— — — — — —
At Tom's current speed, getting from the Scottish Highlands to Paris took no more than a single Apparition.
So in less than two minutes, he arrived outside Nicolas Flamel's estate.
"Huh?"
Tom was burning with rage, killing intent rolling off him in waves, but the moment he took in the scene before him, he froze.
More than a hundred figures with bared fangs and bat-like wings sprouting from their arms were attacking the estate's protective barrier. Dark magic leaked from every one of them.
Tom recognized them instantly. They were vampires.
Vampires couldn't cast spells, but they still possessed magic. Otherwise, they wouldn't be classified as a magical species. The magic leaking from their bodies was highly corrosive, sizzling loudly as it collided with the barrier.
What left Tom stunned, however, wasn't the vampires.
It was what was fighting them.
Dozens of towering Transformers were charging around the battlefield, repeatedly firing spells from their palms. The magic had clearly been preloaded and stored in intricate runic arrays.
All of this was the old man's handiwork? Seriously… just how much stuff had Nicolas been hiding from him?
"Hey, kid, what are you standing there gawking for? Get moving!"
Nicolas Flamel's voice boomed across the sky through a Sonorus Charm. Tom snapped out of it and replied helplessly, "Teacher, it's only a few hundred vampires. You could handle this on your own, couldn't you?"
He took a closer look. While these Transformers weren't quite on the level of the Megatron he'd built himself, they weren't far off either. Even ten of them would be enough to grind these vampires down, let alone several dozen.
He'd rushed over thinking Voldemort himself had come knocking. And this was it?
"The puppets don't know how to hold back," Nicolas said. "I want them alive."
His voice echoed through the air, but the vampires seemed deaf to it. They paid no attention to their disadvantage and continued to slam themselves against the barrier, no matter the cost.
Meanwhile, the Transformers appeared to receive new orders. They disengaged from the vampires and retreated in an orderly fashion back inside the barrier.
At that point, Tom knew he couldn't just stand by.
His body suddenly burst apart, dissolving into a vast mass of black, thread-like substance. In the next instant, it twisted into a roaring tornado that swept across the ground toward the vampires.
A bitter chill seeped through the vortex, blending with the black storm to create a scene both eerie and spectacular.
"..."
Inside the estate, Nicolas Flamel stood there, utterly stunned. "This is… an Obscurial?"
Tom was an Obscurus?!
And the sheer size and density of that Obscurus were so exaggerated that even a man over six hundred years old couldn't be sure of his own judgment.
In his long life, Nicolas had seen more than a few Obscurials. The strongest among them had been Credence, not just because he was a Dumbledore, but because he'd lived nearly twenty years, giving his Obscurus far more time to grow than most.
"..."
Nicolas watched with his own eyes as, in just a few dozen seconds, the black tornado ravaged the land. Every vampire it passed was swept inside. When the storm finally died down, the vampires fell back to the ground one by one, frozen solid, smashing into the earth like chunks of hail.
Even then, Tom didn't stop.
He rose back into the sky, activated his magical sight, and circled the estate, searching for anyone still hiding in the shadows. Finding nothing, he could only return to the front gate.
Nicolas had already begun directing the Transformers to move the vampires, but the moment they touched the ice, the intense cold affected even their steel bodies.
"Let me handle it."
With a wave of his hand, Tom sent all the ice blocks floating into the air.
---
"Teacher, why bother making all this stuff?" Tom said, sounding genuinely pained as he looked around at the Transformers. "If you had trouble, you could've just called me."
What a waste. An absolute waste.
Everything the old man owned would be his someday anyway. The more Nicolas used up now, the less Tom would inherit later.
He'd built Megatron himself. He knew exactly how terrifying the resource consumption was.
Nicolas was old and sharp enough to read him at a glance. With Tom's heartache practically written all over his face, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking. The realization made Nicolas cough repeatedly in irritation.
Having a rebellious student like this really was his blessing.
"Come with me."
To avoid dying of rage before his time, the old man made a conscious effort not to look at Tom and led the way instead. They headed to a garden in the northwest corner of the estate, a place Tom had never been. It was too remote.
Nicolas paused at a half-lion, half-griffin statue at the garden's entrance, rubbing his hand over it for a moment. The ground rumbled, then shifted aside, revealing a staircase leading underground.
"So you were still hiding something from me," Tom muttered.
Nicolas took a deep breath and ignored him, heading down the stairs.
Tom followed close behind. The vampires were left outside, dumped onto the ground. Even in the heat of a Parisian June, the ice Tom had formed wouldn't be melting anytime soon.
When they entered the underground chamber, Tom's eyes widened slightly.
The space was enormous, at least half the size of the Great Hall. And at its center sat a pool filled with blood, nearly as large as a standard swimming pool.
The blood inside churned like magma, faintly glowing red. Strangely enough, not a hint of a bloody smell escaped into the air.
"You know what it's for," Nicolas said quietly.
Tom nodded. "The Philosopher's Stone."
His earlier comment about Nicolas hiding things had only been a joke. Nicolas had long since taught him the method of creating the Philosopher's Stone, and the most important raw material was exactly what lay before them.
And it had to be harvested through special means. Blood was merely the vessel. What truly mattered was the life force it carried, even the very concept of continued existence.
"Did you bring Veritaserum?" Nicolas asked.
"I did," Tom replied.
"Then interrogate them here. Once you're done, we can recycle the leftovers."
There was a chill in the old man's voice. "I'm already half-dead as it is, and they still won't leave me alone. Hard to say whether this was the work of an old acquaintance or some newcomer."
A true saint would never have created the Philosopher's Stone. Nicolas had always presented himself as a righteous figure, and he had even helped Dumbledore oppose Voldemort. But that was only because centuries of self-restraint, combined with Grindelwald's existence, had genuinely threatened his way of life.
Now that someone was coming for his life, the temper he'd kept in check for hundreds of years naturally surfaced.
Tom raised a hand. Two ice blocks soon floated in. After thawing them, he took out the Veritaserum and fed each vampire two drops, finally waking them.
The vampires looked as if they hadn't slept enough. Their heads drooped, bodies slack and boneless.
"Tell me your names."
"Abel… Thorn."
"Vera Knox."
They spoke slowly, as if half-asleep. Tom nodded slightly. Good. The potion hadn't expired.
He continued, "Who sent you here, and why were you trying to abduct Nicolas Flamel?"
This time, there was no answer. Both vampires remained silent.
Not because the Veritaserum had failed, but because they didn't know.
Nicolas tilted his chin toward the blood pool. Tom snapped his fingers, and the two vampires dropped in. After a few seconds of screaming, they dissolved completely.
Next came row after row of vampires. Tom dragged them in one by one. He went through two and a half bottles of Veritaserum, yet still learned nothing.
Only when he was down to the very last bit of potion did he finally catch a big one.
"Name," Tom said.
"Valerius Lasombra."
Tom perked up. That surname was a noble one among vampires.
"Are you the leader of this group?"
"I'm only the head of my own family. The vampires here also include members from the other two families."
Tom and Nicolas exchanged a glance.
"Good. Between you and the other two leaders, who holds higher status?"
"We are equals. There is no hierarchy."
"Do the three of you serve the same person?"
This time, Lasombra hesitated. After several seconds, he answered, "Yes."
"He sent you here?" Tom asked, carefully avoiding sensitive phrasing, trying to extract as much information as possible.
"Yes."
"Tell me his name. His identity."
Lasombra struggled violently now, veins bulging across his pale face. Tom already had his wand in hand, combining the Imperius Curse with the Veritaserum.
"Lester… Lord Lester. He is my master, the king of all vampires!"
Nicolas frowned. The name meant nothing to him.
Tom, however, immediately understood and explained, "The infectious vampire who fled from North America."
"I don't know him at all," Nicolas said, frowning. He looked at Lasombra. "Then why did he order you to attack my estate?"
"Because… Cr…"
Lasombra's words cut off abruptly. His expression twisted into something grotesque. Veins stood out starkly against his already pale skin as blood poured from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
Tom reacted instantly.
"Protego Maxima!"
Normally, it was a Shield Charm meant to block Magic from harming those within its bounds. Now, Tom used it to suppress whatever was acting inside Lasombra's body.
Soft white light fell over Lasombra. But not only did his condition fail to improve, it worsened. His expression became even more agonized. Tom didn't care how much it hurt. As long as that vampire stayed alive, that was enough.
Still, the curse's backlash was far more violent than Tom had anticipated. Lasombra was on the verge of being torn apart by the two opposing forces.
With no other choice, Tom resorted to his final measure.
The water on the floor froze instantly, encasing Lasombra once more into an ice sculpture.
"You froze him to death?" Nicolas asked.
Tom shook his head. "Halfway. He's a living corpse now. His consciousness is frozen too. Otherwise, there's no way to restrain that curse."
.
.
.