"These contracts…"
The woman smiled with a touch of restraint.
"These contracts are all genuine—some were signed in recent years, others were obtained by my ancestors. The legacy of the Greengrass family is built upon contract magic. We like making friends, and we like making deals. Over the centuries, slowly but surely, everyone became our friend."
"What happens if someone breaks a contract?" Tom asked.
"Half of their magic is permanently gone, and their lifespan is cut in half. Rest assured, the binding power is strong—very few witches or wizards would risk so much just to break an agreement. Besides, each contract is written in a way that doesn't overly harm the signee's own interests."
Ah. Now Tom understood—completely.
These weren't just contracts. This was the Greengrass family holding hundreds—if not thousands—of pure-blood IOUs in their hands.
Cross them, and they could simply toss out a few dozen, and witches and wizards from all over the world would show up to back them. Sure, there might be the occasional stubborn soul willing to shorten their life rather than honor the agreement, but in such overwhelming numbers, losing one or two made no difference.
And through these contracts, the Greengrasses could effortlessly extend their influence into countless trades and industries. As long as they didn't touch the "big pie" directly, no one would want to offend them. Over time, they became a colossal presence spanning multiple fields, hoarding vast wealth.
Tom's curiosity was piqued.
"Professor Snape once told me that Voldemort came to this castle… and afterward gave strict orders not to provoke the Greengrasses. What exactly happened there?"
"The Dark Lord…" Lady Greengrass's expression softened into memory. "It was shortly after I graduated. My mother was still alive back then—it was she who persuaded him to leave."
"I remember she offered him a hundred thousand Galleons, along with ten contracts outside the British Isles, as a gesture of good faith."
"In truth, my mother supported the Dark Lord in her heart—he could bring greater benefits to pure-bloods. But our family creed is to never take a permanent side, to survive by our connections. So she could only go that far."
"At that time, the Dark Lord hadn't completely gone mad. He wanted to use the contracts we held to expand his influence overseas, so he treated us with a certain level of respect. But before he could conquer Britain, Harry Potter defeated him. Dramatic, isn't it?"
Tom could understand that stance. Slytherin pure-bloods were the ruling class; naturally, they didn't like Dumbledore's policies that hurt their interests. And Voldemort hadn't been insane from the start—it was only after the rebounding Killing Curse, and the creation of more and more Horcruxes, that he truly lost himself.
Everything came down to allegiances. While Dumbledore lost Slytherin's support, the other three Houses—being mostly half-bloods and Muggle-borns—remained his power base, letting him keep a firm grip on the situation.
"The griffin eyes you wanted last time," Lady Greengrass added softly, "I secured those quickly by invoking one of the contracts."
"This time, I plan to use them to help you copy every pure-blood family's private library in the country. There will be certain core books that are unobtainable, of course—but everything else should be no problem. I imagine that will be useful to you."
Tom's eyes lit up.
Useful? This wasn't just useful—this was a godsend. All the pure-blood libraries combined might not outright surpass the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, but they could certainly match it on equal footing.
"Thank you so much, Aunt," Tom said, skipping any pretense of polite refusal.
She smiled faintly. "It's a win-win situation, and a small gesture of mine. But I hope you understand—the Greengrass family will never openly take a side. Even with you and Daphne, the help I can offer will always be indirect."
"I understand. This is already more than enough."
And he meant it. These resources were things most witches and wizards could never hope to touch in their entire lives—what was there to complain about?
As for ambition?
He was a Slytherin—did they really need to ask if he had ambition?
If he had the ability and the potential, why should he allow a bunch of mediocre fools to stand above him and give orders?
Elevated status only mattered as long as others respected you. When Fudge turned on Dumbledore, the great wizard had ended up in hiding with the Order of the Phoenix for an entire year.
No—Tom believed that with great power came the right to claim great authority. And in his eyes, that wasn't arrogance.
It was simply the reward he was due.