Undercurrents and Silent Guardians at the End of Term

Hogwarts Castle was enveloped in an atmosphere of tension, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. The end of the first academic year was approaching, and final exams loomed like a heavy cloud over every student. For Tom Riddle, this was not just a moment to test his year's worth of studies, but a crucial battle to solidify his status as a "genius" and prove his worth to all doubters.

He poured almost all his time into revision. He could be found buried in books at the edge of the restricted section in the library, in the quietest corner of the Slytherin common room, or even in the dormitory late at night. His goal was not just to pass, but to achieve first place in his year with an overwhelming, undeniable advantage.

This extreme focus brought immense pressure. The magic power radiating from Tom became sharper and more unstable, like a taut string on the verge of snapping. He grew more silent than usual, his gaze colder. Occasionally, when he met Ares's eyes, a hint of unresolvable anxiety flickered in the depths of his dark irises.

Ares could clearly sense Tom's state. He knew that simple words of comfort were pale in the face of Tom's obsession with perfection. He chose a more practical approach.

During the theoretical review for Charms class, when Tom was struggling with minute differences in the energy structure of a complex spell, Ares would casually mention another perspective on the nature of magic power flow that he had seen in ancient scrolls, often instantly enlightening Tom.

For memorizing potion recipes, Ares would use his powerful mental strength to weave the tedious steps and ingredient properties into easily memorable, rhythmic image chains, which he shared with Tom (through slight, permitted mental tendrils), greatly improving his memory efficiency.

Even in the dry memorization of timelines in History of Magic, Ares could find the underlying logic of power struggles and ideological conflicts, allowing Tom to memorize with understanding rather than rote learning, with significant results.

Ares provided these aids silently, never seeking credit, as if they were merely part of their daily interactions. Tom accepted the help, maintaining his proud independence on the surface, but deep down, he knew that without Ares, he wouldn't have been able to maintain such intense revision while keeping his mental state from spiraling out of control.

Exam week finally arrived. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions... one subject after another. Tom performed excellently in every exam hall. His precise spell control, perfect potion quality, and the profound understanding he displayed in his answers, far beyond his age, earned frequent nods of approval from the professors.

However, during the final practical exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts, an accident occurred.

The practical exam involved facing a low-level Boggart controlled by a professor. When it was Tom's turn, the Boggart twisted and writhed before everyone, finally settling into a shape—a deep, suffocating darkness, and within that darkness, the cold, tightly shut door of Wood Orphanage.

This was one of Tom's deepest fears—being abandoned, being sent back to the beginning, returning to that hopeless past where he was seen as a monster.

A low murmur rippled through the observing students. Tom's face instantly turned ashen. The hand holding his wand trembled slightly. The incantation "Riddikulus" caught in his throat, choked by the sudden, bone-chilling panic that surged within him. He could display his power to anyone, but he found it difficult to face this vision from the depths of his soul, the source of all his shame and vulnerability.

As he froze, Ares, standing not far behind him to the side, subtly shifted forward half a step. He made no overt move, not even looking at Tom, but he concentrated, channeling the interwoven light and dark magic within him, especially the parts related to "protection" and "stability," into an extremely faint yet incredibly precise fluctuation. It was like the gentlest feather brushing against Tom's tense spine.

No words, no contact. Just pure support built from will and connection.

Tom jolted. He felt as if he heard Ares's silent reminder, felt that familiar power that could soothe the storm within him. He took a deep breath, his eyes instantly regaining clarity and coldness. All panic was forcefully suppressed, replaced by an offended rage that demanded destruction.

"Riddikulus!" he clearly uttered the spell, his wand pointed resolutely at the orphanage door.

With a loud BANG, the door, symbolizing fear and shame, violently twisted and warped, finally transforming into a giant, comical statue of Mrs. Cole in a tutu, clumsily spinning around!

A wave of laughter erupted, dispelling the previous heavy atmosphere. The examining professor, momentarily stunned, couldn't help but chuckle and loudly declared, "Outstanding! Mr. Riddle, facing your inner fears and overcoming them successfully! Ten points to Slytherin!"

Tom expressionlessly retracted his wand and walked off the examination area. He didn't look at anyone, heading straight back to the waiting area. But Ares saw that the fingertips of his hand, hanging by his side, were still trembling slightly.

All the exams were over. That evening, the results were announced. Without surprise, Tom Riddle's name was at the top of the year, with a significant point gap separating him from the second-place student. He had received an "Outstanding" in every subject.

The Slytherin table erupted in thunderous applause and cheers, celebrating their new star. Abraxas Malfoy personally raised his goblet in a toast. Tom stood amidst the crowd, accepting the compliments, a polite, slightly reserved smile on his face, as if the moment of losing composure in the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam had never happened.

But only Ares knew the tempestuous waves beneath that perfect facade.

Late at night, in the Slytherin dormitory.

Tom wasn't reading or practicing magic as usual. He simply stood by the "window," gazing out at the dark lake and the occasional glowing jellyfish swimming by, his silhouette appearing exceptionally solitary.

Ares didn't disturb him, just sat on his own bed, waiting quietly.

After an unknown amount of time, Tom finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse, "What did you... do today?"

He had felt it. In the exam hall, that power that pulled him back from the brink of the abyss of fear.

Ares replied calmly, "I was just standing there."

Tom turned, his dark eyes fixed on him in the dim light, as if trying to pierce his soul, "Don't lie to me. I can feel it."

Ares met his gaze, unblinking, "I didn't use any spells. I just... didn't want you to be trapped by that thing."

This statement was like the final blow, shattering all of Tom's defenses. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his eyes churned with incredibly complex emotions—anger at having his vulnerability seen through, dependence on that silent support, and a... indescribable tremor, as if his very soul had been touched.

He walked to Ares's bedside. Instead of the probing or commanding tone of the past, he spoke with a near-exhausted honesty, his voice low, "That place... that past... I never want to go back."

"You won't," Ares looked up at him, his heterochromatic eyes filled with unwavering determination. "We won't."

Tom gazed deeply at him, and after a long moment, let out a barely audible "Mm." He didn't say thank you, nor did he make any intimate gestures. He simply reached out and gently took the Ancient Runes notebook Ares had placed by his pillow.

"Starting tomorrow," he said, flipping through the notebook, his tone regaining its usual calmness, but with less sharpness, "we'll study the next formation. I need stronger... protection."

He didn't say protection from what. But Ares knew.

[Ding! Emotional support and acceptance of vulnerability at a critical moment have greatly consolidated the foundation of trust.]

[Soul Anchor construction progress: +10%]

[Hint: Sharing vulnerability and providing silent protection are key to deepening the anchor into the soul.]

The System's prompt sounded softly. Ares watched Tom, who had returned to his studies, knowing that the end of this academic year was not the end of their relationship, but the beginning of a deeper connection. The symbiosis of light and dark, after weathering the undercurrents of the finals and the silent protection, had become even more inseparable.