What Ravenclaw handed him could hardly be called a spell in the traditional sense.
It resembled the secret arts of Occlumency and Legilimency far more than wand magic. There were no incantations to be spoken aloud, no wand movements to memorize. Instead, it was about direct control over one's own mind.
The most basic requirement was mastery of Occlumency. One had to possess clear awareness and control of both brain and spirit.
That part Tom could pass effortlessly.
By now, he was effectively an Occlumency master. At the very least, he was no worse than Severus Snape. Concealing his thoughts from Voldemort or Dumbledore would pose no difficulty.
The second step was dispersing mental energy.
Not splitting the soul, but refining the mind. Imagine a thick strand of hair being separated into individual filaments. The clumped mass of consciousness had to be teased apart into finer threads, making later storage and sealing possible.
The training method was simple in theory.
Think about two things at once.
Or three.
Tom initially assumed this would be trivial. After all, he often left part of his consciousness operating inside the learning space while his physical body handled mundane tasks outside.
Ravenclaw set up two chessboards and began playing him on both simultaneously.
After a short while, she called a halt.
"Tom, this is incorrect."
He frowned in confusion.
"You are not thinking about two games simultaneously," she explained patiently. "You are relying on your extraordinary reaction speed and rapidly shifting attention between them. It looks similar, but it is fundamentally different."
"I need you to hold both games in your mind at the same time. Not think about this board for a second, then switch to the other."
Tom attempted exactly as instructed.
The result was catastrophic.
His thoughts tangled instantly. Within moments he had no idea what he was calculating. He made erratic moves on both boards. Less than three minutes later, he had lost on both sides.
Ravenclaw had barely sacrificed a single piece.
"Take it slowly," she said with a faint smile. "Once you grasp the entrance, progress will accelerate."
Tom rubbed his temples.
"How long did it take you back then?"
"Me?" Ravenclaw tilted her head thoughtfully. "I never paid attention to the time. There were too many questions in my mind that demanded answers. I wished to unravel them all. Eventually… it became instinct."
"Of course it did," Tom muttered with a resigned smile. "I'll practice again another day. I'm going to Hogsmeade tomorrow."
His figure gradually blurred, fading from the learning space.
Just before disappearing, he glanced at the system panel.
[Ravenclaw Recognition: 16]
Only sixteen?
Women truly were unfathomable.
He wondered whether reaching twenty five would unlock a related talent.
If Ravenclaw possessed a treasure, it was not merely her magic.
It was her mind.
...
The next morning, most students left their common rooms between eight and nine.
Lower years headed toward the Great Hall for breakfast. Those bound for Hogsmeade, however, skipped the meal and walked straight toward the gates.
The logic was simple.
If you filled your stomach at school, how could you indulge in sweets later?
"Astoria, be good," Daphne said in a most sisterly tone, patting her little sister's head. "I'll bring you back something delicious."
Astoria resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Have fun, Daphne. Don't worry about me."
"Of course I won't!" Daphne declared proudly, thumping her modest chest. "I've done thorough research. I'll be Tom's perfect guide."
Astoria offered a polite yet slightly strained smile.
Tom had already taken her to Hogsmeade countless times. She knew every shop like the back of her hand.
Trailing near the back of the crowd, Tom and Daphne reached the gates. Argus Filch stood there, checking each student's name against the list, determined to catch anyone attempting to slip through.
This time, Harry did not need to sneak out beneath an Invisibility Cloak. With Sirius Black as his godfather, his signed permission slip was perfectly valid. He walked openly with Ron and Neville, grinning.
When Tom's turn came, Filch's stern expression melted instantly into a smile.
"Mr. Riddle, I see your name here. You may proceed."
"Thank you."
Tom inclined his head and led Daphne out of the gates.
Ever since Tom had saved Mrs. Norris and captured the culprit last year, Filch had treated him with unexpected courtesy. Gratitude lingered.
What Tom did not realize was that Filch's attitude was also influenced by something else.
Learning of Tom's staggering wealth had not altered the boy's demeanor in the slightest.
That consistency had impressed him.
Of course, Tom treated nearly everyone the same unless they were close to him. There was little room for change.
They had not walked far when Daphne began to tire of the pace. With a subtle shift, Tom performed Apparition and brought her directly to Hogsmeade.
The village had transformed.
Pumpkin lanterns hung from nearly every doorway. Shop signs were decorated with floating ghosts, enchanted to exhale puffs of white mist from their open mouths. The festive atmosphere was immediate and vivid.
Beyond the usual visitors, Hogsmeade was crowded with ghosts.
By rough estimate, Britain housed around two hundred ghosts scattered across the land. But on Halloween, they gathered.
"Look," Daphne whispered, pointing excitedly. "The Headless Hunt."
A procession of headless riders drifted past.
"They're the worst musicians I've ever heard," she continued solemnly. "Yet ghosts adore them."
Tom chuckled softly.
"That's what we call non human taste. If you liked them, that would be concerning."
"Hee hee, that makes sense. Come on, let's buy sweets first."