— — — — — —
Many of the guests stared, wide-eyed. None of them had expected the Rosier family to make a move so early.
No wonder, after Tom's article was published, the Rosiers didn't get angry—instead, they immediately ran a follow-up piece thanking Tom for his rational and objective analysis, indirectly confirming that all of his information was accurate.
Even the few families with Muggle ancestry publicly admitted it.
Turns out there had been a secret deal behind the scenes.
Compared to the profits they'd gain from being the French distributors of The Codex, admitting to a few Muggle ancestors wasn't a big deal at all.
One wizard suddenly spoke up enthusiastically.
"Mr. Riddle, our family history goes back over eight centuries. We're probably not distinguished enough to make it into your History of the Wizarding World, but we have plenty of records about other prominent families."
"If you're interested, I can send them over sometime."
Tom's eyes lit up. "Mr. Novak, that would be wonderful—thank you."
Novak was from Bohemia, where his surname was one of the most common in the region. His boast about eight hundred years of family history was… generous. Tom figured it was probably closer to four or five centuries at most.
Still, if it was useful, he wasn't about to turn it down.
In fact, this was exactly what he'd wanted—using the Rosier family to draw others out, tempting them to participate, and cleverly using History as a way to spread his influence even further. This would speed up the progress of his task considerably.
With Novak setting the example, many others quickly caught on and offered their own support.
By the end of the night, Tom had gotten everything he'd hoped for—not just several distributors lined up, but also a partial solution to his material supply issues.
Before the party ended, Nicolas gathered everyone for a group photograph.
He stayed out of the frame—after all, the outside world still believed Nicolas Flamel was dead. Tom, however, was seated dead center, surrounded by a circle of the wizarding world's brightest stars.
The photo would soon appear on the front pages of newspapers everywhere, building hype for The Codex before its official launch.
...
"Tired?"
As the last guest left, Tom gently brushed Fleur's hair out of her face. She looked exhausted. A reception of this caliber was still too much for her—she'd been tense the entire evening, terrified of embarrassing Tom.
"I'm fine," Fleur said, shaking her head. "You're the one who had to keep smiling and talking all night."
Tom chuckled. "Then we've both earned some rest. Come on, let's head back."
Fleur nodded, took his hand, and the two of them Flooed back to the Delacour manor.
Seeing Tom tired, the Delacours insisted he spend the night with them, and Tom agreed.
— — —
A few days later, the photo appeared on the front page of major newspapers across multiple countries, all bearing the same bold headline: {They Will Change the World.}
Most witches and wizards might not recognize everyone in the picture, but they could certainly pick out one or two faces—famous figures in their country or even internationally.
Take Madame Maxime, for example. No Beauxbatons graduate from the last twenty years could fail to recognize her.
The others were either renowned scholars, high-ranking Ministry officials, or influential witches and wizards—people who often graced the news.
But what shocked readers most was that, in a room full of such powerful figures, the most prominent seat was given to… a kid.
{Mr. Riddle, the wizarding world's latest rising academic star, is well known for his deep understanding of magical history and his bold proposal for redefining pure-blood lineage.}
{What few know, however, is that this brilliant young man is also an astonishingly talented alchemist. This gathering was, in fact, a world-class alchemy summit.}
{.....}
The reports sang Tom's praises and lauded the guests as leading minds, but carefully avoided saying what the meeting had actually been about. They only hinted that something big was coming, expertly fanning public curiosity.
Speculation spread like wildfire.
The Daily Prophet also ran the photograph on its front page, and of course, the article was penned by none other than "famous journalist" Rita Skeeter.
Her headline was characteristically explosive: {The Hidden Hand Behind the Wizarding World.}
The entire piece was dripping with conspiracy theory.
It suggested that an invisible hand was secretly manipulating the entire wizarding world, claiming that Tom hadn't been seated at the center because of his own power, but because he was representing "someone else"—a proxy for the true mastermind of this mysterious organization.
She even added details about this "hidden hand," describing him as an old, powerful, and influential man with a famous name. But no clear name, of course.
---
"Hmmm...."
Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses.
That "mastermind"… was she implying him?
He was speechless.
If things were really as the paper suggested—that all those people belonged to this so-called "Hidden Hand," and he was their leader—then the Order of the Phoenix would never have struggled so badly against the Death Eaters back in the war. Many lives would have been saved.
If that much power had been united, they wouldn't just have defeated Voldemort—they could have beaten the Death Eaters into the ground.
So… was that what they meant by "changing the world"?
Dumbledore's eyes shifted to The Codex notebook on his desk—Tom's Christmas gift to him.
The article was, he had to admit, surprisingly fair. And now he finally understood why Nicolas held Tom in such high regard.
As Nicolas's friend, Dumbledore knew what the alchemist truly longed for after having everything else life could offer. This was his best chance—maybe the only chance—to bring alchemy into everyday wizarding life.
Dumbledore just sighed. Tom was truly unstoppable.
The debate over redefining pure-bloods hadn't even cooled down yet, and already Tom was onto his next revolution—and, incidentally, had helped him locate one of Voldemort's Horcruxes along the way.
More and more, Dumbledore found himself doubting the prophecy Sybill Trelawney had made.
Last year, Quirrell. Tom dealt with him.
This year, the diary. It was also Tom.
At this rate, Voldemort might be completely ruined by Tom's schemes before he even gets a chance to make a comeback.
Whenever Dumbledore spoke to the diary, Voldemort never responded. But the moment Tom's name came up, a flood of very elegant F-words would appear, over and over.
Dumbledore had learned much more about Horcruxes recently, though his progress was still slow.
Clearly, he would need Tom's help again after term started.
With that thought, Dumbledore opened his Codex notebook.
— — —
Flamel Manor
Tom quietly opened up his system panel.
Last night, in the middle of his speech, a new task notification had popped up. He hadn't even looked at it—he'd just closed it and promptly forgotten about it. Only now did he remember.
[Task Name: Creator of a New World]
[Task Description: Using your knowledge and vision, you have discovered a new path for the wizarding world. Your invention is crucial, and the future will be built on its foundation.]
[Task Goal: Continue improving and spreading your creation. Rewards will be distributed in stages based on completion. The ultimate reward: one evolution of the Study Space.]
[Current Progress: 0]
Progress at zero was understandable. After all, The Codex wasn't even in a proper beta stage yet—he'd just made a few prototypes and pitched the dream to investors and partners.
But that reward… Tom couldn't quite figure it out.
"Study Space evolution… wait, that can't just mean the usual expansion after summoning a new teacher, right?"
It didn't feel like that. This mission seemed far tougher than the others. The system was clearly saying he had to keep improving The Codex's features. If it stayed as it was now, even if he launched it worldwide, he'd never complete the task.
"If it upgraded my Turbo Mode, that would be perfect," he muttered to himself.
After all, every step he'd taken—whether in potions, alchemy, or pure magic—was thanks to Turbo Mode. Some bottlenecks could trap a wizard for life, but for him, a few sessions were enough to smash through them.
There was no problem in the world that couldn't be solved with enough cheat-mode grinding—and if there was, well, it just meant you hadn't used it enough yet.
Just as Tom was thinking about how he might trigger another large-scale mission, a message from Dumbledore popped up.
『Albus Dumbledore』: Tom, you've put me through the wringer.
『Tom Riddle』: ???
Tom frowned. He hadn't done anything related to Dumbledore lately—was this supposed to be some kind of hint?
『Tom Riddle』: Headmaster, I'm not sure what you mean.
『Albus Dumbledore』: You haven't read today's Daily Prophet, have you?
Tom hadn't. Last night he'd stayed up late having a pillow fight with the half-Veela sisters, and this morning he'd gone straight to analyzing his mission. There hadn't been time for newspapers.
"Parker! Bring me today's Daily Prophet!" Tom shouted into the air.
Seconds later, a house-elf appeared with a stack of newspapers, bowed, and vanished.
Tom didn't even need to flip past the front page. One glance at the photo and headline told him exactly what Dumbledore meant—and he couldn't help laughing.
『Tom Riddle』: You can't blame me for this, Headmaster. If anyone's at fault, it's the British wizards for having too much imagination. The foreign papers were all perfectly reasonable.
『Albus Dumbledore』: Be that as it may, you owe me one—I've just taken a curse for you, Tom.
『Tom Riddle』: …You're hinting at something, aren't you? Just so we're clear, don't dump any messes on me. I've got more than enough of my own problems to deal with.
Dumbledore's sudden attempt to play the "overworked old man" card instantly put Tom on alert.
『Albus Dumbledore』: You're right, I do have a favor to ask. But it can wait until term starts—we'll talk then.
『Tom Riddle』: Fine. I'm going back to enjoying my holiday, then.
『Albus Dumbledore』: Enjoy yourself. Oh, and say hello to Newt and Nicolas for me—have them add me as a friend, while you're at it.
『Tom Riddle』: Sure thing, Professor.
Tom closed the notebook and lay back in bed until Fleur and Gabrielle came to wake him. The three of them headed downstairs together for brunch.
Just as they were finishing, Newt returned from checking on the Whomping Willow, and Tom quickly flagged him down.
"Dumbledore just asked me to tell you to add him as a friend—here's his ID."
Newt took the slip of parchment. "Got it. I'll add him when I get back. Are you heading out today?"
Tom grinned. "Yeah, I pre-ordered a Graphorn Cream Cake two days ago—today's the pickup. I've never tried Graphorn cream before, and I'm really curious why it's called Graphorn cream in the first place."
"Grandpa Newt, you don't have to come with me this time. Nothing's happened these past few days anyway."
Lately, Newt had been following him everywhere, practically acting as a bodyguard—a job Tina had personally assigned him.
Not that it was much of a burden for Newt; he treated it as a nice excuse for a walk.
The real security was handled by the Aurors the Ministry had stationed nearby. With them around, even the most die-hard pure-blood extremists wouldn't get the chance to target Tom without being caught.
So far, nothing had happened at all. Newt was starting to think Tina was worrying too much.
Besides, an old man tagging along with kids all day was bound to cramp their style.
Newt nodded. "All right, I'll stay here. Just stay alert."
Tom agreed, though he didn't think there would be any problems.
But the moment he arrived at the Hidden Market, he realized how wrong he was.
He could feel it—several pairs of eyes watching him from the shadows. He didn't yet know whether it was the Ministry or someone with darker intentions.
Either way, Tom decided to act as if he were unaware.
He smiled, acted perfectly at ease, and led the sisters deeper into the market.
.
.
.