— — — — — —
Waiting is always torture.
It hadn't actually been that long, but to the students lined up on the grounds, it felt endless.
Daphne wanted to snack, but even Tom knew better than to start right now. That would be outrageously rude. He patiently soothed her while Astoria secretly pinched her sister's arm, warning her to behave.
Feeling the threat in that pinch, Daphne stuck out her tongue and went quiet at once.
Sigh. The times had changed. Her once sweet little sister now dared to snap at her. So much for big sister authority.
"Hmm?"
Tom had been staring upward for a while. Daphne followed his gaze. At the same moment, a voice rang out.
"Ah! Unless I am greatly mistaken, our friends from Beauxbatons have arrived!" called Albus Dumbledore.
"Where?" dozens of students demanded, craning their necks.
Someone finally spotted it.
Three massive shapes loomed in the moonlight, growing larger by the second as they swept in over the Forbidden Forest.
Only when they drew close did everyone realize what they were: three enormous carriages, each pulled by twelve winged Abraxan horses.
When the carriages touched down, many of the girls practically sparkled.
The white, winged horses looked like something torn straight from a fairy tale. Elegant, majestic, unreal.
Even Daphne and Astoria, who had heard Tom describe Beauxbatons' arrival before, felt their hearts flutter. They wanted to climb aboard and experience it for themselves.
Who didn't have a princess dream at some point?
The carriages settled not far from the formation. The handsome Abraxans folded their wings, the bronze bells around their necks chiming softly before falling silent.
Click.
The carriage doors swung open.
From each carriage jumped a boy in pale blue robes. They fumbled along the carriage base, triggering golden spiral staircases to unfold.
Olympe Maxime descended first, accompanied by two other professors, leading her students forward. She stepped up to Dumbledore and gave him a warm embrace. Old acquaintances needed no formalities.
Polite applause rippled through the Hogwarts ranks.
They had come in force this time. Aside from Maxime and three professors, there were over fifty students. Ten of them were pre-enrollment children like Gabrielle.
That little boy who once begged Tom to spare his father was here too. Tom had kept an eye on the family's situation. Apparently, the boy's parents had divorced, and the father was facing charges for domestic violence and assault.
What a tragedy.
Honestly, he would have been better off staying in Tom's prison.
Fleur stood just behind the professors, first among the students. The moment she stepped down, she searched for Tom.
It wasn't difficult.
He stood out like the sun.
She gave him a radiant smile that left nearby boys dazed and staring.
This time, however, Fleur behaved herself. No dramatic gestures. She remained properly in line.
After brief pleasantries, Maxime led her group to stand on the right side of Hogwarts' formation, waiting for the remaining guests.
"I ran into them earlier," Maxime said. "We won't have long to wait. At least not for Mahoutokoro and Castelobruxo."
She was right.
Another disturbance soon stirred the sky.
"Whoa… an island and houses are flying!"
Under the castle's lights, everyone finally saw what was approaching.
An island.
And five shrine-like buildings.
The island floated forward, lifted by countless giant lotus leaves.
The houses floated off the island and landed near the carriages, while the island itself drifted down to rest on the Black Lake.
"Victoria amazonica," Tom explained to the Greengrass sisters, his voice carrying to those nearby. "The world's strongest leaf. Unique to the Amazon rainforest. They have incredible buoyancy. Walking on them feels like stepping on marshmallows. Soft and airy, but you won't fall through."
Once the island settled, the lotus leaves drifted outward and formed a pathway to shore. A middle-aged man in black robes led professors and students toward the assembled crowd.
On the other side, the shrine doors opened.
The first to emerge was a white-haired elderly man. He and everyone behind him wore pure white robes.
Daphne squinted, frowning slightly.
"Tom, where are the golden patterns you mentioned?"
"They're probably concealed," Tom mused. "Maybe they don't want to reveal too much."
"How underhanded!" Daphne huffed. She had wanted to identify her potential rival in advance and gather intelligence.
Elsewhere on the grounds, Castelobruxo's delegation arrived.
Albus Dumbledore stepped forward to greet them. The headmasters met almost seamlessly, exchanging only a few brief words before the students of Castelobruxo and Mahoutokoro took their places to the right of Beauxbatons.
Tom frowned slightly.
Through his magical sight, he examined the faculty and students of both schools. From one Mahoutokoro student, he sensed something unusual. An aura that felt… off. Strange in a way he couldn't quite define.
There were too many people around to probe further, so he let it be for now.
The air grew colder by the minute. There was still no sign of the remaining school. Some students had begun shivering.
Dumbledore stood aside with a magical communicator in hand, speaking quietly to someone. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper, though not in anger. If anything, he looked faintly helpless.
At last, he turned back to the assembled students.
"I regret to inform you that our friends from Uagadou have encountered… an unexpected complication. They may arrive somewhat later."
"Complication?" Madame Maxime asked, concern in her voice. "Is Okoye well? What of his students?"
Dumbledore shook his head gently. "They are unharmed. However… upon entering Britain through France, they were detained by British customs. It appears they were mistaken for undocumented refugees. The Ministry is currently handling the matter."
Everyone within earshot fell silent.
It was absurd.
And yet, in a strange way, entirely believable.
What puzzled people more was why they had chosen to enter through Muggle customs at all.
"It seems we won't be seeing them tonight," Maxime said with a sigh. The other two headmasters offered polite, slightly awkward smiles.
Just then, the Black Lake stirred again.
A strange sound echoed across the water, something between a dull rumble of thunder and a deep, resonant suction. A whirlpool formed out of nowhere in the center of the lake.
From their slightly elevated position, the crowd watched as it widened.
Then a long mast pierced up through the vortex, followed by the rise of a steel leviathan.
A magnificent cruise ship was expelled from the whirlpool, rocking as it surfaced. Its horn sounded a low, humming blast as it drifted toward shore. With a heavy splash, an iron anchor was cast into the water.
"New Mayflower…" a student read aloud from the name engraved along the hull.
Tom raised a brow.
Mayflower?
Interesting choice.
In 1620, the Mayflower had departed from Plymouth with 102 passengers bound for Massachusetts. It wasn't the first ship to reach North America, but it was certainly the most famous. The Mayflower Compact had been signed aboard it, and its legacy endured.
So what exactly was Ilvermorny implying with a "New Mayflower"? A reckoning? A symbolic return to Europe?
Tom leaned slightly toward Dumbledore. The old wizard showed no reaction at all, still smiling warmly as over a hundred figures disembarked from the ship.
Leading them was a middle-aged man in his fifties, dressed in a tailored suit, wearing a mild, polished smile. He looked less like a wizard and more like a Wall Street executive.
Tom had seen him several times through the Lume-Lens broadcasts.
The headmaster of Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Agilbert Fontaine.
"Albus!" Fontaine called warmly as he climbed the slope. "It's such a pleasure to see you looking so well."
"Likewise, Agilbert," Dumbledore replied with a genial smile. "I was beginning to worry you might not make it to Hogwarts after all."
Fontaine chuckled. "My apologies, Albus. I've been terribly busy. I meant to visit much sooner, but the timing never worked. This time, I assure you, I'll stay as long as I can."
After greeting the other headmasters, Fontaine leaned slightly, peering toward the Hogwarts ranks.
"Is Mr. Riddle present? I've been quite eager to meet him."
At Dumbledore's gesture, Tom stepped forward.
Fontaine extended his hand first, clasping Tom's firmly. "Mr. Riddle, it's a pleasure."
"The pleasure is mine, Professor," Tom replied, smiling pleasantly. "You look far more spirited in person than through the Lume-Lens. I must say, it's a delightful surprise."
How fascinating.
Magical sight couldn't reveal someone's exact combat prowess, but one truth remained constant, truly powerful wizards were never weak in raw magical output.
And in Tom's vision, Fontaine's magical intensity surpassed Gunnar Grimmson's.
It even exceeded that of Aberforth Dumbledore.
So how weak could he possibly be?
"To bring Mr. Riddle such delight is my honor," Fontaine said modestly, lowering his posture just enough. "I trust we'll get along splendidly in the future. Don't you agree?"
"Of course," Tom replied smoothly. "I have a fondness for befriending mysterious wizards. There's always more to uncover."
For a fleeting instant, Fontaine's smile stiffened.
Then it returned, flawless as ever.
.
.
.