— — — — — —
The gargoyle's intelligence did indeed come from Ravenclaw. That part she couldn't deny. But it wasn't "intelligence" the way Tom assumed.
To think, to understand, to form one's own awareness — that was intelligence.
How far the creature developed afterward had nothing to do with her.
"How is that unrelated?" Tom countered. "If its wisdom is this limited, doesn't that mean your enchantment didn't give it enough intelligence? That's why the poor thing's so… simple."
Ravenclaw was speechless for a moment. "You're being deliberately difficult. A mother may give birth to a child, but only proper guidance afterwards determines how well the child grows."
"The gargoyle had a strong foundation. The issue is that past Headmasters never treated it like a being capable of growth."
'Yeah... I don't believe that shit.' Tom just stayed silent.
As they spoke, he stepped into the Headmaster's office. The room was quiet. Fawkes slept on his perch.
A set of silver instruments on the desk released a light fragrant vapor that calmed the air.
But that peace didn't last long.
"Riddle, you finally showed up."
The portraits all opened their eyes. Phineas Black, of all people, was actually smiling as he greeted him. "I knew our noble Black family could never produce a traitor. That filthy rat, Peter, dared to slander a Black. If I were still alive, I'd have skinned him and turned him into a rug."
"Thanks to you exposing him, I thank you on behalf of all the Black family."
The other Headmasters understood immediately why Phineas, who usually argued with Tom, had suddenly warmed up. Sirius Black was the last male heir of the family — the key to the continuation of a great pure-blood line.
If they had learned they weren't going extinct after all, they would have reacted the same — some of them probably even more dramatically.
Tom raised a brow. "Verbal thanks only? No sincerity?"
"Sincerity?" Phineas blinked. "What do you expect from a portrait? If you want money or treasure, go and ask my great-grandson. Our Black family has many failings, but lack of wealth is not one of them."
Tom nodded. "True. Sirius is much more generous than you. He's already given me full access to the family's secret texts and spells."
"What?!" Phineas' pleasant expression shattered instantly. "That reckless fool! He's handing over the Black family's foundation?!"
Money he did not care about. But heritage was different.
If Tom learned the Black secrets, he could pass them on. The family's uniqueness would vanish.
"You're just a painting. Don't stress over it."
Tom ignored Phineas' outraged yelling and instead picked up Fawkes, who had awakened during the conversation.
"Chirp!" (Little brother! You came to see me!)
"Yeah. You worked hard this summer."
Tom took out the herbs he'd prepared and let Fawkes enjoy a proper meal. During the break, Fawkes had delivered the ingredients Hagrid collected to the Greengrass estate — perfectly, without complaint.
Once Fawkes finished eating and began preening his feathers, Tom said, "Fawkes, do you have time tonight? I need your help."
"Chirp!" (Sure. We are family.)
Click—
The office door creaked open. Dumbledore walked in. Seeing Tom there didn't surprise him — the gargoyle at the door had already told him enough.
Tom stood. "Good afternoon, Professor."
"Good afternoon, Tom." Dumbledore sat and with a gentle gesture conjured tea and a plate of sweets. "I had only stepped out briefly. You returned the gargoyle at just the right moment. I hope he enjoyed his holiday?"
Tom sipped the tea lightly. "He did. We already agreed I'll take him again next summer. Professor, I suggest you find a proper replacement before then. Wooden planks really don't suit your position."
Dumbledore gave a weary smile. "I've been considering options. How about a lion?"
"I think a snake would be better."
"Hm. That's possible too. Perhaps, when this office becomes yours one day, you can place a serpent at the door."
Tom blinked. Was the old man promising him the Headmaster position?
Dumbledore clasped his hands. "In any case… I did want to speak with you, Tom."
"It's about the Dementors who tried to search the train two days ago. Was that your doing?"
"Yes." Tom answered calmly. "Daphne and Hermione were resting. I didn't want those creatures disturbing them. Did the Ministry complain to you?"
"Complain is a strong word," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "They simply came to ask what happened. The Dementors claimed someone cast a very powerful Patronus, but they had no idea who."
"I told them it was the Express's self-defense enchantment. Nothing intentional."
Dumbledore was quietly pleased. A Patronus that strong meant Tom held deep, steady, and bright memories. A very good sign.
As for scaring off Dementors—irrelevant.
He only brought it up to offer guidance. "I understand your dislike of Dementors. Believe me, I share it. But they are under Ministry employ, here to capture fugitives."
"For now, pretend they don't exist. Both the Ministry and the Dementors have sworn not to enter the school."
Tom rubbed his chin. "I think they should be withdrawn entirely. It'll make it easier to capture Lestrange and Lockhart."
Dumbledore paused. "Why?"
"It's simple." Tom spread his hands. "Their goal is me and Harry. With Dementors blocking the school, they'll never come near. But if the Ministry withdraws them, those two will have no reason to hesitate. They show up in front of me, and I'll handle it in five seconds."
He didn't mention that he had seen Lockhart and Bellatrix in Manchester, stuffing themselves happily and nursing their strength, with absolutely no intention of going to Hogwarts. The whole Ministry-and-Dementor blockade was pointless.
But Tom didn't know Manchester well. He couldn't pinpoint their location.
The vision had lasted less than a second. After discussing it with Grindelwald, they'd determined the key difference in their gifts: Tom saw more specific futures with precise moments — tremendous long-term potential — while Grindelwald's visions were powerful but variable, passive, and without clear timing.
Grindelwald once showed the Acolytes a vision of a world war — horrifying, but only one possible future, and he couldn't say when or if it would happen.
Dumbledore's eyelid twitched hard. Tom's plan was far too direct. Tom wouldn't care at all about the two fugitives — but Harry would, and every other student would be in danger.
"Catching fugitives is the Ministry's duty," Dumbledore said. "You and I don't need to concern ourselves with it. It's getting late — would you like to join me for dinner?"
"I'll pass. Daph is waiting." Tom shook his head. He set Fawkes back on his perch and headed for the door.
— — —
Late Night — Forbidden Forest
Fawkes' flame-lit wings cast warm light over the dense, damp trees. But Tom wasn't worried about the bird accidentally setting the forest on fire.
"Chirp!"
Fawkes hovered proudly in the air, eyes locked with Tom's.
"Right," Tom said. "I've been practicing Apparition lately. I think I've finally mastered it. So I'd like to race you — see who relocates faster."
"Chirp?!"
Fawkes gave a very human-like look of pure disdain, as if to say: 'Dude, have you gone mad? You want to race me?'
"Oh, I'm definitely not backing down now." Tom rolled up his sleeves and called Blaze over to act as referee. Then he asked, "Where has Dumbledore taken you before?"
Fawkes listed a few places. Tom picked one.
"Alright. Istanbul. First one there and back wins. If I lose, I'll provide your meals for a week — and unlike Dumbledore, I won't be stingy."
He pulled out several bright red fruits, packed with potent fire energy. Fawkes swooped down instantly and snatched two.
"Good. Eat up, then we start."
"Chirp!"
Tom signaled Blaze. The unicorn's horn glowed, a white orb rising twenty meters before bursting.
The moment it shattered, Tom and Fawkes vanished.
The distance from Hogwarts to Istanbul was nearly three thousand kilometers. North Pole to South Pole was about twenty thousand. Not huge in cosmic terms, but enough to be revealing.
Tom's maximum Apparition distance already exceeded a thousand kilometers — but each jump strained mind and focus drastically. Fortunately, his spiritual foundation was strong enough to keep forcing the image of the destination into clarity, even while dizzy.
After three jumps, he reached the top of Hagia Sophia's tower — their agreed location — before Fawkes.
Fawkes appeared moments later, clearly shocked. His pride ignited instantly. After only two minutes of rest, he launched back toward Hogwarts.
Tom, however, couldn't keep going. His mind felt like it had been hammered into paste, all sense and clarity gone. He collapsed where he stood and fell asleep almost instantly.
It was nearly an hour before he dragged himself back to the Forbidden Forest — while Fawkes was already draped lazily across Blaze's head.
"Blaze, how long was he faster?"
"Uu~ uu~" the unicorn hummed.
"Fifty minutes faster than me?"
Tom winced. He'd known it would be tough — but he hadn't expected that big of a gap.
His maximum Apparition distance wasn't much worse than Fawkes' flight distance — but three successive jumps was his limit. His recovery time was far too slow. He had practically dragged his broken mind back by force. And that was only seven thousand kilometers total.
If the race distance increased, the gap would only grow wider.
"Chirp!"
Fawkes landed on his shoulder, cheek pressed against Tom's. Warm healing energy flowed through him, easing the pain.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll honor the bet. Do you think I'm Dumbledore?"
Tom scooped the phoenix into his arms and rubbed its head, grumbling as he walked back toward the castle.
Of all twelve trials—
He had a feeling this might be the hardest trial of them all.
.
.
.