— — — — — —
[Congratulations to the host for completing a turbulent and glorious third academic year.]
[Over the past year, your talent has been fully exercised and steadily converted into equivalent influence and prestige. The products you've introduced to the world are also slowly yet decisively reshaping the structure of the magical world.]
[Chain Quest: Greatest Student in Hogwarts History, Phase Three complete.]
[Grade: Excellent.]
[Rewards: 500 Achievement Points, 2000 credits, and one High Gacha.]
None of that surprised him. What did surprise him was the fact that at some point, without him noticing, the system had quietly pushed a small update.
It was only when he opened the logs that he discovered the culprit: the moment he pulled Hakuna Matata from the gacha, the system had silently patched itself. Not even a notification.
The reason was obvious. Hakuna Matata's tier had already surpassed what a "Legendary Draw" could cover. Since Legendary used to be the highest bracket, this counted as a fairly serious bug. The system even judged Usaki the same way — bugs like this shouldn't appear in these gacha draws.
So the system forced an update and refined the gacha tier structure.
[Gacha Tiers: Basic - Intermediate - High - Legendary - Mythical]
"System, open my high gacha."
Tom took a single step and space rippled around him. A second later, he was back in his bedroom.
The system reward dropped into his hand—a book.
[Medivh's Works: On the Theory of Weave Communication]
The moment Tom saw the author's name, his heart skipped a beat. But after reading the rest of the cover, that initial thrill died down.
Medivh, huh…
Too bad it wasn't a book on Medivh's personal spell insights. But realistically, something like that would never show up in an "advanced gacha" anyway.
After flipping through On the Theory of Weave Communication for a bit, Tom's face lit up with surprise.
There were plenty of Medivh's interpretations of Azeroth's magical Weave, detailed analyses of arcane energy, and a ton of techniques related to information storage and transmission—more than enough to speed up the next update and iteration of "The Codex."
Tom immediately handed the book off to one of his mind avatars in the pocket world, then headed to the bath, soaked for a while, and finally crawled into bed for a satisfying nap.
Ambition was great and all, but vacation was still vacation.
Plans remain unchanged—deal with everything next month!
---
On the first day of break, Percy sent out his job application via owl early in the morning.
When the house-elf brought the letter into the villa, Tom was eating breakfast while the TV played 'Seinfeld' on an independent station.
There still weren't many programs on the Lume-Lens. Aside from live Quidditch broadcasts and replays, only two radio shows had been converted to livestream format—and they just chatted about trivial news.
Recently, though, The Daily Prophet planned to start a new show and was recruiting hosts. Rita Skeeter was determined to land that position—she came to butter Tom up every single day.
Tom took a sip of milk, set the glass down, picked up Percy's letter, and tore it open.
What, it was addressed to Crouch? So what. There's nothing wrong with screening mail for your subordinates.
Tom read with a perfectly clear conscience. But the longer he read, the more his expression twisted.
Percy's wording was… kind of nauseating.
Yeah, nope. Not finishing that.
Tom shook his head, put the letter away, and dialed Crouch via video-call. It connected within a few seconds.
"Mr. Riddle?" Judging from the background, Crouch was already at the Ministry.
Tom got straight to the point. "I'm recommending a talent—Percy Weasley. Just graduated this year. Wants to work at the Ministry. Twelve Outstanding OWLs, and his NEWTs are about the same. I'm confident he'll make your workload a lot lighter."
Crouch immediately understood what Tom meant—Percy wasn't one of them.
He could work like a mule on Ministry logistics, but he wasn't touching anything classified. Weasley… Arthur's kid, right?
"I understand," Crouch replied steadily, accepting the matter. Then added, "Sir, regarding the broadcast rights for the World Cup, there are some developments I need to report."
After ending the call, it was already nine o'clock. Tom went upstairs, changed into casual clothes for going out, and didn't have to wait long before Hermione arrived.
Today she wore a white blouse and a classic British plaid pleated skirt—the kind of youthful energy that had nowhere to hide. Tom greeted her with a hug.
They lazed around the house for a while, until the girl was flushed, breathless, and hair messy. Only then did Tom finally let her go.
Leaning against him and waiting for her breathing to settle, Hermione asked, "My parents won't get off work until after five. What are we doing during the day?"
"Shopping first," Tom said after a moment. "And I'll be joining you for dinner anyway, so we might as well pick up some gifts."
---
The Thames was the mother river of London, and even of all England. These days it had practically become a national symbol.
All the glittering prosperity and dizzy nightlife bloomed along its banks.
Though modern Britain had clearly reached its sunset years and looked ready to split apart into a tiny England without Northern Ireland or Scotland, the Thames itself had actually recovered.
During the Industrial Age it was a famously foul river. People had to cover their noses just to walk past, and aquatic life was basically extinct.
After World War II, decades of clean-up and de-industrialization slowly restored its clarity. A few years ago the sudden appearance of salmon caused a minor sensation, and some media outlets even claimed the Thames was almost drinkable.
Tom did not believe a word of that. Other than Page Three Girls from The Sun, everything else was fake.
But taking a boat tour was at least perfectly safe.
"I still can't believe it… sixty pounds for one ticket. Sure it includes lunch, but if you convert that to Galleons, that's ten Galleons!"
On a cruise boat, Hermione was still hurting over how much Tom had just spent.
She knew he had money, but it still felt like a rip-off.
"This is actually normal," Tom said with a smile as he brushed her messy hair back into place. "There aren't many tourist spots in England. Sit here for three hours and you could just about set off to another country."
"And trust me, the vendors at the World Cup are every bit as ruthless as Muggles. You'll see."
...
They enjoyed the riverside scenery as the boat set out from Westminster Pier: Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the Royal Festival Hall, and finally Greenwich Pier.
At the final stop the cruise began its return trip and lunch was served.
The food wasn't even close to Hogwarts elf cooking, but Tom didn't bother swapping anything out. He and Hermione just picked at it casually.
Dates with your girlfriend usually fall into two categories. The first is actually going out to have fun: best views, interesting places, authentic food.
The second is about romance and ceremony. The food doesn't matter, the important part is the process and the atmosphere.
At moments like that you must never kill the mood by criticizing the food or the setting. Just go along with what she wants to hear. Compliments are free.
(A/N: Take note all you singles out there. I'm sharing some of my great wisdom with you.)
Tom followed the rules. Hermione's bright eyes turned dewy, and she looked like she was floating. She had long forgotten her complaints about the ticket price.
...
Three hours later they got off the boat, still wishing it wasn't over and wanting time to freeze right before the moment ended.
"Where are we going next?"
"First a movie, then gift shopping."
Tom had everything planned out already. Corny but effective: food, shopping, movie. Simple, reliable, no mistakes.
They stopped at a nearby cinema. Today's film was Four Weddings and a Funeral, starring Hugh Grant and Andie MacDowell, one of this year's big hits in Britain, a lighthearted rom-com.
...
When they stepped out of the theater, she hugged Tom's arm and asked curiously, "Tom, will the wizarding world ever have its own movies?"
"Definitely," Tom said without hesitation. "It'll just take time. Once wizards get fully used to the Lume-Lens, all kinds of art will follow. And if nobody gets it started, I'll write something myself and set an example."
Wizards had a massive advantage in filmmaking. Never mind acting and scripts, production alone would be leagues faster than Muggles. You could use Transfiguration to build sets, and never worry about special effects. Spells, sparks, laser-like beams — more than enough spectacle.
"What would you write?" Hermione asked, genuinely interested. "Something like the movie we just watched?"
"No." Tom shook his head. "I'll write about life at Hogwarts. I already have the title. It'll be called Hogwarts: Please Graduate!. I'll fulfill my dream of being a Hufflepuff."
Hermione burst out laughing, clinging to him as she bent over.
Tom, a Hufflepuff? She couldn't find a single similarity. If she absolutely had to pick one… maybe that they both liked eating?
But if food was the criteria, Daphne was the true Hufflepuff. Every time Hermione saw Daphne she had snacks in her hands and that bottomless, Extension-Charmed pouch of hers. Nobody knew how much food was hidden inside.
---
After a few days...
"I got it! I got it!"
The Burrow was unusually lively that morning. Percy's shout startled the whole Weasley family halfway through breakfast. Ron jumped and sloshed milk down his pants, Ginny snapped awake, and the twins nearly choked on their toast. Mrs. Weasley spilled half a ladle of baked beans.
"Percy, what did you 'get'?"
Molly's eyes lit up. "Did we win the Daily Prophet jackpot again?"
"No, not that! My job—it's official." Percy's hands trembled as he clutched the letter. "I've been appointed Senior Assistant to Mr. Crouch. I start next week!"
Arthur, who worked at the Ministry himself, set down his coffee in surprise. "Percy, are you sure it says senior assistant?"
"Of course, Dad." Percy puffed out his chest.
"That's wonderful, dear!" Molly grabbed him in a hug. "I knew it, you really are the most outstanding of my children. Just like Bill and Charlie."
Fred and George said in unison, "What about us?!"
"When I see your report cards, we'll talk." Molly shot them a glare, then suddenly frowned. "Wait. The NEWT results haven't been released yet. How are you getting a Ministry acceptance letter first?"
Percy's eyes darted around, then he quickly found a justification. "Mum, my grades are consistent. I've been in contact with the Ministry for ages, just didn't know the exact post until now."
Molly didn't suspect a thing and showered him with praise. Arthur, however, gave Percy a very long look.
Ginny was eyeing him strangely too.
...
Breakfast barely ended before Percy bolted upstairs, eager to share his "achievement" with his classmates by owl.
He didn't notice that a shadow followed him. The moment he closed his door, Ginny slipped inside like an eel, leaving Percy blinking.
"Ginny? What do you want?"
Arms crossed, she gave him a little smirk. "I want nothing. But you do. Percy… the day you were looking for Tom on the train, that was about your job, wasn't it?"
Percy stiffened instantly, though he tried to sound casual. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just chatted with Riddle a bit. He has prefect material, maybe even Head Boy potential, so I shared some experience."
"Percy, you sound like a Malfoy when you talk like that." Ginny looked at him like he was something sticky on her shoe. "You, giving Tom advice? Please. One word from him and you're starting work weeks before anyone else and landing Crouch as your direct superior. Who are you kidding?"
Being roasted by his little sister turned Percy's face so red it nearly matched his hair. But badmouthing Tom? He didn't dare. After seeing how fast things moved, even Percy understood Tom was exactly the kind of great man he admired. If Ginny mentioned his whining to Tom, he'd be dropped back to earth instantly.
"I—I just want to get better," Percy finally mumbled, deflated. "So I asked him for a small favor."
"Last time," Ginny said, raising her fists. "I don't want you bothering Tom again or else—"
Ginny was angry. The girls around Tom all brought something to the table: Greengrass with her family power, Hermione with her brains, Penelope already running part of his Workshop.
And her? Not only did she do nothing to help, but her family actually went to Tom for help—without even asking her first?!
"What do you take me for?!" Percy snapped, breathing hard, ears and neck bright red now. "I don't want shortcuts! I just want to do better!"
"Then make sure you do."
Ginny sniffed and left the room, abandoning a thoroughly overheated Percy.
She needed to send Tom a message. Not just to thank him, but to tell him not to help Percy anymore.
It wasn't until the afternoon that Tom replied: just an "OK" hand emoji… and a photo of a pyramid.
"My little dark witch doesn't even realize her own value… sigh. I'll prepare something interesting for her after I get back from Cairo."
.
.
.