"Why is that?" Wade asked calmly. "You've just experienced the power of the Cruciatus Curse firsthand. So you should understand now… Dark Magic can become the sharpest sword in your hand."
"Of course I know that! But…" Tom frowned. "Being on the receiving end of it really doesn't feel good, Wade…"
"Tom… I'm honestly surprised to hear you say that!" Wade said in astonishment. "Someone like you, who constantly pursues ultimate power, is actually thinking from the perspective of the victim rather than the caster! What made you change?"
"I don't know… Don't look at me like that. I really don't know what I'm thinking. I… it's complicated. Maybe the pain from the Cruciatus Curse scrambled my mind. Right now, I don't even know how to describe what I feel. It's just… I'm just… angry! Yes, that's it—I only feel anger now!" Tom looked again at the skeleton on the ground.
"Anger, huh? I think I understand a little," Wade said gently. "You're angry that Slytherin truly was as the world claims—stubborn, cruel, and vicious."
"I think you're partly right… Because of his ridiculous trial, I got hit by a Cruciatus Curse. And… her." Tom pointed at the skeleton. "Even though I have no fondness for the Gaunt family, I still think someone like her—Nokto Gaunt—shouldn't have died here. And yet Slytherin's absurd trial ended up filtering out people like her. Thinking about her naïve ideals… I suppose you were right earlier. In the end, it was Slytherin himself who betrayed his own descendants."
Tom tore his gaze away from the skeleton and looked at Wade. "So… even though I've never rejected Dark Magic and always wanted to become stronger, now I suddenly feel disgusted—at Slytherin and everything he stood for! So whatever's inside, you can have it. How strange… I used to feel proud of being a descendant of Slytherin."
As Tom spoke, a trace of confusion flickered in his eyes.
After all, he knew perfectly well how precious Slytherin's legacy was.
He clearly knew these were the very things he had once dreamed of obtaining.
Yet now… he just felt disgusted—deep, inexplicable disgust.
He would rather hand them all over to his rival, Wade Reynolds.
When had he started to change?
Wade spoke calmly. "Let me remind you again. Beyond this door lies Slytherin's study—his inheritance might be stored inside. With those things, your power could increase dramatically. Are you truly sure you want to give that up?"
Tom stayed silent for a long while before finally saying, "It's true, I just experienced the power of Dark Magic firsthand. But before that, I also fought using Dumbledore's style. And suddenly, I realized… fighting like Dumbledore might not be so bad after all."
His eyes grew brighter, his confusion fading bit by bit.
"You know, Professor Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards alive, even without using Dark Magic. So, Wade, maybe the greatest kind of magic… is something I already have."
"You mean the kind of magic you never believed in before—love?"
"Yes. The magic of love…"
Wade smiled pleasantly. "It's good that you've come to such an understanding, Tom. But even so, you still need to learn Dark Magic—whether you intend to use it or not, even if it disgusts you… especially Slytherin's methods."
"Why?" Tom asked.
Wade explained, "If you don't understand Dark Magic at all, how could you ever protect yourself from it? And if a friend of yours were struck by a Dark curse, how would you save them if you knew nothing about it? I imagine that's exactly why Dumbledore sent you those Dark Magic manuscripts—to make sure you'd know how to defend yourself, not to tempt you into using them. Besides, even a wizard like Dumbledore, who rarely uses Dark Magic, has studied it in great depth."
Tom nodded. "My dad said something similar before. He told me that Dumbledore probably sent those manuscripts so I could learn enough to protect myself, not to actually use them."
Wade smiled. "Looks like your old man was right, huh?"
"You just skipped a word there to make it sound like you're my dad, didn't you?" Tom shot him a sidelong glance. "It should've been 'your dad and I'!"
"Don't get hung up on small details, Tom! There's something much happier to talk about!" Wade waved his hand dismissively.
"What is it?" Tom asked suspiciously.
"Haven't you noticed? Your magic has grown stronger again," Wade said with a smile.
"Has it?" Tom frowned and focused inward. "It does feel that way… but why?"
"Have you forgotten? Magic comes from the heart. You've felt that before. And right now, your state of mind is purer than it's ever been."
"Is that so…" Tom quietly took in the sensation, just like he had back at Riddle Manor.
"In truth, there's nothing wrong with pursuing power," Wade continued. "Even seeking the strength of Dark Magic isn't inherently bad. What matters is the kind of person you choose to be—and where you decide to use that power."
After finishing his words, Wade stepped into Slytherin's study, leaving Tom standing alone at the doorway, lost in thoughts far beyond what someone his age should have been pondering.
After a long while, Tom finally came back to his senses. He glanced once more at the skeleton on the floor and sighed.
"Well… you're still my elder, even if you're a Gaunt. I can't just leave you lying here forever. You probably wouldn't want to rest so close to that old man anyway."
Saying that, Tom tore off a piece of fabric from his robe and used Transfiguration to turn it into a small carrying bag.
Then, with a Levitation Charm, he carefully lifted the bones and placed them inside.
When everything was packed, he added the five letters as well before stepping into Slytherin's study.
The moment he entered, he saw a wall carved with Slytherin's likeness—long hair flowing, eyes staring ahead.
Tom gave it only a brief, indifferent glance before walking up the side staircase.
"I finally understand why this trial was designed so illogically," Wade said, holding a yellowed manuscript.
"Oh? What did you figure out?" Tom asked, approaching with the bag in hand.
"The trial we just went through was indeed created by Slytherin, and it truly was meant for his descendants. Strictly speaking, it was a way to train them. This place was only used while Slytherin himself was still at Hogwarts. In other words, when he built this place, he never imagined that he'd one day leave because of disagreements with the other founders. Originally, this place was meant to be passed down through generations—to temper his heirs. But when he left abruptly, that inheritance was lost," Wade explained.
Tom began to understand. "So you mean, Slytherin used to personally watch his descendants undergo these trials, and wanted his heirs to experience them under his supervision?"
"Exactly. If I'm not mistaken, every trial was meant for two people to enter together. That's why he never considered that a descendant might one day attempt it alone. After all, in Nokot's case, even though she was the kind of descendant Slytherin most admired—someone willing to use Dark Magic without hesitation—she couldn't leave this place alive because she entered alone. That made the trial meaningless," Wade said, nodding.
"Then how could he make sure every generation had two heirs—" Tom stopped mid-sentence as realization hit him. "So what you're saying is… each descendant of Slytherin was supposed to bring a friend into the trial, and in the final stage, the only way to leave was to cast the Cruciatus Curse on that friend?"
Wade snapped his fingers. "Exactly! And of course, the one they brought with them would undoubtedly be a close friend. If you can't bring yourself to cast Cruciatus on your dearest companion, then how could you ever master Dark Magic? Though, if it were me, I think Slytherin would've been angrier if the friend ended up casting it first."
"Tch…" Tom clicked his tongue. "Don't you think that's a little… perverse?"
"Dark Magic has side effects. Wizards who study it excessively gradually become twisted—their minds grow extreme, their actions more and more unhinged. So when you think about it that way, Slytherin's extreme behavior actually makes perfect sense," Wade explained.
"So by that logic… Wade, since you're so obsessed with studying Dark Magic, does that mean you've already started to go insane?" Tom couldn't help asking.
A still-sane Wade was already hard enough to deal with—if he ever went mad, what then?
"I won't," Wade said, spreading his hands. "I rarely study Dark Magic anyway. Why bother researching something I can master after seeing it once?"
Wade's learning ability was indeed exceptional. Aside from the Nightmare Magic he often practiced, he picked up every other form of Dark Magic with remarkable ease.
"Tch… showing off again!" Tom muttered, feeling a mix of envy and irritation.
"Besides," Wade continued cheerfully, "even though I know a lot of Dark Magic, I hardly ever use it. And magic you don't use can't affect your mind much. So, you'll probably never live to see the day I go insane from it."
"You'd better be telling the truth, Wade… I have no desire to deal with a lunatic version of you."
"Relax. Here—take this." Wade handed him a worn piece of parchment. "When you bury Nokto Gaunt, put it in her grave."
"What's this?" Tom asked, taking it.
"An answer… the one Nokto was searching for."
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