— — — — — —
The moment he touched down on the Moon's surface, Tom's first reaction was pure exhilaration, along with a tiny, swelling sense of pride.
Honestly, you couldn't blame him. Anyone who'd reached his level, with this much power and limitless potential, would probably feel the same.
"Maybe I'm the first human in history to cross the void of space in my own body, relying on nothing but my own strength to reach the Moon. Hahaha… guess that makes me Superman~"
Once the rush faded, Tom collapsed onto the lunar ground with a dull thud and fell fast asleep.
The journey itself had taken less than a day, but the mental strain had been brutal. He'd had to constantly adjust his trajectory and orientation. The Moon wasn't fixed in space; it was moving, just like everything else.
When the Moon passed between Earth and the Sun, the side facing Earth was plunged into darkness. Navigation had to be done by tracking other stars.
For once, astronomy class proved useful. Tom silently thanked Professor Sinistra for taking her job so seriously.
...
When Tom woke up again, seven or eight hours had passed.
He opened his bleary eyes and froze.
A blue glass marble hung in the darkness.
Only now did he truly understand what the word "depth" meant—and at the same time, how inadequate it was. No word could properly describe the shock of space itself: bottomless, transparent in its bottomlessness, a darkness so pure it seemed to gleam.
The sheer pressure of it nearly stole his breath. His proud strength, his vast potential, turned into a bad joke in the face of this endless void.
And that blue glass sphere was terrifying in its own way.
The atmosphere was thin as a butterfly's wing. There were no borders, no nations, nothing dividing one place from another. Only Earth as a whole.
World wonders. Human achievements. Civilizations. All of it vanished without a trace.
In psychology, there's a term called the Overview Effect. It describes the profound cognitive and emotional shift people experience when they see Earth from space.
You could even say it reshapes a person's worldview entirely. The way the brain works, the way one thinks, all of it changes.
From that perspective, the planet looks small, fragile, and borderless, floating alone in the vast darkness.
It often causes a powerful emotional and mental shift: people feel awe, humility, and a sense of connectedness with all life. Problems that once seemed huge—political conflicts, personal rivalries, or human divisions—suddenly appear tiny and insignificant.
It's the feeling of seeing the "big picture" of Earth and humanity at once, which can permanently change how someone thinks about life, priorities, and the world.
Boundaries that once felt absolute disappear in an instant, whether they're physical or moral.
Everything just feels small. Ridiculous.
Almost every astronaut who's been to space goes through this. For months after returning to Earth, they feel detached and unfocused, and the worldview forged out there follows them for the rest of their lives.
They've briefly escaped the cage, both physically and mentally. Even after returning to ordinary life, the cracks left behind never fully heal.
What Tom was facing now was far more dangerous than anything those astronauts had endured.
He didn't have the reassuring weight of a bulky spacesuit. He didn't have a massive spacecraft waiting to take him home.
There was just him. Alone. On the Moon.
One person, facing the star-filled void by himself.
Worse still, Tom saw more than anyone else ever could.
With his magical sight, Earth looked alive. It pulsed and breathed. The universe around it, by contrast, was utterly indifferent emptiness. Infinite loneliness pressed in from every direction, gnawing at his nerves, threatening to drive him mad.
The boy shut his eyes, but it made no difference. The suffocating isolation clung to him all the same.
And he had to endure this for seven days.
It was no exaggeration to say these would be the most dangerous seven days since Tom had stepped into the world of magic.
The starry sky and the abyss had become one and the same. He had nothing to lean on, no tricks to exploit. All he could do was face the entire universe on his own.
Yet within risk and despair often lie the greatest opportunities. Compared to what awaited him here, the reward—Antonidas' insights—was almost trivial. The real prize was hidden within this seven-day trial.
This is a trial that pushes both mind and body to their absolute limits.
— — —
Back on the tiny blue planet, and within its even tinier magical world, nothing changed because of Tom's disappearance. Everything continued, orderly and uninterrupted.
In Berlin. After his mental defenses were completely shattered, Barty Jr let himself go entirely. Where he once worshipped Voldemort, that devotion had now been transferred wholesale to Grindelwald—and with even greater fanaticism than before.
If you set raw power aside, Grindelwald surpassed everyone in every other respect: influence, reach, and charisma. More importantly, he gave Barty a much bigger stage to play on.
This time, Grindelwald handed Barty a truly heavyweight assignment. He was to take a team to Constantinople (Istanbul) and stir things up. That crossroads between Europe and Asia was something Grindelwald had to control.
...
In Britain, where Crouch was still buried under preparations for the World Cup and the inter-school magical tournament, he received news that his son was "stable." The relief hit him so hard he broke down in tears. He locked himself in his office for the entire afternoon and refused to see anyone.
Did Crouch love Barty?
A little, perhaps. No matter how many unforgivable things Barty had done, he was still the only heir of the Crouch family, his only son.
But more of that love belonged to his late wife.
She had traded her life for Barty's. In a way, Barty's continued existence was an extension of hers.
There was also hatred for Voldemort. That man had destroyed his family, and Crouch could never allow his son to remain loyal to him.
Even if it meant Barty becoming a tool for another Dark Lord, even if it meant destroying himself in the process, Crouch would accept it.
...
By the time work ended, Crouch had finally pulled himself together. He picked up his briefcase and left his office.
"Mr. Crouch, are you all right?"
Percy Weasley, newly hired, hurried over. Seeing the redness around Crouch's eyes, he asked carefully.
"I'm fine, Weasley. Tonight I want a preliminary seating plan for the West Stand. Pay close attention to national and cultural differences. Don't seat wizarding groups with existing tensions too close together."
Percy lit up like he'd been injected with adrenaline. "Yes, sir! I'll be careful!"
Crouch nodded in satisfaction.
Percy might be rigid, but he wasn't stupid. He worked hard and had energy to spare. One person doing the work of three. Having him around had lightened Crouch's load considerably.
"Keep it up, Weasley," Crouch said, rare praise slipping out. "I see a bright future for you."
That single sentence sent Percy into a fit of excitement. After Crouch left, he rushed back into his small office, scooped up a stack of files, and went home. It looked like another night of unpaid overtime was on the menu.
.
.
.