"Are we finally going to Hogwarts? I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
It wasn't Tom who spoke, but Andros.
During the past month, Andros had thrown himself into modern wizarding knowledge with childlike excitement. The once-ancient warrior had become a half-qualified modern magician, muttering about standard spells with the same reverence he once reserved for dueling techniques.
The figures he admired most were, unsurprisingly, the four founders of Hogwarts. He often sighed wistfully, regretting that he had not lived in their era.
He couldn't pinpoint exactly how powerful they had been, but he was certain of one thing: each founder was at least a King of the Century.
---
Tom's Talent
At Tom's insistence, Andros had also given an evaluation of his talent.
The result was… ambiguous.
"There's no doubt you have great talent, Tom. You've already reached the standard of a great man of your generation."
But there was still a wide gulf between a "great man" and a King of the Century. Andros admitted that, based on Tom's current progress, he couldn't make a clear judgment yet. Perhaps Tom was a late bloomer.
Tom accepted this without discouragement. His talent was not fixed. Already, he had inherited Andros's own magical gifts through the system. And in the future, he would gather more. Why rush?
A quick glance at his system panel made him smile. His relationship with Andros had risen steadily; recognition now sat at 46%. Soon it would hit 50%, and he would receive another reward.
But what startled Tom most was a casual revelation: Andros had once been known by another name—Hercules.
At first, Tom thought he'd misheard. But no, it was the truth.
To ancient Muggles, powerful wizards had been indistinguishable from gods. Their feats were twisted into myths, painted with bulls and swans and impossible trials.
Andros always rolled his eyes at the later versions. "My father never turned into a bull or a swan," he insisted. "He and my mother were ordinary wizards. I was simply… exceptional."
---
The Patronus Charm
"Tom," Andros said one morning, clapping him on the shoulder, "you're ready now. You should begin learning the Patronus Charm."
Tom's heart gave a jump. The Patronus Charm was considered a pinnacle spell—demanding great magic power and even greater will.
In willpower, Tom already far outstripped his peers. In magic, he had Andros's talent flowing through him.
This was within reach.
"I've been looking forward to this, Andros," Tom admitted, envy flickering in his eyes. That giant guardian… I want it too.
"Then watch closely."
Andros stepped back, raised his wand high, and roared:
"Expecto Patronum!"
From the tip burst threads of silver-white mist, weaving together until a colossal figure towered over them.
Tom's eyes widened. "This is a Patronus?!"
The shimmering guardian stretched over ten meters tall. But more shocking still—its form was not an animal. It was Andros himself.
---
A Patronus Like No Other
"Ha ha ha ha!" Andros's laughter boomed, pleased with Tom's awe.
"Surprised? Most Patronuses take animal form, reflecting the caster's nature. But I believe the only thing that can protect a person… is their own strength."
His voice rang with unshakable conviction. "That belief is why my Patronus takes this form. And after years of refinement, I've turned it into more than a shield. It restrains darkness itself."
The giant silver Andros raised its head proudly, radiating a brilliance that sent a thrill down Tom's spine.
"Train as I instruct you, Tom," Andros said, eyes gleaming. "You too may achieve a Patronus of the main body. Imagine it—yourself, magnified, unshakable. Do you want it?"
---
Gundam Dreams
Tom nodded so vigorously he nearly hurt his neck.
Who wouldn't? Compared to otters, swans, or stags, a human-shaped Patronus was infinitely cooler.
Andros's towered like a guardian deity, gleaming like a silver Gundam.
If I could summon one that big, Tom thought with a rush of excitement, it would be like piloting a magical mech. A walking fortress of light.
His enthusiasm surged. He threw himself into practice, reluctant to even leave the learning space. He trained until the very night before departure, then finally emerged to reality.
---
Preparations for Hogwarts
The next morning, Tom ate two quick pieces of bread and hefted his suitcase.
It looked ordinary, modest even, but inside was another story.
Two days of hard work had gone into the Traceless Extension Charm. It wasn't easy, but he had succeeded, tripling the interior's capacity. More than that would risk instability, but this was enough to carry books, clothes, and supplies.
Of course, casting the spell was technically illegal for underage wizards. But Tom had no intention of explaining. If the Ministry came sniffing, he would simply feign ignorance.
"Who, me? Just a freshman! Someone else must've put that spell on my case."
Problem solved.
---
King's Cross Station
At ten o'clock, Tom arrived at King's Cross.
The station bustled, a roaring hub of London life. Ironically, its name—"King's Cross"—commemorated George IV, perhaps the most foolish monarch Britain had ever suffered. Even his attendants had despised him, muttering that no dog was more cowardly, no rat more contemptible.
Tom shook his head. And they built statues for him. History has no taste.
But he had no time to linger. Following the crowd, he approached the space between platforms 9 and 10. Pretending casual clumsiness, he walked straight into the wall.
---
The Hogwarts Express
The world shifted.
A crimson steam locomotive stood waiting, gleaming against the bustle of students and parents. Golden letters across the engine read:
Hogwarts Express.
Tom stopped, staring.
Two worlds, divided by a wall.
The Muggle clamor behind him. The magical future ahead.
He inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.
With that, Tom Riddle boarded the train, beginning his next great journey.
---