Legendary wizards were still human.
That was the core idea Rowena Ravenclaw conveyed to Tom.
Their understanding of magic might have reached unfathomable heights, but their life essence had not transcended mortality. If they did not resist, a spear through the heart would kill them. Starvation would kill them. Decapitation would kill them.
If they could not exterminate every Muggle who opposed wizardkind, then open war would only drag both worlds into a swamp of endless bloodshed.
When the tide of history surged forward, even an immortal legend had to avoid its sharpest edge.
"Sounds rather tragic," Tom said as he climbed the stairs and stepped onto the third floor terrace. "Are those marks on the soul truly impossible to remove?"
"At least, I do not know how," Ravenclaw replied lazily. "And I never studied it. I am merely an ordinary witch. I do not concern myself with the long term fate of wizardkind. As long as humanity survives, wizards will not vanish. Why burden myself with the rest?"
Tom's lips twitched.
An ordinary legendary witch?
He wondered whether, after acquiring the phoenix bloodline, that so called essence ability might cleanse the marks left by killing. If it could, then many of his reservations would disappear.
"Luna!"
A familiar figure bounced into view. Tom called her over.
"Say a few words, Luna."
Even Luna Lovegood paused in confusion. "About what?"
Tom thought for a moment. "Tell me again about your encounter with the Wrackspurts in Switzerland. I did not quite catch it on the train."
At the mention of magical creatures, Luna's wide eyes shone brighter. She began recounting her journey in vivid detail.
Tom listened attentively until she finished, then gently ruffled her hair and let her go. Turning inward, he asked Ravenclaw quietly:
"Does her manner of speaking remind you of yourself?"
Ravenclaw considered it. "Yes. A little. She lives in her own world, as I did. She does not care about others' judgment. I like that child. Had she not been sorted into Ravenclaw, I would have suspected the Sorting Hat malfunctioned."
Tom gave a thumbs up. "Accurate. Many call her the Loony Girl. Though few dare say it to her face now. They grant me that courtesy."
"Courtesy?" Ravenclaw's lips curved faintly. "They respect the wand in your hand."
Her intuition was as sharp as her intellect.
After spending the previous evening speaking with Ariana, she had gained a preliminary understanding of Tom's past and temperament.
He resembled Slytherin, though less shadowed. He did not bury everything until the end of life before revealing the depth of his calculations.
He resembled Gryffindor as well, decisive and willing to resolve matters by force. Yet he lacked Gryffindor's mercy. Toward enemies, he showed none.
He was a fusion of the two.
Ordinarily, such a personality would have been beaten down long ago without sufficient strength.
Tom, however, possessed that strength.
After finishing their circuit of the third floor, it was time for breakfast. Tom returned to the Great Hall, ate two slices of bread and three sausages, then headed to class with Daphne Greengrass.
Though Ravenclaw did not know Daphne personally, the Greengrass line had already existed among Hogwarts' earliest students. In that era, the blood curse had not yet manifested.
When Tom explained the situation, Ravenclaw frowned. She detested such vile magic.
"Let me examine the girl carefully one day," she said with quiet confidence. "If it is magic, there must be a solution."
Tom said nothing, though inwardly he thought:
I already have an idea.
Those academic points had not been wasted. Combined with his magical perception, he had recently detected the curse within Astoria Greengrass. It clung to her bloodline like a parasitic rot, embedded deep.
But for safety's sake, and due to the lack of necessary materials, he had not acted.
Without additional blood curse samples for experimentation, he would not risk Astoria's life recklessly.
"Oh?"
As the professor entered, Ravenclaw's expression shifted.
"Is that... Cuthbert? He became a ghost?"
Cuthbert Binns.
Originally invited by Salazar Slytherin himself to teach History of Magic, his encyclopedic knowledge and formidable memory had left a lasting impression on Ravenclaw. In their time, she had frequently consulted him on historical matters.
As Tom opened his heavy textbook to the section on the 1673 Wizarding Convention, he answered internally:
"Professor Binns has always taught History of Magic. One day he fell asleep in the staff room and died without noticing. He simply rose as a ghost and continued teaching."
Though Tom often dozed through History of Magic, he respected Binns deeply.
The defining trait of a ghost was attachment. Something in the world anchored them so strongly they refused to move on.
For Binns, that attachment was teaching.
Every headmaster understood that when Hogwarts no longer needed him, that would be the day he was finally freed. Even a difficult headmaster like Phineas Black had never replaced him.
Ravenclaw sighed softly.
The school she and her companions had created had become a spiritual pillar for countless souls.
After a pause, Tom asked quietly:
"Lady Ravenclaw, what lies beyond death? Headmaster Dumbledore once said death is but a great adventure. Yet Andros remembers nothing after dying."
Ravenclaw nodded thoughtfully.
"That is a perceptive statement."
She praised Dumbledore's philosophy before continuing.
"The journey toward death is indeed a thrilling adventure."