— — — — — —
Once it lost its usefulness, Tom casually tossed the Sorting Hat aside and began idly playing with the cold sword in his hand.
The blade was entirely silver, seemingly forged from pure silver, though in truth it was a goblin-made alloy with extremely strong magical conductivity. Several egg-sized rubies were set into the hilt, each one obviously priceless.
A sharp gleam flickered in Tom's eyes as he simultaneously activated his fairy bloodline's affinity for magic and Merlin's magical vision.
But goblin forging methods were strange. They didn't rely on magic, but on pure craftsmanship.
So pure that even the goblins themselves didn't fully understand what effects their techniques would produce. Otherwise, they wouldn't have handed the sword to Gryffindor in the first place, only to regret it later after it gained fame.
The Sword of Gryffindor's most unique property was its ability to absorb substances that could strengthen it. But where that limit lay, no one knew.
And what exactly Gryffindor had fed the sword before… that would need testing.
Tom lifted the blade and swung it a few times. The air whistled sharply.
"Should I go learn some swordsmanship? Become a melee wizard in the future?"
The sword wasn't just for physical attacks. With its excellent magical conductivity, it could easily function as a wand. Just like Ravenclaw's spellbook, Gryffindor's sword was essentially a wand.
As for Hufflepuff… according to Ravenclaw, her robe itself was her wand. She could cast spells with a flick of her sleeve, making it look like wandless magic.
Counting it all up, among the four founders, only Slytherin had been straightforward, using a snakewood wand.
After playing with it for a while, Tom put the sword away. He planned to "feed" it later and see just how far it could grow.
...
..
After three days—
Tom's plan to torment the Sorting Hat ultimately didn't succeed. On the third day after term began, Dumbledore retrieved the hat from the second-floor boys' bathroom.
The Sorting Hat grumbled the entire way. Before long, the whole school knew Tom had glued the hat into the bathroom.
No one knew how the hat had offended him, but that level of exaggerated pettiness gave everyone a brand-new understanding of Riddle.
He didn't even spare a hat. Could he get any more vindictive?
For a while, whenever people saw Tom, they smiled nervously and hurried past, afraid that doing something wrong might provoke him.
That very evening, the day the Sorting Hat was returned to the headmaster's office, Tom was invited over as well.
Dumbledore didn't lose his temper. He was very polite, even preparing pastries and drinks. Only after Tom had eaten his fill did he get to the point.
"Tom, the Sword of Gryffindor is, after all, a school relic. I don't object to you studying it, but I hope that when you leave the school, you'll return it to its rightful owner. That is… I mean the Sorting Hat."
Because the hat's mouth had been a bit too foul, Dumbledore had already glued it shut before Tom arrived.
"Professor, don't worry." Tom finished his last macaron, took out a napkin, and wiped his mouth. "Even after you die, I might still not have left Hogwarts."
Dumbledore smiled when Tom told him not to worry, but his expression immediately froze at the follow-up.
"…I don't think you'll need to repeat a year. After all, you're the most outstanding student in the school's history."
"I can come back after graduation as a rehired staff member," Tom said matter-of-factly, making the corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitch slightly again.
Do all Riddles have something wrong with them? Why were they all so determined to wreak havoc on Hogwarts?
"Professor, after being headmaster for so long, you must be getting tired, right?"
Tom flashed a brilliant smile. "Ever thought about retiring? Don't you want to stay with Ariana all the time? When I graduate, let me take over as headmaster. Hogwarts could use some fresh blood."
Dumbledore: "..."
Alright. His mistake.
This Tom's ambition was far greater than the other. He'd set his sights directly on the headmaster's chair.
But… he was tempted. Honestly, he already didn't want to keep doing this next year. Ideally, he could switch places with Grindelwald, go be headmaster of Durmstrang, and accompany Ariana as she grew.
"Ahem… you're only in fourth year. Talking about this now is a bit premature. Let's discuss something related to magic instead."
Dumbledore quickly cut him off, afraid he might actually promise away the headmaster's seat if this continued, so he decisively changed the subject.
"Magic?" Tom perked up. "Professor, what did you want to talk about?"
"How about discussing how to capture Voldemort alive?" Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Horcruxes are dangerous, but the most dangerous thing is Voldemort himself."
"The fact that he's regained a body is actually a good thing. As a wandering spirit he's extremely hard to catch. But now… if you, me, and Grindelwald act together, there's actually a high chance we could capture him alive."
Tom nodded in agreement. "Professor, you just said something that's technically true but completely obvious."
"Anyone with common sense knows three against one gives us the advantage. Besides, any one of these three is stronger than little Voldy."
Dumbledore gave an embarrassed chuckle. "The key point is what comes next. I want to work with you to develop a powerful sealing spell. That way we'll have a better chance of trapping him."
Tom didn't refuse. He knew this was Dumbledore's solution, forced out by his desire to keep Harry alive.
Although Tom's raw power now surpassed Dumbledore's, and he had teachers whose mastery far exceeded his.
Anyone who became a century king in this declining age of magic had something worth learning from, and Albus Dumbledore was the culmination of modern magical scholarship.
To protect Harry's life, an innocent student, he wouldn't hold anything back.
The two of them talked late into the night. Tom gained quite a lot. Dumbledore was the peak of the academic school, every idea backed by rigorous magical theory. It filled in the foundations Tom's talent-driven approach lacked.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, hoped to draw on Tom's wild imagination and his strange techniques.
But somehow, as the conversation went on, it turned into him tutoring Tom.
By the time Dumbledore realized it, it was already dawn.
"Professor, I've learned plenty today. I'll come back tomorrow," Tom said cheerfully.
With ten full pages of notes, Tom left the office completely satisfied, leaving Dumbledore alone, quietly sucking in cold breaths.
It wasn't that he was unwilling to teach Tom. But why was it that every time he dealt with this boy, things always veered in completely unexpected directions?
Well...
Whether Dumbledore liked it or not, once he'd opened the door, when to stop was no longer up to him.
For several nights in a row, Tom showed up at the headmaster's office right on time, effectively forcing Dumbledore into private tutoring sessions.
As for Dumbledore's original goal, researching a sealing spell, there was no progress at all.
Old Dumbles was anxious, but he could only prioritize Tom.
After all, when it came time to capture Voldemort alive, he and Grindelwald alone might not be enough. They'd need Tom, who had more strange tricks up his sleeve than Voldemort himself.
And they would only get one chance. If Voldemort sensed their intentions, he'd become far more cautious, perhaps even hide until the three of them died of old age before showing himself again.
That would be a real problem.
...
Finally, after more than a week, Dumbledore couldn't take it anymore. He found an excuse and proactively ended this round of tutoring.
Tom didn't mind. He'd gained a lot. He could take his time digesting it, and once he'd fully absorbed everything, he could resume "working" the old man later.
And he wasn't free today anyway
Half a month had already passed since the bodies of Andros and Jeanne began forming, and today was the day of their revival.
.
.
.