— — — — — —

Professor Flitwick made no attempt to hide how pleased he was about passing the evaluation.

It wasn’t the honor itself that mattered to him. What excited him was the change it represented.

In his eyes, the wizarding world was about to become far more vibrant. Graduation would no longer be the end for most witches and wizards.

Once people had clear ranks and something to strive toward, things would get very interesting.

Of course, he also wanted to test his own limits. Within Tom’s ranking system, where exactly did he stand? How many levels were above him? How many stronger wizards were out there?

At the same time, in a fifth-year Potions class, Snape had done something almost unheard of.

He was wearing the badge.

That said, his expression stayed as cold as ever, his brows drawn tight, the low pressure around him practically freezing the room.

The students were dying of curiosity, but no one dared ask. Even the usual troublemakers kept their heads down, carefully brewing their potions, afraid of setting him off.

Snape’s reluctance was written all over his face, yet he never took the badge off.

Because... Tom had "asked" him to wear it.

Such a perfect walking advertisement. Why waste it?

Of course, imbalance breeds resentment.

Seeing the heads of Slytherin and Ravenclaw proudly wearing their badges, the students of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor quickly grew dissatisfied. They crowded around their own heads of house, complaining.

Why weren’t their professors Arcane Wizards?

By evening, McGonagall and Sprout couldn’t take the pleading looks anymore. After the feast, they went straight to Tom and requested an evaluation.

Especially Sprout. Many people had quietly doubted her strength, which left the famously kind-hearted head of Hufflepuff rather unhappy.

Just because I like working with plants doesn’t mean that’s all I can do.

And who decided that specializing in plants meant you couldn’t fight?

It was about time these ignorant students got a proper shock.

So not only did Sprout insist on taking the evaluation, she demanded it be public. She wanted students there to watch.

A live broadcast wouldn’t hurt either.

Her boldness even caught McGonagall off guard, but it didn’t take long before she straightened up as well.

If the two male heads could do it, why couldn’t they?

"I’ll join too," McGonagall said. "A live broadcast would be best."

Tom smiled and agreed without hesitation. "No problem. How about this Saturday?"

This was exactly the effect he had been aiming for. Influence from the top down.

Once the strongest figures in the wizarding world accepted his ranking system, it would naturally spread downward and become common sense.

And once people started improving, they’d seek out the Guild for evaluations.

That meant Tom would gain access to a massive pool of talent data. When needed, he could gather them and put that power to use.

In truth, it wasn’t just the two professors who were getting restless.

Over the past few days, countless Ministries of Magic and various professional organizations had reached out to him.

The Ministries wanted to evaluate their Aurors.

Shops wanted a standardized system to assess talent, making recruitment easier—and to weed out employees who were just coasting along.

Tom’s response was the same to all of them: wait.

He still needed time to prepare more puppets. He couldn’t keep using disposable ones every time.

On the surface, everyone stood to benefit.

And in reality, that was true.

Everyone except one person.

Tonks.

...

During dinner, Tom had received an unexpected letter.

Since she didn’t have him added on Codex, Tonks had resorted to the old-fashioned method—writing a letter—to pour out her grievances.

The contents...

Anyone else would feel pity reading it.

Tom, however, nearly laughed himself to death.

In the letter, Tonks had practically turned into the embodiment of misery. The Aurors already knew they’d be taking the evaluation soon, and everyone was on edge.

Their daily greetings had even changed.

"Think you can beat Tonks today?"

"How many Tonks can you take?"

"I think I’m two Tonks, three is just too much..."

And that was just the beginning.

Once more people started taking the test, it would only get worse. For example, anyone wanting to become an Auror in the future would have to pass her first.

Just imagining that made Tonks feel like her life was over.

After venting, she didn’t forget to beg Tom for mercy—asking him to change the standard.

That, of course, was impossible.

If he changed the rules right after setting them, what credibility would they have?

If anything, adjustments would only come after the overall strength of the wizarding world improved, and Tonks was no longer around the median level.

That wasn’t happening anytime soon.

And no, it definitely had nothing to do with her calling him a scumbag. Absolutely nothing.

...

..

At midnight, pale moonlight spilled across the Black Lake. The surface shimmered, ripples rising gently with the breeze before settling back into stillness.

A soft humming drifted along the shore.

Kamio walked lightly beneath the moon, heading toward the castle, a cheerful tune on her lips and a bright, excited expression in her eyes.

"Oh! You’re already here!"

She slipped quietly through the entrance hall and into a lounge opposite the Great Hall. Spotting Tom, who had arrived even earlier than she had, her face lit up instantly as she hurried over.

"Couldn’t wait to come make little foxes with me?"

Tom didn’t even blink. He pushed her flawless, too-close face away and said flatly, "Weren’t you the one who said you don’t have enough tails yet, so you can’t have little foxes?"

The girl didn’t get annoyed in the slightest. If anything, she leaned in again, smiling even more sweetly.

"Making little foxes isn’t that simple. Back in the Tamamo clan, offspring were rare because our bloodline is too strong. My mother didn’t have me until she was over a thousand years old. I was treasured beyond belief."

"And your bloodline is equally precious. If we want little foxes, we need practice first. Once I reach maturity later on, it’ll be much smoother."

Tom looked at her with a strange expression.

They were close. Close enough that if he tilted his head just a little, he could kiss those soft, cherry-colored lips.

He had once thought anime was just anime. Japan couldn’t really be like this.

Now his view had changed. Kamio’s obsession with fertility went beyond imagination. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she turned yandere at any moment.

"..."

Tom looked at Kamio again.

Her face was pure and innocent, yet every movement carried an irresistible allure. Her voice sounded sweet and guileless, almost naive... but the words themselves were enough to make anyone’s blood run hot.

Practice?

The way she said it almost made him want to agree.

"Turn into a fox first. Then we’ll talk."

Tom forced the impulse down. He had no intention of actually "eating" this fox tonight. Wrong place, wrong time. At most... he’d settle for something less.

Kamio tilted her head and shot him a playful, teasing look.

"Your hands itching again, huh?"

Tom nodded honestly.

"Heh. What a coincidence. My tail’s itching too."

With a soft pop, the girl vanished. In her place appeared a small, lively fox. She leapt lightly onto his lap, let out a satisfied little whine, and settled down comfortably.

It was Tom’s first time seeing her true form. Before this, she’d always been in human form with added tails.

Her golden fur shimmered like molten metal, flowing with light. A distinctive patch of white adorned her face, and though her features were unmistakably fox-like, her expressions were almost human.

"Can you still talk like this?" Tom suddenly asked.

"Idiot. Foxes speak fox," she chirped.

The sound was just soft squeaks, but the intent carried through her magic, clear as words in his mind.

"Fair enough."

As he stroked her fur, Tom asked, "You said you’re going to face some kind of disaster in the future, but you don’t even know who the enemy is. And you just came running over to... make little foxes with me? What if your prediction is wrong?"

Tom had plenty of experience grooming creatures like unicorns and pandas, and his technique showed. Kamio was already letting out soft, contented sounds, her body going slack as she explained lazily.

"First, Tamamo clan’s foresight almost never fails. And even if it does... that just means we’ve run into something unstoppable. For beings like that, fate is nothing more than a sentence they can rewrite at will."

"Second... even if the prediction is wrong, making little foxes with you isn’t a loss for me."

Kamio shifted in his arms, nudging him as if to ask for a better spot to be petted, then continued. "This world... doesn’t have anything familiar to me anymore. And I have to think about the disaster that will come in the future. Only your presence makes me feel safe. If I don’t stay by your side, I’ll just be alone. I might as well go back to being sealed."

Tom could hear the loneliness in her voice.

The wariness in his heart eased a little more.

But fully trusting her... he still couldn’t.

He wasn’t someone who trusted easily to begin with. Newt and the others had fates he could trace back to the original story. But Kamio had appeared out of nowhere, carrying secrets he couldn’t yet unravel.

A Nine-Tailed Fox...

Even Morgan had been shocked when she heard that members of the Tamamo clan still existed. Though separated by great distance, even the witch of the Three Isles had heard of their name.

Back in her era, there were still seven-tailed beings—equal to her in status, rulers among monsters.

"...Fine. I’ll agree to make little foxes with you."

Tom dangled the promise like bait.

Kamio instantly perked up, springing onto his shoulder and chittering excitedly.

"Don’t get too excited yet. Before that, you’ll need to pass a test. There are some materials I need, and they just so happen to be in Japan."

"Hmph!"

Her excitement vanished in an instant. She leapt off his shoulder, transforming midair back into her human form. Hands on her hips, she glared at him indignantly.

"Tom, I see what this is now. You didn’t come here to make little foxes with me—you came to make me work for you!"

"Yeah," Tom said without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "What’s wrong with living off someone else?"

"Kamio, you won’t even let me freeload, but you expect me to help you make little foxes? Where in the world do you find a deal that good?"

"Keep at it, and maybe someday you’ll have me as your own loyal kept man. Sounds great, right?"

The rapid-fire logic left Kamio completely stunned.

Wait... was that actually how it worked?

.

.

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