— — — — — —
Heart-stabbing mockery. Pure heart-stabbing mockery.
Once that ultimate weapon got pulled out, even knowing he was guaranteed to get utterly crushed today, Andros couldn't possibly swallow it. He immediately accepted Grindelwald's duel invitation.
The fight, naturally, was completely one-sided. Right now Andros couldn't coordinate this body with his consciousness at all. His reactions were dulled, and his control over magic was practically nonexistent.
Still, a prodigy was a prodigy. Without even using a wand, he forced out a humanoid Patronus through wandless magic.
Though… that Patronus…
It looked like some hollow, drained Susanoo that desperately needed a truckload of energy tonics.
Tom failed to hold it in and burst out laughing. At the same time, he instinctively pulled out his iCodex and recorded the entire scene.
Later on… this would become black history Andros could never erase for the rest of his life.
Grindelwald didn't even bother taking out his wand, yet he beat Andros into complete helplessness. Like a cat toying with a mouse, he wasn't in any hurry to end things, constantly teasing him.
"Andros the Invincible? The so-called partial inspiration for Heracles? That's it?"
"Friend, you're way too weak. Your magic's all soft. I've seen first-years with more bite."
"Put some strength into it. Come on. Are you trying to tickle my Shield Charm?"
Tom winced.
How could someone be this shameless? Even he wasn't at this level yet.
The scene... was just too brutal. Andros had been tied up, and Grindelwald was whipping him repeatedly with conjured Devil's Snare.
As his first teacher, Andros held a special place in Tom's heart. He really couldn't bear watching him get bullied like this.
So he went into the little cabin. Out of sight, out of mind.
...
Half an hour later, after finishing a pot of tea and a plate of snacks, Tom finally walked back out.
Grindelwald had stopped, reclining lazily in a vine chair, looking extremely satisfied.
As for Andros… he lay on another recliner, cursing Grindelwald loudly, all kinds of ancient Greek slang flying out nonstop.
Tom walked over, helpless. "Old G, what's the point of this? Andros isn't going to stay like this forever. He'll recover soon enough. When that happens… I don't need to tell you how miserable you'll be."
Andros nodded in agreement. "Gellert, once I recover, I'll pay today's humiliation back a hundredfold."
Faced with the threat, Grindelwald remained perfectly calm, still relaxed and carefree.
"I was mentally prepared long ago. Andros, don't worry. However you beat me later, I won't complain."
"But this is a principle Tom made me understand... When you have the chance, you've got to rub it in hard."
Tom and Andros both fell silent. They hadn't expected Grindelwald to be so… philosophically clear about it.
Tom couldn't help wondering just how badly Andros had tormented Grindelwald before, to make him this determined to savor revenge no matter the cost.
"Hmph," Andros snorted. "Enjoy these last few days while you're still whole."
Grindelwald smiled and waved it off, completely unconcerned.
…
Stimulated by Grindelwald's provocation, Andros practically threw himself into rehabilitation. His appearance changed day by day, gradually becoming more mature, closer and closer to the true form of his soul.
His magic began to grow rapidly. Or rather, it was recovering.
But Andros's former reserves had been far too vast. Even at this pace, the recovery still looked slow.
Tom, who possessed the same level of talent, had the most authority to judge. Without counting any extra boosts, Andros's raw magical power was roughly two to three times the combined total of Grindelwald and Dumbledore.
And now, it was becoming even more terrifying.
The divine power within him had started to assert itself. His body was undergoing changes even he couldn't fully understand, but there was no doubt they were beneficial. His potential was rising to an even higher ceiling.
Grindelwald bullied Andros twice more afterward. But once he realized that Andros could already overwhelm the professors purely through magical pressure alone, he decisively chose to run.
...
..
"Tom, Tom!"
One morning, Draco Malfoy stopped Tom, who was heading to breakfast with Daphne and Astoria.
"What is it?" Tom turned back, puzzled. "Let me say this first. I'm not getting involved in whatever nonsense you and Potter are up to."
His guess had been completely correct. After the conflict before term started, Harry and Ivy had no chance of working things out. Strangely enough, Malfoy also gave up pursuing her, and the two boys went right back to focusing on each other. They'd clashed a few more times since then, though none of it had reached the professors.
Hearing Tom's warning, Malfoy quickly shook his head. "Tom, I'll handle Potter myself. He's not worth you stepping in. I came to ask about something else."
"Yesterday my father asked me to check with you. Are there any houses for sale in that 'Dalaran' you're building?"
"Buying property?" Tom raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. The residential district hasn't even started construction yet. There aren't any plans to sell for now."
The Magic City of Dalaran had gradually begun to gain fame. The biggest contributors were naturally the wizards who had finished their sentences and returned to all corners of the world.
Now many people knew that Tom had those former prisoners build a purely wizarding city. It stirred quite a buzz, with plenty of newspapers running reports about it.
Still, Malfoy was actually the first person to come directly asking to buy property.
That family really was something. Their instincts for shifting with the wind and avoiding risk were maxed out.
And their nose for money… with senses that sharp, it was no wonder their family had thrived.
"A shop would work too," Malfoy hurriedly amended. "My father said that as long as you're selling, he's willing to buy anything."
"Not planning to sell yet," Tom replied. "When the time comes, I'll contact your father. For now, nothing."
"Alright. I'll pass that along."
After getting his answer, Malfoy left to send the message. Tom headed into the Great Hall.
The biggest benefit of having the other schools around was the breakfast variety. At least they weren't stuck with fish and chips every single morning. There were… more options now.
After eating his fill, he had planned to take a walk by the Black Lake to digest. Instead, Hermione dragged him to the Transfiguration classroom early and had him help answer a few questions.
...
Meanwhile, in the pocket world, Andros stood surrounded by a powerful aura. Waves of air rolled outward under the pressure of his magic.
Some of the unruly power had finally returned.
A sharp light flashed in his eyes as he clenched his fist hard.
"Gellert… I'm coming for you."
Feeling the familiar, vast magic flowing through his body again, and the steadily increasing harmony between his soul and flesh, Andros threw his head back and let out a long howl. Then his consciousness sank into the study space.
"Gellert Grindelwald, get out here!"
"You had the guts to take advantage of me when I was down, so don't run now! Come out and fight me for thirty rounds!"
He was still far from his peak, but he had crossed the crucial threshold. Being able to attach his will to his spells was already enough.
He was confident he could hang Grindelwald up and beat him senseless.
But that bastard had run off right after taking advantage, leaving him fuming and shouting into empty space, cursing nonstop.
"What are you yelling for? Even if you scream your lungs out, Grindelwald won't appear. He's not an idiot."
Morgan showed up with a yawn, her gaze unfriendly.
Andros immediately behaved himself. His invincible aura vanished, replaced by a sheepish smile. "Lady Morgan, sorry for disturbing you, but I'm really furious… that old G is shameless. He kept rubbing it in while I was weak."
"Tom taught him that," Morgan snorted. "Rotten at the top, rotten below. All of you are learning bad habits. Only Rowena and I remain unsullied."
"Hm....."
"Andros, I've got an idea for you."
Morgan's eyes flickered, and mischief surfaced. "Grindelwald is hiding from you, right? Then target his old flame. Go stir up trouble at Hogwarts. Push Dumbledore into a corner, and he'll definitely seek Grindelwald's help. Wouldn't that achieve your goal?"
Andros laughed awkwardly. "Lady Morgan, I only just crossed the threshold of century-level. I'm still far from my peak. Beating up Gellert alone is fine, but adding Dumbledore… I can't manage that yet."
"How about you help me think of a way to recover faster?"
The early phase of soul and body fusion progressed quickly, but once he passed certain key nodes, things slowed down. The body had to undergo adaptive changes to match the soul.
It was like downloading study materials on a computer. The progress bar flew at the start, but once it hit ninety percent, that final ten percent could take several times longer, even dozens of times longer.
"What are you thinking?" Morgan shook her head decisively, as if he'd told a ridiculous joke. "You're already on a fast-track version. When I created those rebellious brats back then, the training cycle was at least five years."
"Andros, the more impatient you get, the easier it is to fall into an irreversible trap. Just wait patiently. Whether you die or not doesn't matter—just don't waste my effort."
Andros apologized repeatedly.
After being scolded head-on by Morgan, he realized that Grindelwald's antics had affected his mindset, making him too impatient.
Right then, Ravenclaw arrived as well, intelligence gleaming in her eyes.
"Andros, what you should be thinking about now isn't restoring your strength," she said calmly. "It's familiarizing yourself with your body and uncovering its potential."
"I've read Tom's research notes on divine power. You can't just passively wait for it to work. You should try to turn it into your own strength, even fully digest it."
"If you can reach that step, the road ahead will be smooth."
Andros nodded thoughtfully, committing her words to memory.
Digging out talent… that was what he did best. He had dominated for a lifetime through raw talent and willpower. No one understood better how to exploit their own advantages.
.
.
.