The students had barely shaken off the laziness of the holidays before the first examination of the term arrived.
It was not as grand or ceremonious as the final exams, but the difficulty and scope were nearly identical. The ordeal would last two full days.
At breakfast, schedules were distributed. Students glanced nervously at the parchment before heading toward their assigned classrooms.
For the third years, the first subject was Potions. Forty five minutes of written theory, followed by one hour of practical brewing.
Tom absentmindedly slid Hermione's cauldron in front of himself, then exchanged his untouched ingredients and cauldron with hers. A seamless, mutually beneficial swap.
Harry, not far away, stared in disbelief. His bright green eyes fixed on the figure who had just passed their table.
Professor Snape.
Are you blind?
"Longbottom," Snape's silken voice cut through the dungeon air, "if you misidentify Mr. Finnigan's ingredients one more time, I shall inform Professor McGonagall that you have developed the audacity to cheat during my examination."
Snape demonstrated quite clearly that he was neither blind nor inattentive.
Neville's hands trembled. A full measure of powdered Fanged Geranium spilled into his cauldron, ruining the potion completely. Justin Finch Fletchley looked on the verge of tears, because Neville had just destroyed his ingredients.
Snape chose to ignore Tom's little maneuver.
He did not know what Tom was thinking.
But he knew the boy well enough to understand that provoking him during an exam would mean sleeping with one eye open afterward.
These tests were meant to gauge the mediocrity of fools.
What did that have to do with someone like Riddle?
...
Inside the learning space, Tom summoned his three teachers and laid out his frustration.
"I cannot beat it. No matter how I push myself, my brain overloads. I need nearly an hour before I can even begin to recover. Fawkes rests for two minutes."
He clenched his fist.
"What method allows Apparition to surpass a phoenix's innate talent?"
Three strategists.
Surely that should equal one perfect answer.
The first strategist immediately withdrew.
Andros had lived in an era before Apparition even existed. After revival, he had studied from books, but theory alone could not compete with experience.
He made a zipping motion across his lips and leaned back, leaving the discussion to Grindelwald and Ravenclaw.
Grindelwald frowned.
"Pole to pole, and a round trip at that. The scale is absurd. I never attempted such distances."
"My farthest was Berlin to Bhutan. Three pauses. Mild dizziness upon arrival. I still had enough strength for two or three more jumps before reaching my limit."
Tom calculated swiftly.
He raised a thumb.
"Impressive."
Berlin to Bhutan spanned nearly an entire continent, roughly seven thousand kilometers. Comparable to his race with Fawkes.
Grindelwald had paused the same number of times as Tom, yet still possessed surplus stamina. That was undeniably superior.
The former dark wizard smirked.
Tom continued calmly, "No wonder you were so difficult to catch. It took Newt Scamander himself to manage it."
Grindelwald's expression soured instantly.
After dampening his arrogance, Tom acknowledged his skill.
Ordinary wizards Apparated as if sucked into a whirlpool, bodies twisted violently through spatial vortices before being flung back into existence.
Grindelwald did not.
He conjured a door before him, stepped across the threshold, and simply emerged at his destination.
"Allow me to caution you," Grindelwald added. "Even if you surpass my level, you may still lose to a phoenix. The issue is not burst capability. It is recovery. Your mental and spiritual foundation surpasses mine. Your recovery time is already shorter than mine was."
"If you cannot complete the journey in one continuous effort, even a lead means nothing. Fawkes will overtake you effortlessly. A wizard's physiology is not that of a phoenix."
Tom exhaled.
"Not explosive power. Endurance."
He turned to his final hope.
"Ravenclaw?"
She smiled faintly.
"I have several lines of thought."
There was a calm maturity in her bearing that momentarily distracted him.
An intellectual elder sister. Refined. Poised. If only she wore spectacles...
He snapped himself back to focus.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was the phoenix.
Ravenclaw closed her book.
"I do not enjoy presenting hypotheses without verification. Tom, I still lack sufficient understanding of your current limits. Over the coming days, I will observe your training, evaluate your genuine capacity, and then provide a precise solution. I will also draft a structured development plan."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Acceptable?"
Tom nodded vigorously.
Meticulous. Thorough. This was the difference between a founder and two former dark warlords playing at mentorship.
"I await your verdict."
His consciousness withdrew from the learning space.
...
The first exam ended.
Tom, Hermione, and Daphne made their way toward the next subject.
As they crossed the small courtyard garden, Fawkes descended, staring at Tom expectantly.
With a sigh, Tom produced a bundle of herbs and fed him on the spot.
Daphne looked puzzled.
"Why does Fawkes keep coming to you for food?"
"Because Dumbledore is too poor to maintain a phoenix properly," Tom replied casually. "His salary is fixed. Fawkes wants premium meals. So naturally, he comes to me."
Daphne nodded thoughtfully.
It sounded entirely plausible.
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