— — — — — —
Tom scrubbed his face hard with his hands, trying to wipe away the lipstick mark still lingering on his cheek.
"Magic?"
To actually enchant a kiss mark so it wouldn't fade. Fleur really had gone straight for the throat. It was as if she was afraid he might have an easy life afterward.
He turned his head and met the barely-contained laughter in those beautiful eyes of the half-Veela. Tom shot her an annoyed look, exchanged a few more polite words with Madame Maxime, then hurried off to find Cassandra.
She was, after all, his carefully trained North American proxy. This time she'd lost really badly, finishing dead last among all competitors. Tom thought it over and decided not to hand out any Strengthening Potions. Instead, he gave her a few spells he'd personally modified, meant as a consolation prize.
There were limits to their relationship.
Even so, receiving something from him lifted Cassandra's spirits noticeably.
"Are you coming to North America during the holidays?" she asked.
"I don't have any plans yet," Tom answered honestly. "But probably not. Next year… you know how it is. Even this summer's going to be hectic."
"Still, if you could somehow get the American Magical Congress to agree to letting me open an Astra Abyssum branch over there, I'd definitely come."
Cassandra pursed her lips. "… forget it."
Some things didn't need to be said out loud.
Tom's relationship with North America was about one step away from a wanted poster. Whether they didn't want to tear things apart completely or simply didn't dare issue one was anyone's guess. Either way, the Astra Abyssum Guild was focusing its expansion on continental Europe. North America had stonewalled them at every turn.
What disappointed Tom was how capable Cassandra and her father were. They'd even pulled in a group of people to act as shields for his business. He had to give up some profits, but at least no one dared target it directly.
Truth be told, Tom was almost hoping someone in America would be foolish enough to make a move. After all, Dumbledore had promised to act on his behalf.
"If you're not coming, then forget it."
Seeing Tom stay silent, Cassandra's eyes dimmed slightly. She turned to leave, only to hear his voice behind her.
"Come watch the World Cup in August. If you've got time, you can stay at my place for a while."
She didn't turn around, just lifted a hand and waved. What Tom never saw was the smile she fought so hard to keep from breaking free.
His gaze shifted to the Ilvermorny delegation, already packed and ready to go. A strange light flickered in his eyes.
Yesterday, that vice headmistress had taken a few photos with the other principals after the awards ceremony, then slipped away without giving him the slightest opening. Slippery as an eel.
...
As the visiting schools departed one after another, Hogwarts gradually returned to its usual calm. The students also welcomed the final Easter holiday of the school year.
The hole Fleur had dug before leaving made this week pure misery for Tom. He was putting out fires everywhere.
Unfortunately, he still couldn't rely on his body just yet. If he could, solving these problems would be much faster than relying on sweet talk and endless dates.
Instead, here he was. Grindelwald had even called him about picking up Barty Junior, and Tom hadn't had the time.
---
South west London. Wandsworth. The Clapham district.
This was the heart of old London, a place that had witnessed the Industrial Revolution and the last brilliance of the Victorian era. Large numbers of Georgian and Victorian buildings had been preserved here.
The Crouch residence stood beside a lush public park, protected by Muggle-Repelling Charms and spatial concealment spells. In many ways, it mirrored the arrangement at 12 Grimmauld Place.
Once Grindelwald confirmed that Dumbledore had cooled off, or at least decided not to pursue matters further for now, he quietly returned to Britain to fulfill his agreement with Crouch: to take Barty Crouch Jr. away.
The house-elf Winky led Barty Jr. out, his movements lifeless, like a walking corpse.
Winky stole a glance at the Dark Lord whose name echoed across the world. When Grindelwald looked back at her, she hurriedly lowered her head.
Grindelwald paid little attention to a mere house-elf. He studied Barty instead. The boy's eyes were unfocused, utterly indifferent to his arrival. A trace of amusement curved Grindelwald's lips.
"Crouch."
"Hm?" Crouch looked at him, puzzled.
"Your Imperius Curse isn't very good," Grindelwald said lightly. "And you really should get your eyes checked. Can't you see that your son could, at any moment—"
He didn't get to finish.
In the next instant, the dull haze in Barty Jr.'s eyes vanished, replaced by razor-sharp clarity and raw hatred. His body lunged forward like a leopard, straight at Crouch, his target unmistakably the wand in his father's hand.
Crouch didn't react at all. He stood there dumbfounded. Just as delight flickered across Barty's face and his fingers were about to close around the wand, the air suddenly condensed into an invisible hammer that smashed into his chest. He was hurled into the wall, coughing painfully as he slid down.
"As you can see," Grindelwald said mildly, "he can break free at any time."
His outstretched hand closed slightly. In the living room, the coffee table and nearby furniture softened like noodles, twisting around the still-coughing Barty and binding him in place.
With two masters of wandless magic in the study space, Grindelwald's own skill in the art had improved dramatically. And influenced by Tom, he'd also developed a fondness for dealing with amateurs in this offhand, crushing way, just to make it clear they weren't even on the same level.
"Master!" the house-elf finally reacted, screaming as she collapsed to the floor.
"Silence!" Crouch snapped. "This doesn't concern you. Go prepare a lavish dinner for Mr. Grindelwald at once."
Winky left the living room, glancing back again and again. Crouch watched Barty struggle, his expression complicated.
"I've embarrassed myself in front of you, Mr. Grindelwald," he said stiffly. "My grasp of the Dark Arts really is lacking. I even forgot that repeatedly casting the Imperius Curse weakens its effect…"
"I'll handle it," Grindelwald said with a smile, cutting off Crouch's self-reproach.
Barty was glaring at him with the ferocity of a wolf, which only piqued Grindelwald's interest further.
"Do you need some time to talk, father and son?" he asked lightly. "If not, I can take him with me today."
There was no doubt about it. Barty Jr. was one of Voldemort's most fanatical followers. Only Bellatrix might rival his devotion. Turning Barty had become a silent contest between Grindelwald and Voldemort.
"There's nothing left to say," Crouch shook his head. "You may take him tonight."
"Very well, Crouch. I give you my word. Next time you see him, Barty Crouch Jr will be a completely different man."
Without touching the lavish dinner Winky had prepared, Grindelwald took Barty and left London in short order. He was clearly eager to begin his work.
---
The following day, Tom published the final article of his History of the Wizarding History.
Luckily, Tom didn't need everyone to believe him. He only needed enough influence, and for most of the world, not all of it. Otherwise, it would have been impossible.
...
Two days after the article was published, Tom finally received the system notification.
[Congratulations, Host. Large-scale mission "My Word Is Law" has reached 100% recognition. You have become a towering figure in magical historiography. In the field of historical bloodlines, you now possess absolute authority.]
[Distributing mission rewards….]
[Host has received 1,000 Achievement Points, 5,000 Credits, and one Legendary Gacha Pull.]
Tom, who had been sound asleep in History of Magic, suddenly lifted his head. He casually wiped away the bit of drool at the corner of Daphne's mouth and grinned from ear to ear.
It hadn't been easy. Since enrolling, he'd received only three large-scale missions, and after all this time, he'd finally completed one.
A Legendary Grade Pull too. It had been ages. The last one had given him the Lich King's necromancy notes. What would this one bring?
Tom mulled it over, reviewing his abilities and shortcomings.
His mind had already flown far away, itching to spin the wheel and hit the jackpot in a single shot.
.
.
.