The Prodigal Son Tom

Isaac and Professor Vinda arrived at the spot where the Diadem of Ravenclaw had just fallen, only to discover upon closer inspection that the once-intact diadem had shattered into pieces.

The shards were pitch black, yet the inscription originally engraved upon the diadem remained clearly visible.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

Isaac waved his wand to piece the fragments on the floor together, eventually restoring the text on the diadem.

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure..." Professor Vinda repeated the words on the diadem.

Even though Isaac had already told her on the way what exactly they were dealing with, she couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy after personally "destroying" this "sacred relic" held in the hearts of all Ravenclaw House wizards.

She had heard of the great name of the Diadem of Ravenclaw even back in France.

To think that a sacred relic meant to be passed down by Ravenclaw House had been turned into an evil Horcrux by someone.

You Hogwarts... or rather, you British folks, are truly extravagant!

This Voldemort is a real spendthrift.

Legend had it that the Diadem of Ravenclaw was imbued with powerful magic by Ravenclaw herself.

It could enhance the wearer's wisdom, sharpen their thinking, quicken their reactions, increase their focus, and grant them "wit beyond measure."

In the wizarding world, wisdom equals knowledge, and knowledge is power.

Even if a wizard were not skilled in combat, as long as they possessed extraordinary wisdom, no one would dare to act presumptuously toward them.

A representative figure of this was Nicolas Flamel.

The centuries-old Nicolas Flamel didn't need to engage in combat; even strenuous exercise would likely cost him half his life.

And yet?

Did any dark wizard in France dare to show up and demand the Sorcerer's Stone?

Never mind whether they could even see Nicolas Flamel; even if they could, the old man would turn a duel into a contest of magical artifacts before they could even make a move.

I am just an alchemist with no strength to truss a chicken, I don't understand your wizarding ways of fighting—go talk to the alchemical stockpiles I've accumulated over the centuries.

Heaven knows how many good things the old man had hoarded over these past few hundred years.

The same logic applied to alchemy, herbology, potions, transfiguration, and even charms.

This was why at Hogwarts, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms were taught personally by the four Heads of House.

As long as young wizards could master any one of the subjects taught by a Head of House, they would become powerful wizards in the future.

The Diadem of Ravenclaw was exactly such a "cheat code" that enhanced a wizard's positive attributes in every aspect.

Such a good item—not to mention Dumbledore, even Professor Vinda was envious.

Yet, that spendthrift Voldemort had gone and turned it into a Horcrux.

Setting aside whether Voldemort actually needed it after turning it into a Horcrux, the fact that he hid the diadem in Hogwarts instead of carrying it with him showed that, to him, the function of a Horcrux outweighed that of a wisdom-enhancing cheat code.

If Voldemort had been invincible at the time, with no rivals in the entire British wizarding world, Isaac wouldn't have said a word, only that Voldemort was a total badass.

But old Tom, you were constantly hiding from Dumbledore back then.

What, you think studying Dark Arts doesn't require wisdom, just evil emotions?

Isaac had always believed that Horcruxes affected one's brain, and this view was concretely embodied in the case of senior Tom.

Professor Vinda picked up a beautiful-looking box from the side and poured out its contents.

A few silver Sickles and more copper Knuts clattered out, leaving Professor Vinda stunned.

Professor Vinda wasn't surprised that she could find money here; she was just surprised that such an exquisite box contained so little.

Could these Sickles and Knuts combined even add up to 2 Galleons?

Protecting a three-digit deposit with a six-digit password, are we?

Clearly, this French lady's stereotype of the British had deepened once more.

Isaac didn't catch Professor Vinda's micro-expressions. After his gaze swept over the silver Sickles on the ground, he waved his wand at the fragments of the Diadem of Ravenclaw.

"Accio diadem fragments!"

The fragments traced a graceful arc through the air and landed inside the box.

Professor Vinda retracted her wand. Without any further movement, the lid of the box snapped shut and floated into the air, following beside her.

"Cool~" Isaac raised an eyebrow. Professor Vinda was indeed someone who had followed the old Grindelwald; regardless of how difficult this non-verbal, wandless magic was, the style points were definitely there.

Watching Professor Vinda, Isaac even started to ponder whether he should get a few fireballs to circle around him in the future.

Before I became a wizard, I appeared like an ordinary NPC; after becoming a wizard, I still have zero style.

Then what the hell was the point of becoming a wizard?

Just like that, Isaac and Professor Vinda left the Room of Requirement with the flying box and made their way to Dumbledore's office.

Unlike other professors, or even Deputy Headmistress Professor McGonagall, Isaac did not need a password to enter the Headmaster's office.

In other words, Dumbledore's headmaster office was a place Isaac could come and go as he pleased.

Trailing half a step behind Isaac, she stared at his back, her gaze turning profound.

Dumbledore, who would have thought you were nothing more than a hypocritical, cowardly old thing!

She could tell at a glance that the Isaac before her was a carbon copy of the young Grindelwald.

So, what exactly was the source of these special treatments Dumbledore afforded Isaac?

You old thing hiding in the high tower of Hogwarts, you've even learned to look after the son of an old friend and pine for the likeness of an old flame, haven't you!

As if he had known Isaac would arrive, Dumbledore was already waiting inside when the door to the headmaster office swung open.

"Welcome, Isaac... and Professor Rosier." Dumbledore nodded kindly at the two of them.

"Would you like something to drink or eat?"

Isaac didn't stand on ceremony; Professor Vinda's Fiendfyre had roasted him quite thoroughly, so he placed his order immediately.

"I'll have an iced lemonade—the colder, the better."

The next second, a glass of lemonade appeared before Isaac. Not minding the chill, he gulped it all down in one go.

"Another one, please."

The moment the glass in front of Isaac emptied, it was replaced by a fresh one. Thoughtfully, the new lemonade wasn't quite as icy as the first.

"Haha, perfect service~" Isaac offered his praise to the empty air, knowing the house-elves serving the headmaster office would surely hear him.

Sure enough, a tiny mint leaf appeared in Isaac's glass the next second, a response from the house-elves.

"Professor Rosier?" Dumbledore looked toward Vinda.

"A cup of black tea, thank you." Vinda offered a slight nod of acknowledgment to Dumbledore; regardless of how she might disparage her old lover Grindelwald in her heart, basic respect was still required.