"There are many theories about the origin of magic," Andros began. "But back in our time, the most widely accepted belief was that the power of magic comes from the cosmos itself. Under the influence of celestial bodies, our world gained the foundation that allows us to wield magic."
"And astral magic," he continued, "refers to magic that naturally exists—it is the information and power transmitted to our world by the stars and planets, not something created artificially."
"In fact, you've already mastered a form of astral magic."
"The Patronus?" Tom guessed instantly.
"Exactly." Andros nodded, pleased. Talking with someone sharp made things easy. "The Patronus Charm was originally conceived in a place overflowing with positive magical energy. Wizards sensed it, shaped it, refined it—until it became the spell we know."
"Even when I modified the Patronus, its core remained unchanged."
Tom nodded thoughtfully. "A hundred years ago, there were still places around Hogwarts steeped in this kind of ancient magical aura. Through them, one could cast devastatingly powerful ancient spells. But now… those auras have long since faded away, gone completely."
"You don't need to worry about that at all," Andros said with a booming laugh. "Tom, haven't you realized? You're just like me—you yourself are a walking source of ancient magical aura."
Tom's eyes widened in sudden clarity.
So that was what the Sorting Hat had meant when it said his ancient power was even purer than Salazar Slytherin's. It wasn't just about bloodline—he literally carried the essence of that power.
Andros stroked his chin. "My guess is that once we became your teachers, you gained fragments of our talents as well. My greatest strength has always been raw magical power."
None of the so-called Kings of the Century were fools. Andros had already pieced this together, and Grindelwald too. But since Tom had never spoken of it, neither had they.
Still, Andros had begun to feel increasingly useless lately. So once he confirmed Tom truly had the foundation to learn ancient magic, he rushed to trade teaching slots with Grindelwald.
"From now on, you won't have to worry about locations or conditions. Just like the Patronus—you master it, you release it, anywhere. But," he added gravely, "it's not something to cast recklessly. Ancient magic is overwhelmingly powerful and untamed. Its force is difficult to control."
With that warning, Andros conjured an old wooden board—the very one Tom had once used as a turtle shell, nearly driving Snape mad.
"Most ancient spells don't even have names. The one I'm teaching you today doesn't either. But… you may call it the Shattering Curse."
For once, Andros actually drew his wand. He gave it a sharp wave, and a streak of violet light burst forth, so fast Tom's eyes couldn't track it. In the blink of an eye, it struck the board.
There was no dramatic explosion. The purple light sank into the wood. And then—boom!
The supposedly indestructible board, which had made Snape tear his hair out in frustration, was reduced to dust. And not even ordinary dust—midair it dissolved into motes of starlight, scattering and vanishing into nothingness.
Tom's jaw practically hit the floor.
He knew that board inside out. It was his measuring stick, his test dummy for spells. His strongest attacks could only pierce about five centimeters—half the thickness.
Andros had just erased it from existence with a single spell.
For the first time, Tom truly saw the yawning gap between himself and a King of the Century.
Forget the fact that the ancient magic itself was inherently destructive. Simply being able to wield it—that alone defined power.
"Coach, I want to learn this!" Tom immediately raised his wand, brimming with determination.
At last, Andros felt the satisfaction of a true teacher. But he restrained himself, saying patiently, "Tom, ancient magic is very different from what you're used to. It requires emotions to stir, and more importantly—the construction of magic circles. By weaving in the strange energies of the heavens and earth, your spells will multiply in power."
He tapped the air. "First, let me teach you the fundamentals of drawing magic circles."
—
The allure of ancient magic was too great. Tom buried himself in study the entire night within his learning space, pushing so hard he even entered his transcendence state twice.
By nine in the morning, Daphne stirred awake. Only then did Tom finally exit the learning space.
The two of them went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Daphne left with Astoria to find Hermione, while Tom carried Dumbledore's note to Professor McGonagall.
She scrutinized it for a long time. If it weren't for the Headmaster's unmistakable magical seal and signature, she would have sworn Tom had forged it. After all, the note contained nothing urgent—just a line stating that Tom Riddle was permitted to visit Hogsmeade on Saturday. Utterly suspicious.
"Professor," Tom explained smoothly, "the Headmaster asked me to deliver something and speak with the owner of the Hog's Head."
At that, McGonagall finally understood. She nodded, and personally escorted him out of the castle.
Before parting, she added sternly, "Mr. Riddle, once your business is done, return at once. Do not leave the village boundaries."
"I understand, Professor."
Tom gave a polite nod and set off down the path to Hogsmeade.
Half an hour later, the village came into view.
Since it wasn't a visiting day, Hogsmeade was unusually quiet. The main street was nearly empty. Tom walked straight on until he reached the end, where the road split in two—Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop to the left, the Owl Post Office to the right.
Next to the post office, tucked down a side alley, stood a shabby little pub.
A rotten wooden sign dangled from rusted brackets above the door. Painted on it was the image of a severed boar's head.
The Hog's Head.
Tom pushed the door open and, at the same time, activated his learning space.
Inside, the bar was deserted. On the counter sat a tarnished little bell. Tom went up and pressed it twice. The sound was dull and flat.
Five long minutes later, a furious voice bellowed from upstairs:
"Can't you read? The bar opens at night! Get out!"