Hogwarts: Chill, I'm Not That Riddle-Chapter 338: The Birth of an Alchemical Creature
β β β β β β
Tom was never the type to hide his strength. He had plenty of trump cards no one knew about, but he had never once relied on patience or submission on his way up. ππ«ππ²ππππ§π πππ₯.πππ
Act like a harmless dog long enough and you really will become one. Especially in a world like the wizarding one, where belief shapes reality. Never wrong yourself.
So from the moment he entered school, Tom let his brilliance show. No matter where he went, he was always the center of attention. As his life force and soul essence continued to grow, his presence only grew more overwhelming. Most people couldnβt even meet his eyes, let alone raise their voice around him.
Donβt be fooled by Robertβs bravado yesterday. The man had held high office for years. There werenβt many in the magical world who could look down on him.
If it had been some ordinary Ministry official, they wouldnβt have dared talk big at all.
But today, Lady Greengrass noticed something new about Tom. A deeper, more mysterious quality. As if she were standing before a still lake under a starry night, beautiful yet tinged with an unsettling chill.
That was Ravenclawβs influence. She didnβt teach him much practical magic, but nearly everything she transmitted was some form of mental or spiritual arcana. So of course it changed his aura.
Ravenclaw always looked like a gentle, thoughtful older sister, but Ariana flinched when she saw her, and even Andros didnβt fare much better. Only Tom β with his ridiculous cheat skills and as the owner of the study spaceβ only him could treat her calmly and ignore that eerie pressure of pure mental force.
"Mom!" Daphne, spotting her mother, flew into her arms like a joyful lark.
"Youβre almost grown and still so clingy."
She scolded her, but the smile on Lady Greengrassβs face wouldnβt go away. What mother didnβt like a daughter who adored her? She rubbed Astoriaβs head when the little girl leaned in, then turned to Tom. "Come home with us today. Rest a few days before going back to your own place."
Tom nodded. He saw no reason to refuse. The four of them grabbed hold of one another and Apparated back to Greengrass Manor.
The house-elf had already prepared an extravagant dinner. As expected, the conversation kept circling back to Grindelwaldβs recent moves and Tomβs encounter from the day before.
Lady Greengrass wasnβt particularly worried. Their familyβs old chronicles described the last war in detail. As a house that cared neither for power nor status, the Greengrasses always kept a low profile. No matter who won, both sides generally ignored them. Just avoid the battle-heavy regions and youβd be fine.
But Robertβs behavior from yesterday had genuinely angered her.
"Tom, donβt worry. I canβt do much about Graves in North America, but those people can forget about doing business in Britain from now on. When I get the chance, Iβll find an excuse to toss him into Azkaban for a bit. Let him enjoy the hospitality."
British witches and wizards tended to have an unexplainable sense of superiority. They simply considered North America a barbaric backwater. Even now that North America had a massive population and rapid development, the British still saw them as nouveau riche amateurs.
Tom just smiled. He didnβt mention his plan to make the whole problem disappear permanently. Some things succeed in silence. Announcing it serves no purpose.
Dinner ended, and the two sisters immediately dragged Tom to the garden to transplant the plants heβd brought from school. Afterward they all returned to his room, one Greengrass girl on each side.
Unfortunately, nothing could happen. All he could do was tell them a bedtime story until they drifted off.
He was already deep into the saga of Arcane. Tom had added the magic he knew into the story and even altered some events... it had turned more into fanfiction than the actual show.
Even he wasnβt sure how heβd stitch the plot back together later. He made Jinx far too powerful now.
β β β
The next morning
he was jolted awake by Cassandra messaging him. She was asking what day he planned to come to America.
γCassandra Voleγ: Hogwarts is on break, right? You still have a lot of money with me. Donβt you want it back?
γTom Riddleγ: Itβs break. Let me rest a few days. Even house-elves get more downtime than this.
γCassandra Voleγ: Iβm asking you to pick up your money, not do labor. A North American vacation wouldnβt kill you. I recommend Cancun. Lots of Muggles, but the scenery is gorgeous.
γTom Riddleγ: Winter should feel like winter. Iβm not doing a Christmas in swim trunks. No thanks.
γTom Riddleγ: Five days. Iβll head to North America in five days, then be back before Christmas Eve.
...
Far away in Massachusetts, Cassandra frowned. It was already the fifteenth. Heβd come for maybe three or four days before running back?
But she had no good reason to demand he spend Christmas there, so all she could do was hurry him along, worried she would blow half his money on clothes and accessories before he arrived.
Tom ignored her "threats," sent a few lazy replies, closed the chat, and went to wake Daphne. They were supposed to meet her friends today and go shopping for clothes.
But Bones arrived unexpectedly and threw off all his plans. He had no choice but to let the sisters go ahead without him and join them once heβd dealt with her.
"Sorry for interrupting your date." Bones said it with a smile, though there wasnβt the slightest hint of apology in it.
Tom snorted. "Good. As long as you know. Tell me what you want. My vacation time is rare and precious."
"Iβm here to bring you money," Bones said with a shrug. "And Iβm afraid your holiday is about to get a lot shorter."
She handed over a massive order contract, placed jointly by more than twenty ministries. The total value was over two million galleons. If Tom could deliver, the profit alone would put him a single step closer to his five-million goal.
But something felt off to him. "I havenβt even finished the last batch. Why are you back again?"
Bones only smiled and reminded him, "Delivery can be delayed, but never more than four months. Theyβre getting nervous."
Tom understood instantly.
So that was their play. They wanted to lock down his production capacity, keep him too busy to sell anything to the Acolytes.
Once he saw through it, he couldnβt help laughing inwardly.
Clear out all his stock?
They could do it before. They could do it now. But soon... probably not.
...
For the next two days he ran wild with the girls, hitting every fun spot in London and visiting almost every Christmas market worth seeing. Only after that did he head home to begin crafting the alchemy creature.
The training-dream model was basically done. What he needed now was the extraction of consciousness fragments and a few adjustments to the magic patterns. He even integrated his custom communication sigils so the alchemy creatures could exchange information at high speed.
And then a thought struck him: if two alchemy creatures could communicate... couldnβt they work like "phones."
The idea wasnβt hard to execute, technically speaking. The real problem was materials.
Most importantly, he needed consciousness fragments. And he had far too little. His supply of "spirituality" was tiny to begin with. He definitely wasnβt rich enough in materials to waste them making magical telephones.
In theory, humansβand any intelligent creatureβwere generating new thoughts every second. It should be possible to extract them harmlessly. But Tomβs current method was a crude soul-pressing and refining technique, and each extraction yielded barely anything.
Still, he wrote the idea down. It might be useful one day.
After all, the system still expected him to keep upgrading and optimizing the Codex. Even if he pushed global adoption to its limit, it wouldnβt hit the 100 percent completion the system demanded.
While Tom adjusted the last circuit lines, his house remained quiet.
---
But outside, on the European continent, the situation was anything but peaceful.
Grindelwald completely switched strategies. No more torture-without-killing. He began capturing wizards who attacked him, and within days had taken over ten people alive, most of them international Aurors.
Babajide rushed to Hogwarts again and dragged Dumbledore out.
In Austria, more than fifty Acolytes and Aurors clashed. Grindelwald and Dumbledore arrived one after another, engaged in a brief fight, and once again nothing came of it. They could only watch Grindelwald escort his people away safely.
"Babajide, we canβt keep doing this."
Dumbledoreβs expression was grim. "A drawn-out tug-of-war only drains us. It wonβt produce results. I canβt hold Grindelwald down. As long as the Acolytes maintain their current territory, their strength combined with the German Ministry will let them hold indefinitely."
Babajide voiced a thought heβd been chewing on. "What if we pin Grindelwald down for a while, and I gather everyone to take out his underlings?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "And then what?"
"What then?" Babajide blinked.
"Then Grindelwald becomes completely alone again. No burdens. No ties. Everything goes back to what it was before. Heβll move like a ghost, and no one will know where heβll strike next. At that point heβll be a nightmare hanging over the entire world. Everyone will live in fear."
Babajide felt numb.
So according to Dumbledore, letting Grindelwald grow his faction was actually better?
"Then what do you think we should do?"
"..."
"The only useful advice I have is to limit the Acolytesβ expansion."
Dumbledore sighed. "I donβt have a good way to break the stalemate. Power is the foundation of everything. Unless thereβs another wizard who can fight beside me and guarantee a win against Grindelwald, all other attempts will be meaningless."
Babajide hated the answer, but he had no alternative. He recalled most forces, set up defensive lines along the borders with several countries, and at least let people go home for Christmas.
Grindelwald didnβt try to expand his territory either. Instead he went back to tormenting the goblins, helping Tom squeeze out even more galleons.
...
The day before leaving for North America, Tom finally crawled out of his dark underground lab after two and a half days. He carried the results of his work to the back garden.
Seven round-headed dolls, each about sixty centimeters tall, stood neatly in a row on the grass. Their big, bulb-like eyes and four arms made them look both adorable and a little unsettling.
Tom infused each with the refined "spirituality." The magic circuits lit up, and the fragments began feeding on the dream-energy and stabilizing quickly. But digestion took time. Tom conjured a little table, sliced some beef, and ate while waiting.
About an hour later, the first doll woke from its dream state, its eyes hazy and unfocused.
"Master..."
.
.
.
