— — — — — —
It wasn't until ten at night, when Dumbledore was about to turn in, that Fawkes finally reappeared in front of him with Tom in tow.
"Professor, you're here to ask about the deal between me and Grindlewald, right?"
Tom spoke before Dumbledore could even get a word out.
Dumbledore nodded. "The price you paid was enormous. Even I was startled. Everyone knows Grindlewald's biggest weakness is age. No matter how youthful he looks, it doesn't change the fact that he's over a century old."
"With basilisk blood, who knows how long he could live?"
Dumbledore didn't hesitate to push further. "Tom, maybe you aren't in conflict now, but if you're planning to expand your influence globally in the future, he's your biggest rival. From that perspective, aren't you arming your own enemy?"
"Professor, is longevity really that hard a problem for you all?"
Dumbledore blinked, caught off guard, as Tom continued. "Forget other sources. Just in your library I found three methods to extend lifespan. They're all dark magic, sure… but Grindlewald is Grindlewald. He's the Dark Lord."
"Even without my potion, he knows more dark magic than I do. Extending his life by a few decades isn't a challenge. And if he really wanted to push it, he could make Horcruxes…"
Dumbledore fell silent. Tom wasn't wrong. Forget Grindlewald — even Dumbledore himself could easily add decades, maybe a century, if he truly wanted.
Plenty of wizards had such methods. Ask Armando Dippet in the portrait over there. He only just died at three hundred and thirty-three years old, nearly half a Nicolas Flamel.
Dumbledore finally understood. Tom's deal with Grindlewald didn't change much; if anything, it gave Dumbledore insight into Grindlewald's mindset. The man wasn't fading quietly into old age — he was planning for round two.
The tension in the office loosened considerably.
"Ahem…" Dumbledore let out an awkward chuckle. "My apologies, Tom. I was jumping to conclusions."
"No worries." Tom waved it off generously.
"But Tom, I understand what you're saying. Just don't underestimate Grindlewald."
Dumbledore still tried the patient-teacher approach. "If he agreed to your deal, it means that potion benefits him greatly. You don't know him, but I do. He never does anything without profit."
"If you ever need something, come to me first. Grindlewald will swindle you. I'm your headmaster."
Tom nodded repeatedly. When he'd entered the office, he'd opened his study space, so Grindlewald had heard every word. His expression hadn't changed, but in his head he'd cursed that damned old man a hundred times.
"Professor, I'm not stupid. I'm not giving all my good stuff away to outsiders."
Tom said that as he fished a small vial from his pocket, identical in shape to the one Grindlewald had shown earlier. The only difference was the contents: instead of icy green, this potion was a warm, glowing amber.
"This is…"
Dumbledore hadn't taken it seriously at first, but when Tom pulled the stopper, a strange alchemical scent drifted out and Dumbledore froze. His mind and body both reacted with an instinctive tremor.
Tom saw his reaction and couldn't hold back his curiosity. He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "Professor, that's a Phoenix Bloodline Fusion Elixir. I begged Fawkes for several minutes before he agreed to give me some blood."
"Judging from your face… so the rumors were true? The Dumbledore family really does have phoenix blood?"
There was an old saying in the magical world: whenever a Dumbledore was truly in need, a phoenix would appear. Proof of an unusual bond between the Dumbledores and those creatures.
Tom had suspected for a while that Dumbledore carried phoenix blood. Seeing the man's reaction confirmed it.
At this point, Dumbledore didn't bother to hide it. He nodded lightly.
Tom clicked his tongue in admiration. "I can understand humans with giants or even goblins, but humans and birds… that I cannot imagine."
"Tom, what nonsense are you thinking?"
Dumbledore looked mortified. "An ancestor of the Dumbledore family signed a contract with a phoenix. The power of that pact seeped into the bloodline over generations. It's nothing like what you're imagining."
Kids these days were ridiculous. Too mature, too creative and far too quick to invent scandals that would tank the Dumbledore family name if allowed to spread.
"Oh, that's all?" Tom said, sounding disappointed.
The juiciest gossip had slipped away, so he couldn't be bothered to linger. He set the small bottle on the desk.
"Professor, Grindelwald is your lifelong rival. If he hasn't given up, you can't just let yourself fall behind. I'm giving you this potion for free. Consider it payment for helping me stonewall Fudge. Whether you use it or who you give it to is your call."
He didn't wait for Dumbledore to answer. He slipped out immediately—taking the man's bird with him on the way out.
Dumbledore stared blankly at the little bottle on his desk, unsure if he should actually drink it.
---
Meanwhile, Grindelwald was equally curious. If Dumbledore drank that potion, then one day Grindelwald could proudly announce, "Dumbledore did it too." Shaking the whole world.
---
A new week rolled in, and the updated match schedule appeared on the bulletin board.
When students learned that Krum had returned to Durmstrang to pick players for a friendly match against Hogwarts, the Quidditch lovers and team members went wild.
They had no idea what level the other Durmstrang students were, but Krum himself was Bulgaria's starting Seeker, a World Cup favorite that year. Playing against him was practically a chance to observe a pro up close.
Wood was especially ecstatic. He ditched class entirely to beg Professor McGonagall to let Gryffindor compete. He planned to become a pro athlete after graduation and was already talking to teams.
"Wood, calm down. This match doesn't belong to any single House. We'll be selecting players to form a Hogwarts representative team—"
McGonagall's words stunned him. "Then how do you expect us to play?"
If he weren't standing in front of her, he'd already be screaming. This was absurd. Quidditch required coordination. Even Seekers sometimes depended on fake-outs from their own team.
Even if they picked the best players for each position, it'd still be a mess with no chemistry. How were they supposed to beat anyone like that?
"Wood, no single House represents the school. This is Durmstrang versus Hogwarts. Do you understand?"
Wood nodded, crushed.
"All right, go wait for the announcement. You and Potter will almost certainly make the list. And tell those two troublemakers to put in some effort for once." McGonagall waved him out and immediately started thinking over candidate choices.
...
That evening, she gathered the House team captains, and by the next day the roster was posted.
Keeper: Wood.
Beaters: the Weasley twins.
Chasers: Slytherin's Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington, plus Ravenclaw's Roger Davies.
As for Seeker… McGonagall struggled between Cedric and Harry, and ultimately chose to bring both into training and decide based on who coordinated better with the team.
When the list came out, most students found it fair. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, who didn't have many names on it, agreed McGonagall had been impartial.
Of course, not everyone took it well.
"What? Why him? Why is Potter on that list?"
Draco Malfoy went pale the moment he saw Potter's name, nearly passing out. When he recovered, his eyes were already red with rage.
"Potter has never even won a Cup. Slytherin has two! Cedric being chosen over me, fine. But if they needed a backup, it should've been me!"
"McGonagall is clearly biased toward her own student. I'm not accepting this!"
Pansy Parkinson immediately backed him up. The two tall goons beside him started trash-talking Harry as well—just in time for Harry and Ron to walk into the Great Hall and catch every word.
Ron sneered, "At least Harry didn't buy his way onto the team riding six Nimbus 2001s. Even if they picked a hundred Seekers, you still wouldn't make the list, Mal-dung."
Malfoy exploded. Tom got to enjoy the brawl while having an extra two plates of scrambled eggs.
Once the Heads of Houses dragged the fighters away, Tom finally looked back at Fleur.
"What were you saying?"
She had been distracted by the commotion too. When Tom asked again, she blanked for a second before remembering, then lowered her voice excitedly.
"Madame Maxime told me the Tri—"
"Shh." Tom raised a finger for silence.
"I trust you. Go prepare properly. This year's going to be a lot livelier than usual."
Fleur nodded rapidly, then leaned closer and whispered, "Wait for me tonight. I want you to teach me more~"
Tom smiled and opened that day's newspaper.
He didn't even need to. The front page headline was exactly what he was looking for.
"Renowned historian Tom Riddle releases new book: Annals XII Part XI: History of Asia!"
Tom knew his influence in America and Europe was solid, but in regions like Africa or Asia, it was almost nonexistent. Even though he had no plans to open a guild there anytime soon, for the sake of the mission, he just dropped a few news bombs.
...
After sorting out a not-too-big, not-too-small concern on his mind, Tom headed back to his little pocket world in great spirits. He planned to grind out the last chronicle within the next couple days, wait for the hype to cool off a bit, then drop it all at once and finish the task in one clean strike.
A top-tier gacha pull... he hadn't gotten one in ages. No idea what kind of treasure it would spit out this time.
.
.
.