— — — — — —
In the end, Cassandra decided to be the dutiful daughter at least once.
"Tom, try to go easy on him, okay? My dad's got a temper. When he talks, he kind of…"
"He is even more punchable than you?" Tom said, helping her out.
"You could put it that way. But he is the one asking for your help, so he probably won't push it too far." Cassandra had already given up. Both of them had awful tempers, and she couldn't control either. What else could she do?
She had asked Tom to go easy on him. That counted as filial, didn't it?
"Alright, I'll tell my dad. Tom, when were you planning to go?"
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon. If he's free, I'll meet him. If he's not, then forget it. My schedule's packed these days—I'm not waiting for him."
Cassandra nodded. "Okay, I'll ask him."
She pulled out her phone and sent a message. By the time the two left the restaurant and reached Gringotts, the reply had come in and the time was set for tomorrow afternoon.
"He says that's fine. He'll be home the whole afternoon. Where should I pick you up?" Cassandra asked.
Tom thought for a moment, then chose Gringotts as their meeting point. Gringotts was connected to the Floo Network too—outbound only, not inbound. Otherwise robbers could just waltz in through the fireplaces.
---
Meanwhile, in a shabby little house in Flushing—
"Laos, you still haven't made up your mind?"
Solen looked down at her round, swollen belly, gently stroking it as she felt the small pulses of life inside. But her expression was far from soft. She fixed Laos, who was sitting on the bed, with a hard stare.
"Do you want the baby born with no home, constantly running from Graves' people? You want me and the baby living in hiding with you forever? And what about school? What happens when the child grows up?"
"You're giving me an answer today. We leave together, or I'll go back to my family and you stay here dealing with your mess."
Laos' face darkened. He stood without a word, stepped outside, and lit a cigar, letting the smoke fill the cold air.
They'd already been hiding in New York for nearly six months. Then last month, when he went out for supplies, Graves' men somehow spotted him. He'd fought his way out and escaped, but they were forced to move yet again.
Laos wasn't stupid. He could see what had happened.
Solen had leaked their location on purpose. She'd lured them here to push him into leaving New York, to force him toward Germany and her mother's family, to shove him onto the Acolytes' path.
He wasn't heartbroken; he was furious. Furious that Solen didn't care about the child she was carrying.
He finished the cigar, turned on his heel, and walked back inside.
"We leave tomorrow," Laos said. "Berlin."
Solen's face lit up at once, her gaze softening. "Darling, I'm glad you finally understand. New York is far too dangerous. And yes, Berlin is controlled by Grindelwald, but our family is all acolyte descendants anyway."
"Solen… you want to join the Acolytes?" Laos asked, putting on an innocent look.
"Of course not." She shook her head hard. "I just want a quiet life. I don't want to run anymore."
Laos smiled faintly as she turned around to pack, the warmth fading from his eyes.
Berlin was fine. Once the baby was born, he wouldn't need to pretend anymore.
---
Gringotts
After receiving Cassandra's cut of the profits, the two parted ways—Cassandra headed home, and Tom went upstairs to meet the goblin who had once negotiated a deal with him: Famur.
"Mr. Riddle, long time no see."
Famur's smile was much more sincere than on their previous meetings. To Gringotts these days, Tom was practically a walking fortune.
It wasn't that card transactions earned them huge fees. It was that the convenience made shopping easier, wizards spent more freely, and every business Gringotts invested in was thriving because of it.
"Let's keep this short, Famur."
Tom sat down under the goblin's enthusiastic welcome. "I'm here to upgrade the main terminal and launch two new cards."
"Upgrade?" Famur blinked. "The main terminal is running perfectly. What needs upgrading?"
"Bank cards can't do international transactions yet. I've made some breakthroughs in my runic communication system—I can link the terminals across different Gringotts branches and enable data exchange. Think we need an upgrade?"
"Yes. Absolutely!" Famur almost jumped up.
International payments would take their usability to a whole new level.
"And the new cards?" Famur asked.
"Here's the deal…"
Tom pulled out two new cards. One was a supplementary card with a fixed limit, meant for the vault owner's family members.
The other… was a credit card.
Even if your vault was empty, you still had a line of credit. Tom hadn't been able to resist dragging Muggle finance straight into the wizarding world.
Pressure motivates people. No mortgage, no broom loan—how were you ever going to work hard and grow the economy?
He wasn't trying to steal Gringotts' interest profits. They could've offered credit on their own if they wanted. His cards just made everything easier.
He'd simply take a cut of each loan as a service fee.
Soon the goblins who'd handled the previous negotiation filed one after another into Famur's office. It wasn't until late evening that both sides reached a tentative agreement.
Mostly because the goblins were too greedy for their own good. Giving up even a sliver of fee felt like handing over their life essence. Tom's temper finally snapped—he didn't lower the rate, he raised it.
His biggest leverage was the card payment system. The goblins had already tasted its benefits, and unless they found a replacement, they wouldn't dare offend him. So in the end, as usual, the negotiation ended with the goblins practically groveling.
Leaving Gringotts, Tom headed straight to Newt's house.
The little garden was gone; Newt had scooped up the entire plot and tucked it into his pocket world. The house itself had gathered dust after being empty for so long. Tom gave it a quick clean, then slipped into the small world.
There, the Lubans were hard at work, so focused that they didn't even notice him until he called out. Then they swarmed over, chattering nonstop.
"You've been working nonstop all day?" Tom asked.
"Yep! Yep!" Luban No. 7 was the most enthusiastic. She grabbed Tom with four hands and dragged him toward a mountain of completed Codex notebooks to show off their day's work.
"You've done great. But don't push yourselves too hard." Tom patted No. 7's head.
"It's not hard at all."
Alchemy creatures were powered entirely by magic. The pocket world now had plenty of magical plants and beasts, enough to keep ambient mana circulating. They ran almost like perpetual-motion machines.
But Tom shook his head. "From now on, you work a maximum of sixteen hours a day. The rest is for reading, playing, resting—anything you want, except work."
"But…" No. 6 blinked up at him. "Didn't you create us so we could work?"
"I did. I need you to help me with a lot of tasks," Tom explained patiently. "But that doesn't mean you can't have your own lives. In your free time, you're allowed to do whatever you want."
"When I make more Lubans later, you'll get even more time off."
"Whatever we want…"
The seven little Lubans all looked lost. They had intelligence and impressive abilities now, but their minds were newborn. Interests, personalities—none of that had formed yet.
"If you don't know, then take your time. Books can help. I'll get you a TV in a couple of days."
The Lubans nodded, half-understanding.
Tom wasn't in a rush. He herded them toward the library—read whatever they wanted, or go play outside if they didn't feel like reading. But work wouldn't resume until eight tomorrow morning.
In Tom's mind, they weren't just tools. They were the future of a new race. He wouldn't grind them into the dirt.
He needed these few Lubans to learn how a normal life worked, so that later generations of alchemy beings could be taught properly.
---
The next day, Tom returned to Gringotts headquarters to help upgrade the main terminal.
Originally he planned to finish between yesterday afternoon and this morning—that's why he agreed to meet Cassandra in the afternoon.
Who could've guessed those money-grubbing goblins would waste half a day? Now he had to speed up. He didn't even bother removing the surveillance devices they'd secretly installed.
Tom just slipped into Turbo Mode, his hands moving so fast they left afterimages. The alchemy masters and goblins secretly watching him scratched their heads.
If they couldn't even see what he was doing, how were they supposed to steal his methods?
At 1:50, Tom finally finished. After swiping the test card a few times and confirming everything worked, he rushed down to the main hall. Cassandra had clearly been waiting awhile.
"If you'd taken any longer, I'd have assumed the goblins kidnapped you," she complained.
Tom gave her a sideways look. "And if they actually did, what would you do?"
Cassandra hesitated. "Set off a bunch of magical fireworks to celebrate."
"Truly vicious," Tom sighed. "Come on. Don't keep your dad waiting."
She handed him a box of custom Floo powder, stepped into the fireplace first, and called out "Vole Manor." Green flames swallowed her.
Tom followed and arrived at the destination.
The entrance hall was luxurious—four marble pillars like carved white jade, decor drenched in opulent, pseudo-palace style. But it all had a… nouveau riche flavor, none of Hogwarts' stately weight.
As soon as she got home, Cassandra went stiff with nerves. She pressed her lips together and led Tom to the main sitting room. A man sat grandly on the central sofa. The moment the two entered, his gaze turned razor-sharp, locking onto Tom with an attempt at intimidation.
Cassandra opened her mouth to introduce them, but Tom had already stepped past her, walking toward Andrew Vole at an unhurried pace.
Each step landed exactly in sync with their heartbeats, sending a jolt through their chests. The air in the room thickened, gripping Andrew's throat so tightly he couldn't make a sound.
And with every step Tom took, the pressure mounted. He was a head shorter than Andrew, yet in Andrew's eyes he seemed towering, like a mountain pressing down on him.
A rolling thunderclap exploded in his ears.
"I heard from Cassandra you wanted to 'teach me a lesson'?"
Andrew nearly toppled off the sofa. He practically shouted, "I'm not! I didn't! Don't listen to her!"
.
.
.