— — — — — —
『Tom Riddle』: ???
『Tom Riddle』: You... you are a legend
Tom always thought Laos Wilkinson's head was a little off.
He never showed any obvious interest in women. But the moment the Graves family came up, though, he went from zero to obsessed like he'd taken something.
And now Solen—an absolute knockout, all curves in exactly the right places, every inch of her radiating sensuality—and Laos had won her over in a single night? Madness.
『Laos Wilkinson』: Even if you're my boss you can't slander me! I'm innocent, I swear!
『Tom Riddle』: I haven't even started, and you're already on the defensive—tsk, tsk. But fine, I'll let that slide. So, you and that Frank... is all this because of his uncle?
『Laos Wilkinson』: No. I had it out with his uncle before I even started having problems with this kid. In first year I put a Confundus Charm near the girls' bathroom. Frank walked in, got beaten up, almost got a school record for it.
『Tom Riddle』: ...So you and the Graves family are at odds, targeting them on purpose.
『Laos Wilkinson』: What can I say, it's like Gryffindor and Slytherin. We're just born not to get along. We're from Germany, they're from Spain. Back then our ancestors fought like lunatics, and it's turned into a feud that keeps going.
『Laos Wilkinson』: It's just... our branch of the family went into decline the last few generations, haven't produced many talents. We've had to sit tight.
"I think you're the one who's talented," Tom murmured.
Laos might not be the strongest, but his mouth and his brain were both far sharper than the rigid-minded wizards Tom usually dealt with.
Or maybe... American wizards just operate differently?
North America looked like the most closed-off region, with laws still banning wizard-muggle marriage. But in reality American wizarding society was the most adaptable and free. Tina and the things Laos had mentioned proved that.
Laos explained the relationship among the three of them.
He, Frank and Solen had all been classmates. From schooldays on, he and Frank had been at each other's throats, often brawling. Frank had an uncle who was a professor, though, and Laos usually came out on the losing end.
Back then, Solen had been as round as a roasted meatball. Her family was well-off, but no one really wanted to hang out with her. Still, she couldn't stand watching Laos take Frank's punches, so she stepped in to defend him a few times.
『Tom Riddle』: How did she change so much? She even became Frank's fiancée.
『Tom Riddle』: How many times did you sleep with her?
『Laos Wilkinson』: Boss, don't be crude. I just want to repay a debt. She helped me a few times back then. Now it's my turn to do something for her.
『Tom Riddle』: Is it her you want, or the boost that comes from being Graves' fiancée?
『Laos Wilkinson』: Heh, both. The latter's a buff, gives me more motivation. But still, she is hot.
『Tom Riddle』: If you need a love potion, tell me. Or go to Snape, ask for potion No. 69
『Laos Wilkinson』: Potion No. 69? That's a damn good name
『Tom Riddle』: Now, business.
『Tom Riddle』: That Frank is odd. I tried to probe his memories with Legilimency and almost got caught. Not sure if he's good at Occlumency or if he used something else.
Legilimency was one of those spells that didn't care much about relative power. And Tom wasn't an expert at Legilimency either, so his effort didn't yield returns proportional to his investment.
If only he could draw a "Queenie-level" Legilimency talent in the gacha.
『Laos Wilkinson』: Got it, boss. I know Frank. He's one of the Graves family's favored wizards, stronger than me for sure, but he's not as sharp as I am. Don't worry, I'll strip him bare.
...
While the two of them were scheming about how to metaphorically strip Frank, Frank himself was fuming.
The dormitory Hogwarts had assigned them was a wreck, everything that could be smashed had been smashed.
"That's too far! That's too far!"
"Dumbledore actually hired that idiot Laos? He just defended him earlier, as if he holds no regard for us!"
"Does he think Laos is better than me?"
"..." Solen had long since learned to be used to Frank's rage, which was animal-like and constant.
At Ilvermorny, Frank was a popular professor: witty, charming, young and handsome, from a good family. Plenty of female students had written him love notes.
Just façades, though. Solen knew the real Frank—petty, vindictive, convinced of his natural superiority. He looked down on everyone.
"Frank, don't think your family's power in America buys you influence with Dumbledore," Solen said. "He is Albus Dumbledore."
"Solen!" Frank snapped impatiently. "You're my fiancée. Why are you sticking up for outsiders?"
"I'm only telling you to keep calm, not to make trouble."
Solen finished the last sip of her lemon tea, and because she was a little too "weary", a few drops splashed into an unfathomable place.
"Our goal this time is to scope out the ability of the new generation of British wizards for the school. If we make enemies with Hogwarts' professors, what's the point of the mission?" she said.
"What are you afraid of? Our main objective is already done." Frank still grumbled, "Lester has already—"
"Shut up!" Solen snapped. "Who's Lester? We don't know anyone called Lester, we've never heard of him, understand?"
Scolded by his fiancée like that, Frank went flush again, but he swallowed his pride and nodded.
"Fine, I get it."
---
In a nearby dorm, Castelobruxo Professors had also gathered.
"The basilisk reports are confirmed," Alessio Villa said, "but the specifics need further investigation."
"Good. I was worried those Brits were just hyping up some new prodigy," Isabella Camado replied with a faint nod.
"Alessio, you and Minerva McGonagall are both Transfiguration professors. Her reputation is impeccable—I've never heard a single bad word about her. Make sure to build a good relationship with her. No matter what happens, we must get our hands on the basilisk's flesh and blood."
Alessio smiled. "I've actually communicated with her before. She really is a remarkable professor."
"Oh?" Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Funny, you never mentioned that."
Alessio scratched his cheek, embarrassed. "I'm kind of... a fan. I've read every article she's ever published and even sent her a few letters. But I think the replies came from the editor of Transfiguration Today. Just polite form responses."
"..."
Isabella stared at him. That's what you call a communication?
---
If Dumbledore and Laos, who had organized this entire exchange, knew what was actually going through the heads of the Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo professors, they'd probably choke.
The so-called "exchange program" was simple enough: each visiting school brought one student representative from every year. Yesterday they were sorted into Hogwarts Houses and would just follow those classes as normal. The professors could either replace Hogwarts' teachers or assist in teaching a few lessons themselves.
When Tom arrived in the Great Hall that morning, he happened to run into Hermione. She shot him a meaningful look, and the two of them slipped away to the courtyard garden without a word.
"Are you free on Saturday?" she asked shyly, cheeks flushed. "It's been so long since we went to the library together."
Tom immediately shook his head. "Better not. There's something off about the library lately—I'd rather stay away."
"Oh…" She lowered her head, clearly disappointed.
"How about I take you to see the unicorns instead?" Tom offered with a grin. "Their forest glade is quiet, no other creatures around to bother us. We can bring tea, read there instead. Better than the library, right?"
That did it. The girl's face lit up, and she nodded happily, quickly agreeing to the plan.
When they returned to the Great Hall, Daphne finally wandered in, yawning. By then, Tom had already told Astoria his plans for Saturday.
His sister-in-law was getting more mischievous by the day, and he needed her as a distraction to keep Daphne occupied. Otherwise, things might get messy.
...
After breakfast, it was time for class. Today's second-year schedule was the same as usual—regular Hogwarts professors, no visiting teachers.
Among them was a boy from Ilvermorny named Mark Collins. At first, Tom assumed Cassandra was his classmate, but Malfoy later told him she was already in her third year. She didn't look it though—about Daphne's age, still a bit baby-faced.
Tom wasn't the kind to walk up to every new acquaintance just for the sake of it. He already had his hands full with the people he did know; no need to add to his list of difficulties.
But just because he didn't go looking for Cassandra didn't mean she wouldn't come looking for him.
After the last Charms class, the Slytherins and Gryffindors were filing out when they crossed paths with the third-years coming down the stairs.
"Tom Riddle, stop now!"
The voice was clear and ringing even over the noisy corridor, cutting through the chatter like a spell. Everyone stopped in their tracks, instantly switching into gossip mode.
Who on earth had the guts to talk to him like this?
Ever since people had watched him behead the basilisk with their own eyes, even the Gryffindors had learned to tread carefully.
So whoever this was... had serious nerve.
Tom turned toward the voice. The crowd parted to make way as Cassandra strode forward, every step perfectly measured, like she'd practiced in front of a mirror.
"Miss Vole, I don't think we've met," Tom said pleasantly. "Is there something you need from me?"
He wasn't just addressing Cassandra—he was also sending a silent message to Daphne: 'I don't know this girl.'
"You're right, we haven't met," Cassandra said coolly. "I'm Cassandra Vole."
"I know. And?" Tom asked, his tone polite but faintly amused.
Cassandra lifted her chin slightly, the curve of her jawline catching the light. "The History of the Wizarding World—you wrote it, didn't you?"
"Not bad work. The factual parts are fine. But your commentary? It's laughable."
The hallway went dead silent. Everyone held their breath, staring at Cassandra like she'd just volunteered to duel a dragon.
This girl… had guts.
Daphne's eyebrows shot up, but Hermione caught her arm, warning her not to step in. 'Better to let Tom handle it.'
Tom's lips curved into a bright, almost dazzling smile. It was so sudden that Cassandra hesitated for a heartbeat.
"And what advice do you have for me, Miss Vole?" he asked softly.
"That's right—I came to give you some," she said, regaining her composure and lifting her chin again. "Writing books is your right, but judging the worth of pure-blood families? You, a mudblood, have no idea how our world truly works."
"Next time, stick to the facts and skip the arrogant commentary. You're not qualified."
"I'm not qualified?" Tom repeated slowly, as if tasting the words. His voice dropped, soft but chilling. "Then maybe I should show you… just how qualified I am."
.
.
.