— — — — — —
Two minutes later, Jeanne's small body was curled up in Tom's arms. Her eyes were closed, her expression solemn as she prayed with utter devotion.
Maybe for the first time, Tom felt shame. Did he really just trick such a pure girl with words that disgusting? Damn you, Riddle…
After scolding himself, Tom felt a lot better. He then subtly shifted his grip, weighing Jeanne.
Very light... This had to be what her body was like near the end of her life. Even though she'd fought on the battlefield and charged headlong into combat, she came from a poor family. That meant insufficient nutrition growing up, and her physical development never quite caught up to her age.
But that was fine. Once she was resurrected, they could slowly make up for all that.
Still… even though her trust and acceptance had already reached a full 100%, Tom had no intention of neglecting their emotional bond. Simply put, he wanted Jeanne to be a normal person—someone who could recognize and follow her heart, not someone chained by blind faith.
But, judging by the current situation, his goal was a long way off. Jeanne could believe a scam so obvious that even an idiot wouldn't fall for it, and without the slightest hesitation. Straightening her worldview was going to be very, very, veryyyyy hard.
"Only Knowledge can change fate…"
Tom sighed inwardly. Jeanne's current level of knowledge, if you converted it to the Oxford Reading Tree system, would be around Level 13.
What did that mean?
The Oxford Reading Tree was an officially recommended beginner reading series in the UK, with very strict level divisions. The levels range from Level 1, designed for beginners around age 4, up to Level 16 or 17, aimed at older primary school children around age 10 or 11.
In other words, Jeanne's cultural and academic level was about the same as a six-year-old's, aside from certain bits of knowledge related to warfare.
Once she learned more, she would naturally start questioning whether her past beliefs had actually been reasonable.
"Hmm?"
Tom lowered his head. The girl's praying voice had grown faint at some point, until it was replaced by slow, steady breathing.
She fell asleep?
Tom didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So much for praying. She'd basically turned him into a body pillow.
Still, his movements grew even more careful. With a single step, he used his spatial authority to move directly to Jeanne's bed and gently lay her down. Then, he quietly slipped away, heading to the meditation room to continue his studies for the day.
---
The Next Day
"Oh right, Tom," Hermione suddenly asked during Care of Magical Creatures class as she helped clean mud off a Niffler's fur. "That spell you used yesterday to summon that strange blue figure. What was it? I've never seen anything like it in a book."
The young witch's hair was noticeably shorter than yesterday, and her face still looked a little pale. The training from the day before had really put her through hell. Even though Tom had deliberately held back, it was still the first time in her life she'd ever been injured by magic.
Thankfully, Tom had prepared in advance. One bottle of potion later, her injuries had healed quickly. Only her hair would take some time to grow back.
"That?" Tom said.
He grabbed a Niffler that was running wild, pulled out a Galleon to distract it into behaving, and brushed it halfheartedly with a toothbrush. "That's a spell I made myself. It's still a work in progress."
"A work in progress?" Hermione exclaimed.
The glowing figure from yesterday had been like magical turrets, continuously firing Blasting Curses without wands or incantations. Just seeing it had been enough to make anyone's scalp tingle. And Tom was calling that unfinished?
"Yeah. Right now I can only summon one or two magical sprites at a time, and I still have to control them manually. They don't have enough autonomy. Once it's fully developed, it won't be this much trouble."
Seeing the longing written all over Hermione's face, Tom shoved the Niffler in his hands straight into hers.
"Don't even think about it, Hermione. This spell is extremely difficult. You need a very deep understanding of magic before you're even qualified to consider it. When your level is high enough, I'll definitely teach you."
Only then did the little witch nod happily.
Tom looked at Hermione's lightning-fast change of expression and sighed helplessly. He finally understood why the Sorting Hat had hesitated for so long when choosing her House back then. Hermione's hunger for knowledge was practically identical to Ravenclaw's.
If she'd joined Ravenclaw, she might've fit in even better. Over there, knowing more and reading more books was all it took to be impressive. Things weren't as complicated as in Gryffindor.
Gryffindor students were honestly the hardest to deal with, and the hardest to understand.
If you studied too well, they called you a bookworm. If you didn't talk much, they thought you were antisocial. Showing off and breaking school rules was fine, but the moment you got caught and points were deducted, they'd immediately turn on you and accuse you of lacking team spirit.
Gryffindors, what the hell do you want?
Tom figured that if he'd been sorted into Gryffindor, the number of people he'd beaten up would've been at least ten times higher than in Slytherin.
Snakes knew how to read the situation. If they couldn't win, they backed off. Lions didn't. They just got more stubborn, more defiant, refusing to admit defeat.
Even now… the mere presence of his Whomping Willow made many of them remain hostile toward him.
...
When class ended, Tom pulled several Galleons out of the Niffler's belly, ignoring its utterly despairing look, and walked away without a second glance.
"Fawkes."
Tom called softly. A moment later, the phoenix arrived in a trail of fire.
If Dumbledore had seen this, his feelings would've been complicated. Even he didn't summon Fawkes as smoothly as Tom did, and Fawkes never responded to him this quickly.
"Here you go."
Same routine as always. Tom pulled out a pile of specially mixed, high-nutrition snacks and fed them to the bird. Fawkes ate happily, giving an occasional shake of his feathers.
Tom fought the urge to laugh as he gently smoothed his plumage.
Honestly speaking, phoenixes in this world weren't particularly good-looking. It was only when they activated their powers, wrapped in brilliant flames and radiating a sacred, vibrant aura, that they really shone.
But Fawkes looked a lot cuter than before now. After all, anything that turns round and fluffy automatically becomes adorable.
And Fawkes was currently very close to becoming a ball.
And did this violate the rules of the trial?
Of course not.
Everything Tom fed Fawkes was premium nutrition, packed with energy. It would help the phoenix recover more quickly and return to its peak after its next renewal. The excess energy just hadn't been fully digested yet, so it was temporarily stored as… extra roundness.
Even Dumbledore didn't think there was a problem. He only worried that Tom had been treating Fawkes too well lately, and that the bird would throw a fit later if the food quality ever dropped.
"Fawkes, how about another match tonight?"
The phoenix, busy stuffing his face, nodded halfheartedly. Tom called it a match, but to him it was just playtime, so of course he didn't refuse.
---
Late at night
Tom had Fawkes carry him to the North Pole, without wasting a shred of magic or mental energy. He let the bird rest for a bit, carefully explained the rules for this round, and only then did their contest officially begin.
A ball of light shot up into the polar night sky above the North Pole. The instant it exploded, both Tom and Fawkes vanished from where they stood.
Their maximum Apparition distances were nearly identical. Their first reappearance was over the Svalbard archipelago in Norway, then Reykjavík in Iceland, the Azores, the Brazilian Plateau, the Drake Passage…
The moment the match began, Tom entered a state of mind acceleration. Every bit of magic and mental energy was pushed to its absolute limit. Even wringing himself dry didn't affect his performance in the slightest.
He split his mental energy just for today. So whenever one reserve of energy was completely exhausted, he immediately unsealed the next one, sealing off the depleted reserve to prevent sluggishness from spreading.
Seeing how serious the kid was, Fawkes got serious too. He went all out. In a very short time, one human and one phoenix crossed the entire planet, stopping at the halfway point to rest and let their bodies recover slightly from the nonstop spatial jumps.
This time, Tom recovered first. His combined talents had long since pushed his recovery speed into absurd territory, and he was the first to leave the South Pole.
"Chirp!"
Fawkes refused to give up. He forced his slightly trembling body forward to chase after Tom, but then—
"Burp!"
He'd been eating a bit too well lately. He had to pause for a moment to take a "bathroom break" before setting off again.
...
"Huh?"
"Hey! James, did you hear that?"
Two fully geared figures poked their heads out of a nearby building. "I swear I just heard a bird?!"
"I heard it too… Tony," James nodded blankly. He raised a hand and pointed at the flag planted at the South Pole. "And I think I saw a flash of fire there. What the hell…"
They were researchers stationed at an Antarctic research base. After searching around and finding nothing, they chalked it up to hallucinations and retreated back inside.
But when they reviewed the surveillance footage, both James and Tony shot to their feet.
Their ears and eyes hadn't been lying. A bird really had appeared. Not just a bird, but a person as well.
Appearing out of nowhere, disappearing just as suddenly, like a mage from legend who could teleport.
They exchanged a look.
"Report this immediately!"
---
North Pole
Tom lay sprawled on the ice and snow, gasping for breath. Like a madman, he'd run back and forth between Earth's two poles within three hours.
Even for him, it was insane. Even a legendary figure would struggle to pull that off. At the very least, Ravenclaw, who had witnessed this race, would readily admit defeat.
Short-distance Apparition against a phoenix was one thing. Long-distance was a completely different story.
...
Ten minutes later, Fawkes finally reappeared. Tom forced a smile at the chubby bird.
"Fawkes, this time you lost."
"Chirp chirp!"
The phoenix cried out unwillingly, but still leaned over, rubbing his face against the boy's cheek.
His condition today really hadn't been great. He'd eaten a bit too much that afternoon. But judging by how far ahead Tom had been, even without that mistake, the outcome probably wouldn't have changed. Maybe he would've lost by a few minutes less.
At that moment, the ninth trail palace in Tom's mind flared with brilliant light. Its gates swung open, and a streak of fiery red shot out like a meteor, plunging deep into his sea of consciousness.
Tom's body rose involuntarily, drawn into that meteor as they began to merge. Flames wrapped around him from head to toe.
"Chirp?!"
Fawkes stared wide-eyed. A strange impulse welled up inside him.
An overwhelming urge to call out—
Mom?! Is that you?
.
.
.