— — — — — —
"We really should've invited Grindelwald today," Tom said it to Dumbledore with complete sincerity, though there was a trace of regret on his face, as if he'd just missed out on a particularly entertaining spectacle.
Dumbledore could only answer with a wry smile, "I'm afraid Gellert probably couldn't make time. Things in Berlin have become... rather troublesome."
Tom shrugged. Of course he knew.
Ever since Germany's defeat decades ago, they'd lost their backbone. Nowadays, they dressed it up as a "close strategic alliance" with America, but to him, it was nothing more than submission.
After everything that had happened in New York, the government had adopted an exceptionally hard-line stance. Not only were all witches and wizards required to register under their real names, but they also had to prove they posed no threat.
Grindelwald was probably furious enough to kill someone right now. There was no way he'd have time to come to Hogwarts just to enjoy a bit of gossip.
"I've met Percival Graves," Tom said, changing the subject. "The old man seemed pretty friendly. Even after so many members of his family ended up dead or crippled because of me, he still greeted me with a smile and even prepared tea."
Dumbledore's lips twitched as he recalled that confrontation.
That had been the moment he truly realized that the young man before him, despite his age, had already grown fangs of his own.
He was no longer just the brilliant kind Riddle of Hogwarts. He had become a wizard powerful enough to make ancient families pay the price.
"So," Dumbledore asked, "how strong do you think he is?"
Tom honestly shook his head, "I can only say... he wasn't a threat at all. I never felt the slightest sense of danger from him. He's probably a little stronger than Aberforth, but I think the two of them would have a fairly even fight."
Dumbledore nodded.
That gave him a fairly accurate picture of Percival's strength.
Using the ranking system that Tom had created, his younger brother Aberforth and Grindelwald's strongest subordinate, Grimmson, both stood at the Apex Wizard tier.
Percival Graves was clearly stronger than either of them, yet he still hadn't posed any threat to the Tom of that time. That meant Percival was also an Apex Wizard. And one who stood much closer to the level of a Wizard King.
Tom had already explained the higher ranks to Dumbledore. His old professor had admitted that hearing himself called a Wizard King made him feel rather embarrassed.
Still, he had to admit the system was remarkably practical. At least from now on, when judging an opponent's strength, they wouldn't have to keep falling back on descriptions like strong, very strong, or ridiculously strong.
Fontaine listened to the casual conversation between the two and couldn't help twitching at the corner of his mouth.
Riddle, in particular, left him speechless.
After all, Riddle's clash with the Graves family had happened back in his second year, yet he'd already been monstrously powerful then.
The world really did play favorites. Back then, although Fontaine had taken Tom seriously, it was mostly because of the pet named Usaki.
Speaking of Usaki...
"Riddle," Fontaine said, "the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl's complete awakening... you bear a great deal of responsibility for it."
Dumbledore looked surprised.
Tom, however, wasn't, "Because of Usaki, right?"
This time it was Fontaine's turn to stare, "...How did you know?"
"I guessed." Tom shrugged. "The Quetzalcoatl's reaction when it saw Usaki was complicated. There was caution, but also greed. That's when I figured there had to be some connection."
"...Talking to smart people is so boring." Fontaine sighed and shook his head.
_ _ _
The discussion continued as Tom and Dumbledore questioned him further about the Sun Chasers.
They asked about the state of the American magical world, the relationships among the old families, the whereabouts of the relic fragments, the role Scott had played over the years, and even the names of several members.
Perhaps because he had been Scott's student, and Scott now handled the Sun Chasers' day-to-day operations, there were surprisingly few secrets embedded in Fontaine's soul that he was forbidden from revealing.
That alone spoke volumes about the level of authority he possessed.
Even so, once everything was pieced together, the intelligence they had gathered was still frustratingly limited.
Fontaine only revealed the true identities of a handful of Sun Chasers. As expected, they were all descendants of the three ancient families mentioned earlier.
There was, however, one thing Tom was certain of.
Corvinus Gaunt could not possibly be some fanatical devotee of the Feathered Serpent Quetzalcoatl, dedicating his entire life solely to resurrecting his deity.
That simply wasn't how wizards thought. And it certainly wasn't the mindset of a descendant of Slytherin from the Gaunt family.
Corvinus undoubtedly had plans of his own. His obsession with reviving Quetzalcoatl had to be driven by the benefits he expected to gain from it.
As for his ultimate objective...
Tom ventured a bold guess. "...Corvinus Gaunt intends to seize a god's Authority... or whatever the proper magical term is."
The words left both Dumbledore and Fontaine visibly stunned.
The idea sounded utterly absurd. Yet the more they considered it, the less impossible it seemed.
"As expected of Mr. Gaunt..." Fontaine's eyes gleamed with excitement, his blood practically boiling.
Tom gave him a puzzled look. "Professor Fontaine, I only said that's his ambition. I never said he could actually pull it off."
"Riddle, you don't understand his greatness," Fontaine shot back angrily.
Tom nodded in agreement, his expression completely serious. "You're right. I don't understand Corvinus Gaunt as a person. But I do understand the word gods. Frankly... if he still has to hide in the shadows instead of walking up and killing me himself, then he's still unimaginably far from becoming one."
Fontaine fell silent.
It was an impossible contradiction to refute.
There was no question that Tom had severely disrupted the Sun Chasers' plans and objectives. Even so, Gaunt had never made a move himself, choosing instead to work alongside the newly resurrected Herpo.
"Don't ask me about any of that," Fontaine said sullenly. "I've already told you everything I know. You can figure out the rest yourselves."
"In that case..." Tom flicked a hand casually. "Time for you to get some sleep."
Fontaine's eyelids immediately began to droop.
"Remember to tell your students that you needed to stay behind to discuss something important with Dumbledore. That's why you didn't return to Ilvermorny with them."
The moment those final words reached his ears, Fontaine's consciousness slipped into darkness.
Tom clapped his hands lightly, and the candles throughout the room winked out.
Then he and Dumbledore left the chamber and strolled along the shore of the Black Lake. Pale moonlight shimmered across the water as the night breeze rustled through the trees. Every so often, the distant cries of nocturnal creatures echoed through the darkness.
Instead of heading back to the castle, they made their way toward the Forbidden Forest.
"Professor," Tom asked, glancing toward the shadowy treeline ahead, "what are we doing in the Forbidden Forest?"
Dumbledore smiled faintly without slowing his pace. "I'd like to hear what the centaurs have to say. Their prophetic divinations often prove surprisingly useful."
Tom considered that for a moment before nodding. "Not a bad idea." Curiosity flickered in his eyes, and he found he had no objections.
He had never been fond of vague prophecies and mystical predictions, but the centaurs' ability to read the stars was undeniably exceptional. With the current situation in such disarray, another source of insight could only help.
"Tom," Dumbledore asked after a while, "how much of what Fontaine told us do you believe?"
Tom spoke after a brief moment's thought. "Almost all of it. Even if some of it isn't true, then it's probably misinformation Gaunt deliberately fed to the outside world. Fontaine himself wouldn't know the real truth. His reactions were perfectly natural."
"I'm surprised," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You seem to hold Fontaine in rather high regard."
"I never belittle my enemies or rivals," Tom replied. "Unless they're genuinely incompetent. For example... Voldemort."
Dumbledore fell silent.
Somehow, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond to that.
After a moment, he asked another question, "So... does that mean you intend to spare Fontaine's life?"
Tom stopped walking and looked at Dumbledore in confusion. "What makes you think that?"
Dumbledore explained, "Because you just gave him the perfect alibi. It seemed as though you didn't want him to simply disappear without a trace."
Tom tilted his head. "I just think he still has some use left. Even if he can't lure Gaunt out personally, Scott should at least react once he learns what happened. People only expose weaknesses when they make a move."
"And once Fontaine has outlived his usefulness... I'll kill him. He worships Corvinus Gaunt as if he were really a god. There's no chance he'll ever betray him, which makes him an enemy."
Dumbledore could only laugh helplessly.
For a moment, he'd thought Fontaine's genuine concern for his students had stirred a small spark of compassion in Tom.
It seemed he had been overthinking it. Anyone Tom identified as an enemy was destined for only one ending.
.
.
.