— — — — — —
Monday — Headmaster's office.
Dumbledore stared at the letter in his hands, his expression tangled with complicated emotions.
He'd thought today would be just another ordinary day—but after reading this letter, that thought shattered.
{Dear Albus,}
{I've truly enjoyed my time teaching at Hogwarts. The students here are clever, the staff is friendly, and you've helped me more than I can say.}
{But good times never last. No one knows whether tomorrow or disaster comes first—like what's happening to me now.}
{Even though I'd love to keep working for you—stay here at the school and grow with the students—love hits like a tornado and strips you bare before you can react. Right now is the best time to say goodbye. If I don't leave now… I might never escape.}
{I hope you'll find a better Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Also, please help me deal with that annoying Frank Graves. And tell him, I'll take good care of Solen.}
{—Your loyal Laos Wilkinson}
{P.S. Albus, be careful of Ilvermorny. There's an infectious vampire named Lester. Frank brought him from North America.}
{P.P.S. Don't forget this month's salary. Just drop it directly into my Gringotts account.}
"…"
"...."
"What the hell?"
Dumbledore inhaled deeply through his nose.
Was Voldemort's curse really this vicious?
At the very end of the school year, yet again, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had bolted. That alone wasn't new—he'd grown used to this miserable routine over the years.
But the rest of the letter—that was the real bombshell.
Between the lines, Dumbledore could see it clearly: Laos had eloped… and he'd taken Solen, Ilvermorny's own professor, with him.
From the tone, was she pregnant or what?
And that last warning—a vampire named Lester, brought over by Ilvermorny?
A murderous aura flickered for just an instant. The old man's eyes narrowed. Rare anger stirred in him.
But even if he wanted to drag Frank in for questioning, he had no grounds. A few words in a runaway professor's letter weren't evidence.
---
Great Hall — Right before exams.
The air was tight with tension. Many students were shoving food into their mouths with one hand while desperately cramming last-minute notes with the other.
Tom, on the other hand, was zoning out.
Laos had reported his plan to run, sure—but Tom hadn't expected him to snatch Solen this easily.
"Maybe when I suggested he use Snape's No. 69 potion, it completed the last piece. Does that make me a collaborator?"
Tom then shook the impure thoughts out of his head. He was too young for that stuff anyway.
"That Vampire..."
For the vampire Lester—Laos had only mentioned him to Dumbledore after Tom gave the nod.
Tom knew much more than what was written in that polite little letter.
The vampire wasn't brought here by Frank, and Solen knew it too.
Lester Howell—clearly a German surname—was a half-blood born from a vampire-human union.
And in this world, vampires weren't the elegant aristocrats from novels and films. They were… grotesque. So an interspecies pairing like this was something akin to Hagrid's birth story—requiring a downright heroic level of courage.
There had been rare cases of vampires and humans producing offspring before, but Lester was different. He not only had a wizard's spellcasting talent but also vampire agility and an affinity for dark energy.
The worst part? He only fed on wizards. He could easily tell a wizard apart from a Muggle at a glance, and he could infect others—those bitten by him would also develop bloodlust.
Solen's intel went only that far. She had been ordered by Ilvermorny's headmaster, Agilbert Fontaine, to bring Lester to Britain and abandon him here. Why? Solen didn't know.
Tom couldn't tell if running away was Laos's decision or Solen's… but he didn't care.
He just gave Laos a simple warning to be careful, then stepped back. Laos could make his own choices.
Now about the Vampire, Tom was pretty sure the information was genuine—but what exactly was Agilbert Fontaine planning? Was this his own scheme…?
Or… was the American wizarding world backing him—hoping to throw Britain into chaos?
The truth was wrapped in fog. Tom didn't feel like untangling it.
So he tossed the headache to Dumbledore instead.
Tom glanced up at the staff table. Several seats were empty. Frank, completely unaware that his fiancée had just eloped, was still eating breakfast leisurely.
When the exam session started and all students headed to their respective halls, Frank finally noticed Solen was nowhere to be seen.
Even if Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo professors didn't need to invigilate exams, it was strange for Solen to vanish the entire morning.
Frank hurried to Solen's quarters and banged on the door. No answer.
Growing anxious, he grabbed his wand.
"Alohomora!"
The door swung open. Frank rushed in—and froze.
The room was empty. Aside from the standard furniture, everything personal was gone. On the desk lay two letters.
Frank snatched one and read it. His hands began to shake.
It was from Solen, saying their engagement was just a political arrangement between families. She had no feelings for Frank. Laos was her true love.
Frank's eyes went bloodshot as he picked up the second slip of parchment.
Calling it a letter was generous. It was just one line.
{Yep. We have a child.}
"WILKINSON!!!"
Frank lost it.
He stormed toward the Headmaster's office. The commotion was so loud that even students sitting exams could hear it echo through the corridors.
By evening, while no one knew all the details, everyone knew at least this much: a certain professor had gone completely mad because his fiancée ran off with another man. He had even shouted in Dumbledore's office before being carried out horizontally.
Dumbledore's official explanation was that Professor Graves had fainted due to emotional distress. He just needed a couple of days of rest.
The three schools exploded with gossip. The Ilvermorny students were thunderstruck.
They came for a two-month exchange program… and their professor got stolen?!
Ravenclaw's Roger Davies looked awestruck. "Professor Wilkinson is my hero…"
"What, you planning to steal someone's fiancée too?" another boy laughed.
"Of course not."
Roger Davis shook his head rapidly. "I just admire his courage—the way he chased love and freedom."
"I think it's the curse," Penelope chimed in, lowering her voice mysteriously. "No one's ever lasted a full year in that position. I really thought Professor Wilkinson would be the exception. But no… he still fell before the year ended."
"Well, technically he didn't last a full year. Lockhart blocked the curse halfway for him, remember?"
"Well, I've never seen a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher make it into a second school year. Have you?" Penelope shot back.
"Forget us—even my parents have never met one who did. Honestly, props to Dumbledore. He somehow finds a replacement every year."
The students' chatter grew louder and louder. Frank wasn't around, but even McGonagall's patience had limits. She tapped her throat lightly with her wand and let out two sharp coughs. The hall quieted instantly.
"Focus. You still have exams tomorrow," she said, though even she was silently cursing Laos. He could've run earlier. Or later. But no, he had to pick the one moment guaranteed to unsettle the students.
For the next few days, Frank was nowhere to be seen.
He only reappeared the day after exams ended, face like stone, eerily reminiscent of Snape. Without a word, he gathered the Ilvermorny students and led them out of Hogwarts.
"I honestly thought he went to hunt down Professor Wilkinson," Daphne muttered beside Tom as they watched the Ilvermorny group leave from the Astronomy Tower.
Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Professor Wilkinson vanished into who-knows-where. Frank is unfamiliar with everything here. Even if he wanted revenge, he wouldn't know where to start. And even if he did find them, one guy against two professors? Not happening."
"Fair point." Daphne nodded, then shifted topics smoothly. "What was Vole whispering to you earlier?"
Tom answered truthfully. "She said if I ever visit North America, I should contact her. She'll buy me a meal."
"Oh, do not believe that, Tom." Daphne seized the chance to throw shade at Cassandra. "She's been pretending to be nice lately. If you actually go looking for her, she'll probably show up with a squad just to ambush you."
Tom smiled and nodded, not bothering to argue.
In reality, Cassandra had only given him a mailing address and said he could write if he ever ended up in North America. Dropping by in person? Not a chance. Cassandra knew her family too well. If Tom dared to set foot in their manor, there would be only two possible outcomes: either he'd get thrown out headfirst, or the Vole estate would be leveled.
"They're gone now. Forget about them and come walk with me," Daphne said, looping her arm through his.
"Sure. Let's visit the Whomping Willow," Tom replied, making the girl beam.
...
The days after exams were probably the slowest Tom had ever experienced, because the Order of Merlin, First Class award ceremony had been scheduled for the end-of-year feast.
He'd basically given up on studying for now. Days were spent drifting between a few girls, evenings spent in his study space chatting lazily with the two old men and Ariana.
Grindelwald and Ariana's approval meters were both stuck at 99. Just one last nudge and they'd be maxed.
Tom already understood the final condition: Ariana had to willingly acknowledge the Obscurus and use it—and defeat Grindelwald. That moment would likely be when both of them finally hit full acceptance.
And judging by how she'd been secretly practicing controlling the Obscurus lately… it wouldn't be long.
...
Finally, after Slytherin crushed Hufflepuff and secured their third straight Quidditch victory, the school term reached its final day.
The Great Hall was once again dressed in that silver-and-green combination the other three houses hated and Slytherin adored. This year wasn't like last year either. Last year, Dumbledore had nearly snatched victory away from them by awarding last-minute points to Gryffindor. This year, Slytherin's score was overwhelming, practically filling the entire hourglass display.
Dumbledore entered in a fresh silver robe, just as the feast appeared on the tables.
"Eat, children, enjoy this beautiful evening," he said cheerfully before sitting beside McGonagall, the two whispering quietly.
"Are you really going to announce it now? Personally, I think sending letters during the holiday would be a kinder method," Dumbledore murmured.
McGonagall's face was firm. "Albus, you know very well some students will claim they 'never saw the letter' over the summer. They'll always find an excuse. You have to say it while they're all here to listen."
"Ah, perhaps you're right…" Dumbledore glanced over the hall with a sigh. Many students were laughing, swapping plans for their two-and-a-half-month holiday, arranging meetups and trips.
Happy, aren't they?
Some of them would probably be crying soon.
When the plates finally cleared, everyone assumed Dumbledore would announce the House Cup winner. Instead, he raised a hand.
"Please be patient. We have a group of special guests arriving shortly."
Special guests?
There was no time to speculate. The heavy oak doors swung open, and Cornelius Fudge strode in with a dozen wizards dressed in their finest. He was a familiar face from the newspapers, and many students recognized him instantly.
Dumbledore went up to greet him with a warm hug. Photographers clicked away rapidly, capturing the moment.
Standing near the high table, Dumbledore projected his voice clearly. "Let us welcome our Minister for Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge!"
Fudge smiled with that polished friendliness every politician practiced and waved to the four long tables.
Tonight's true focus was Tom, but that didn't stop Fudge from soaking up some attention before the award.
"It's an honor to return to Hogwarts, especially for such an uplifting occasion," Fudge said cheerfully. "The wizards accompanying me tonight are all members of the Order of Merlin. Each of them is a pillar of our magical society. We have gathered here to recognize the contributions of Tom Riddle to the wizarding world and to present him with the First Class Order of Merlin!"
All eyes shifted to Tom in an instant.
Under the weight of a thousand stares, Tom rose and walked toward the high table.
.
.
.
Author's Note:
Just to clarify a few things: Solen's role is mainly to push the North American plotline forward and to keep the DADA curse in play. As long as Voldemort is still around, nobody gets to walk away from that position cleanly—there always has to be a reason.
And don't worry about me discarding characters. Main characters—and even the original characters I've actually taken the time to develop—aren't going to be tossed aside.