— — — — — —
A few minutes later, Ariana had become the center of everyone's attention.
The grave Tom intended to dig up was, of course, her father's — Percival Dumbledore's.
Not immediately, though. He would only move once he was confident in his plan.
Before that, he needed to visit a few other family tombs to study the causal bonds within bloodlines.
After hearing Tom's proposed method, the girl wore a tangled expression. She had never imagined she might be revived through something as grim and creepy as grave-robbing, and for a moment she fell silent, trapped in hesitation.
Ravenclaw didn't speak. She was busy running through theoretical models, simulating the resurrection spell's viability.
Andros, however, had already found a problem. "Hold on, Tom. Even if… even if Ariana agrees, and you actually succeed…"
"What about me?"
"Forget my parents' bones. Anyone who died a thousand years before me is fertilizer by now."
"And Jeanne… she was literally burned to ashes."
Tom twitched at that, while Jeanne — the one being discussed — simply shook her head with sincere seriousness. "Mr. Andros, whether I can be revived is not important. As long as I may remain at my Lord's side, any state is acceptable."
"No, Jeanne," Tom countered instantly. "I need you revived. You will burn a path for me through all heresy."
The shift was immediate. The shy girl's demeanor hardened into that of a decisive commander. "Yes, my lord!"
Now it was Andros' turn to be speechless.
All this time had passed, and he still couldn't get used to Tom and Jeanne's dynamic. One was bold enough to make it up, and the other bold enough to believe it.
"Ahem. Andros, don't worry." Tom decided to clarify. "What I actually need is the formative process of the body. That's what lets me analyze the hidden principles."
"So as long as it succeeds once, reviving you and Jeanne won't require all that extra trouble."
"Once…" Grindelwald eyed him skeptically. "Not that I doubt you, but this tier of magic… you think watching it once lets you fully dissect it, optimize it, and replicate it?"
He still didn't understand this magic at its core. At best he'd figured out thirty percent. But it was easily among the highest levels of dark magic, leagues harder than Fiendfyre or the Killing Curse.
"Time-Turner."
Ravenclaw had recovered from her calculations and calmly spoke the method Tom had been about to suggest. "Use a Time-Turner to return to that moment repeatedly. It won't interfere with the past, but you can observe. Repeat enough times and success is guaranteed. No risk. Very safe."
Tom could only give the wise witch a thumbs-up.
"Brilliant." Grindelwald nodded in admiration. The compliment applied to both Tom and Ravenclaw — she could actually keep up with the rhythm of his thinking.
"..."
'So the biggest variable left was me?'
Ariana listened to the discussion and finally understood Tom's plan. She took a deep breath and nodded.
"Tom… do what you have to do. If Father knew he could help bring me back, he would be happy."
Tom smiled, genuinely pleased.
What a dutiful daughter.
…
After Ariana had been bullied by three Muggle boys, Percival Dumbledore took revenge. He refused to reveal that Ariana was an Obscurial, which would've condemned her to permanent confinement at St. Mungo's. Finally, he was sent to Azkaban, where he soon died.
Prisoners who die in Azkaban meet one of two ends: they are either buried on site, or claimed by family and reburied in the family plot.
Unluckily, when Percival died, the Dumbledore family was falling apart. The eldest and second son were at each other's throats, the youngest died in a tragic accident, and by the time the family could have retrieved Percival's remains, it was too late. Disturbing a burial after that was seen as deeply disrespectful.
So Percival Dumbledore's grave was in Azkaban itself. The prison maintained a cemetery for dead inmates, more accurately described as a mass grave.
"I'll go fetch him," Grindelwald volunteered.
Tom shook his head. "Your methods are too flashy. No — they'll definitely notice. Dumbledore might fight you on the spot. Let me handle it. I'll grab a few Dementors for research while I'm at it."
Grindelwald thought it over and had to admit Tom wasn't wrong. When it came to dealing with Dementors, Tom and Andros were the real experts.
Ariana suddenly felt that this wasn't such a bad plan. At the very least her father's remains could come home and be reunited with her mother.
Once Ariana gave her consent, Tom's research hit the gas with zero restraint.
Thanks to smashing his head against the tenth trial door every day, his mental strength and willpower had toughened up a lot; in other words, the quality improved.
By now he could maintain six mind avatars, each lasting two and a half days.
He kept two avatars behind: one for dark magic research and one for tweaking alchemy. Of the remaining four, two worked together on blood curses, and the last two teamed up with Tom himself on resurrection magic.
With unlimited credits being poured in, progress was fast, but the problems were endless. Tom had no intention of reviving Ariana only for her to come back noseless, so a lot of Kel'Thuzad's notes needed major localization.
Truth be told, he'd started this line of research ages ago, but the two worlds differed too much—systems, materials, everything. He gave up back then, and now he had to pick it up again from scratch.
Tom was clearly getting busier by the day. And before anyone realized, another week had passed. Saturday was already here.
This Saturday undeniably belonged to Hufflepuff. Not only did they defeat Slytherin in Quidditch, but once Cedric Diggory got off his broom he turned into Hogwarts' champion in the dueling tourney and won every match, taking the fifth-year title.
The badgers were thrilled, cheering loudly in the Great Hall and turning their table into the rowdiest place in the room.
Hufflepuff had always been Hogwarts' background furniture. Not outstanding, not eye-catching. Plenty of students couldn't even name all the badgers in their own year. Tom was the same. There were just too many people.
Still, the badgers never minded. Living quietly was fine.
But now that Cedric had brought honor home, they finally tasted the sweetness of being publicly admired. It felt good to hold their heads high for once.
Tom didn't find it strange. In sixth year Cedric had become a Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. According to the Goblet of Fire's criteria, a newly minted sixth-year was already the strongest student in the castle. The selection was less than six months away now.
Remove Tom as an unknown variable and Cedric easily ranked among the strongest even against seventh-years. Beating fifth-years was nothing.
...
After the banquet, Crouch hurried back to London.
His job focus had been shifting toward the Astra Abyssum Guild. Preparations for the summer Quidditch World Cup were gradually being pushed back to the Department of Magical Games & Sports.
Ludo Bagman was a classic screw-up, full of wild stories and bragging about his glory days as an athlete. The only reason he ever became the Head of this department was because his athletic career padded his résumé. Thankfully his staff weren't all useless like he was.
Crouch decided he didn't need to worry about Ludo for now. What mattered was planning his next move. After all, thanks to his connections—and Tom's reputation as a deterrent—another five countries had agreed to open branch guilds.
What's more, aside from Catherine, Crouch still needed to appoint a branch director to handle coordination and networking.
Ideally it should be someone influential from the local wizarding community, but influence didn't guarantee loyalty. Crouch was stuck.
Then just as he arrived in London, Tom tossed another candidate his way.
Seeing the assignment details, Crouch's scalp tingled and he let out a helpless smile.
"Does Mr. Riddle want to work me to death?"
.
.
.