Silent Gravity

The relationship of "accomplices" was like an invisible pact, binding Tom and Ares ever more tightly together. Yet Ares was not Tom's shadow or appendage. What flowed through him was a mixed bloodline: Albus Dumbledore's wisdom and compassion, and Gellert Grindelwald's seductive charisma—two legendary wizards. At certain moments, those traits shone quietly like stars hidden behind a veil, radiating a light all their own.

Their first-year studies gradually entered deeper waters. The spells in Charms became more complex, Transfiguration demanded finer transformations of form and material, and behind the tedious chronologies of A History of Magic lay profound questions of shifting power and clashing ideals.

During one A History of Magic lesson, Professor Binns droned through the "official version" of the medieval goblin rebellions, portraying goblins as greedy and treacherous. Most students were nodding off or mechanically copying down dates and events.

When Professor Binns mentioned that "the goblins' demand for wand use was firmly rejected by the Wizarding Council and regarded as a challenge to wizarding privilege," Ares, usually the quietest student in A History of Magic, suddenly raised his hand.

Professor Binns's floating body paused, seemingly surprised. "Mr. Phoenix?"

Ares rose to his feet. The usual haze had vanished from his mismatched eyes, replaced by the clear, cool light of analysis. "Professor, from the goblins' perspective, would denying them the use of wands not amount to depriving them of their core rights to perform magic, defend themselves, and develop? Could that be seen as a... systemic form of oppression, thus explaining why rebellions erupted periodically, rather than attributing them solely to 'greed'?"

His voice was not loud, but it was like a stone thrown into stagnant water, instantly shattering the classroom's dullness. Every sleepy student lifted their head and stared at him in surprise. Even Tom, seated beside him, glanced sideways, a flicker of astonishment passing through his dark eyes. Ares's question sharply pierced the textbook narrative and struck at the sensitive nerve of power and fairness.

Professor Binns seemed stumped. He muttered a few tired platitudes about "wizarding authority" and "the management of non-human beings," but he clearly could not offer a convincing rebuttal. A strange silence settled over the classroom. Many Ravenclaw students began to consider the issue seriously, and even several Slytherins, though they did not agree with Ares's implied position, had to admit the force of his question.

Ares calmly sat back down as though he had merely asked about the weather. But he did not notice several older Ravenclaw students seated in the back studying him with entirely new looks of scrutiny and curiosity. Against the backdrop of his calm intelligence, his distinctive appearance seemed even more mysterious and compelling.

A few days later, during Charms, Professor Flitwick assigned a difficult collaborative exercise—pairs were to attempt a simple joint shielding charm, one requiring exceptional mutual understanding and magical coordination. Most pairs failed. Their magic either clashed or could not synchronize.

Tom and Ares naturally formed a pair. Tom took charge of the spell's core structure. His magic was precise and powerful, but it bore an intense personal imprint and struggled to accommodate outside power. Ares did not force his way in. Instead, he drew upon the power of the Eternal Cycle wand, transforming his own more inclusive magic, interwoven with light and darkness, into a soft, flowing "membrane" that gently wrapped around the outer layer of Tom's shield—not opposing it, but supplementing and reinforcing it.

While the other pairs' shields shattered or shook violently beneath the testing spell's impact, the joint shield before them stood firm as bedrock. It even evenly dispersed and absorbed the force of the impact, emitting a harmonious, steady glow.

Professor Flitwick squealed in delight. "Perfect! Absolutely perfect! Mr. Riddell, Mr. Phoenix! Ten points to Slytherin! This is a model of magical coordination! Not a simple addition of power, but... complementarity and symbiosis!"

In that moment, what Ares displayed was not dependence, but a quality that could perfectly complement Tom's forceful power and even elevate it. Some students who had previously regarded Ares only as "Riddell's strange little follower" began to reassess his worth.

Tom looked at the stable shield, then at the calm-faced Ares beside him. What welled up within him was not merely the joy of cooperation, but a subtle pride he himself had not yet recognized. Ares's light did not overshadow him. Instead, it made them, as a whole, more dazzling and... flawless.

However, not everyone was pleased to see this. Within Slytherin in particular, some older students who clung to extreme pure-blood ideals, or simply envied Tom's talent, began turning dissatisfied eyes toward Ares. They believed that this mismatched-eyed boy of unknown origins and questionable blood had too much influence over Riddell, and might even "taint" the "diamond" from the Muggle world that they held in such high regard.

One evening, as Ares was heading alone to the library and passing through a secluded corridor, two fourth-year Slytherins blocked his path. Both wore malicious smiles.

"Hey, Phoenix," one of them, a tall boy, drawled lazily. "What kind of love potion did you feed Riddell to make him circle around you all day, you..."

He did not finish, but his contemptuous gaze swept over Ares's mismatched eyes and markings. The meaning was obvious.

Ares stopped. There was no fear on his face; he simply looked at them calmly, his mismatched eyes unfathomable in the dim light. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with us?" the shorter, pudgier student sneered. "We're just curious. Why does a freak who doesn't even know who his parents are get to..."

At that moment, an icy voice rang out behind them, carrying unquestionable authority.

"He said it has nothing to do with you."

Tom Riddle had appeared at the entrance to the corridor without anyone noticing. He stood there, still young in stature, yet the aura around him made the two fourth-years stiffen at once. His dark eyes, like the coldest abyss, locked onto them. Though he had not raised his wand, dangerous magical ripples already emanated from it.

The two students' faces changed. They had clearly not expected Tom to appear so suddenly, much less with such an unyielding attitude. They shot Ares resentful glares, muttered curses under their breath, and hurried away.

Tom walked over to Ares's side, his gaze still fixed in the direction the two had disappeared. His voice was cold. "They won't bother you again."

Ares looked at his tense profile and could sense the fury he was suppressing. This was not about defending his own authority, but because... they had insulted Ares.

"I could handle it," Ares said softly.

"I know." Tom turned to look at him, his expression complicated. "But I won't allow it."

Those five simple words carried more weight than any ornate oath. They declared that within Tom's domain, Ares was someone under his protection—a special existence no one was permitted to violate.

Just then, the system's notification sounded quietly in Ares's mind. Unlike its usual lively tone, this time it carried a steady sense of destiny.

[Key emotional node detected: protection and possessiveness have reached equilibrium.]

[Hidden long-term mission triggered: Soul Anchor.]

[Mission description: Establish an irreplaceable emotional bond within the target's heart and become the sole point of balance between light and darkness deep within his soul. This mission offers no explicit reward; the process itself is the greatest safeguard against the final darkness.]

[Hint: Trust, understanding, shared secrets and crises, and... one-of-a-kind companionship are all foundations for building the anchor.]

The system's prompt came at exactly the right time. It did not offer any specific item or skill, but pointed out that emotion itself was the most important weapon. This aligned perfectly with Ares's actions all along.

Ares looked at Tom, at this boy who would one day stir up terrifying storms, who was now showing genuine anger in order to defend him. He suddenly reached out—not to touch him, but to gently straighten the slightly rumpled collar of Tom's school robes after his hurried walk over.

"Thank you," Ares said softly.

Tom's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, but he did not pull away. He looked at Ares's face so close to his own, at the understanding and warmth beneath the calmness in his eyes. The violent rage that had risen within him from the insult strangely subsided.

He said nothing. He merely turned and walked toward the library side by side with Ares.

The setting sun streamed through the high windows, stretching their shadows long and intertwining them across the ancient stone floor. Tom's strength and protectiveness, Ares's wisdom and tolerance, formed a unique balance in that moment. Ares had no intention of competing for the position of leader, but the bloodline-born trait within him—the ability to see through people's hearts, mend divisions, and even draw followers—had already begun to radiate its silent gravity.

They were no longer merely "accomplices." In each other's worlds, they were becoming increasingly indispensable. At eleven, perhaps they still did not understand the shape of love, but the deepening bond and protection between them had long surpassed a simple alliance, quietly spreading toward the depths of resonance between souls.