— — — — — —
Just how wide was the gap between a Legendary and a Century King?
Grindelwald wasn't really qualified to answer that. Even among Century Kings, his strength didn't place him at the very top.
But Andros absolutely was.
The difference wasn't like that between a student and an adult wizard, or even an elite Auror. Those gaps could be overturned with ambushes or sheer numbers.
Legendary wizards were terrifying for a far more fundamental reason: their understanding of the essence of magic itself. They had long since moved past chanting spells and formal casting, and instead grasped the structure of the magic and the way its rules operated.
In front of them, the will-based amplification magic used by Century Kings looked childish. With ease, Legendary wizards could erase those buffs, turning once-ferocious spells into tame kittens before casually dispersing them.
And yet, today, that ironclad rule seemed to have failed.
Facing Tom's attack that literally made the world change color, Ravenclaw grew serious for once.
For the first time, she drew her wand, the only thing she had brought with her besides her clothes.
But it wasn't a wand at all. It was a book.
Well... who said a wand had to be a stick?
Ravenclaw transformed her wand into a book, one that embodied all her wisdom and life's work.
Countless spells burst from its pages. Some shot straight toward Tom, others soared into the sky and churned the winds and clouds. The battlefield rapidly expanded, and before anyone realized it, the arena had been reduced to ruins.
Grindelwald and the others retreated again and again.
Flickering, distorted light engulfed the battlefield, making it impossible to see what was happening inside.
Finally, after a full fifteen minutes.
The light dimmed. The storm faded.
Tom lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. Ravenclaw, on the other hand, lounged leisurely on a recliner, looking utterly relaxed. The difference seemed overwhelming. Her only sign of damage was a slightly dirtied hem.
Only Tom knew that moments earlier, that same outfit had been shredded into strips, revealing a rather generous glimpse.
"Rowena, next time I'll definitely win," Tom shouted stubbornly from the ground, trash-talking in front of everyone despite his position.
Ravenclaw ignored him and instead focused on the staff in his hand.
"Where did that thing come from?"
She could tell that her hard-fought victory today wasn't because Tom had suddenly grown that much stronger. It was entirely because of the staff. The power of the spells it produced was wildly unstable, making them a nightmare to deal with.
Sometimes she'd brace herself only to be met with a harmless breeze. Other times, the moment she relaxed, a sudden eruption would catch her completely off guard.
"My future self sent it back. He became a god and glitched the gacha," Tom said with a straight face.
Ravenclaw rolled her eyes, speechless. And yet, deep down, she felt a flicker of doubt.
Could it really be real?
If anyone else had said it, she'd have dismissed it as nonsense. But Tom had done so many unbelievable things already that even something this absurd happening to him somehow felt… plausible.
The others quickly understood why Tom had been so cocky today. Their gazes all fell on Hakuna Matata, but no matter how long they stared, they couldn't see anything particularly special about it.
A wand that could trouble a Legendary Wizard? Not even the Elder Wand could pull that off.
Tom had no intention of explaining. With a quick kip-up, he sprang to his feet. A casual wave of his hand restored the arena from rubble to pristine condition. He tossed one last threatening remark at Ravenclaw, then grabbed Jeanne and Ariana by the hands and slipped away.
Grindelwald and Andros exchanged looks.
"Lady Ravenclaw," Grindelwald asked politely, "is that wand really that powerful?"
Ravenclaw thought for a moment, then nodded, and shook her head. "It's not a matter of power… I can't quite put it into words. Tom's magic undergoes a transformation just by passing through it. I'd guess that if you wielded it, you might beat Andros."
Grindelwald's expression changed instantly, his eyes blazing with excitement.
That strong?
If it might beat Andros, wouldn't that mean a guaranteed win against Dumbledore?
His thoughts immediately started racing. It wasn't greed for the treasure. He just wanted to borrow it to suppress Dumbledore and give him a proper beating.
---
Over the next few days, Tom worked hard to adapt to the changes brought by his new staff.
His biggest achievement was learning to control the random amplification. It no longer triggered during routine practice. He'd successfully turned a passive effect into something he could activate at will.
Next came the effects of boosted luck. These past few days, he finally looked like a true chosen one. He'd find money just lying on the road. After subscribing to the Daily Prophet, he won the "lucky reader" prize three times in a row, earning three years of free newspapers. He even pulled several rare Chocolate Frog cards in succession and casually gave them to Zabini, who collected them.
"Can this luck boost affect the Gacha too?"
The thought flashed through Tom's mind, but unfortunately, he didn't have any draw chances left to test it.
...
Friday evening, after classes, Tom quietly slipped out of school with Astoria and headed to Nicolas's house.
"Hello, Grandpa Nicolas. Hello, Grandma Perenelle."
Astoria's well-mannered greeting brought warm smiles to the elderly couple. They nodded at her, and a house-elf immediately served exquisite tea and pastries.
Tom didn't get the same treatment. The old man didn't even look at him.
Tom didn't care. He plopped himself down beside Madame Perenelle and chatted with her, quickly making her laugh so hard she could barely stop.
When it came to "charming women", especially elderly ones, Tom Riddle was a master. Voldemort himself had once used that very trick to swindle Hufflepuff's cup from Hepzibah Smith.
It wasn't until dinner that evening that Nicolas finally revealed why he'd called Tom over.
"Perenelle and I are heading back to France."
Tom froze in the middle of eating his escargot and looked up in surprise. "Why all of a sudden?"
"Because of your projects, obviously. We've been burning through materials lately. I contacted some friends in France to secure a larger shipment, but with the volume we're talking about, it'll take some time."
Nicolas cast a discreet glance at the silver-haired girl. Some things weren't convenient to say in front of Astoria, so he kept it vague. Tom understood anyway.
It clicked for Tom. He hadn't been keeping a close eye on the golden apple tree lately, but he'd heard Newt complain more than once about how severe the losses were.
If the people used there weren't replaced regularly, they'd slowly be affected by the environment and turn into inferi.
Nicolas didn't really care, but Tom couldn't ignore Newt's feelings, so buying more was the only option.
As a reward, Tom had the entire family reunited, a rare mercy in slavery. And before dark magic could corrupt them, he erased their memories and set them free with money and new identities.
It was costly, but Tom no longer lacked money, and while he was at it, he decided he might as well do a good deed for once.
"Then try to wrap things up quickly and come back soon," Tom said. "Things aren't exactly peaceful out there."
Through his grasp of time, he'd glimpsed certain developments. He already knew that Bellatrix had reunited with Voldemort. He wanted to go arrest them himself, but that was something that would happen in the future. He didn't know when, and he didn't know where.
Nicolas' gaze sharpened slightly. He didn't say anything, only nodded.
He knew Tom wouldn't say something like that without reason. Besides, Grindelwald was still roaming free. By any measure, the outside world was far from calm.
After the dinner ended, Tom handed Nicolas a rune condensed entirely from magic.
Crushing it would not only form a powerful protective barrier, but also instantly send a message.
Nicolas didn't refuse. He tucked it away with clear interest, evidently planning to study it later.
...
By the time Tom woke up the next morning, the elderly couple were already gone.
He first escorted Astoria back to the Greengrass estate, then headed alone to the Guild headquarters in Diagon Alley.
"Tom, you finally made it." Sirius was waiting at the entrance. The moment he saw him, he broke into a grin and pulled him into a big hug. "Those guys showed up early. They're all waiting for you in the conference room."
"Where's Crouch?" Tom asked.
"He got here even earlier. I haven't asked yet. Seriously, how did you convince that stiff old guy to work for you?"
"Easy."Tom smiled as he walked through the guild doors. "I talked to him about dreams, about the future. He was moved by my sincerity."
"Your lying skills are terrible for a Slytherin," Sirius shot back.
After escorting Tom to the conference room door, Sirius took off. He had zero interest in the scheming and maneuvering of businessmen, and no intention of wasting time here.
Tom pushed the door open.
Dozens of witches and wizards inside immediately stood up, warm smiles appearing on their faces as they greeted him. Every one of them was dressed in a tailored suit. They looked less like wizards and more like white-collar elites from the Muggle world.
Tom responded politely but distantly, nodded to Crouch, and took the seat at the head of the table.
Everyone present today was either a manager of a professional Quidditch club or the head of a commercial company.
They were here for one reason only.
To use the Lume-Lens to promote their products or matches.
"You're all busy people, and I've got plenty of guests to entertain myself," Tom said calmly. "Let's skip the pleasantries and get straight to business."
He snapped his fingers. The lights in the room dimmed instantly, and the Lume-Lens behind him lit up.
"My goal isn't just to put the Lume-Lens in shopping districts or the lobby of the Ministry. I want it in every wizarding household, just like the Codex. You're all familiar with Muggle television, right?"
Everyone nodded. Businessmen were the most sensitive to changes in the world. Many of them paid close attention to Muggle society, constantly drawing inspiration and repackaging suitable ideas for profit in the magical world.
And because they understood how television had reshaped the advertising industry, they'd come to Tom like sharks drawn to blood. If they seized this opportunity, they could crush their competitors, even drive them straight into bankruptcy.
"Let's start with Quidditch," Tom said, scanning the room. "Who here represents a Quidditch League team?"
Whoosh!
Seven or eight hands shot up at once. One chubby, fair-skinned man couldn't wait to speak. "Mr. Riddle, I'm the owner and manager of the Tutshill Tornados. William Tutshill."
Tom's eyes lit up.
The Tutshill Tornados?
"Mr. Tutshill," Tom said casually, "have you ever considered selling the team?"
Tutshill: "???"
.
.
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