Unless a variable like Tom interfered, the outcome of a true prophecy was almost certain.
Yet the system had clearly labeled his reward as Time Affinity, not prophetic sight.
Had Grindelwald failed to grasp the distinction? Or had the system refined the talent further?
Tom leaned toward the latter.
After all, Ariana's reward had been titled Antioch Peverell's Transfiguration Talent.
That name felt both distant and familiar. It took him a moment to place it.
Antioch Peverell. The eldest of the Three Brothers in the Deathly Hallows legend.
If the system enhanced talents that reached one hundred percent recognition, then perhaps it also clarified their origins.
Which meant…
The Dumbledore family might descend from Antioch Peverell.
By extension, they would be distant kin to the Potters. And Slytherin's line possessed the Resurrection Stone, the artifact of the second brother.
So in the end, half of Britain's magical history traced back to one eccentric family of brothers.
Tom finished untangling that thread of thought just as fifteen minutes elapsed.
He had indeed gone to the bathroom precisely as foreseen.
Accurate.
Back in bed, he retrieved two thick volumes from his small world, treatises on temporal theory written by obscure wizards who had flirted with dangerous ideas.
He had always avoided the subject of time.
There was a principle he never forgot.
Those who toy with time are ultimately devoured by it.
Until one possessed sufficient strength, certain taboos were better left untouched.
But now avoidance was no longer an option.
He did not need to manipulate time recklessly, but he had to master this gift.
He let out a quiet chuckle.
He had just confirmed another fragment of the future he had glimpsed.
...
The next morning.
Tom deliberately activated his Time Affinity upon waking.
Five minutes later, just before Fleur's knuckles tapped the door, he opened it himself.
She froze.
"How did you know I was about to knock?"
"I didn't. I heard your footsteps." He shrugged casually. "Go wash up. Uncle Newt should be back soon."
"Oh. I left my hairpins in here."
Fleur drifted inside and quickly found the two butterfly clips she had bought during their outing.
Breakfast consisted of rye bread she had baked at Jacob's bakery the day before.
"Well?" she asked with hopeful eyes.
She liked it. But what mattered was whether he did.
"It's very good," Tom said sincerely. "The aroma of the grain is fully released. It would be even better fresh from the oven."
Tina nodded approvingly. "Fleur learns quickly. She'll be a fine cook one day. Queenie asked me to bring her over again."
"Then tomorrow I'll bake it fresh for you," Fleur declared brightly. "It will taste even better."
"We'll make it together," Tom replied. "You can teach me."
"Deal."
Tina watched the exchange with faint envy.
She remembered the effort she once poured into cooking for Newt. He had appreciated it deeply.
But Newt was not like Tom.
Tom never dismissed affection. He accepted it and returned it in kind. He added value to every gesture.
Newt, on the other hand, would wake each morning and rush to his creatures first.
Tina's spoon bent in her hand before she realized it.
...
They finished the bread with onion soup.
Tom smiled faintly.
He's back.
Newt had traveled across half the globe largely because of him. Tom led Fleur to the front entrance to greet their benefactor.
Barely two minutes after stepping outside, a weary Newt descended from a taxi.
He stared at Tom in surprise.
"You were waiting for me? And you brought flowers?"
He assumed Tom was eager to see the panda.
"No. Fleur and I just stepped out. Your timing is impeccable."
Inside, Tina reheated breakfast for Newt. He devoured it quickly before following Tom into the small world.
He was about to release his latest acquisition when Tom raised a hand.
"The panda can wait. I have a different question."
Newt's expression tightened. "What creature are you after this time?"
Thunderbirds. Basilisks. Pandas. What next? A Qilin?
If you wanted one, you should have told me. I could have visited an old friend.
"It's not about creatures."
Tom pointed upward.
"What happened at MACUSA? What forced Aunt Tina to resign?"
Newt froze.
His demeanor shifted from mild to serious.
"Tom. That is adult business. We will handle it."
"It may be adult business. But it concerns me."
Tom's smile did not reach his eyes.
"If someone has pushed their way to your doorstep, you expect me to stand idle?"
"If you don't tell me, I'll go to MACUSA tomorrow and ask personally. Professor Snape gifted me quite a supply of Veritaserum."
A sharp screech echoed overhead.
Usagii, sensing its master's rising mood, swooped down. Its dragon eyes narrowed, pressure radiating outward.
"Calm down!" Newt stepped back, blocking the exit instinctively. "Tom, please. It's only political disagreement. It hasn't reached that point."
"Explain it first. I can judge for myself."
Newt sighed.
He had hoped to spare Tom the details precisely because he knew the boy's temperament.
Tom did not tolerate injustice.
He never allowed his own to suffer without retaliation.
And his retaliation was never mild.
But faced with that unyielding gaze, Newt realized there was no hiding it now.
Reluctantly, he began to speak.
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