— — — — — —
Tom had never actually seen anyone else's Obscurus before, but as someone who harbored one himself, he knew exactly what made it powerful.
The factors were simple: the host's innate talent, magical potential, and how long the Obscurus had been growing.
Ariana excelled in all three.
Her Obscurus was without question one of the most developed he'd ever encountered. And with years of suppressed rage now unleashed, it was practically feral.
She stopped holding it back—and even lent it her own strength. The result was terrifying. The connection between her and the Obscurus synced perfectly, their powers feeding off each other. She moved so fast she almost looked like she was Apparating.
Tom had just finished thinking how satisfying it was to see someone else struggling when the black, smoke-like creature surged straight toward Grindelwald.
The shimmering white barrier that protected him shuddered under the onslaught, black and white light clashing violently. Within the training space, a fierce storm howled to life.
Crack!
Under Grindelwald's stunned—but oddly approving—gaze, the white light fractured inch by inch. Then, with a final burst, the Obscurus broke through, wrapping him completely in endless black tendrils. They spun like a tornado for several long seconds before finally dispersing.
The darkness gathered back into a human shape. Ariana reappeared, gasping for breath but eyes shining with exhilaration. When she spotted Tom, she dashed toward him and threw herself into his arms.
"Tom, I did it! I won!"
Tom ruffled her hair with a grin. "That's my girl. See? An Obscurus is just another kind of power—it can be controlled, even used. Watch."
Ariana's eyes widened in shock as Tom released his own Obscurus for the first time. A vast wave of black energy surged upward, coating the ceiling of the study space. Compared to hers, his Obscurus was thicker, denser, wilder.
"To be honest," Tom said, "I never told you this before because I didn't want you to worry. When I summon any of you, I gain part of your abilities. Your Obscurus—" he smiled faintly "—was a gift you gave me."
"Gift…?" Ariana repeated softly, then froze, eyes widening in horror. "Tom! That thing will destroy your body!"
"Relax," he said lightly. "I've already fixed that little issue. I severed the link that lets the Obscurus feed on magic and life force. If you were still alive, I could probably do the same to you."
"Then it's fine," Ariana said, letting out a long breath. Her worried expression melted into a bright smile. "I like things this way. I can stay with you forever now, and the Obscurus can't hurt me anymore. It's so much better than before."
A soft white glow appeared nearby—Grindelwald had reformed, smiling as he watched the two of them.
Within the training space, only Tom had the power to kill; for everyone else, death was temporary. Grindelwald's soul had simply returned to his body, and once the pain faded, he'd re-entered.
He approached the pair. "Congratulations, Ariana. You've graduated as Dark Witch."
"Good fight."
"Hmph!" Ariana stepped away from Tom and raised her chin proudly. "That's nothing. You're still going to be my sparring partner—until I can beat you at your peak!"
"Gladly," Grindelwald said with an easy grin.
Just then, a series of notifications echoed in Tom's mind.
[Ding~]
[Gellert Grindelwald's approval reached 100%. The host has earned one Talent Extraction opportunity.]
[Ariana Dumbledore's approval reached 100%. The host has earned one Talent Extraction opportunity.]
[Drawing rewards...]
[The host has obtained: The Power of Time (Grindelwald)]
[The host has obtained: Antioch Peverell's Transfiguration Talent (Dumbledore).]
[Three personal mentors have reached 100% approval. System requirements met for an upgrade. The upgrade will take seven days. Please wait patiently.]
---
As the final message finished, the study space froze in time, and Tom's consciousness was forcibly ejected.
"Wait—seven days? Seriously?"
He rubbed his temples. The system didn't waste time; the moment the requirements were met, it jumped straight into an upgrade—and apparently a long one.
So he couldn't enter the study space for a week?
He tried anyway, only to get a notification that the space was under maintenance—with a visible countdown timer, just to mock him.
He tested other features. The Turbo Mode still worked, but "Jinchūriki Mode" was locked.
"Well, fine. Seven days it is." He sighed, though he couldn't help feeling curious about what the upgraded system would be like.
For now, he decided to check out his new talents.
The one that caught his eye first was Grindelwald's Power of Time. When he activated it, it felt strangely similar to when he'd gained Merlin's magical perception—his vision shimmered, and the world seemed to shift.
Images flickered before him, fragmented scenes of things that hadn't yet happened.
He saw himself walking into the bathroom in fifteen minutes. Then, half an hour later, lying down to sleep.
But the visions shifted again. The bathroom part stayed the same—but after that, dozens of branches appeared: he might read until two in the morning, or experiment with a spell, or just fall asleep early. So many possibilities that his mind began to ache before the ability shut itself off.
"Divination… prophecy… or time itself?" Tom muttered.
Rubbing his eyes, he went to the bathroom early—just to test it—then began analyzing the talent.
Grindelwald had once described his power as prophecy, a gift rather than a spell. It wasn't like ordinary divination. In his early years, the visions came uncontrolled—he'd glimpse scattered images of events without context or timing. That's how he'd known the Elder Wand was with Gregorovitch and managed to seize it.
As he grew stronger, his control over the visions improved, allowing him to read multiple potential outcomes.
But those were just possibilities. The future could splinter into hundreds, thousands of branches—and it was up to him to discern which was real.
By contrast, Trelawney's prophecies were constants—fixed points that almost certainly came true, unless someone like Tom intervened to alter them.
Yet the system had clearly labeled this power as the Power of Time, not Prophecy.
So had Grindelwald misunderstood his own gift? Or had the system enhanced it further?
Tom guessed the latter. Especially since Ariana's reward—the Transfiguration Talent of Antioch Peverell—wasn't a coincidence.
The name tickled a memory. Antioch Peverell... the eldest of the three brothers from The Tale of the Three Brothers.
Which meant the system wasn't just handing out copied abilities—it was amplifying them. Maybe not to the absurd degree of the Twelve Trials, but still significantly.
So that would mean... the Dumbledores might actually descend from the Peverell line—making them distant relatives of the Potters.
And Slytherin's heirloom, the Resurrection Stone, belonged to the second brother.
So basically, the entire British wizarding world was one big dysfunctional family feud.
Having sorted that out in his head, Tom realized fifteen minutes had passed—right on schedule. He chuckled to himself. "Well, it's accurate, at least."
He lay back in bed and pulled two books from his pocket dimension, both dealing with wizards' theories about time.
---
The next morning
When Tom woke, he deliberately focused on his new ability, testing the flow of time around him. Five minutes later—just as footsteps approached—he opened the door a second before Fleur could knock.
The girl froze mid-motion, hand raised.
"How did you know I was coming?"
"I didn't," Tom said casually. "I just heard footsteps." He shrugged off the question and added, "Go wash up—Newt'll be back any minute."
"Oh! Right. I left my hair clips here." Fleur drifted into the room like a breeze, quickly spotting the two butterfly-shaped clips she'd bought a few days ago while they were out shopping.
...
Breakfast was simple: rye bread that Fleur had baked yesterday at Jacob's bakery.
"So? How is it?" she asked, a little nervous. She thought it tasted fine herself, but Tom's opinion mattered more.
"Pretty good," he said with a nod. "You brought out the flavor nicely. Would've been even better fresh from the oven."
Tina smiled approvingly from across the table. "You're learning fast, Fleur. Keep it up and you'll be a great baker."
Fleur beamed. "Then tomorrow I'll bake again—fresh this time! It'll be even better."
"Let's do it together," Tom said. "You can show me how."
Her grin widened. "Deal."
Watching the two of them exchange smiles and soft words, Tina felt a tiny sting of jealousy.
She remembered how hard she'd once worked to cook something nice for Newt. He'd loved it, sure, but Newt had never been this smooth. Tom didn't just accept Fleur's kindness—he matched it, even added to it. Always giving just the right amount of emotional return.
Newt, on the other hand, still hadn't changed after all these years. Every morning, the first thing he did was run off to feed his creatures…
The thought made Tina unconsciously bend the spoon in her hand.
They finished the meal with onion soup, and as Tom swallowed the last piece of bread, he suddenly smiled.
"He's back."
Newt had crossed half the globe for this trip—all for Tom's sake, really. So Tom took Fleur to the door to welcome his weary benefactor home.
Barely two minutes later, a taxi pulled up. Out stepped Newt Scamander, covered in travel dust, looking both surprised and suspicious.
"You weren't waiting for me out here all morning, were you?" he asked. "And why is Fleur with you?"
He assumed Tom had been too eager to see the panda and had dragged her along.
Tom chuckled. "No, we just happened to come out. You were about to arrive anyway."
Once they returned home, Tina reheated breakfast for Newt, who wolfed it down gratefully before joining Tom in the pocket world.
He was just about to release his collection of magical creatures when Tom stopped him.
"Hold off on the panda for a sec. There's something I want to ask first."
Newt's face immediately tensed. "What is it this time? You've already gone after dragons, thunderbirds, basilisks,… you're not about to ask for a Qilin, are you?"
He half meant it as a joke—but if that really was the case, he could've brought one on his way back.
Tom shook his head. "It's not about a magical creature."
He pointed upward, toward the ceiling. "It's about Tina. What happened at the Ministry of Magic? How could things get so bad that she had to leave?"
Newt froze. Then, unusually for him, his expression hardened. "Tom, that's an adult matter. We'll handle it. You don't need to worry."
Tom gave him a grin that made Newt instantly uneasy. "Maybe. But it's my matter now too. Someone came after my people—you really expect me to just sit and watch?"
When Newt didn't answer, Tom added, "If you don't tell me, I'll go to the Ministry tomorrow and ask them myself. My Potions professor gave me a nice batch of Veritaserum recently."
A low growl filled the air.
Sensing his master's agitation, Usaki—the dragon currently playing in the pocket world—shot toward them, eyes glowing like molten gold, the air thick with its aura.
"Whoa, easy!" Newt yelped, quickly backing up to block the exit. "Tom, calm down! It's just political tension, nothing worth—well, this."
Tom's expression didn't soften. "Then tell me what's going on. I can decide for myself whether it's worth it."
Newt sighed heavily. He hadn't planned on explaining—he knew Tom too well. The boy didn't take insults lightly, and he definitely didn't tolerate anyone hurting the people he cared about. His way of solving problems tended to be… explosive.
But with Tom waiting expectantly and clearly not planning to leave without an answer, Newt realized he didn't have a choice.
So, after a long pause, he began to talk.
.
.
.