The next morning, Tom woke up and instinctively opened the system panel.
He expected to see his Credits lower.
Instead, he froze.
Not only had his Credits not decreased, they had increased by eighteen. And he had also gained three Achievement Points.
Tom blinked, then immediately pulled up the system log.
Fully mastered Levitation Charm and Wand-Lighting Charm, and the Flickering Charm. Reward: 30 Credits.
Learned three spells. Reward: 3 Achievement Points.
Tom fell into a deep, dangerous silence, the kind that usually came right before he did something reckless.
So the Learning Space wasn't a drain.
It was… a machine.
Learn something, gain Credits. Gain enough Credits to cover the cost of entering. Sometimes even profit.
If that was true, then in the future he wouldn't need to worry about the Learning Space consumption at all.
A perpetual motion engine.
He could almost hear the goblins crying somewhere.
But Tom was not stupid. He knew where the real money sink was.
The Extraordinary State buff.
Right now, he could afford ten minutes.
Ten minutes.
He didn't even dare try it.
What if it felt amazing?
What if he burned one hundred Credits and all he got was the magical equivalent of a strong cup of tea?
He would regret it so hard he'd physically age.
Still… what did it feel like?
Would it make him smarter? Faster? Would the world slow down?
Would he… float?
Tom stared at the description, imagination running wild, then forced himself to get up and wash his face.
He didn't enter the Learning Space immediately.
Yesterday he and Andros had tested something interesting. After Tom left the Learning Space, Andros could either sleep or stay awake. And if Tom maintained the Credits cost, Andros could even communicate with him, use Tom's eyes, and observe the outside world.
That's what this was.
A sealed mentor in his head.
A spiritual tenant.
Tom's brain immediately labeled it with the most accurate term it could find.
So basically… a jinchuriki situation?
It was ridiculous, but it also gave Tom an idea.
He could buy all the textbooks first, manifest them inside the Learning Space, and let Andros read them ahead of time. Then when Tom entered, Andros wouldn't need to spend the first hour figuring out what modern magic even looked like.
Save time.
Save Credits.
Save his sanity.
So early that morning, Tom left the children's home, took public transport into central London, and entered Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron.
Then he went straight to the bookstore.
Tom didn't actually know what books upper years used.
But the staff did.
He found a free clerk and explained what he wanted.
The clerk stared at him like Tom had just asked to purchase the entire building.
"All the textbooks, child," the clerk repeated slowly. "Are you sure? You look like a first or second year. There's no need to buy everything at once."
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing insider wisdom.
"Take Defense Against the Dark Arts. The professor changes every year. You can't even know what book they'll assign. Buying ahead would just waste money."
Tom looked at the clerk with new respect.
Such a kind person.
Tom was instantly certain this man had to be a Hufflepuff.
"Knowledge becomes mine the moment I learn it," Tom said evenly. "Even if the textbook changes, I lose nothing. Instead of leaving money in my pocket to spend on toys and snacks, I'd rather turn it into books. If I don't need them later, I can sell them secondhand."
The clerk stared.
He genuinely looked shocked that those words had come from an eleven-year-old.
But customers wanting to buy things was the entire point of a shop, and he'd already warned Tom once. That was kindness above and beyond. After that, it was on the child.
So the clerk pushed a small trolley into the stacks to gather books. When he learned Tom was an incoming first-year, his expression turned almost smug.
"You'll definitely be sorted into Ravenclaw," he said with certainty. Then, as if remembering he had to stay loyal to his house, he added, "Though I think Hufflepuff is the best house."
Tom nodded solemnly.
"I agree Ravenclaw is good," he said. "It suits me."
He wasn't lying.
He planned to become an academic monster, the kind who made professors nervous. Out of the four houses, only Ravenclaw matched that energy cleanly.
Ten minutes later, the trolley was piled high with thick books, heavy enough to look like it might collapse under its own ambition.
Not only were there the textbooks, there were also some additional books Tom had selected himself. Titles that looked interesting. Titles that looked useful. Titles that looked like they would make his life easier later.
He rolled everything to the counter.
Then he saw the total.
And his expression turned mildly murderous.
Yesterday he'd bought books for fifteen Galleons, averaging about two Galleons per book.
But upper-year books got more expensive. One book alone, a title called High Magic: A Self-Defense Guide, cost seven Galleons.
Seven.
It was exactly like Muggle Britain.
Textbooks priced like extortion.
Tom remembered Ms. Arman complaining about her son's university, how one book could cost dozens of pounds, and the most expensive could be over a hundred. Faster than robbing a bank, she'd said.
Tom understood her now on a spiritual level.
With a sigh, he went back to Gringotts, withdrew another two hundred Galleons, returned to the shop, and paid the bill. He also paid ten Sickles for owl delivery.
Once the books were handled, Tom didn't bother wandering Diagon Alley.
He did stop at a nearby Waitrose and picked up some fruit and snacks, then went home.
Waitrose was one of Britain's higher-end supermarkets. The food was high quality, fresh, and priced like it knew it was superior.
Tom might be broke in the wizarding world, but in the Muggle world he still had enough money to live comfortably. And in this one area, he refused to suffer.
His appetite was larger than most kids his age, but not absurdly so.
It was mostly because of training.
If you couldn't rely on magic, you relied on your fists. He could protect himself that way too.
And, if necessary, collect "protection fees" from the local troublemakers.
Fair was fair.
At three in the afternoon, three owls arrived at his window, each dragging a bundle of books like they'd been hired as moving company employees. Tom took the deliveries and manifested every book into the Learning Space inventory.
Then he didn't go inside.
Not yet.
He wanted to test something.
He wanted to see how much worse his learning efficiency was in the real world compared to the Learning Space.
So he studied normally.
In his room.
Under normal time.
With a normal brain that didn't want to cooperate.
…
"Exhausting," Tom muttered.
At ten at night, he lay back on his bed, eyes closing with heavy fatigue.
Most people couldn't maintain high focus for more than fifteen minutes. After that point, attention started to slip. Thoughts wandered. The mind quietly betrayed you.
If you forced yourself to grind away at one thing for more than two hours, irritation started to rise. Efficiency dropped further. Eventually, you reached the stage where your eyes moved across words but nothing entered your head.
Tom had studied from three p.m. to ten p.m., excluding dinner.
But the only truly productive time was the first couple of hours before dinner. After that, he was just reading like a man dragging a textbook across his face and hoping knowledge would transfer by contact.
And the system confirmed it.
The learning gain for the day was only thirty Credits.
Exactly the same as the three hours he'd spent in the Learning Space last night.
Tom stared at the ceiling.
The conclusion was obvious.
The Extraordinary State could wait until he had more Credits. For now, he couldn't waste anything. The Learning Space was too efficient not to use as his core strategy.
Once he had a plan, Tom fell asleep quickly.
The next month passed like that.
He didn't return to Diagon Alley again.
Every day was the same routine, almost military.
Five hours inside the Learning Space with Andros.
The remaining time in the real world, practicing freely, reinforcing what he learned with actual repetition.
Then suddenly, without warning, time flipped forward.
In the blink of a page turn, it was the day before Hogwarts started.
Tom stood by his bed, suitcase open, books stacked neatly, wand placed carefully where it wouldn't be crushed.
Outside, the air felt different. Like something was approaching.
Like the quiet before a storm.
Tom took a slow breath, then opened his system panel one more time.
Tomorrow, he would step into Hogwarts.
And tomorrow, the real test would begin.
Because learning spells alone was one thing.
Learning how to survive in a school full of magic, politics, bloodlines, and hidden monsters was something else entirely.
Tom's fingers tightened around his wand.
He smiled faintly.
"Alright," he whispered. "Let's see what kind of world you really are."
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a question rose like a warning.
When the Sorting Hat touched his head…
What would it see?