"Professor, did you need something from me?" Tom stepped closer and lowered his voice.
In terms of strength and accomplishments, he no longer trailed Professor McGonagall in the slightest. Yet every time the stern Transfiguration professor appeared before him, a faint sense of guilt surfaced.
It was the natural suppression of a Head of House over a student. Perhaps after graduation it would ease. But vanish entirely? Unlikely.
McGonagall adjusted her glasses slightly and spoke in a quiet tone.
"Mr. Riddle, is the Marauder's Map currently in your possession?"
Tom paused, then nodded. "After Professor Dumbledore borrowed it as evidence, he returned it not long after."
McGonagall inclined her head.
"The map rendered invaluable service. Without it, Peter Pettigrew's crimes might never have been exposed."
Her expression grew complicated. She still struggled to reconcile the idea that one of her former students had become such a traitor. And every time she thought of Lily Evans, grief resurfaced, sharp and unwelcome.
"However," she continued, her tone firming, "as useful as the map may be, it also makes it far too easy for students to violate school rules. That is not ideal for the school."
She looked directly at him.
"Mr. Riddle, I would like you to hand the map over for safekeeping."
Tom nodded in understanding.
For a brief moment, McGonagall seemed satisfied by his apparent compliance.
Then he shook his head.
"I understand your reasoning, Professor. But I am afraid I cannot give it to you."
Her brows knit together. "Mr. Riddle, you just nodded in agreement."
"I nodded because I understand your position," Tom replied with a faint smile. "But the map was created by students. It belongs to students. It will continue to pass from one generation to the next as a senior's gift to younger students. One day it may be confiscated, only to resurface again, perhaps by some clever twins who 'accidentally' rediscover it. And so the cycle continues."
He held her gaze calmly.
"It is a game. A silent contest between students and professors. You may counter it with your own methods. But simply requesting it outright would break the unspoken rules."
"So I cannot give it to you. Of course, if you catch me red handed, the map will naturally become yours."
McGonagall stared at him for several seconds before pointing at him in mock reprimand.
"A game between students and professors? You have quite the imagination. Very well. But if I catch you, I will not be lenient."
"You have my word, Professor. Even without the map, I remain quite safe."
As Tom walked away, McGonagall allowed herself a quiet smile. Already, her mind was turning over possible methods to counter the map's tracking abilities.
He was right. There was a certain tacit understanding between staff and students. To disrupt that balance over a single artifact might not be worth it.
A battle of wits with Riddle?
That might be rather interesting.
...
Late that night.
In the Forbidden Forest, Tom released the three young creatures from his small world.
He had once considered letting the panda pair roam freely in the Forest. Unfortunately, the moment he mentioned it, the two little pandas had clung to his legs, eyes brimming with tears.
What kind of panda wanted to be "free ranged"? Hunting for food daily was exhausting. Far better to remain in the small world, waiting to be fed. And if they grew bored, they could always swat a few runic serpents for exercise.
In the end, Tom relented. The pandas returned to their comfortable realm. He would simply keep them close. They made excellent pillows during afternoon naps.
The three unicorns bounded off joyfully into the trees.
Tom continued deeper into the Forest, covering more than ten meters with each stride. It did not take long before he reached the territory of the Acromantulas.
A rustling erupted in the undergrowth.
Not because the spiders were foolish enough to approach him as prey.
They were fleeing.
As one of the rare 5X classified creatures with high intelligence, the Acromantulas had not forgotten Tom. They remembered the calamity he had once brought.
Aragog crawled out from a massive pit, several of his legs trembling. Since their last encounter, Tom had not returned in person. Hagrid had served as intermediary. Why had he come tonight?
The old spider still remembered that Tom had once forbidden him from using certain titles. He spoke cautiously.
"You... have come."
"You have performed well," Tom said at once, easing Aragog's tension. This visit was not for extermination.
"But the quality of the venom has not improved. That is a problem."
Aragog shifted uneasily. "The resources of the Forest are limited. You also require corpses. I cannot see how to increase output further."
"You need not think of a solution. I have one."
Tom snapped his fingers.
A glass vial flew from his pocket. Inside, a crimson liquid gleamed like fresh blood. It rose into the air in a thin stream and shot straight into Aragog's open maw before the spider could react.
Aragog did not suspect poison. If Tom wished him dead, subtlety would be unnecessary.
He waited.
Moments later, a surge of vitality coursed through his immense body. His joints tightened, his exoskeleton gleamed, and strength flooded his limbs.
He felt younger.
Not by human standards, but by spider years. The effect was dramatic.
"My lord... I..." Aragog's voice trembled. His previously weakened legs now supported him with ease. He seemed larger, more imposing. Already surpassing the size of an elephant, he now loomed even more enormous.
"Essence of life," Tom explained casually. "The batch you received is the most potent. It does not truly grant ten extra years, but two or three at minimum. I have prepared weaker versions as well. Hagrid will distribute them among your offspring. With enhanced vitality, venom production should increase."
The essence had been refined from extensive notes left by Kel'Thuzad, improved through Tom's own modifications. The primary ingredient was large quantities of magical creature blood, acquired through Newt Scamander's channels.
Its effects bore similarities to the Philosopher's Stone, though inferior in terms of longevity. It was brute force vitality rather than true alchemical transcendence.
Still, for spiders seeking to produce venom, it would suffice.