— — — — — —
Tom's heart went cold, but his body reacted on instinct, responding to Fleur's passion.
If he didn't enjoy this while he could, he was afraid he'd never get another chance.
But even the warmth and tenderness of a Veela couldn't drown out the murderous glare from a certain young lady, or Astoria's wounded, resentful look.
This was karmic retribution. Truly.
"Wooow…"
Everyone's gasp was quiet on its own, but together they blended into a single sound that filled the Great Hall. The unmistakable noise of people enjoying drama.
Madame Maxime didn't move forward at all. She simply stood there, smiling as she watched.
In etiquette-obsessed Beauxbatons, Fleur's behavior was undeniably rude. But this was something Maxime had explicitly permitted, even encouraged.
From their first meeting, she had recognized there was something extraordinary about Tom Riddle. As time passed, she received more and more information about him from every direction. Maxime was almost certain that in the future, at least half of the wizarding world would bear the name Riddle.
Since she couldn't lure him to Beauxbatons, then she would capture his heart instead.
In the face of fat benefits, etiquette suddenly seemed far less important.
And young people chasing romance and love could be a little reckless, right? That was perfectly acceptable. She wasn't some rigid old fossil, after all.
If the Beauxbatons students knew what their headmistress was thinking, they would absolutely be rolling their eyes.
You, who even regulates the length of our strides, are suddenly this open-minded?
Dumbledore, meanwhile, was smiling as he enjoyed the lively, spring-filled scene. He was smiling more happily than he had in a long time, especially when his gaze swept over Daphne's flushed face, Astoria's pout that could hang a kettle, Hermione clenching her fists, and Ginny pressing her lips together with a serious expression…
That only made him happier.
He instinctively raised his glass, about to clink it with Snape in celebration. Unfortunately, Snape was far too absorbed in the spectacle to notice him at all.
"Riddle. Oh, Riddle."
"So even you have a day like this?"
Dumbledore nodded at his words and almost regretted not inviting Beauxbatons earlier. If he had, Tom probably wouldn't have caused him so many headaches.
"..."
"Sister," Astoria tugged anxiously at Daphne's sleeve. "She stuck her tongue out."
That snapped Daphne back to her senses. No more standing on the sidelines as the victim. She yanked Tom hard, pulling the two apart.
"You shameless woman! Are you some kind of pervert?"
Well done!
Countless Hogwarts students clenched their fists in their hearts, silently cheering Daphne on.
That's it. Don't embarrass Hogwarts. Fight her! Take her down!
But the very next second, once they got a clear look at the girl's face, the onlookers' eyes filled with nothing but awe and infatuation.
They had never seen such a beautiful girl. Every detail looked like it had been meticulously sculpted by God. She seemed to glow, and every smile and frown tugged at the heart.
"Umm..." Fleur lowered her head, looking at Daphne, who had spread her arms like an overprotective hen in front of Tom.
This was their first meeting, yet each had heard the other's name countless times.
Fleur raised an eyebrow and quickly assessed Daphne in her mind.
She was indeed quite pretty. That round little face was cute. Not the same type as herself. In fact, the silver-haired girl behind her had even better looks.
"Miss Greengrass, is it?"
Fleur curved her lips into a beautiful smile and greeted her in English still tinged with a French accent. "Thank you for taking such good care of Tom. If you ever visit France, I will be sure to host you properly."
That hostess-like tone instantly set Daphne's hackles up.
"You old woman! If you're feeling horny, go find a harpy. You think you can taint the Riddle family bloodline? Even if Merlin himself showed up, it wouldn't happen. I said so!"
Fleur's beautiful eyes immediately filled with fury. In one sentence, Daphne had stabbed straight at two of her weak points. Age and bloodline.
Being older than Tom wasn't really a flaw right now. If anything, being a bit older meant developing earlier.
But bloodline?
Fleur had never believed there was anything wrong with being a Veela. She was even proud of it. But in the broader wizarding world, mixed blood like hers was often viewed as lower than even Muggle-born witches and wizards.
"Little girl, where are your manners?" Fleur snapped coldly. "I was just greeting you, and you respond with personal insults?"
"You call that a greeting?" Daphne shot back. "Do greetings involve sticking your tongue in someone's mouth?"
MORE.
The students were having the time of their lives. They silently hoped the fight would escalate, the next clash becoming fiercer than the last.
But Tom? Our poor Tom was falling apart.
He stood numbly behind Daphne, his eyes completely empty of light. He had run countless simulations, and not once had he seen anything this ridiculous. And yet somehow, the unexpected worst possible outcome happened.
First meeting and it was already like Mars crashing into Earth. There was still more than a month to go. He didn't even dare imagine how bad things would get.
What a trash talent. Laos… you bastard.
And Grindelwald… you ruined me.
Wait. Wait, wait, wait—Grindelwald? Dumbledore?!
A bit of light finally returned to Tom's eyes as he turned toward the head table, only to nearly choke with rage.
The old man showed no concern whatsoever. Instead, he was enthusiastically chatting with an equally amused Snape, pointing and whispering as if they were enjoying a show.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, Dumbledore felt a chill run down his spine.
He looked up to see Tom sneering at him. At some point, a wand had appeared in the boy's hand, which he casually waved in blatant provocation.
Dumbledore's smile vanished instantly. He hurried down from the head table.
He had a strong feeling that if he kept watching, he might just end up forcing the birth of another Voldemort.
"Madame Maxime, welcome. Welcome."
Dumbledore greeted her warmly with a hug. Maxime had to bend down quite a bit to complete the cheek-kissing greeting. Once that was done, he sighed theatrically at the two girls still bristling with anger.
"Youthful energy. Just watching it makes me feel decades younger."
Maxime smiled faintly. "Dumbledore, you're hardly old. The wizarding world still needs your strength. Do take care of your health."
Dumbledore's voice acted like a wall, temporarily cutting off the clash of tempers and allowing reason to retake control. Only then did Fleur and Daphne realize where they were. They shot each other one last fierce glare and reluctantly calmed down.
Fleur stepped back behind Maxime and dipped into a small bow, apologizing.
Maxime smiled and patted her head before letting her rejoin her group. Then she leaned closer to Dumbledore and said softly, "Dumbledore, it seems the children have already made the choice for me."
Dumbledore nodded slightly and, with a hint of schadenfreude, arranged for the Beauxbatons students to sit at the Slytherin table.
Tom's waist took another sharp hit.
...
A few minutes later, the teachers and students from Castelobruxo and Ilvermorny arrived together. Just like their previous exchange visit, the two schools appeared side by side again. Their relationship clearly ran deep.
Under normal circumstances, Tom would have noted that detail. Right now, he could barely save himself. Who had time to care about schools from the Americas?
Castelobruxo's delegation was once again led by their Transfiguration professor, Alessio Villa, and their special Potions professor, Isabella Camado.
(A/N: They appeared in Chapter 247, when Frank Graves and Solen were introduced alongside them.)
"Hello."
When Isabella entered, she smiled and nodded politely at Tom. He returned it perfunctorily, his mind completely elsewhere.
Ilvermorny's leading professors, however, had changed, now replaced by two middle-aged men.
Cassandra Vole appeared among the crowd as expected. She was also looking for Tom and happened to catch sight of him holding Daphne's hand, speaking softly to her. She let out a quiet snort and looked away.
Dumbledore welcomed each group in turn. Castelobruxo was seated at the Hufflepuff table, while Ilvermorny took their place with Ravenclaw.
That left only one school.
Durmstrang.
A ripple of unease spread through the Great Hall. News had already leaked that the one leading Durmstrang this time was none other than the Dark Lord himself, Gellert Grindelwald.
Hogwarts students remembered him all too well. Especially that sea of raging blue fire. If not for Dumbledore, the school might have been reduced to ashes.
As the tension thickened, the final guests arrived.
"Welcome, Grindelwald… sir," Professor McGonagall said.
The words were polite, but her tone was full of resistance.
A hearty laugh followed. "Minerva, don't be so distant. Decades ago, you were bold enough to challenge me. That immature Transfiguration of yours is still fresh in my memory."
The students exchanged stunned looks.
Professor McGonagall. Immature Transfiguration?
Did those words even belong in the same sentence?
"So arrogant," Ron muttered.
"Shut up!" Fred snapped, uncharacteristically serious as he barked at him. "Ron, don't bring trouble down on the family. Keep that drafty mouth of yours closed!"
Ron had never seen Fred this angry. Percy, Ginny, and the others all shot him looks sharp enough to kill. His face flushed red as he lowered his head.
Harry opened his mouth, wanting to comfort his friend, but couldn't find the words.
He agreed that Ron shouldn't be talking recklessly at a time like this. If Grindelwald heard him, how could the Weasley family possibly bear the weight of anger from a Dark Lord at the height of his power?
Dumbledore wasn't omnipotent. He couldn't protect everyone at all times. Otherwise, Harry's parents wouldn't have…
Finally—
McGonagall entered the Great Hall with a stiff expression, leading the Durmstrang guests inside.
Grindelwald instantly became the center of attention. Nearly every gaze in the hall locked onto him.
Seeing the middle-aged man in a black coat, with wild white hair and an air of untamed confidence, many people shared the same thought.
This Dark Lord was so cool.
.
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