— — — — — —
And just like that, Defense Against the Dark Arts class was over.
Without a teaching aid, there wasn't much Professor Lupin could do.
Finding another Boggart on short notice was nearly impossible, so the remaining students who hadn't faced one yet were disappointed, though they didn't complain.
Tom, on the other hand, felt a flicker of regret. He hadn't yet seen what Daphne or Hermione feared most.
Right now, though, everyone was buzzing with questions. What exactly had happened earlier? Why had that strange surge of magic blasted the Boggart? And who in the world was the mysterious woman that appeared when Tom stepped forward?
Still whispering to each other, the students followed Lupin back to the DADA classroom.
Once they sat down, Daphne leaned closer and whispered, "So... who was that woman?"
Tom shook his head slightly. "Someone who's been dead a long time. Don't worry about it."
"Oh."
Daphne nodded obediently. Being obedient, after all, was one of her best qualities—or so Tom liked to think. And since he said the woman was dead, well... there wasn't much point in asking more.
Hermione, however, frowned thoughtfully.
Something about the woman's clothes and presence felt familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she'd seen it before.
Class time was nearly over anyway, so Lupin simply told everyone to read quietly until the bell rang.
When it did, he began packing up, but just as he was about to leave, Professor McGonagall appeared at the door. She was clutching a stack of textbooks, clearly fresh out of her own class.
"Remus," she said briskly, "the Headmaster would like to see you in his office."
Lupin paused mid-motion, then nodded. "Understood, Professor."
He made his way up the moving staircases, mind turning over possibilities. 'Did that surge of magic reach Dumbledore too?'
He didn't have to wonder long.
"Remus, have a seat," Dumbledore said warmly, gesturing toward a chair. The Headmaster had already poured tea. "I hear you had quite an... eventful lesson today. Would you care to tell me how it went?"
Lupin could tell exactly what the old man wanted to hear, so he skipped the harmless bits and went straight to the important part: Tom's encounter with the Boggart. He described everything in detail—the Boggart's hesitation, the woman it eventually transformed into, and the powerful magic that came down out of nowhere to destroy it.
Dumbledore listened intently, nodding every so often, his half-moon glasses glinting in the firelight.
When Lupin finally finished, the Headmaster leaned back, thoughtful. Then he smiled faintly. "Tom possesses nearly everything he could possibly desire—and will likely gain even more as time goes on. To be honest, I can't imagine what he fears. At the very least, I know it isn't me."
He chuckled softly. "If he doesn't fear me, then there can't be much left in this world capable of frightening him."
Lupin hesitated, then blurted out, "What about you, sir? Is there anything you're afraid of?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them—classic Gryffindor impulsiveness.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Remus, next time you come across a Boggart, bring it to me. I must admit, I'd be rather curious to see what it shows me."
"I'll… see what I can do," Lupin said awkwardly, standing. "I should get going. I still have a class to teach."
"Of course."
Once Lupin had closed the door behind him, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
"What would I see?"
For him, a Boggart would likely take one shape—Ariana.
But Tom's fear… Ravenclaw?
From Lupin's description and the magical disturbance that had rippled through the castle, Dumbledore had already guessed who that mysterious woman was. And that was what puzzled him most.
Still, he wouldn't ask Tom directly. Everyone has their secrets. The stronger the wizard, the deeper those secrets go—and prying into them was the surest way to make an enemy.
Besides, at Hogwarts, nothing stayed secret for long.
---
By the next morning, word of what had happened in Lupin's class had spread through the entire castle. Everyone was talking about how Tom Riddle's Boggart had taken the form of a woman, and how the sudden magical quake had followed right after.
Most students brushed it off as gossip. But in the Ravenclaw common room, things took a different turn.
"Wait a second," a girl gasped. "Doesn't that sound exactly like Rowena Ravenclaw?"
"You're kidding," said a skeptical Hufflepuff who'd brought the rumor. "Why would Riddle be afraid of one of the Founders—especially your Founder?"
The Ravenclaw girl nodded firmly. "If your description was accurate, then yes, I'm certain. We have her statue in our common room—it's the same robe, same crown, everything. I didn't realize it at first, but it has to be her."
As soon as she said it, more Ravenclaws began connecting the dots, and within hours, the rumor spread across the school like Fiendfyre.
Tom, of course, couldn't care less. After brushing off Daphne's curiosity and Hermione's frown, he retreated to his private space and recounted the whole thing to Ravenclaw herself as if it were some kind of joke.
"Seems I've wronged you," she said lightly. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Her serene smile didn't fool him; he could practically feel her amusement.
He was used to it by now. None of the ancient Founders were as noble as the portraits made them seem. Every single one of them had a streak of darkness a mile wide.
"That surge of magic that destroyed the Boggart," Tom asked, "was that your doing?"
Ravenclaw shook her head gently. "No. That was the castle's defense mechanism. A Boggart trying to manifest my resemblance triggers an automatic response. It would have happened for any of the Founders, not just me."
"So if it had been somewhere else…"
She smiled faintly. "It might have succeeded."
Tom let out a low whistle. "A castle built by four legendary wizards... if it were a weapon, I can't imagine how powerful it'd be."
Ravenclaw smiled faintly, her voice calm and even. "You can't have everything. The castle was meant to protect the students, to give them a safe place to live and learn. We also wanted it to endure, to sustain itself. So we focused on designing it to absorb ambient magical energy from young wizards, to make it self-sufficient. Naturally, other aspects were... less refined."
"Fair enough." Tom nodded. "I always wondered—where's the castle's core? At first I thought it might be the Room of Requirement. Turns out it's just your bedroom."
Ravenclaw's eyes twinkled with mystery. "A core? Why must a thing like this have one? A core only gives your creation a fatal weakness. But if you must call something the 'core'... then it's the very idea of the castle itself. As long as people believe in Hogwarts—believe it's a school, a place of safety and magic—then the core will always exist."
She was the perfect example of a genius who loved to speak in riddles. Always saying half and hinting the rest, forcing Tom to piece things together himself. Now he understood why Helena had ended up resenting her mother so much.
Who on earth wants their mum to turn every conversation into a quiz?
Still, her words had hit their mark. Something clicked inside him. He realized he'd been thinking too narrowly. Magic in the wizarding world wasn't built like a machine—it wasn't precise engineering, but rather the embodiment of thought and will. If that was true, then of course you could hide your deepest secrets inside an abstract idea.
It reminded him of true-name magic—power rooted not in structure, but in belief.
That single insight shattered a barrier in his mind, and Tom's understanding of magic deepened once more.
Of course, understanding was one thing. Mastery required study, discipline, and a foundation of knowledge.
...
Over the next few days, Tom devoured every book inside the Room of Requirement, copying them into his study space. Any free moment he had, he spent in the Meditation Room reading.
The rumors about the Boggart and Tom slowly faded. For most students, it had just been a bit of juicy gossip to spice up their week, nothing more. T
heir real concern was the ever-growing pile of homework. The professors, without meaning to, had done Tom a favor—by keeping everyone too busy to care about him.
Lupin's and Hagrid's classes soon became the most popular ones in Hogwarts.
Students found Lupin reminded them a little of Professor Wilkinson—both focused on practical magic. But while Laos Wilkinson was witty and full of jokes, more like an older friend than a teacher, Lupin was calm, gentle, and composed. His lessons were interesting, but... tough on the magical creatures involved.
The only downside? The man was frail. Barely two weeks into the term, Lupin had already taken several days off to recover.
Hagrid's popularity, on the other hand, had nothing to do with him personally—it was all thanks to the magical creatures he brought to class.
After Tom's earlier "talk" with him, Hagrid had come to his senses. He started choosing genuinely safe and adorable creatures for lessons. Still, unsure of what students would actually like, he'd gone to Tom for advice. Tom had suggested something simple: let the students vote on which creature they wanted each week.
Then Hagrid could send the top results to an expert for approval.
That "expert" wasn't Tom—he happily passed the job to Newt Scamander.
Newt loved magical creatures, but unlike Hagrid, he had common sense. After looking through the students' preferences, he helped Hagrid plan lessons that were both exciting and safe.
That week, Hagrid even managed to find two unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. Students who hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures were practically beating their heads against the wall—they'd missed a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see unicorns up close.
Hagrid was thrilled. Seeing how popular his class had become, he decided to thank Tom in his own way. The half-giant gathered rare materials from the forest, even slipped into Knockturn Alley to buy some items that weren't exactly legal. Surprisingly, a few of them were things Tom could actually use. He didn't refuse the gift.
He had just finished sorting through the loot and was about to go check on the Whomping Willow—planning to collect some samples and add a few warmth charms—when the Codex in his pocket started vibrating.
With a flick of his finger, it floated into the air and opened itself.
Cassandra's delicate face appeared on the page, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"Tom."
"What's with the sudden video call?" Tom raised an eyebrow.
Good thing Daphne wasn't around—he'd have to explain this one for hours.
Cassandra tilted her chin upward, looking extra proud today, her tone brimming with confidence. "Because I have important news. Something worth telling you face-to-face."
"The Codex notebooks you sent me? Sold out. Completely. I'm here for a restock. As many as you can make—I'll take them all. Oh, and increase the ratio of the Deluxe Editions. Those ran out first. Most people only bought the regular version because the Deluxe was gone."
"Sold out?" Tom blinked. "You only got the shipment three or four days ago. You sold two thousand already?"
"Yup."
Cassandra leaned back smugly, a victorious smile spreading across her face. "Not only that—they all sold for double the original price."
Her heart was soaring. For once, she'd managed to genuinely surprise Tom.
And that feeling... oh, it was so damn amazing.
.
.
.