"Lestrange?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "Aren't they all supposed to be rotting away in Azkaban?"
Lady Greengrass pointed toward the east. "The French branch of the Lestranges. Their archives differ somewhat from the British line's, but anything prior to the split in the eighteenth century is identical. The difference only lies in the last two centuries."
Tom nodded in understanding.
"Tom! Tom!"
A sudden, breathless call came from outside. Daphne came dashing into the library, clutching a stack of magazines, her cheeks flushed from the run.
"Tom, your paper's finally been published—half the magazine is practically all about you!"
She was holding the July issue of Brewing Glory—yes, that phrase Severus Snape was so fond of repeating, the proud motto of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers : "Brew Glory, Halt Death." Naturally, their monthly periodical bore the same name.
Tom waved a hand, and a glass of cool water floated over to Daphne so she could catch her breath before he took the magazine from her.
Since he'd written all of it himself, he didn't bother reading the content. What he wanted to see was the title they'd given him at the end.
Perfect—full Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers member, not merely a probationary one.
Becoming a member was notoriously difficult. To even be a probationary member, you had to brew a flawless batch of Felix Felicis under the supervision of a full member. Pass, and you'd be considered an initiate.
But to gain full membership, with access to the Association's internal resources, you had to face the dreaded Swiss headquarters trial: drink seven different poisons within a set time limit, then brew the correct antidote to each—before the toxins killed you. Fail, and… well, hope your next life is better prepared.
Tom, however, had skipped the whole ordeal. Awarded the Silver Cauldron Medal, and with Snape pulling strings before Tom left school, he'd been told the trial would be waived—though no official notice had arrived until now. Seeing it printed in the Association's own journal finally set his mind at ease.
The real advantage lay ahead—full members could trade Association points for potion recipes, rare ingredients, and exclusive brewing techniques. For Tom's current ambitions, this was invaluable.
Ding!
The system's crisp tone echoed in his mind.
[First academic paper published: Reward—1,000 points, 100 achievement points. Assessing paper's impact… Assessment complete: impact rating—Moderate. Until a higher-rated paper in the same field is published, Host will receive 100 points per month as a bonus.]
"…" Tom was momentarily speechless.
He'd only just realized the real way to exploit his "academic prodigy" system. What was the point of being a scholar if you weren't publishing papers and reshaping the world with your research?
If not for his concern that Dumbledore might interfere with his House Cup bonus, he'd never have bothered with publication before—he'd simply been focused on honing himself. But it wasn't too late. The first year was for laying foundations; from here on, he could start pressing the advantage.
Closing the magazine, Tom reached out to ruffle Daphne's hair. "Daphne, you really are my lucky star."
"Hehe."
She didn't understand exactly why he said that, but the silly grin on her face suggested she was happy enough.
Not long after, Astoria arrived as well, offering a more composed but equally sincere congratulations. The sisters' personalities couldn't be more different.
Lady Greengrass smiled warmly. "That's worth celebrating. The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers is filled with grey-haired veterans—it's rare for someone this young to join as a full member. Tonight, we feast."
Tom's lips twitched. We've been feasting every night… But Daphne was already rattling off an ambitious list of dishes with sparkling enthusiasm.
That evening, back in his bedroom, Tom began rearranging his schedule. He moved part of his morning Flight Charm practice to the evening, freeing time to study alchemy.
Lady Greengrass had already gathered nearly all the materials he'd requested. If publishing a paper earned him points, then surely inventing entirely new magical products might do the same.
One idea had been simmering for a while. The wizarding world's communication methods were painfully outdated. Aside from rare and expensive enchanted items like two-way mirrors, everyone still relied on owl post—slow and archaic.
If he could improve this system, perhaps he wouldn't have to wait an entire week for a letter to and from Fleur.
As he was mulling over possibilities, his door eased open.
"Tom, are you asleep?" Daphne's voice floated in—deliberately hushed, yet faint from across the sitting room.
"Daphne?" Tom called back in puzzlement. "What is it?"
"Hehe, nothing. I just can't sleep… I wanted to hear a story from you."
When his answer came, she bounced into the room, cheerful and unselfconscious—completely unaware that just behind her, in the sitting room doorway, Astoria stood frozen, staring after her sister in stunned disbelief.