"Dumbledore asked us to help track Grindelwald. Tina refused."
After the family dinner, Tom followed Newt out into the courtyard to clear the weeds. He conjured a white orb of light and sent it drifting upward, flooding the grounds below with a brightness that made the night look almost like afternoon.
Newt explained the reason for their hasty return as he worked. "To be honest, I think the Grindelwald we're dealing with now is more dangerous than the one we faced before. He's completely alone this time. No vast network of followers behind him, no fixed base of operations. His movements are impossible to predict."
"There's no way to anticipate what he intends to do, which makes any kind of targeted defence or ambush essentially useless."
Tom adopted an expression of perfect innocence. "Perhaps he's simply grown old. Wants to see how the world has changed?"
Newt added with a self-deprecating smile, "And settle a few old scores along the way. But does he really harbour that much hatred toward the Picquery family? He chose the most brutal method imaginable to take his revenge. I keep feeling there's something else underneath it all, some other reason we haven't seen yet."
Tom's heart gave a quiet lurch.
The person who understands you best is always your enemy. Newt and Grindelwald were by no means equals in raw power, but there was no better word for their relationship than rivals. Newt had spent enough years studying Grindelwald's patterns that he'd sensed exactly where something didn't add up.
"Uncle Newt, you're retired. Stop turning it over in your head."
Tom reached out and yanked a wide swath of weeds clean from the earth in one smooth pull. "You spent years trying to convince Aunt Tina to retire, and now that it's your turn, you can't seem to let go either."
"The sky can fall. Dumbledore will hold it up. Sitting here speculating is just draining yourself for nothing."
"...You have a point."
Newt found a stone bench and settled onto it. "You're right, I should stop chasing my own tail. Tom, your mastery of runic arrays is stronger than either mine or Tina's. Would you go through the protective enchantments on the house and give them a proper check?"
Tom considered it for a moment. "What if we used the Fidelius Charm instead? Simpler, cleaner. I'll take on the role of Secret-Keeper."
"You've learned that one too?" Newt looked genuinely startled.
The Fidelius Charm was one of the most advanced spells in the entire canon of contract magic. It buried a secret so deeply within the Secret-Keeper's soul that not even Voldemort himself could extract it without the Keeper's willing cooperation. Even killing the Secret-Keeper wouldn't break it. The knowledge would simply migrate, and another person who held the secret would automatically become the next Keeper.
Tom shrugged. "It came easily enough. The spell itself isn't the hard part. The real challenge is whether your Secret-Keeper has the character to hold."
Newt couldn't suppress a smile. He knew perfectly well Tom was referring to Peter Pettigrew, but he played along anyway. "I suppose I really ought to consider finding a new one."
Tom wasn't the least bit offended. If anything, his grin widened. Getting someone as naturally reserved as Newt to crack a joke was its own kind of achievement.
"Why not ask Dumbledore?"
"Ah... perhaps not. Actually, you're quite suitable."
The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Inside the house, the sound reached Tina and Daphne, who glanced curiously toward the courtyard window before shrugging and returning to their conversation without giving it another thought.
...
Tom and Daphne didn't leave the estate until early the following morning, making their way back to Hogwarts as the sun was just beginning to climb.
Before they left, Tina extracted a promise from Tom to return in two weeks. By then, Jacob and Queenie would have arrived as well. The two of them weren't as free as Newt and Tina. Jacob's bakery was still running, and there were assets to sort out before they could make the move.
The two of them arrived back at school and went straight to the Great Hall for breakfast. Dumbledore, who had vanished for the entire weekend, was already back in his seat. Most of the students didn't even know he'd made a fruitless trip to North America and returned empty-handed.
When the Hall was nearly full, Dumbledore rose to his feet. A sharp, resonant hum cut through the noise of the room, and young witches and wizards looked up with furrowed brows.
"My sincere apologies for interrupting your meal," Dumbledore said. "But there are matters I must address."
"During Saturday's Quidditch match, the Dementors, having been deprived of a source of sustenance for an extended period, violated the agreement they had made with me and entered the Quidditch pitch. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, Minister Fudge has asked me to convey his most sincere apologies to you all."
The Hall received this in near-total silence. An apology delivered through a third party. How generous.
But Dumbledore's next words brought the room to its feet.
"Furthermore, effective today, the Dementors will be withdrawing from both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade entirely. As a gesture of goodwill, there will be an additional open day this coming weekend. Students are encouraged to visit the village and enjoy themselves."
With those two announcements complete, Dumbledore settled back into his chair with a smile, and as he did, he caught Tom's eye and gave him a small, deliberate wink.
Tom let out a quiet, wry laugh through his nose. The old man was telling him, in his own way, that he still had a card or two left to play.
...
"Riddle. A moment."
Tom had just finished eating and was about to head to Transfiguration with Hermione and Daphne when Snape appeared and steered him quietly into a corner of the entrance hall.
"I need a Strengthening Solution," Snape said, his voice low. "What's the earliest you can have it ready?"
Tom blinked at him and said nothing.
But the meaning was plain enough.
You expect to walk up to me with nothing but words and get something for free?
Snape's expression darkened. "Tell me what you want. How am I supposed to know what peculiar demands you'll come up with?"
"Professor," Tom said, "who are you getting this potion for?"
He'd worked it out almost immediately. This wasn't for Snape himself. If Snape had needed it personally, he would have approached the whole thing sideways, winding through layers of misdirection, maybe even laying a trap to manoeuvre Tom into offering it first before admitting he needed anything at all.
But this? This was urgent.