— — — — — —
In the abandoned Graves estate, a grandfather and his grandson walked slowly, chatting as they went. The atmosphere was strange, tense beneath the surface.
"I've wanted to find you and talk for a long time, Robert. Where did you go during your recovery?"
"The world is big. I just went to see it," Robert replied calmly.
Percival smiled faintly. "The world is big… and also small. There are only a handful of people capable of completely hiding your whereabouts under those circumstances."
"Let me guess. Dumbledore? Or Grindelwald?"
"Or perhaps both working together." Percival's tone carried deeper meaning. "Most people think those two are absolute opposites, light and dark. Very few know they were once extremely close."
"Grandfather, there's no need to probe me."
Robert stopped walking and decided to be direct. "I joined the Acolytes. On Grindelwald's territory, the International Confederation of Wizards can't find me."
A sharp glint flashed through Percival's eyes. "As expected of Gellert Grindelwald. But I'm surprised he accepted you."
Robert suddenly laughed. "Isn't that normal? After all, he acted as my grandfather for a while. Protecting his 'grandson' is something he'd naturally be willing to do."
A fierce aura flickered. As he spoke, Robert quickly took two steps back, widening the distance between them.
To his surprise, Percival endured even that.
The restless surge of magic stirred a gust of wind, then quickly subsided. Percival only glanced at him before returning to his harmless old-man demeanor.
"Robert, you've changed a lot. You're braver than before."
"People grow. Even though I'm already past fifty, it's still an age for striving."
After a long silence.
"Grandfather, siding with Grindelwald is only a temporary measure. Let me enter the ruins. As long as I gain enough power, I'll definitely avenge you."
Percival examined him. "You want to become a Sun Chaser?"
Robert showed just the right amount of confusion. "Sun Chaser? What's that?"
...
..
"For some reason, those who entered the Aztec ruins are called Sun Chasers."
Tom lay back in his chair, explaining to Nicolas Flamel, "But even Quahog isn't qualified to enter the ruins. According to him, everyone inside is an antique. Some of those old monsters might even be older than Dumbledore."
Nicolas's eyelids twitched, his expression darkening slightly. If Dumbledore counted as an old monster, then what did that make him, someone who'd lived over six hundred years? A fossil?
"Percival Graves is very likely one of them. And also the former headmaster of Ilvermorny."
"Percival…"
Old age had dulled Nicolas's memory. It took Tom's hint for him to recall who that was.
"Oh, the unlucky fellow whose identity Grindelwald stole."
Tom's lips twitched. Sometimes it was surprisingly easy to leave your name in history. All it took was being conveniently used by a central figure of the era, and you'd be remembered forever.
Nicolas lay back in another reclining chair and sighed. "Perhaps your trial will still depend on them."
"But that's not the only possibility."
Tom straightened at once. "Professor, do you know something about divine creatures?"
He had never hidden much about his trials from Nicolas and Newt. Their experience was too valuable, and he wanted every bit of help he could get. This time was no different.
Nicolas smiled, though the expression was more exasperated than pleased. The boy had a real talent for pushing buttons.
When he didn't need him, it was "old man." The moment he needed something, it instantly became "Professor."
In six hundred years, Nicolas had never been irritated like this. The past three years had more than made up for it.
But looking at Tom's shameless face, Nicolas knew there was no point arguing. He sighed and explained, "Tom… the world is actually very fragile. It's full of uncertainty and complexity."
"There's a theory from the Muggle world that's quite interesting. A butterfly flapping its wings in the Amazon rainforest in South America could cause a tornado in Texas two weeks later."
"A tiny starting point, after countless complicated changes, can lead to shocking results."
Nicolas's rocking chair swayed gently. The old man slowly closed his eyes, his tone calm and perceptive. "You're no butterfly now. You're something far more powerful. Quetzalcoatl has already appeared, but is it truly the only one?"
After Nicolas finished speaking, both of them fell silent.
Tom agreed with him. The original storyline had never been this chaotic. In theory, once Voldemort died, everything should have wrapped up neatly. But now Voldemort was practically insignificant. If he had to face Quetzalcoatl from before, he'd probably get beaten into questioning his life choices.
"But Professor, I can't just keep waiting," Tom said after a moment, sounding helpless. "This isn't even the final trial. I'm sure the last one will be even harder."
"The more anxious you are, the harder it becomes," Nicolas shook his head slightly. "Tom, follow your own pace. As your influence on the world grows, one day they'll come to you themselves."
The tension in the boy's brow eased a little. He waved a hand, and drinks along with a pile of snacks appeared on the round table between the two recliners.
Nicolas glanced over casually. His beard practically bristled with anger.
"You brat, why put out so many peanuts and pistachios? Trying to crack this old man's teeth?"
"No, you can just watch me eat. Think of it as eye candy. And come on, old man, these can hurt your teeth? Your health must be terrible. No wonder Grandma Perenelle's been giving you such disdainful looks lately."
"Ungrateful disciple! Absolutely ungrateful!"
The old man nearly choked with indignation, while Tom's mood improved considerably.
...
..
The next day, the Scottish Highland cattle Daphne had arranged overnight finally arrived. When Gabrielle saw her new playmate, she immediately brightened, giggling as she ran after the little calf.
Of course, the only one happy about it was the little girl. Tom could swear he saw distinctly human-like terror in the Highland cattle's eyes.
"Tom, Professor Lupin is here," Astoria's gentle voice sounded behind him.
Tom nodded and followed the girl into the reception room.
Inside, Nicolas was chatting with Lupin. Facing a living legend, Lupin looked stiff and awkward, barely sitting. Nicolas, however, was warm and smiling throughout.
The old man also held grudges. Since Lupin was going to help track down those vampires, Nicolas naturally treated him very well.
Not just well. He was practically throwing money at him.
Rare potions, magical items with unusual effects, even alchemical constructs meant to serve as shields. Nicolas handed out plenty, and even promised to cover Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion from now on.
Lupin wasn't just flattered anymore. He was terrified.
The things Nicolas had produced in just a few minutes were enough to buy his life twice over. Only after Tom reassured him did he finally accept them.
"Mr. Flamel, don't worry. I'll definitely find the mastermind behind the attack on you."
With so many life-saving items on him, Lupin's confidence grew. Before leaving, he gave his guarantee.
"If there's danger, run," Tom reminded him. "Just bring back information. There's no need to confront them head-on."
What Tom needed wasn't Lupin's combat ability, but a list. Once he had the names, he wouldn't need any excuses. He could act directly.
Lupin nodded and left the manor.
Tom was still considering whether to take Gabrielle to see the London Eye that afternoon when a message from Dumbledore arrived.
Someone from Castelobruxo wanted to pay him a visit.
"Hmm... Castelobruxo?"
Tom frowned at the message Dumbledore had sent. "Why are they looking for me? If they had something to say, why not do it at school? They have to wait until the holidays and waste my time?"
Nicolas muttered, "You must have slept with one of their students and a teacher found out."
The boy rolled his eyes dramatically.
The old man was a rogue himself, so he assumed everyone else was the same. At least, Tom wasn't the type to carry around voyeuristic glasses on the beach and rate passing beauties.
"Old man, even if I had done something like that, it wouldn't be the teachers coming to me. It'd be the parents. Besides, I barely interacted with their students. Don't slander me."
"No idea then." Nicolas shrugged. After stirring the pot, he acted like it had nothing to do with him, slowly getting up and heading outside. "Just don't bring anyone strange into the house. Tell me how it goes after you talk."
Tom waved him off to show he understood.
After thinking for a moment, he sent Dumbledore a reply, arranging to meet the next morning at his London residence.
...
That afternoon, Tom finally rescued the Scottish Highland cattle and took Gabrielle and Fleur back to London.
The three of them went to Big Ben first and took a bunch of photos. When the sky threatened rain again, they moved their plans indoors.
Seeing the little girl having too much fun to go home, Tom suddenly had an idea and took the Veela sisters to a karaoke bar.
After all, Veela were known for singing, dancing, and more. Fleur had danced for him before, but he'd never actually heard her sing.
Well, she didn't disappoint.
Her voice carried that unique Veela cadence, bright and soft at the same time.
Gabrielle was an even bigger surprise. She stood on tiptoe to reach the microphone, her childish voice soft and sweet. Even when she went off-key, it just sounded adorable.
Both sisters sounded like they'd been kissed by angels. Their singing was clear and pure, as if it could cleanse the soul. Gabrielle's tender voice in particular made Tom unconsciously smile like a doting aunt.
Then it was his turn.
After one minute, Fleur and Gabrielle looked like they were about to cry.
Tom's singing ability was just... inversely proportional to his magical talent.
You could imagine how terrible it was. It was basically just curses in sound form coming out of his mouth, maybe even stronger than his magic.
The worst part was that he had no idea. He sang with complete immersion, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Fleur couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed the hand holding the microphone and gently placed it on her thigh, pleading, "You can touch me instead of singing."
"..."
.
.
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