The gargoyle's intelligence had indeed originated from Rowena Ravenclaw.
That much she could not deny.
But it was not the kind of supreme wisdom Tom implied. The magic she wove had merely granted it cognition, the ability to think and interpret. That alone qualified as intelligence.
How far that intelligence developed afterward had nothing to do with her.
"How is it unrelated?" Tom countered. "If it turned out this foolish, does that not mean your magic did not grant it enough wisdom?"
Ravenclaw rolled her eyes. "That is sophistry. If a mother gives birth to a healthy child, and that child receives proper upbringing, it will reach normal intellectual maturity. The gargoyle's foundation was sound. The fault lies with the headmasters who failed to cultivate it. Look at what they turned it into."
Tom fell silent.
This time, her deflection was elegant.
By the time their exchange ended, he had already stepped into the Headmaster's office.
The room was quiet. Fawkes slept upon his perch. Silver instruments on the desk released curling white mist, filling the air with a calming fragrance.
The tranquility did not last.
"Riddle boy, you have finally come."
The portraits of former headmasters opened their eyes. Phineas Nigellus Black even smiled.
"I knew it. The Black family does not produce traitors. That vile Peter Pettigrew dared to slander a Black. Had I still lived, I would have skinned him and turned the hide into a carpet."
"This time, thanks to you exposing that rat, I offer gratitude on behalf of every ancestor of House Black."
The other portraits understood perfectly.
Sirius Black was the last male heir. The continuation of a proud pure blood lineage depended upon him. Had they been in Phineas' position, they might have been even more effusive.
Tom raised an eyebrow.
"Gratitude without substance? Nothing tangible?"
Phineas blinked. "You are speaking to a painting. What do you expect me to give you? Go to my descendant. Gold and treasures are yours to choose. The Black family lacks many things, but not wealth."
Tom nodded thoughtfully. "True. Sirius is far more generous than you. He opened the entire Black family library and its secret arts to me."
"What?!" Phineas' face darkened instantly. "That prodigal fool! Has he handed over the very roots of the Black family?"
Money did not trouble him.
But heritage did.
Once Tom learned those secrets and passed them on, what had once been uniquely Black would cease to be so.
"You are a portrait," Tom said lightly. "Relax."
Ignoring Phineas' indignant shouting, he turned to Fawkes, who had awakened during the exchange.
"Chirp!"
You came to see me!
"Yes. You worked hard this summer."
Tom produced a bundle of carefully prepared herbs and fed them to the phoenix. During the holidays, Fawkes had faithfully transported materials collected by Hagrid to the Greengrass estate.
The bird ate happily.
Only after it finished and began preening did Tom speak again.
"Fawkes, are you free tonight? I need your help."
"Chirp!"
The phoenix agreed instantly, without even asking what for.
The door creaked open.
Albus Dumbledore entered, unsurprised to see Tom. The gargoyle's return had already alerted him.
"Good afternoon, Professor."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle."
Dumbledore seated himself. With a gentle wave of his hand, tea and a plate of sweets appeared before them.
"I merely stepped out briefly. You have returned the gargoyle already. Did it enjoy its holiday?"
Tom blew gently on his tea. "Very much. It has made me promise to take it traveling again next summer. You might consider finding a proper replacement. Wooden boards do not suit your dignity."
Dumbledore smiled ruefully. "I am considering options. Perhaps a lion?"
"A snake would be more fitting."
"Ah. Perhaps when this office becomes yours one day, you may place a serpent at the entrance."
Tom blinked.
Was Dumbledore painting him a future as headmaster?
The old wizard set down his cup and folded his fingers together.
"As it happens, I wished to speak with you as well, Mr. Riddle."
"Regarding the Dementors who attempted to search the train two days ago. Was that your doing?"
"Yes."
Tom answered without hesitation.
"Daphne and Hermione were resting. I did not wish those creatures disturbing them. Has the Ministry complained?"
"Not complained," Dumbledore chuckled. "They are merely perplexed. The Dementors reported an exceptionally powerful Patronus. They do not know who cast it."
"I informed them that the Hogwarts Express likely triggered its defensive enchantments."
In truth, Dumbledore was pleased.
A Patronus of that magnitude implied abundant, resolute happiness. That was no small comfort.
Driving off Dementors was trivial.
He raised the matter only as gentle caution.