— — — — — —
After getting Dumbledore's promise, Tom left the office completely satisfied.
On the way back, he was still arguing with Grindelwald. The old man was stubborn, always saying that 'Tom shouldn't go anywhere near Newt fuckin Scamander. That guy was bad news.'
Tom, watching Grindelwald getting all worked up, couldn't help but feel the man had completely misread his role in this story. "Mr. Grindelwald, let's be clear about something. You were the villain back then. I'm Dumbledore's student. Doesn't that technically put me on Scamander's side by default?"
"But you're my student too!" Grindelwald said with heartfelt frustration. "Dumbledore's just a figurehead! What has he actually taught you? Nothing!"
"I, on the other hand," he pressed on, "taught you how to use Fiendfyre—and not just that, I've been busting my ass helping you create new spells. If we're talking about who's closer to you, isn't it obvious?"
Tom rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore is the one who defeated you, and you were fine with me going to him. But when it comes to Scamander? Suddenly that's a no-go? Where's your Black Mage serenity, huh?"
"It's not just because he caught me in New York," Grindelwald seethed. "Or that he stole my blood pact in Paris… Or that he brought the real Qilin..... not even because....."
The more he listed, the less confident Tom felt. From Grindelwald's perspective, yeah… Scamander was kind of a menace.
But then Grindelwald said something that really widened Tom's eyes.
Grindelwald gritted his teeth. "Those are just the highlights. You have no idea how many times he ruined my plans after I declared war on the wizarding world."
"Thirteen times!" he practically shouted. "I was tangled up with Dumbledore, and he was out there running around with all his bizarre magical creatures, constantly messing up my operations!"
"It's not just me—anyone from the old crew hates him. Why do you think he hasn't shown his face in continental Europe in years? UK, US—fine. But France? Germany? Italy? Not a chance."
"If he did, the next morning there'd be a mob ready to Avada Kedavra him a hundred times over."
Tom let out a sharp breath. He nearly missed a step on the stairs.
He only knew the surface-level stories—he had no idea Newt had done that much damage. The guy didn't just mess up Grindelwald's plans—he even wrecked his entire retirement plan.
Grindelwald sighed deeply. "Look, I ended up in Nurmengard because I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't change the tide. I don't blame anyone for that. But if I do have one regret, it's not killing Scamander before I had that final duel with Dumbledore."
"Thirteen times. Seriously—what a cursed number."
Tom finally recovered from his shock and chuckled. "From where I stand, I have to work with Scamander."
"First time was a dragon. Second time, a unicorn. And what's next?"
"If I ever need to find other rare magical creatures, tell me who's better than Scamander to help with that?"
Grindelwald's eyebrows practically flew off his face. "Is there no end to your talent?"
"Oh, there's an end," Tom nodded earnestly. "But we're not there yet."
That actually shut Grindelwald up.
Because he couldn't argue. When it came to magical creatures, Newt Scamander was in a league of his own.
"…Fine. Just don't let me see that guy when you meet him," Grindelwald grumbled, and with that, he pulled his consciousness out of the study space and returned to his real body in Nurmengard.
Tom smiled helplessly.
Most of the time, Grindelwald was calm and calculating—the mastermind behind everything. But the moment you brought up Dumbledore or Scamander, it was like flipping a switch. Especially with Scamander… he just lost it.
Those two really needed to meet again soon. Get some closure or something.
...
Slytherin Dungeon
"Forever."
Tom said a password, and the serpent carved in the floor slithered upward to reveal the door to the common room.
He hadn't even stepped down the stairs when he heard spells flying and clashing in the distance.
Sure enough, the tables and chairs had been cleared out, and the common room was now a dueling arena. Two younger students were throwing spells at each other while a few upper-years held up a Shield Charm to protect the spectators.
Tom had completely forgotten—it was the first weekend after the start of term. Time for the Shadow prefect re-selections. He'd handed that job off to the seventh-year male prefect, Burke.
In the ring were two fifth-year girls. Imogen Phylis, who tried to be Shadow prefect, had lost the last selection. Today was her shot at redemption.
Clearly, she'd been grinding all semester. Fueled by embarrassment and rage, her spellcasting packed way more punch than her usual practice. Her opponent, the current Shadow prefect Eleanor Isabella, was getting pushed back fast.
Sure enough, Isabella's magic output faltered, her spell fizzled out, and Imogen hit her with a solid Stunner. Down she went.
Imogen clenched her fist in triumph—she'd finally reclaimed her spot.
Burke had two students carry Isabella off, then stepped into the center. "Imogen wins the challenge. She's the new Shadow prefect for fifth year. Any other challengers from the remaining years?"
Cough cough.
Tom cleared his throat and stepped through the crowd.
"Sorry I'm late," he said casually. "Any first-years want to challenge me?"
As he spoke, his gaze just happened to drift toward Malfoy—who immediately yanked Goyle and Crabbe in front of him like human shields.
The room fell dead silent.
What kind of first-year would be stupid enough to challenge Tom?
Even Daphne had been untouchable since last term. She'd been the de facto Shadow prefect.
"Tom, I want to challenge you!"
Everyone turned in surprise—someone had actually spoken up.
It was Burke, and his eyes were full of determination.
Was he trying to rebel after being overshadowed for so long?
Even Tom thought that might be it. Maybe he'd kept too low a profile since last term and Burke had started getting ideas.
Tom's eyes narrowed, quietly assessing him.
Bork Burke quickly realized how that sounded and rushed to clarify. "Tom, I just want to test my current level. I know I can't beat you. But in all of Slytherin, you're the only one worth dueling."
After losing to Tom before, Burke had worked even harder. But it wasn't like Tom had just stood still. With their gap in talent, all Burke's progress only widened the distance between them. He had no illusions—he just wanted a good fight.
Honestly, it wasn't that different from how Tom approached Snape.
Tom studied him for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Let's wait until the challenges are over."
"Pretty sure no one else is stepping up, right?" Burke glanced around, confirming that no one else dared to challenge, then turned back to Tom. "Shall we start?"
The younger students instinctively backed up further, giving them more room.
Tom drew his wand without any unnecessary formalities and gestured for Burke to take the first move.
Burke didn't hesitate. He assumed a low stance and took advantage of his chance to go first—chanting for a full two seconds before finally unleashing a thick jet of black magic from his wand.
Tom raised his hand and, without uttering a single word, countered with a silent spell—shooting out a red beam of magic.
The red light clashed with the black midair. They held for half a second before the black magic was overpowered and forced back. It shot straight back at Burke, who could only watch in horror as it hit him squarely.
Fortunately, most of the power had already been eaten up by Tom's spell. The remaining force only sent Burke crashing lightly into the wall before fading away.
Tom dispersed his magic at just the right moment.
Sliding to the floor, shaken, Burke gave a wry smile as he looked up at the boy who had already held his wand.
It was complete magical domination—raw power and flawless control. The gap between them was even wider than Burke had imagined.
The onlookers were stunned into silence.
Last time, Burke had at least held his own for a bit. But now? One move and he was done for?
Some of the more cunning students were already thinking about how to get on Tom's good side.
---
The next day, Tom received a letter from Dumbledore: the message had been sent.
Considering the Atlantic Ocean stood between the UK and America, it would take at least a week or two for the letter to arrive, and the same again for a reply. Tom wasn't expecting any answers soon.
But the unicorn issue wasn't urgent. There was no time limit on this trial, so he could focus on other matters for now.
...
Meanwhile, the letter Daphne had sent to her family reached the Greengrass estate the very next day.
After reading the contents, Lady Greengrass could hardly believe her eyes.
She had never even heard of such a miraculous potion. And even if something like it did exist, there was no way a first-year student should be able to make it.
…Not even the other evil Riddle had done that.
But Daphne had been clear — she'd used it herself and said the effects were remarkable.
Even if it didn't cure anything, it wouldn't harm her sister. At worst, it would be like giving her a health supplement.
After rereading it twice, Lady Greengrass finally took the letter and the potion to Astoria's room.
Tom had no reason to harm Astoria. And Daphne would never endanger her own sister. As Daphne had said, it couldn't hurt—even if it didn't help. So there was no reason not to try it.
"Mother? Why are you here?" Astoria asked, lying on her bed, flipping through the fashion magazine Tom had given her for Christmas.
"This is a letter from Daphne. Read it."
Astoria's eyes lit up as she took the letter, but her smile gradually faded into calm composure as she read.
"Well… if big sis says it works, I guess I'll try it."
It wasn't that she didn't trust Daphne—it was just that she'd tried so many things already. Different methods, remedies, potions… none of them ever really helped.
She had stopped getting her hopes up.
"Try these moves first. Once you've got the hang of them, then take the potion," her mother said gently.
Tom hadn't trusted words alone to explain the movements clearly, so he'd included a hand-drawn animated chart, enhanced with magic.
A little stick figure demonstrated all kinds of strange poses. Astoria couldn't help but giggle at it.
Obediently, she got out of bed and mimicked the figure's motions. By the time she finished the set, she was panting for breath, and Lady Greengrass looked on with heartache.
Could Astoria really handle life at Hogwarts like this?
After resting for a while and catching her breath, Astoria finally picked up the potion and downed it in one go.
The strange thickness and indescribable taste made her wrinkle her nose, but moments later, just as the letter had said, a wave of heat surged through her body. She felt energy and vitality in her limbs—like nothing she had ever known.
"It… really worked?"
Astoria's eyes lit up in delight, and Lady Greengrass jumped to her feet, overwhelmed with joy.
"Quick! Do the movements again to help the potion settle in!"
...
Fifteen minutes later, Astoria completed the full set twice in a row.
This time, she wasn't even out of breath—in fact, her cheeks were glowing with healthy color.
"It worked… It really worked!"
Lady Greengrass pulled her daughter into a tight hug, tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks.
She had never imagined that help for her daughter would come from a first-year Hogwarts student.
"Mom… I feel great," Astoria said, her voice soft and sweet, a joyful smile spreading across her face.
For the first time, she felt truly alive. No more getting exhausted from walking just a few steps, no more lying in bed day after day.
Right now, all she wanted was to go outside, stretch her legs, and live.
But the weather was too cold, and Lady Greengrass refused to allow it.
She promised her daughter that once the weather improved, she could go out and enjoy herself. Only then did Astoria stop pouting.
After settling her daughter, Lady Greengrass left the room.
Daphne had mentioned the potion cost five thousand Galleons.
Lady Greengrass didn't think that was expensive—if anything, it was a bargain.
Of course, they still couldn't say for sure if the potion had truly broken the curse. For now, it just made Astoria feel better.
But that was more than enough. She would gladly keep buying it—to ensure her daughter remained in her best condition.
So… did they need a sphinx's eye?
The Greengrass family had plenty of rare ingredients, but something like that—especially one with a shelf life— wasn't suitable for long-term storage. The ones they had were just taxidermy specimens, no longer usable in potion-making.
Finding a fresh one would be tricky. Rare materials like that weren't exactly sold over the counter—and some were on the edge of legality.
After thinking for a while, Lady Greengrass made up her mind.
She walked over to a cabinet, let a drop of blood fall onto the lock, and opened one of the compartments. From a thick stack of parchment, she carefully pulled out a single sheet.
.
.
.
OG A/N: (Just a quick note on magical power in Harry Potter)
The original books never gave us a clear, quantified system for measuring magical power. However, there are plenty of references to magical pressure and suggestions that power can increase with age—so it's fair to say that magic could be quantified. JK Rowling just never laid out a standard system for it.
I hope you still like the story.