's teachings well.
The French Rosier family might look like enemies on the surface, but in truth, she had long since tightened her grip on them. The clan moved as one, their roots reaching deep into the French Ministry of Magic. Spies she had planted decades earlier now stirred at her command.
When Rosier signaled her wish to leave prison, those networks activated.
Within weeks, the French Ministry passed a new decree: convicts over eighty years of age who had served more than thirty years could opt to surrender their wands and complete their sentence outside of Azkaban.
Freedom with conditions—monthly reports of their whereabouts and activities—but freedom nonetheless.
And that was all Rosier needed.