"Hagrid finally gets to have his own wand again!"
After Harry left, Hermione spoke cheerfully. She'd always liked Hagrid. Aside from being a bit loud… she felt he really hadn't done anything wrong.
"A wand? He's always had one."
Tom lowered his voice slightly. "Think carefully, have you ever noticed something… odd about him?"
Hermione frowned, digging through memories of her encounters with Hagrid. She replayed dozens of moments in a flash, then suddenly, snap, something clicked.
"His umbrella, "
She stopped abruptly, eyes widening.
Tom nodded. "That's right. His broken wand is hidden inside the umbrella."
"A broken wand can still work?" Hermione whispered in shock.
"Barely. It has a much higher chance of magical backlash. But more importantly, it's a symbol of identity."
Tom smiled softly. "Only those who hold a wand can be acknowledged as wizards. Even a broken one counts."
"If a wizard loses even that… it means the magical world has exiled them."
Hermione fell silent. The truth of that statement echoed deeply inside her.
Before Tom had used the Confundus Charm to wipe the Ministry's tracking markers from her, every time she returned home for the holidays, she felt an unbearable sense of disconnection, like she had been forcibly shoved back into the Muggle world. She found herself sneaking to Diagon Alley just to stare at spellbooks and magical tools, reminding herself she wasn't a fraud.
Looking at Tom's perfect profile, warmth crept onto her cheeks. She wanted to say, It's so good you're here. She wanted to… but didn't dare.
...
At that moment, an overly energetic Mr. Rouse marched into the Great Hall with a flock of students behind him, only to spot Tom and Hermione. His expression instantly collapsed. Nearly sprinting, the man veered away like a startled hippogriff.
Hermione blinked. "Professor Wilkinson… is he running away from you?"
"How could that be?" Tom smiled calmly. "He's probably… hungry."
Hermione gave him the most unimpressed eye-roll in Gryffindor history.
Of course Rouse was avoiding Tom.
Calling it unfair would be wrong, but it was definitely satisfying.
In order to help Rouse truly "experience the agony of a love battlefield," Tom had been beating the poor single man half to death under the excuse of "training" him. So often, in fact, that Rouse now reacted to Tom like a dog to a curse word, full panic.
Rouse couldn't understand how he had offended Tom. And yet, how could someone who received rare strengthening potions and even Grindelwald's transfiguration methods feel anything but gratitude? The contradiction left him mentally fried. Was this affection? Abuse? Both??
...
The next day, Tom left Hogwarts and headed to Nurmengard.
It was time for his twice-monthly "visit the lonely dangerous war criminal" activity. He had scheduled Harry for the afternoon for this exact reason.
This was his third visit, and he now remembered every magical trap and entry trick. He stepped out of the defensive wards just in time for the last trap to smack the old Squib guard unconscious, allowing him to sleep "on the job" as usual.
When Tom reached Grindelwald, he finally showed genuine shock.
Grindelwald looked young again. His appearance matched the middle-aged form he favored in their shared training space.
"This isn't human transfiguration," the white-haired man smirked. "Slytherin's flesh-and-magic modification inspired me. I've made some progress."
"In short, by re-forging myself with magic, this is my true body once more. Though my health is still… abysmal."
"You're insane."
Tom shook his head, placing food and wine on the table as he sat opposite him. "Experimenting on yourself first? Aren't you afraid something could go wrong?"
"This is only surface-level alteration." Grindelwald waved it off. "If it failed, I could still handle the consequences. But injecting magic directly into the flesh requires caution."
"Tom… I need help."
Tom knew exactly what help he meant. He nodded. "I'll contact Rosier. No, better, I'll just give you my messaging book. You can add her directly."
"You do it." Grindelwald had already poured them drinks, leisurely sipping.
"This is the time for you to build authority and control your followers. If I constantly show up and issue instructions, it weakens you. And don't tell her I'm the one who needs it. Say you want it."
"…Fine."
Tom nodded, though inside, he was laughing.
Grindelwald was absolutely provoked by Voldemort. There was no way the proud old tyrant could tolerate someone stronger overshadowing him. Dumbledore never counted, he was a monster of his own category.
After sharing a meal, with little to actually discuss, since they saw each other daily in their study dimension, Tom left Nurmengard. Grindelwald only insisted on these meetings to talk to a living human instead of floating runes.
Back at Hogwarts, Tom forwarded Grindelwald's request to Rosier, exactly as ordered:
pretending he needed the experimental materials.
And the game continued.