— — — — — —
"Nicolas, compared to your alchemy, Voldemort and I are basically children."
Once Nicolas made a move, success was guaranteed. Dumbledore scooped up more potion and poured it into the lake. This time, nothing flowed back. The potion emptied cleanly into the dark water, and the liquid level in the stone basin sank accordingly.
While Dumbledore worked, Nicolas still found time to test Tom. "So, did you figure out why I did it that way?"
Tom nodded.
"Then say it." Nicolas watched the boy with a hint of eagerness.
He wanted Tom to slip up. Having a prodigy for a student was both a blessing and a headache. Aside from those first few months when Tom was new to alchemy, the further they went, the fewer chances Nicolas had to correct him.
Tom learned too fast. Not only did he have an extraordinary memory, he also had the discipline to constantly reinforce the basics—the very foundations that many half-baked alchemists think they've mastered but never actually grasp. Most people go their whole lives without understanding one simple truth: your fundamentals decide how far you can go.
And Tom wasn't just memorizing; he took every piece of knowledge, made it his own, then fused and reshaped it into something new.
Sometimes Nicolas wondered if Tom had multiple brains running in parallel. How else could he grow so powerful so quickly while also advancing steadily in alchemy?
"Voldemort doesn't actually know alchemy," Tom said as he circled the basin. "He used Black Magic to mimic alchemical results, turning ordinary objects into magical artifacts. But what you did was approach the problem through actual alchemical reasoning."
Nicolas nodded, pleased. It didn't sound grand, but Tom had hit the essence.
Using an alchemist's mindset to solve problems outside of alchemy—that was what Nicolas most wanted him to understand.
"Newt, what's wrong?"
Nicolas suddenly noticed Newt staring at the stone basin, eyes… was that regret? Nicolas couldn't help asking.
"It's nothing," Newt said, shaking his head but still gazing at the basin. "I just think… it'd make a great feeding bowl for magical creatures."
Nicolas: "..."
Tom: "..."
Soon, the basin was empty. Dumbledore successfully retrieved Regulus's relic—a locket. He discovered it could be opened, but after a moment of thought, he didn't touch it.
"We should let Sirius open it."
Tom immediately perked up. "I'll put a fake one back in, then. We're taking Regulus's locket—we should at least return something."
He clearly saw this as a good opportunity to "send Voldemort a greeting."
Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He couldn't always follow Tom's leaps in logic, but he didn't object.
Tom had it all prepared. He'd crafted a replica modeled after the original Horcrux. But the moment he took it out, Dumbledore's expression changed.
"Tom… what did you do to that box?"
A real Horcrux was dark and restrained, its malice held in check. But the thing Tom produced—any wizard could feel the evil rolling off it.
"Oops. I rushed yesterday and forgot to make the final adjustments."
Tom gave an embarrassed smile. After fiddling with the locket for a bit, its aura contracted, calming until it seemed like a perfectly ordinary box. Only then did he explain, "Just a few simple curse spells. Nowhere near as strong as the original spells."
Everyone's eyelids twitched violently.
They didn't know exactly what curses he'd used, but the danger radiating from it earlier had been unmistakable. And Tom called that the simplified version?
But he wasn't lying. Many of his curses required a lich's body to fully unleash their power. What he'd layered onto the replica really was the toned-down version.
And even for that toned-down version, he'd sacrificed the last few "test subjects" he had left. Definitely a hefty investment.
Voldy, you'd better appreciate the gift.
The stone basin filled again, though not with the original poison. Dumbledore used Transfiguration to recreate the same thickness and texture.
His part of the job was done, but Tom's scavenging trip wasn't over. The remaining inferi had all clustered near the island in the middle of the lake.
He didn't bother luring them in with transfigured bait this time. Instead, he plunged his wand straight into the water. Blazing golden light shot into the lake, illuminating it until the whole surface shimmered like scattered stars.
Every last inferius jerked awake and rushed toward the center.
Tom called over his shoulder, "Professor, don't just stand there. Give me a hand. The faster we finish, the sooner we can clock out."
Dumbledore sighed and drew the Elder Wand. He stunned inferi by the dozens. Nicolas tied them up afterward, and Newt stuffed them into the case.
With Dumbledore helping, the whole process went quickly. Tom estimated he'd collected around two thousand inferi—more than enough for him and Nicolas to study for a good long while.
When they finished, the three returned to shore. Sirius had calmed down completely, at least on the surface.
Dumbledore nodded slightly at him and Lupin. He didn't take out the locket yet. Not until they were back at Grimmauld Place did he finally hand it over to Sirius.
Sirius opened it with trembling hands. Inside was only a folded piece of parchment. More than ten years had passed since Regulus put it there, and the paper had begun to yellow.
He unfolded it bit by bit, almost afraid to tear it. One glance and his eyes reddened again. Voice cracking, he read aloud:
{To the Dark Lord,}
{I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.}
{"R.A.B."}
"M-Master! Kreacher's master!"
The house-elf let out a strangled wail and collapsed to his knees.
"He was a true hero," Dumbledore said solemnly. "Regulus had no fear of death—only contempt for Voldemort, and pride in what he chose to do."
"A good kid," Nicolas Flamel sighed. Then he, Tom, and Newt stepped into the fireplace.
...
Back home, all three climbed into Newt's case. Even Newt shivered a little when he saw the mass of inferi piled inside. If he'd put these things into any of his creature habitats, the entire little world would have been corrupted in no time.
"Suddenly I feel like your idea is… shaky," Nicolas muttered. "Even if you can extract 'spirituality,' how do you know you won't end up creating some alchemical creature whose only instinct is destruction?"
"It should be fine," Tom said thoughtfully. "Inferi can be purified. And between purification and final release, there's a window where extraction works. In plain speech… you grab it while it's still warm right before it dies."
Both old men's faces twitched.
Nicolas stared at him, speechless. "So you mean we have to purify the inferi first before we can start experimenting?"
"Not we. You," Tom corrected him. The old man's eyes went round.
"And what about you?"
"I have more important research, professor." Tom spoke with the gentle patience of someone explaining things to a stubborn elder. "I gathered all these inferi so you could practice. You really should cherish the opportunity."
"Anyway, enough talking. Astoria will be up soon, and I promised to take her rowing today. I'm heading out."
Before he even finished speaking, he vanished.
"Newt," Nicolas said blankly, "did that little brat just dump all this on us?"
Newt gave a helpless smile. "Looks like it. Though honestly, we walked right into it. We practically volunteered to be tricked."
Nicolas swore under his breath. "Voldemort might call himself a Dark Lord, but if you want to see a real bastard, look at this Tom Riddle."
But complaining was one thing. Throwing in the towel was another. It wasn't that Tom had bewitched him; it was the lure of creating a new alchemical lifeform. Even knowing he was basically working as Tom's unpaid labor, he still had to pinch his nose and agree.
"Maybe… we should get Dumbledore to help?" Newt offered suddenly. "He'll have to purify Regulus anyway, right? One or a bunch doesn't make much difference. What's that thing Tom always says… oh, right. 'The capable take on more work.'"
Nicolas gave him the strangest look.
"Newt… you've been hanging around Tom too long."
.
.
.