— — — — — —
After being lectured in turn by the two old men, Sirius finally behaved himself.
Tom continued the tour. "What you've seen so far is just the aboveground portion. There's also an underground vault."
"An underground vault?" Sirius stared at him. "Tom, you really did build this to rival Gringotts."
Tom shrugged. "Keeping money with someone else never feels safe. Half the time, the wages you pay out somehow make their way back to you anyway. Who actually trusts Gringotts' reputation?"
"Much better to build your own vault. Store the gold there and take it out whenever you need it."
"Come on. The staff are waiting for us in the underground vault. Let's go take a look."
The moment he mentioned staff, Sirius's attention shifted completely. He had already been thinking about this. A guild like this would need a lot of employees. Most of the work was clerical, and for a magical world full of chronic underachievers, paperwork was torture. Even the Ministry struggled to find wizards who could write a decent report.
If Tom were only opening one guild, that might be manageable. But he planned to open ten at once.
Nicolas seemed to sense what was coming. A knowing smile tugged at his lips, and he found himself genuinely curious about what Tom was about to unveil.
Rumble!
In the basement, Tom placed his palm against the door. Magic raced along intricate runes like lightning, and the heavy bronze door slowly swung open.
Crystals set into the vault walls lit up all at once, bathing the room in a soft glow.
"Merlin's beard!" Sirius stumbled back two steps when he saw what was inside.
Dozens of identical women stood in neat rows. They wore the same Victorian-style maid uniforms, hands folded over their stomachs, faces blank, eyes empty as they stared at the newcomers.
The scene was unsettling in the extreme.
"Coward," Tom said, giving Sirius a disdainful glance.
Sirius bristled. His pride flared. "I'm not scared! Anyone would be freaked out by this, all right?"
Nicolas and Newt both turned their gazes from the maids to Sirius.
Sirius fell silent.
Fine. It's just me.
Tom snapped his fingers. Light flickered in the maids' eyes. Their expressions softened, and they dipped into a slight bow in perfect unison.
"To the stars and the abyss. Welcome to Astra Abyssum. I am Catherine. It is a pleasure to serve you."
"Tom, what is this?" Sirius felt his scalp crawl. The scene was still too strange for him to accept.
"Dolls," Tom said matter-of-factly. "I'm an alchemist. Using alchemical constructs to solve a labor shortage seems perfectly normal, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Normal. Very normal."
Nicolas had already walked up to one of them, circling her and inspecting her closely. A real person would have snapped by now, but Catherine maintained her professional smile, not the slightest hint of impatience.
"You little monster…" the old man muttered, clicking his tongue. "Setting everything else aside, just this human-form synthesis alone is already beyond anything I can imagine."
"Of course it is," Tom said proudly. "That's my main field."
One of his thought-avatars had been researching body-making nonstop, striving to prepare perfect vessels for Andros and Ariana. Before either of them could use the results, they had been repurposed to make dolls instead.
"But why not alchemical lifeforms?" Nicolas suddenly frowned at the boy.
"Cost-effectiveness."
Tom sighed. "You know how terrifying the time and material costs of true alchemical life are. Just these fifty Catherines would wipe out all my reserves, and I still wouldn't be able to finish them properly right now."
"And this is only the beginning. We'll need many more Catherines in the future. I can't pour all my energy into this. Alchemical constructs or puppets are simpler, cheaper, and much faster for me to produce."
After hearing that, Nicolas fell silent. He had to admit Tom's reasoning made sense.
But don't let the word "puppet" fool you. The technical sophistication behind Catherine was anything but simple. Each one stored vast amounts of general knowledge, spoke more than twenty languages, and could communicate instantly through enchanted runic channels.
They could also upload documents and intelligence to a shared information repository, where everything could be accessed and retrieved at any time.
And since they were meant for clerical work, Tom hadn't given them any combat capabilities. Even if one was damaged, he could simply make a new body, download the necessary data into it, and it would be indistinguishable from the original.
When Tom finished demonstrating Catherine's full range of abilities, Nicolas nodded repeatedly, pleased by the steady evolution of Tom's alchemy. Sirius, on the other hand, felt increasingly redundant.
With these Catherines around, did he really serve any purpose at all?
"Of course you do," Tom said, reading his expression. He patted Sirius on the shoulder. "No matter how capable they are, they can't handle unexpected crises on their own. That's where you come in. You make the calls. If you're unsure, you contact me."
"That's right." Sirius nodded firmly.
He decided then that he'd stop meddling in trivial details. He wasn't interested in them anyway. He'd focus on the exciting jobs and leave the rest alone.
After a full tour of the guild headquarters, Tom took Nicolas and Newt home. Sirius stayed behind with Catherine to set up the venue and purchase the necessary stationery and supplies.
He also had a massive sign made and hung it at the entrance. The words Astra Abyssum Guild shimmered in seven colors, instantly drawing the attention of passersby and shopkeepers alike in Diagon Alley.
---
At the same time, Grindelwald was negotiating terms with Dumbledore once again.
The two were on a video call.
"You can bring Scamander," Grindelwald said leisurely. "There are fewer and fewer old friends these days. We met in such a rush last time. I still have plenty to say to Scamander."
Dumbledore frowned. "I have no right to interfere in Newt's choices. He has his own life. Besides, I don't believe the two of you have much in common."
"Then bring that idiot Aberforth instead," Grindelwald said, dropping the pretense. "He's your brother. Surely you have the authority to decide that, Albus."
That goat-obsessed pervert actually dares insult me. Just because you're a dumbledore doesn't mean I won't deal with you.
Grindelwald had always been small-minded and vindictive.
After spending so much time around Tom, he realized he'd lost his small bit of restraint. All that was left was an impressive capacity for holding grudges.
He really had been led astray by that kid.
Grindelwald sighed inwardly.
Dumbledore's frown, meanwhile, deepened.
So you insist on taking one of them, no matter what?
Whether it was Newt or Aberforth, both had grievances with Grindelwald that could never be smoothed over. If he had to choose, Dumbledore would rather send Newt.
Aberforth was too impulsive. Even knowing he wasn't a match for Grindelwald, he would still charge in headfirst. Another fight would be inevitable.
But this wasn't a matter of choosing between them. He couldn't choose either.
"I will not use them as bargaining chips to compromise with you," Dumbledore said slowly, each word firm. "Gellert, don't forget. We signed a blood pact. Even if they came, you couldn't lay a hand on them."
"Of course I wouldn't forget," Grindelwald replied, idly toying with the blood pact. "So this would simply be a friendly reunion. How could you call that a bargain? It's nothing more than an invitation from an old friend. Since you're unwilling, then whatever happens next won't be my fault."
Dumbledore didn't answer. He snapped his codex shut and cut the connection.
The call ended.
"..."
The playful smile at the corner of Grindelwald's mouth froze for a brief moment, then vanished.
"Hmph."
"You dare hang up on me?" Grindelwald was genuinely annoyed. Your brother has a foul mouth, and you're still protecting him?
"Aberforth is an idiot who loses his head at the slightest provocation. Once he strikes first, it won't count as breaking the blood pact…" Grindelwald quickly found a way to satisfy his grudge.
The pact prevented him and Dumbledore from directly attacking opposing wizards at will. But if the other party struck first, retaliation was fair game.
Thinking of his upcoming visit to Hogwarts, Grindelwald felt no rush at all.
If you won't come when invited, then I'll come to you.
---
Saturday arrived, and Durmstrang was still buried in ice and snow.
Much like before, Dumbledore met up with Tom and the Ministry officials. This time, however, the lineup had changed.
Sirius had joined them, while Babajide was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood the vice president of the International Confederation of Wizards from North America, a man named Pierce.
Although most of the captured Aurors had been successfully rescued, someone still had to take responsibility for the failed plan and its enormous risks. Babajide became the scapegoat.
In truth, Babajide had done a solid job, and many people didn't want him gone. But he himself was determined to leave. Who knew what chaos Grindelwald would stir up next? His position would always be the first to absorb the pressure.
Better to step aside while he could, and leave the mess to someone else.
He had originally wanted Dumbledore to transition from honorary president to the real one. But Dumbledore flatly refused. In the end, the position fell to Vice President Pierce. Once the procedures were complete, the "vice" would be quietly dropped.
Babajide had already returned to his hometown to live a peaceful life.
Grindelwald, for his part, gained a measure of respect for the old man. Not everyone could keep their integrity after reaching such heights. Most saw only the enormous benefits and let profit blind them to the risks.
"All right. His absence changes nothing," Grindelwald said coldly. "The Confederation being here today is pointless anyway."
The undisguised contempt made Pierce's face darken further, but he didn't dare say a word. He simply lowered his head so no one could read his expression.
Standing slightly behind Tom, Sirius studied the man said to rival Dumbledore, a Dark Wizard more terrifying than Voldemort.
To be honest, Sirius couldn't see any trace of a Dark Wizard in him at all. Those who delved into dark magic usually suffered irreversible changes to their appearance. The deeper they went, the uglier they became.
Grindelwald was the opposite. He looked like a dangerously charming middle-aged man. His eyes, in particular, were like invisible whirlpools, dragging in anyone's attention.
Sirius found himself staring, almost entranced.
Grindelwald hadn't cared much about this tool Tom had chosen. But the night before, Tom had casually suggested that he try to sway Sirius, just to see how Dumbledore would react.
That was when Grindelwald took an interest.
Anyone who could annoy Dumbledore was a talent worth nurturing.
Still, now wasn't the time for manipulation. With the Astra Abyssum Guild as an excuse, there would be plenty of chances to interact with Sirius later. No need to rush.
"Riddle," Grindelwald said at last, "the Guild you promised me should be ready by now, correct?"
"Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to let my people force their way into neighboring countries. They've been itching for action lately."
Everyone's expression changed at once.
.
.
.