Let the mass release begin— Chaptrum Maxima
— — — — — —
Meanwhile, in the safe area of the forbidden forest.
Hermione, who had been quiet the whole time, was now visibly anxious.
"Tom… is this considered an international incident? I don't think Professor Dumbledore would take the other school's side, but if Ilvermorny complains through the Ministry, won't you get in trouble?"
Tom took a sip of juice, relaxed as ever. "Relax. What happened between me and Vole was just some childish squabble. Hardly an international conflict."
"I didn't even use any offensive magic."
"But you stuffed her into a wall," Hermione said, still worried. "She's probably going to have a breakdown."
"I didn't use any advanced spells," Tom shrugged. "Professor Wilkinson was standing right there. You think he'd just leave her stuck forever after we walked away?"
"Honestly, petrification is the harshest punishment here. But the spell will wear off by morning."
After his recent practice, Tom had gotten very precise with his strange mystic eyes. For someone like Cassandra, a minor witch, if he wanted that spell to last exactly eight hours—then it would last exactly eight hours. Not a minute more, not a minute less. So she would stay in her bed pertified for eight damn hours, regretting the words she said.
Tom did, however, miscalculate one thing badly: he didn't expect Laos to be such a menace. Just to keep Frank miserable longer, he dragged Cassandra down with him.
Hermione relaxed noticeably after Tom's explanation.
Daphne, on the other hand, looked utterly unconcerned. "Hermione, you overthink things. At this point, Tom isn't scared of anyone except maybe Dumbledore. A few country bumpkins from overseas aren't going to overturn the British Isles."
"You'll see. Dumbledore will probably dock a few points and sentence Tom to a short detention. Then it'll blow over."
"Won't even need an apology. That Vole girl was asking for it," Daphne huffed, getting more worked up the more she talked. She slapped the table with a snap. "Unacceptable! Hogwarts absolutely cannot allow a girl who's more arrogant than me!"
Hermione and Tom both twitched at the corner of their mouths at the same time.
Hermione gave Tom a side-eye, clearly blaming this on him.
Back when they first started school, Daphne had been snobby, sure—she'd gotten into arguments often enough—but she wasn't like this. She now had the air of an actual gang boss.
That was entirely Tom's fault. With him backing her up, Daphne could practically strut sideways through Hogwarts like she owned the place.
"..."
Tom kept a straight face, pretending to contemplate the sky.
Let her be arrogant. As long as she didn't start trouble without reason. He knew Daphne's character well—she was loud and dramatic, but she wasn't cruel. She was a good girl at heart.
"I should go hide somewhere before Dumbledore tries to make me cure them."
He said this to the girls, then cast Disillusionment on himself and headed deep into the Forbidden Forest.
— — —
Inside the castle, Dumbledore was striding quickly toward the second floor with Laos, Solen, and McGonagall.
He had been in his office with McGonagall discussing adding more exams next term when Laos and Solen burst in. After a quick summary of what had happened, he stood there stunned. McGonagall nearly fainted, whispering weakly:
"Albus, I've walked my whole career like I was stepping on thin ice… Do you think I'll even live to see you retire?"
Dumbledore: "..."
He couldn't blame her. Even he was starting to doubt if he'd live long enough to deal with Voldemort properly at this rate.
Tom really had a talent for creating chaos.
They'd only arrived yesterday—and Tom had already managed to deal with both a professor and a student from Ilvermorny in the most catastrophic way possible.
"Minerva, focus. We need to rescue them first," Dumbledore reminded her gently. She forced herself upright and followed.
By the time they reached the second floor, the crowd had grown even larger. Even Professor Flitwick and Astronomy Professor Sinistra had shown up.
But since students had repeated Laos' earlier warning before he left, neither professor dared touch the spell.
Tom's reputation… had spread in its own terrifying way.
"Clear out! Go do something useful instead of crowding here!" McGonagall snapped.
The young wizards scattered instantly.
Dumbledore examined the two petrified figures, then waved his wand to release them.
"Albus, why didn't you lift the petrification completely?" McGonagall asked, frowning.
"Because I can't."
Dumbledore circled them slowly, his blue eyes gleaming like he could see straight through their condition. "Tom didn't use a standard Petrification Charm like Petrificus Totalus. It's more like…"
He paused, then said it anyway. "More like Miss Clearwater's state from before."
McGonagall's eyes sharpened. "You mean… basilisk?"
"Exactly." Dumbledore nodded slightly. "This is a curse-type petrification. Much lighter than what Miss Clearwater suffered, but still not something ordinary magic can undo."
"My recommendation is to have Tom undo it himself. Otherwise… we wait for the natural release."
"Let's take them back to their dorms for now," Laos suggested. "Leaving them here won't solve anything."
"Agreed. Best not take them to the infirmary either. Minerva, please take Miss Vole. Professor Caruso, Professor Graves—you handle the rest."
"Filius, could you gather a few Slytherins and send word for Tom? Have him meet us on the fourth floor of the west tower. I'll be waiting there."
"Dumbledore, leave it to me," Laos cut in immediately. "You've got a mountain of things to handle. I'll wait with Solen."
"Thank you, Laos," Solen said softly, his gaze surprisingly gentle.
"I appreciate it," Dumbledore said, not refusing the help. After giving his orders, he left.
Halfway to the west tower, Laos excused himself to duck into the bathroom and pulled out his Codex to send a quick message.
『Laos Wilkinson』: Dumbledore sent people to look for you. Looks like he's not that mad.
『Laos Wilkinson』: Boss, take care of your things. You don't need to come back. I just need an hour.
---
Meanwhile, deep in the Forbidden Forest, Tom hadn't checked his messages at all. He'd brought Usaki to the centaur tribe.
Given how xenophobic centaurs were, trying to threaten—no, persuade—them into working for him was going to be tricky. But Tom had come prepared.
When facing magical creature politics, there was one universal solution: ask Newt.
Always works.
At first, Chief Magorian rejected Tom's request instantly… but the moment Tom pulled out the token Newt had sent him, the chief fell silent.
"I can bring the Vosges Mountain centaur colony over for you," Tom said, tossing out another bargaining chip. "Your tribe hasn't been growing. The gender ratio's a mess. Don't pretend you haven't noticed. Even the Mares plan didn't work after all."
"Magorian, you don't want the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest to go extinct in two or three generations, do you?"
"Even as chief, I can't decide this alone," Magorian said stiffly. "Riddle, wait."
He summoned the entire tribe. Magorian showed them Newt's token and explained Tom's offer. After a long, heated debate, nearly seventy percent of the adult centaurs voted in favor.
Most of that, Tom could tell, was out of respect for Newt. It made him sigh inwardly. In the end, connections and backing were everything.
With a species like centaurs—one single unified race—even if he could overpower them, he couldn't just force total submission.
No wonder those in power always preferred followers with soft spines.
Next, he spent the night in his pocket world with the unicorns, only heading back to the castle at seven the next morning.
When he appeared, almost every head turned his way.
One night was more than enough for the entire school to learn every detail of the conflict—that Tom Riddle had struck hard against Ilvermorny, student and professor alike, with no regard for age or gender. Annoy him, and you'd end up on a wall.
Equality in its rawest form.
...
"Riddle, come with me."
Professor McGonagall had just stepped into the Great Hall when she spotted Tom eating. She didn't even pause, just marched over and dragged him into the little room behind the High Table.
The door shut with a thud. McGonagall rounded on him, furious. "Tom Riddle, you caused a complete disaster yesterday, and you still have the mood to sit and eat? How are you even swallowing food right now?"
Tom blinked innocently. "But it tastes fine. The house-elves cook better than when I first enrolled."
"Keep talking," McGonagall snapped, glaring. "You're staying here. Dumbledore is busy calming our guests, and until he arrives, you're not going anywhere."
Tom let out a dramatic sigh. "Professor, I didn't even finish eating!"
"I'm already full of anger because of you. And you still want breakfast?"
McGonagall stormed toward the door, then hesitated. With a flick of her wand, a tray of simple breakfast appeared on the table before she left again in a huff.
By the time Dumbledore arrived, Tom was calmly chewing the last bite of a sandwich.
Even with Dumbledore's legendary patience, he looked like he was reconsidering the entire Hogwarts admissions process.
"Tom," he said mildly. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"It's alright. Portions were a bit small."
Dumbledore sat beside him. "Then you can accompany Miss Vole for another round later."
Tom stared. "You're joking, right?"
Dumbledore summoned a teapot and poured himself tea with leisurely grace before speaking. "I've already handled the Graves situation for you. You really should thank Professor Wilkinson. He took most of the backlash for you."
"Graves?" Tom scoffed. "Let him come. I'd like to see if he dares knock on my door."
"Tom." Dumbledore sighed like the weight of a century sat on his shoulders. "I am a hundred and ten years old. I do not wish to see a third wizarding war start. Whatever's between you and Miss Vole is just a personal grudge."
"But Frank Graves represents Ilvermorny," he continued. "For pride alone, they'll stand firmly behind him."
"Behind him? Ilvermorny must have special taste," Tom muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Tom shook his head. "Why send me to her?"
"Miss Vole refuses to speak to anyone. She seems deeply shaken." Dumbledore gave him a look that was far too knowing. "Since you caused it, you'll fix it. And considering how you handle girls, I'm sure you'll manage."
Tom's eye twitched.
That's slander. I could sue.
"Her room is on the fourth floor of the west tower. Off you go, Tom."
"I have classes."
"You'll attend when Miss Vole decides to. Oh, and I deducted a hundred points from Slytherin. I've informed Severus. He's very eager to have a chat with you."
Tom could only sigh and leave the room.
Just have to coax a girl. How hard could it be?
Following Dumbledore's directions, he found Cassandra's room quickly and cursed inwardly.
Of course the exchange student got a single room.
The door was locked, but he didn't even bother drawing his wand—he flicked a finger, and it swung open.
The room was small, about the size of a professor's office. Cassandra lay on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. Though the petrification had worn off, she still looked like she hadn't fully returned from it.
"Miss Vole," Tom said gently, wearing his trademark warm smile.
The moment she heard his voice, she jolted. Seeing him smiling at her, she clamped her hands over her eyes and screamed, voice sharp with panic: "Ahhhhh!"
"Don't come near me!"
Tom's smile twisted into the kind of grin only a villain would wear. "Sorry, but my favorite thing is doing the exact opposite of whatever someone tells me to do."
.
.
.