— — — — — —
"Achoo!"
Kicked out by Grindelwald, Tom sneezed while buried in research on Firestorm.
He didn't even need to think—Snape was definitely cursing him somewhere.
So ungrateful. After all, Tom had spent two and a half hours in the romance section of a bookstore picking out that Christmas gift.
And don't think it's impossible for that kind of book to show up in a British shop. Shakespeare was the original master of melodrama—Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet and whoever else, all dripping in drama, and they're still called classics.
Still… Snape might get even angrier once he saw the letter Tom attached.
By tonight, the owl should have delivered it.
Honestly, Tom felt a little guilty now. A potions master of Snape's level had not only helped him brew potions before, but was now working to improve snake mating rates for him. If the man greeted his return to Hogwarts with a flash of green light, Tom wouldn't be surprised.
Snape couldn't really do much to him now, but Tom decided he ought to mend their relationship—some small compensation to soothe his temper and keep him willing to brew potions.
With that thought, Tom tucked away his Firestorm notes and pulled out the magical notebook.
Speaking of which, Tom had long since cast aside the name "WhatsApp" as far too insipid, entirely unworthy of wizarding ears.
He had already settled on a new title for the notebook: it would be known as "The Codex," a name he intended to preserve no matter how often its form might change later.
And for now, the Codex's first and only function was the text-only chat, which Tom had named "SpellChat."
He was also working on features like voice and video calls, recording, and the sharing of images and videos—perhaps even something like a YouTube platform for magical education. The names, however, were yet to be decided.
...
『Tom Riddle』: Got the gift yet?
『Ginny Weasley』: Yep! I'm already wearing it. Fits perfectly. I'm worried I won't squeeze into it next year though.
In the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, Ginny was grinning as she typed back. Her plain old robes were gone, replaced by a finely tailored school uniform edged with gold embroidery—Tom's Christmas gift.
It wasn't just stylish and clearly expensive, it also came with dustproof and wrinkle-resistant enchantments. Madam Malkin's wouldn't even stock robes like these.
Ginny wasn't the type to care much about money, but the fact that Tom had given her something this valuable—custom-sized, no less—left her over the moon.
『Tom Riddle』: If it doesn't fit next year, I'll buy you another. Not growing would be the real problem.
『Tom Riddle』: Anyway, once you're back I've got a task for you. If you don't do it, I'll just tie you up.
『Ginny Weasley』: Hmph. Always threatening me like that.
『Tom Riddle』: If you'd prefer a spanking, I can try that too.
『Ginny Weasley』: Forgive me, Lord Riddle. I was wrong.
...
After dropping that little warning, Tom closed The Codex and headed out.
By the fountain, old Newt was throwing punches with surprising vigor, face red, steam rising off his body.
When he spotted Tom, he only flicked him a glance, finishing his routine before finally exhaling. "Incredible potion. My body feels light again… like I'm back in my seventies."
"Tom, thank you for the Christmas gift."
"You don't need to thank me." The boy tore into a baguette and sipped hot cocoa. "I've already prepared Granny Tina's share too. Have her start using it soon. One bottle every three to five months. If it's not enough, just ask me."
"I will," Newt said with a warm smile.
Tom's gift to him was a strengthening potion. After all, the man was pushing a hundred. His body needed some help.
As for whether the potion extended lifespan… even Tom wasn't sure. Andros had once used it but died early, so that wasn't exactly a reliable data point.
But it hardly mattered. Wizards, barring illness or accident, tended to live long lives. Take former Headmaster Armando Dippet, for example—born in 1637 and living until 1992, more than three centuries. An extreme case, certainly, but with proper care, reaching three hundred and fifty wasn't unheard of.
So why were there so few elderly wizards around these days? Well, you could blame the two Dark Wizards—one ravaged Europe, the other Britain. Naturally, the numbers dwindled.
"This potion… where did you even find it? It's too valuable. I can't just take it for free," Newt said seriously.
Tom waved him off. "I found the recipe in some ruins. Don't think of it in terms of value. Remember when I asked you to care for the Whomping Willow? Did I offer you payment then?"
"But—"
"No buts, Grandpa Newt. The Codex is very important to me, and your help is worth more than any potion."
Seeing Tom's firm expression, Newt dropped it, silently promising himself he would take the best possible care of that tree.
After leaving Newt, Tom went to the Delacour home to pick people up.
Gabrielle was perfectly fine, chirpy as ever. Fleur, though, looked nervous. Understandable—it wasn't every day you went to meet Nicolas Flamel. Any Hogwarts student would react the same if they were told they were about to meet one of the Big Four.
Tom decided to distract her before her nerves spiraled.
"Ahhhh!"
Fleur shrieked as her feet left the ground.
Gabrielle clung to Tom in terror. "Don't let me go! I'll splatter into a pancake!"
"Relax. I won't drop you. Our hands are magically bound together."
With one hand gripping each sister, Tom unfurled his black-and-white wings and soared across the Paris skyline.
Good news: Fleur was too busy screaming her lungs out to think about Nicolas Flamel anymore.
Bad news: she was clearly afraid of heights and couldn't stop screaming.
But Gabrielle, after her initial panic, settled down and started marveling at the view. Big, curious eyes took in her city from a brand-new angle—though she quickly covered her ears in annoyance.
"Ugh, sis is so noisy."
At last, they landed in front of Flamel's estate.
Before Tom could say anything, Fleur sank her teeth into his shoulder.
"Hsss—!" Tom sucked in a breath. Thank Merlin he'd deactivated his Freak Body trait in time, or she would've shattered half her pretty teeth.
"Alright, stop. You're a Veela, not a puppy."
Out of the corner of his eye, Tom caught Gabrielle staring, practically drooling, as if she wanted a bite too. He hurriedly pushed Fleur away and pinned down the little one before she followed through.
"You didn't even warn me first!" Fleur's face flushed red with anger.
"I was just trying to distract you."
"Then you might as well cast a Memory Charm on me instead."
"Great idea. Next time you're nervous, I'll do that. And I just remembered—I want to visit Lockhart to ask for guidance on that charm. Thanks, Fleur."
"You—!" She glared at him, but fell silent the moment a house-elf appeared.
"Master Tom," the elf said with a deep bow. "My master, the lady, and Mr. Scamander are waiting for you in the drawing room."
"Got it."
Tom nodded and led the sisters inside. Both girls were struck dumb by the manor's grandeur. The place was practically as vast as Beauxbatons itself, only more lavish—and unlike Beauxbatons, which housed over a thousand students, this estate belonged only to Nicolas and Perenelle.
It took them 20 minutes to reach the drawing room. Normally Tom would've just Apparated, but since this was Fleur and Gabrielle's first visit, he figured they should walk the proper way.
After the chaos earlier, Fleur's nerves had eased somewhat. But when she finally saw three smiling elders waiting for them, her anxiety spiked again.
Tom slipped his hand into hers, steadying her. She exhaled slowly, shoulders loosening a little.
Once Tom finished the introductions, Fleur offered a respectful greeting, while Gabrielle—sweet-tongued as ever—went straight for the kill.
"Grandpa Nicolas, Grandpa Newt, Grandma Perenelle!"
The three elders beamed. Perenelle especially adored the little one, summoning a mountain of sweets and pastries to spoil her with.
"Child, no need to be nervous," Nicolas said warmly to Fleur. "You're Tom's friend, which makes you family to us. Just treat me and Newt as your elders. But don't follow this rascal's example—he's been pestering me about inheriting my estate lately."
Fleur shot Tom a wide-eyed look.
The boy shook his head furiously, denying everything. "Don't listen to him! He's just teasing. I'm always respectful. He's the one who's been picking on me lately."
Perenelle often complained that Nicolas was a bad influence—ever since Tom became his student, he spent all his time holed up in the lab. "What if he turns into a bookworm?" she'd scold.
Naturally, Nicolas didn't take that well.
"Tom's a good kid," Newt said firmly, handing out his stamp of approval. "That's just how these two interact. Don't worry about it."
Perenelle looked up from feeding Gabrielle. "Exactly. Don't mind that old man's nonsense. Treat this place like your own home. And help me keep an eye on Tom—he's obsessed with alchemy these days. Don't let him study more than six hours a day. The rest of the time, you can do whatever you like."
"I understand, Madam," Fleur said with a small smile.
The elders' warmth helped her relax, though she knew perfectly well their kindness was really because of Tom, not her.
...
Later, during light conversation, Fleur let slip something that made Newt blush scarlet.
Apparently, Mr. Delacour and other French Ministry officials had been working overtime ever since Newt arrived in Paris. The entire Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had gone mad scouring the country for dangerous beasts, and other departments had been dragged into the mess too.
In a way, Newt's sudden visit had caused almost as much chaos as Grindelwald's.
Nicolas burst out laughing. Tom snickered too, watching the old magizoologist bury his face in his hands. Sensing it was time to change the subject, Tom cut in smoothly.
"Professor, when is your friend arriving?"
"After New Year's," Nicolas said. "And good thing you asked. Tomorrow, go have a proper suit tailored. This event will be formal. Take it seriously."
"I understand." Tom nodded.
After a while, Perenelle began to tire, so Tom excused himself, taking Fleur and Gabrielle to the bedrooms prepared for them—right across from his own.
"Show me around?" Fleur held out her hand, eyes sparkling with curiosity. The castle was practically built out of alchemical wonders.
"Me too!" Gabrielle raised her tiny hand.
Tom took one of each and started with the grandest hallways.
In truth, he'd explored less than a fifth of the estate himself, so this was as much an adventure for him as it was for them.
...
By the time they'd finished the first floor of the main building, Gabrielle was dragging her feet, exhausted.
"No more. We'll continue another day," Fleur sighed, worn out herself. "Right now, all I want is a hot bath."
...
The next morning, Tom rose early and took both sisters out to have their formal attire custom-made.
.
.
.