"The part about 'if you fail, your life is at risk.' In fact, nothing bad will happen to you," Wade replied.
"So I still have to go smooth things over with Grindelwald? I swear I'm dead—there's no way I'd be fine…"
"Tom, calm down and use your head. Unless Grindelwald is willing to give up everything he's gained so far and start a war with Dumbledore and the entire wizarding world right now, he won't harm you. Think about it: would he really sacrifice so much just to kill one second-year student? He'd have to be out of his mind to murder a twelve-year-old at Hogwarts."
Tom quieted for a moment, thought it over, and found that Wade's reasoning did make sense.
Grindelwald indeed had no reason to take such a risk at Hogwarts.
But Tom still couldn't figure something out.
He frowned and asked, "Grindelwald is wary of you, so you not showing up makes sense, but isn't there someone more suitable than me? Wouldn't Anne be better? She's one of Grindelwald's people to begin with—having her deliver your message would make perfect sense."
"Anne is indeed more suitable than you," Wade said, "but I still want you to go. Otherwise, I wouldn't have brought you with me to see Dumbledore just now. I've already told you, you need to face your fears. You can't spend your whole life being afraid of that old man, can you?"
Seeing Tom still hesitating, a flicker of disappointment crossed Wade's eyes. "Fine, if you don't want to, then let Anne go. When you get back, brief her on everything and focus on your own work."
Tom stood there, his expression conflicted—it was clear he was torn inside.
Wade didn't look at him again and walked past calmly.
But after taking only a few steps, he stopped once more.
"Tom, I know you still don't fully trust me, and I understand that. But the way I've pressured or teased you—it's only been to push you to unlock your full potential, to make you stronger for my sake. Still, I admit I've been too impatient. You're young, and you haven't gone through what I have. Don't take it too much to heart. Your talent remains unmatched—keep working hard."
After saying that, Wade walked away.
Tom watched Wade's back, his expression complicated.
Wade's last words struck him like a hammer to the temple.
The first half, Tom already understood—Wade had told him before.
Wade wanted to make use of his strength, to have him serve before surpassing him.
But the latter half, and the look on Wade's face, pierced Tom's pride like a knife.
Did this mean Wade had finally seen through his current level of ability and decided he'd been overestimated? That he was no longer worthy to stand beside him?
It made sense—he'd known there was no real danger, yet still chose to back down out of fear. How could someone like Wade ever respect that?
He thought back to when Wade was only eleven, already daring to face Grindelwald head-on. Even when his strength was far beneath Grindelwald's, he still fought with everything he had.
And compared to that…
Tom's pride was once again deeply wounded.
He suddenly had the feeling that if he went to Anne and passed this task to her, he would lose something vital—
the strength of his own heart.
A strange light flickered in Tom's eyes.
Magic was a power of the mind.
If his heart wasn't strong, then no matter how great his talent was, his future potential would be limited.
He would never be able to catch up to Wade Reynolds.
So he could not—must not—lose that will to be strong.
Without fear, without hesitation, only then could his magic become unstoppable.
He might not have Wade's "background," nor had he lived through his experiences, but he would prove that he was no less than Wade.
Tom took a deep breath and turned to leave.
But the direction he went wasn't toward the club room—it was toward Grindelwald's office.
…
Wade returned to the common room and walked straight to his dormitory.
Since everything was now proceeding as he had planned, it was time to make preparations.
As for Tom… Wade admitted to himself that he had been a bit too impatient.
Perhaps he should have let Tom grow freely for another two years before stepping in.
Fourth- and fifth-year Tom Riddle—that would be the sharpest, most capable version of him.
Wade returned to his bed, pulled open his trunk from underneath, and took out a manuscript.
It was the preliminary draft of the "ideology" he intended to promote.
Of course, it was only a basic framework; the detailed content hadn't yet been refined.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Wade noticed a glint of silver shining from under his headboard.
He narrowed his eyes, lifted the pillow, and found a familiar round sphere—and beneath it, a piece of parchment.
The handwriting on the parchment was unmistakably familiar.
[Since I can't contact you directly for now, I've left this note instead. Don't worry about anyone else reading it—the information here is protected by Nightmare Magic.
Back to the point, I've improved on the previous conversion device—the one you're looking at now.
Even though the earlier converter balanced the negative emotional backlash by amplifying positive emotion, excessive positivity still caused minor side effects.
Once the intake grows too large, quantity will inevitably turn into qualitative change, which means major problems could still occur.
And now, this improved version can completely eliminate all emotional influence, leaving behind only the purest form of magical energy.
However, the energy conversion remains equivalent. The process of neutralizing emotional residue greatly increases the loss of magic during conversion.
For example, ten units of "residual material" can only yield one unit of pure magic after conversion.
At the same time, this converter can now hold far less purified residue, and its conversion speed is also significantly slower.
So, I can offer you two choices.
The first is to ignore the minor side effects and continue absorbing the same kind of residue as before—taking the gamble that the accumulated side effects will never truly harm you.
The second choice is to absorb this now-purified magical energy. But if you choose this option, you'll have to stop receiving residue from me for now. Only after I develop a high-capacity converter can you continue. Still, I'll send you small amounts from time to time.
By the way, I've attached the blueprints for this improved converter to the letter—you might find it worthwhile to study them.
Lastly, I hope you haven't forgotten to keep advancing your Ancient Magic~
Your Senior.]
As soon as Wade finished reading, the letter dissolved into a wisp of white smoke and vanished into the air.
When the smoke cleared, a neatly folded blueprint appeared in his hand, densely covered with fine writing and intricate lines.
Wade calmly put away the blueprint, then picked up the metal sphere.
The sphere was forged from goblin metal. From the fine magic patterns engraved on its surface, it was clear this was genuine goblin craftsmanship.
No doubt that goblin master craftsman was still somewhere out there, being squeezed for every last bit of value by his senior.
Wade closed his eyes and used the spell his senior had taught him, the one specifically designed to absorb "residual material." He cautiously drew a small amount from the converter.
Immediately, he felt a warm current flow from the sphere in his hand, spreading through every part of his body.
A comfortable warmth enveloped him completely.
This magic was pure—remarkably pure.
Before he knew it, Wade had absorbed all the energy within the converter, and there seemed to be no adverse effects at all.
Compared to the old "residual material," which used to make him feel unnaturally elated for two or three days after absorption, this pure magic truly had no side effects.
The only disappointment was how little there was.
And at this conversion rate… if his senior couldn't improve it further, he might really have to wait until his beard turned white before she finally unsealed it.
Still, considering how fast her research usually progressed, Wade felt it probably wouldn't take that long.
At that moment, the converter, now emptied of its magic, suddenly opened on its own.
Inside were two small slips of paper.
[Option 1: The previous type of "residual material."]
[Option 2: The current purified type.]
"Hmm...."
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