Lucius knew his former master all too well.
The Dark Lord appeared generous and magnanimous, sharing glory and power with his followers. During that era, the Death Eaters had become a name that struck fear into the wizarding world, running rampant and acting without restraint.
But in truth, the Dark Lord was an extremely selfish man. In many matters, he went to great lengths to assert his own supremacy and uniqueness.
After reading the records about Horcruxes, Lucius was certain he had touched upon the Dark Lord's ultimate secret.
No wonder the Dark Lord so often claimed he had conquered death, that he had gone further down the path of immortality than anyone else.
Now it all made sense.
And the more you knew, the faster you died.
He had handed one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes to Dumbledore.
What kind of suicidal lunatic makes a move like that?
The Dark Lord was surely still alive somewhere. When he eventually returned and discovered what Lucius had done, the punishment would be unimaginable. That alone was not the worst part. After all, Lucius had acted unknowingly.
The real disaster was that he now understood what a Horcrux was.
The Dark Lord was not the sort of master who respected privacy. Using Legilimency on his subordinates was common practice.
How do you silence someone who knows your deepest secret forever?
Lucius would wager every last Galleon of the Malfoy fortune that, in the Dark Lord's mind, there was only one answer.
Eliminate the problem.
That was why Lucius felt utterly trapped by Tom. The moment he heard the word "Horcrux," his life had slipped out of his own hands.
"What do I do? What do I do?"
Lucius paced frantically. He could not think of a perfect solution.
He was too weak. In front of the Dark Lord, he had no ability to resist. If he died, what would become of Narcissa and Draco? A widow and a child in the pureblood world would be devoured without mercy.
"Father! Tom sent you a letter!"
Draco's voice rang out from beyond the library.
Like a drowning man grabbing the last piece of driftwood, Lucius rushed out.
...
"Bloom of Frost."
On the outskirts of London, in the Royal Botanical Gardens, Tom stood holding a bud of ice.
As the frost-laden flower began to bloom, the temperature within several kilometers plummeted sharply.
In less than twenty seconds, frost coated once-lush green leaves.
When the blossom reached halfway open, Tom suddenly closed his palm. Shards of blue ice drifted from between his fingers, refracting rainbow hues in the sunlight.
The falling temperature stabilized.
Inside the learning space, two old men and Ariana watched Tom's little "performance."
Andros did not hesitate in his praise.
"Tom, if you unleashed that spell at full power, this entire forest would freeze solid and shatter into dust."
"Absurd. Completely absurd," Grindelwald muttered, his mismatched eyes gleaming with confusion. "He didn't even draw upon the astral energies you mentioned. He did all of that with his own magic alone. If it were Albus, I could understand, but…"
"Stop bringing up Albus," Ariana cut him off bluntly. "I don't believe Albus is as strong as Tom. Tom didn't even use a wand just now. Could my brother do that?"
"Well… wizards using wands is perfectly natural," Grindelwald protested weakly.
If anyone else had belittled Dumbledore like that, he would have unleashed Fiendfyre without hesitation. But this was Ariana speaking.
Still, Grindelwald knew the truth. Even with a wand, a wizard of their level would need total concentration to achieve similar results.
Tom had done it effortlessly, as if lifting a feather.
"I often forget to carry my wand. It doesn't affect me much," Andros added casually, backing Ariana up.
"You're a freak. Don't use exceptions as examples. How many people in the world are like you?"
As the three bickered, Tom smiled faintly.
The dramatic increase in his frost magic was not the result of sudden enlightenment. It was simply because, following Kel'Thuzad's notes, he had engraved within his body a magical circuit specifically optimized for frost magic, known as the Frost King's Crown.
When his magic flowed through the circuit, it functioned like a turbocharger, massively amplifying frost spells.
The circuit was only roughly completed. Many details still required refinement. Once perfected, its power would undoubtedly rise further.
Unfortunately, this method was unusable by anyone else.
Without Merlin's magic perception, even Tom would not be able to clearly sense the flow of magic and perform such precise manipulation.
Which meant that, for now, the only person in the world qualified to master this was Tom Riddle.
He wondered, if he faced Dumbledore now, whether his frost magic alone could withstand the old man's might.
...
Returning home from the forest, Tom waited until Ariana was absent before handing over part of his experimental summaries to Grindelwald.
After only a glance, Grindelwald's expression changed.
"Tom… who exactly wrote these notes? Was it Herpo the Foul?"
"No," Tom shook his head, offering no further explanation. "Verify them as soon as possible. Let me know if there are issues."
"I understand."
After agreeing, Grindelwald could not help asking, almost resentfully, "Can't I see the original?"
He knew Tom's sudden leap in ability over the past two days was entirely due to a magical notebook he had obtained.
"When you become a figure as great as the Four Founders, I'll show it to you. Otherwise, it won't do you any good."
Without the system's protection, even the King of the Century would be affected by the magic embedded in the notes.
Placed in this world, Kel'Thuzad as a true lich would likely surpass even the Founders and Merlin in raw magical might.