— — — — — —
"Mr. Riddle."
As soon as Tom appeared, Isabella greeted him with a radiant smile.
Tom didn't waste words. He pulled out the mass of basilisk flesh he'd kept frozen.
Five hundred pounds sounded like a lot, but after chopping off the head and tail of the entire serpent and removing its organs and bones, the remaining usable meat easily exceeded fifteen tons. What he brought was barely three percent of that.
Besides, even those "five hundred pounds" weren't entirely honest. Watered down, of course—Tom was quite good at that. Realistically, it was closer to four hundred, but no one could tell the difference.
Not that Isabella or Alessio even tried to check. The moment Isabella confirmed it really was basilisk meat, her face lit up. She tucked it away happily, then handed Tom a notebook.
"Mr. Riddle, this contains everything about Druidic transfiguration and potioncraft. The materials you'll need are being shipped from Castelobruxo—it'll take some time, but I guarantee they'll arrive before we leave."
"If you run into any problems while studying, feel free to ask me anytime."
She even offered a friendly bit of advice. "I recommend starting with the most basic forms—ordinary animals, cows or sheeps. Magical creatures are much riskier. Please be careful."
"Thank you for the warning. I'll keep that in mind," Tom said, nodding politely without rejecting her goodwill.
The exchange went smoothly. After wrapping up, Tom left the observatory and made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he opened the notebook and began reading.
He read it from cover to cover, quickly grasping the core principles of Druidic shapeshifting.
The spell revolved around using flesh and blood from the target creature to brew a potion, which would then stir one's own blood into a state of violent reaction.
Only with the protection of magical Emerald Vines could the transformation be completed safely.
The key difference from becoming an Animagus was that Druidic transfiguration allowed transformations into magical creatures. The duration depended on several factors—the potency and amount of the creature's essence, the quality of the potion, and the caster's skill.
Fifteen minutes was the rough upper limit. Trying to transform again too soon could lead to irreversible consequences… turning permanently into a beast.
Tom made a projection copy and stored it in his study space for Grindelwald to review.
The method reminded him of Slytherin's old blood-fusion experiments—different approaches that sought the same goal.
Next, Tom spent the entire weekend studying Castelobruxo's magical theories. Whenever he took a break, he trained Ginny. He was beginning to suspect she had a natural talent for curses and dark magic—she mastered Sectumsempra in just two days.
And of course after learning such a powerful and stealthy spell, Ginny immediately wanted to go pick another fight with Cassandra. But Tom stopped her. There was no point in rubbing it in.
Cassandra had already been hit hard. According to Hermione, the girl had practically moved into the library, even obtaining a special permission slip for the Restricted Section—an unlimited one, allowing her to read whatever she wanted. Hermione had been quietly jealous.
...
By Monday morning, something new had caught the entire school's attention.
The front page of that day's Daily Prophet showed several horrifying photos—wizards writhing in pain, silently screaming, their teeth lengthening into sharp fangs.
The headline was even worse: {A New Kind of Lycanthropy? Wizards, Stay Alert!}
Tom frowned and kept reading.
Apparently, chaos had broken out in the wizarding world. At first, several wizards had been attacked by vampires. Normally, that wouldn't have caused much concern—vampires attacking people wasn't exactly news. But this time, something was different. Those bitten had begun showing strange symptoms, like it was contagious.
Anyone bitten by these vampires developed vampiric traits—an uncontrollable thirst for blood, bursts of madness, and physical mutations. So far, more than fifteen victims had been hospitalized at St. Mungo's. The Ministry of Magic issued an official warning: {If you encounter such an incident, flee immediately and report it at once.}
Some of the younger Muggle-born students were puzzled.
"Aren't vampires always like that? Why's everyone acting surprised?"
"Don't be fooled by Muggle movies," an older student said. "In the real magical world, lycanthropy is the contagious one. Get scratched or bitten by a werewolf, and you become one. Vampires don't pass it on."
"They're just dark creatures that can use a few weak spells. They can't even use wands properly—about as civilized as goblins or centaurs."
"Oh… that makes sense," the Muggle-borns murmured, finally understanding.
"Severus."
Dumbledore entered the Great Hall and called Snape out, his expression grave. "You've seen this morning's paper, I assume? St. Mungo's has requested your help. We need an antidote developed as soon as possible."
"I understand." Snape's face was unreadable as he nodded and strode quickly out of the castle.
Tom finished reading the article, puzzled. He didn't remember any such event happening in the original timeline.
But this was the real world, not a story. Anything could happen. He simply made a note of it and moved on.
If one of those mutated vampires crossed his path, he wouldn't mind studying it a bit.
No one noticed that after reading the news, Frank Graves—up at the staff table—looked unusually pleased.
---
When classes ended, Tom waited by the Great Hall doors, stopping Ginny and Luna as they came out. He pulled them aside into a quiet corner.
"Stop dragging this out," Tom said. "You don't want your brother sleeping with a man every night, do you?"
"I'm working on it!" Ginny pouted. "Ron keeps Scabbers in his dorm. I can't just storm into the boys' room and grab him—that'd make everyone suspicious."
"Daphne's package will arrive this afternoon," Tom said. "There's some pet food for rats inside. Use that as an excuse to lure him out."
"Luna, what do you think?" Ginny turned to her friend.
Luna looked dazed, as if she hadn't heard a word. Ginny knew better—that was Luna thinking.
After a pause, her soft, dreamy voice floated out. "To catch a rat, use rat bait. Better drug it first. Safer that way."
Tom blinked. "Huh?"
What happened to his ethereal little fairy? When did Luna start sounding like… this? She'd just come up with an idea even he hadn't considered.
Ginny's face lit up. She nodded eagerly and shot Tom a mildly smug look. "See? Luna actually knows what she's doing. Way safer than your plan."
Then Luna added serenely, "But… just drugging one rat isn't entirely safe. Might as well knock out Harry and Ron too. That way they can't interfere."
Tom went silent.
The future of the wizarding world sure looks… promising.
In the end, under Ginny's relentless insistence, Tom agreed to hand over a potion before afternoon classes—a brew strong enough to take down a rat, a wizard, or, if necessary, an elephant.
...
That evening, in the Gryffindor common room
The news about vampire attacks hadn't dampened anyone's spirits. After dinner, most students lounged around, laughing and relaxing during the best part of their day.
Harry and Ron were no exception. The two were hunched over a little Quidditch tabletop game, their tiny broom-riding figures darting about. Despite his real-life skills, Harry was getting crushed—Ron already had a two-hundred-point lead.
An owl's hoot interrupted Ron's victory celebration. He turned around to see Ginny walking in, holding an elegant snow-white owl.
"Ginny," Ron said curiously, "whose owl is that? I've never seen it before."
"Mine," Ginny replied with a bright smile, stroking the owl's round face. She held it up proudly. "Her name's Freya. She's a purebred snowy owl."
Ron's eyes widened. "Where'd you get the money for that? Those are expensive!"
Owls were the most popular pets among wizards—low maintenance and useful for delivering mail. Ron had always dreamed of having one, but a purebred snowy owl? That was out of reach.
"I didn't buy her," Ginny said cheerfully. "It's a gift from Daphne."
Daphne Greengrass—the elegant Slytherin heiress. After Ginny had helped Tom humiliate Cassandra in that duel, Daphne had declared her "one of us." Since then, she'd been treating Ginny like a little sister—lavish meals, shared potions, even her stash of forbidden "Dark Diet potions."
At this point, if Tom ever argued with Daphne, Ginny would probably defect on the spot.
Ron frowned. "So you're just letting her buy you off with fancy gifts?"
"I brought you gifts too," Ginny said sweetly, setting two beautifully wrapped boxes on the table. She lifted the lids—one held a small cake, the other was packed full of assorted sweets.
"They're from the new bakery in Diagon Alley. If you don't want them, I'll just—"
"Eat!" Ron's eyes gleamed. "Never turn down free sweets!"
He reached eagerly for a handful of Honeydukes Mix, but Ginny blocked him with her wand.
"Wait. The pet shop gave me some new experimental rat food along with Freya's supplies. Bring Scabbers down so he can have a treat too."
"Alright, alright! Don't eat without me," Ron said, already halfway up the stairs. He returned a minute later, proudly holding Scabbers.
Ginny shivered involuntarily.
All she could see was her brother cuddling a man in his thirties disguised as a rat. Utterly disgusting.
"Here you go, Scabbers. Eat up and save me some pocket money," Ron said, plopping the rat on the table before immediately digging into the cake. Harry helped himself to a slice too.
Watching the two boys and the rat happily eating, Ginny's smile widened.
"You're not having any?" Ron asked through a mouthful of frosting.
"I already ate," Ginny said gently. "These are for you."
"Oh…"
Then—thud!
Harry collapsed, hitting the floor hard. His whole body went limp, and he couldn't even open his mouth to shout. His eyes went wide as he stared helplessly at Ginny.
"Harry? What's wr—"
Ron didn't finish his sentence before he slumped backward too. Ginny, ever the considerate sister, flicked her wand, cushioning his fall so he landed softly on the sofa.
"You…"
By now, both boys understood perfectly well—Ginny had spiked the food.
Scabbers was next. The rat lay motionless, as limp as melted wax, and Ginny easily pinched his tail, dropping him into a glass jar.
Meeting Ron's stunned gaze, she murmured, "You'll thank me one day, Ron. I promise."
And with that, she turned and walked off, jar in hand.
Harry's fall drew a few glances, but no one thought much of it. After all, who'd ever suspect Ginny Weasley of drugging her own brother?
Within seconds, both boys' eyes fluttered shut. Peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Meanwhile, outside the portrait of Madam Pomfrey, Ginny handed the jar to Tom the moment he appeared.
"Easy as pie," she said proudly.
"Well done." Tom gave her a gentle pat on the head. "I'll handle the rest."
"Can I come?" Ginny asked quickly. She found Pettigrew revolting, but she wanted to know how he'd faked his death and hidden as a rat for over ten years.
Tom smiled and shook his head. "What comes next might get… violent. Better if you don't see it."
"Alright," she said, a little disappointed but obedient. She watched him leave the Gryffindor tower, the jar glinting faintly in his hand.
.
.
.