— — — — — —
After sending Grindelwald on his way, Tom went right back to tinkering with the magic circuits of the Fire Arcane.
He had a feeling the thing would pair nicely with the Phoenix bloodline he'd earned from the trial. With the two together, his fire magic should hit even harder.
Speaking of trials—Dumbledore had been flying all over the world lately, which meant Tom's sparring sessions with Fawkes had dropped off.
Not that he could win right now anyway. The matches were basically training drills, plus an excuse to stroll the skies with Fawkes.
Their finish line had drifted farther and farther from Istanbul, pushing on to Damascus, Tehran… even places farther east.
By Tom's estimate, if he could store ten full charges of mental energy and sync everything properly, he might actually beat Fawkes one day.
...
Friday. Tom dragged himself into Defense Against the Dark Arts, yawning.
"What did you do last night? Did Daphne beg for another story?" Hermione eyed him suspiciously. Tom was a walking battery—she almost never saw him tired. Sure, he slept in class all the time, but that was from boredom, not exhaustion.
"Hey—Hermione! Don't pin that on me!"
Daphne, who'd also been dozing on her desk, shot upright the moment she heard her name. She balled her tiny fists in protest. "I was with Astoria last night!"
Hermione blinked. "Then why are you tired too?"
"We played a pillow game and lost track of time. By the time we went to bed, it was practically morning."
Hermione stared at the girl who had already slumped back onto her desk. She missed the suffering expressions on a few Slytherin girls nearby.
Daphne and Astoria had their fun in the dorm, but the other girls paid the price. The two princesses stayed up happily until dawn, and their roommates were dragged along for the torture.
Astoria had been trying to keep her chaotic big sister from running off to bother Tom again. Daphne, of course, simply didn't care. Someone raised in luxury rarely noticed the feelings of people around her.
"I was working on a new spell last night," Tom mumbled into his folded arms. "Didn't sleep at all. Being tired is normal—I'll just nap through a few classes."
In truth, it wasn't normal at all. With his constitution and mental strength, he could go two or three nights without sleep and still function fine.
No—this was entirely his own fault.
He had spent the whole night finishing a rough version of the Fire Arcane's internal circuit.
With a shiny new toy, of course he had to go test it.
The results? Amazing. The flames were several levels hotter instantly. With some refinement, this could become one of his trump cards.
And then Tom's overly clever brain had an idea: If he had fire… why not ice too?
Why not both?
So he tried it.
And that try nearly blew him up.
Two opposing forces generating inside him simultaneously almost caused a full internal magic riot. Thankfully he reacted fast, slipped into a state of mental overclocking, forced himself into perfect calm, and began slowly redirecting the two powers—letting them erupt one after another in sequence instead of colliding.
But the energy cost was insane. By the time he got the situation under control, he felt like he'd pulled ten all-nighters in a row. He could barely stay awake.
Just then, Lupin walked in right as the bell rang. Hermione couldn't hold it back—she snorted a tiny laugh. Luckily Lupin didn't hear her.
She noticed something odd: Lupin looked even worse than Tom. And this wasn't the first time. Ever since the term started, he'd taken a few days off every month.
And…
A theory popped into her head, but she wasn't sure enough to say it.
"Alright, everyone, put your textbooks away," Lupin said warmly. He had no idea Hermione had nearly guessed his secret.
The students moved quickly. They were used to it. Except Tom and Daphne, who were sound asleep.
Lupin didn't bother them. Those two didn't need his supervision anyway.
"Last term, Professor Wilkinson hosted an open dueling session. It was a wonderful idea."
The young witches and wizards immediately perked up. Was Lupin about to bring it back?
The open dueling class was one of their favorite activities. Not only could they challenge each other—it was the best place for drama. Every session, simmering grudges got dragged into the open. The spectators had a blast. The messier the story, the better.
Cheating boyfriends. Cheating girlfriends. Guys stealing other guys' girlfriends. Absolute chaos. Nothing was off-limits.
Laos Wilkinson wasn't a legend for them for nothing.
Sensing their anticipation, Lupin gave a helpless smile.
"Sorry. My energy is limited. Organizing a whole-school event is… beyond me."
The hope in the room collapsed instantly.
"But…" Lupin shifted gears, "as your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it really is my job to help you improve your dueling skills. Especially with the current situation being… less than stable."
The Order of the Phoenix had been reassembled, and naturally Lupin was part of it.
"I've decided to occasionally turn one of our lessons into a coaching session. Anyone can challenge me. After each match, I'll point out your weaknesses and share ways you can improve."
He paused, then added with a rare bit of humor, "But let's be clear: one at a time. I'm not fighting a crowd. I want to keep my life."
A wave of laughter broke out.
"Alright. Our first demonstration lesson will be next week. This classroom isn't exactly ideal for letting loose."
With that, Lupin finally began the actual lesson, opening the box of grindylows at his feet.
...
By the time the two back-to-back morning classes ended, Tom had slept enough to feel human again.
Hearing Lupin's plan, he barely reacted. He certainly wasn't going to challenge Lupin; that would mean holding himself back so he didn't accidentally kill the man.
The weekend arrived quickly, and the students were in a great mood.
Saturday was the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin Quidditch match, and Sunday brought a Hogsmeade trip.
The weather on match day was perfect. Even before the players entered, many students kept glancing toward the Slytherin stands.
Tom had the best seat in the house.
He normally didn't bother coming to Quidditch games, but this was Cho's first time playing for Ravenclaw. And the girl had begged him to come.
Daphne wanted to gamble with her classmates on who would win, but she quickly realized no one believed Ravenclaw had a chance. It was obvious to everyone that Ravenclaw's team was hopeless
And really, except for one lucky win years ago against a short-handed Gryffindor team, they basically never won.
The match that followed proved it. Ravenclaw's players were a mess from start to finish. Cho, in her debut, was too nervous and got fooled twice by Draco's fakes. In the end, Ravenclaw lost by two hundred points.
Wood, Harry, and the rest of the Gryffindor team watched in despair. Since the House Cup used a round-robin format, what mattered was total point difference. They'd lost by eighty points last match. Their biggest rival had now won by two hundred. The swing was two hundred eighty points. Catching up would be nearly impossible.
Harry stared at Draco Malfoy, who was openly gloating in midair, and a very illegal thought popped into his head.
Maybe before their match against Slytherin… he could challenge Malfoy to a "friendly duel" and break his legs?
And lately Harry felt… different. Ever since Snape's detention, he felt stronger somehow, like his mind worked better. He had even learned three attack spells in a row.
Was scrubbing cauldrons some kind of physical training?
---
On Sunday, most students headed to Hogsmeade, but Tom stayed behind.
After his little stunt earlier, both of his magic circuits had taken damage and needed immediate repair.
Next time he tested new abilities, he was absolutely not doing it outside again. The study space would do fine.
At least he learned something useful. After repairing the circuits, he realized the process of amplifying magic had become smoother. What used to take two or three seconds now took about twenty percent less time.
Rebirth after destruction? Or trimming off useless excess?
He didn't understand the underlying principles yet, but it was a good direction to study.
...
Evening came quickly.
Students returned from Hogsmeade loaded with sweets and trinkets. During dinner, Tom listened as Daphne proudly listed everything she'd bought. She'd even bought him two scarves and two pairs of gloves, and demanded he try them later. If they didn't fit, she'd simply buy different ones.
Hermione also delivered the parchment he'd asked for — stuffed in an Undetectable Extension charm bag, easily over a hundred pounds' worth, more than ten thousand sheets. She had basically emptied the entire stationery shop.
"What do you need this much parchment for?" she asked, baffled.
"To use it. A lot of alchemy formulas are a pain to derive. I need to write everything down and archive it."
This was nothing, really. A tenth of the Nicolas family library consisted of his own experiment logs.
Hermione nodded, finally understanding, and went back to the Gryffindor table.
The moment she sat down—
"Hahahaha"
"Albus!"
A roar like thunder shook the Great Hall. Dust drifted from the ceiling and dozens of students squeezed their eyes shut in pain.
Tom, in the middle of sipping soup, froze. That voice sounded awfully familiar.
Dumbledore, chatting with Professor McGonagall, also froze. That voice sounded awfully familiar.
A heartbeat later—
Both their eyes widened.
Grindelwald.
.
.
.