The crackling of the fire in the Common Room seemed to vanish in an instant, and the air froze solid. Tom Riddle's fingers still pressed against the blurry copy of the magical photograph, their tips turning slightly white from the force. His gaze was like the sharpest ice pick, piercing the air and pinning Ares in place—especially the golden chain-like markings beneath his left eye.
"Godric's Hollow... 'A bond of blood, light and darkness born together'..." Tom's voice was low and slow, every word steeped in ice. "Ares, are you still going to tell me you remember nothing? Or is this just another... 'coincidence'?"
He picked up the letter and gave it a slight shake, making the paper rustle faintly. "Peverell believes your markings are connected to this photograph, and to those two names. Dumbledore... and Grindelwald." When he spoke those names, his tone carried complicated undertones—wariness toward power, along with anger at being excluded from a shocking secret.
Ares's heart pounded heavily in his chest. He knew this moment had finally come. The flimsy excuse of amnesia could not withstand such solid "evidence." He met Tom's scrutinizing gaze. There was no panic in his mismatched eyes, only a deep, almost weary calm.
"I didn't lie to you, Tom," Ares said, his voice still steady. "My memories of my past really are fragmented. But some feelings... some connections, I can't deny." He chose to admit part of the truth. It was the only way to temporarily quell Tom's anger and preserve their trust.
Tom stepped closer, until he was nearly nose to nose with Ares. The magic radiating from him carried an oppressive force. "What connection?" he demanded, allowing no vague answer.
Ares took a deep breath and decided to reveal part of the truth, hiding the core secret behind an emotional bond. "The magic within me... light and darkness coexist. I can feel that it shares the same origin as certain beings who are incredibly ancient, incredibly powerful..." He pointed at the blurred figures in the photograph. "Perhaps Professor Peverell is right. My bloodline may truly be connected to them... somehow."
He paused, then continued beneath Tom's burning gaze, his tone more serious than ever. "But that doesn't change anything, Tom. I don't know exactly what happened. I don't know why I appeared near the orphanage. What I do know is that from the moment I opened my eyes, the only thing certain, the only thing real, was my bond with you."
He gently placed a hand over his chest, feeling the faint warmth transmitted by the blood pact, and guided Tom to sense the invisible bond between them. "This connection is more real and more important than my fragmented memories, than any bloodline I might possess. It is the 'anchor' of my existence."
Tom stared at him as if he wanted to squeeze every thought from the depths of his soul. Ares did not evade him, calmly accepting his scrutiny. Time passed in silence, while the whispers of the other students in the Common Room seemed to come from another world.
[Emergency status!(;′??Д??`) Trust level fluctuating sharply! Host emotional declaration in progress... Analyzing... Target's emotions stabilizing...]
At last, the taut magical fluctuations around Tom, which had seemed ready to erupt at any moment, slowly subsided somewhat. The icy chill in his eyes had not fully melted, but the aggressive murderous intent had faded. He took half a step back, putting a little distance between them.
"Your 'anchor'?" he repeated, his tone holding a trace of mockery, but even more complex calculation.
"Yes," Ares affirmed. "No matter where I came from, no matter who my bloodline is connected to, the one standing at your side is me, Ares Phoenix. That will never change."
Tom fell silent. He looked down at the photograph, then raised his eyes to Ares again. Ares's words had cleverly shifted the focus from "the secret itself" to "what the secret meant to them." A bloodline secret potentially tied to the two most powerful wizards of the era was certainly shocking, but Ares's emphasis on the "only certainty"—his bond with Tom—had, to some extent, even satisfied a hidden vanity and desire for control deep within Tom, a wish to be the most important presence in Ares's world.
An ally with such a background who still chose to regard him as an "anchor" was worth... and dangerous... far more than any ordinary person.
"Peverell cannot be allowed to keep investigating." Tom finally spoke, his voice returning to its usual calm but carrying an unquestionable decisiveness. "This secret must end with the two of us." He picked up the letter and photograph. A wisp of ghostly blue flame sprang from the tip of his wand, reducing them to ashes.
"I understand." Ares nodded. Destroying evidence was Tom's style.
"As for your 'bloodline'..." Tom's gaze fell upon Ares's markings again. This time, there was less interrogation and more deep calculation. "If it's real, then it represents not only the past, but also... future resources and bargaining chips. We need to make more careful use of it, rather than let it become a target."
The crisis seemed to have passed for now. Tom accepted Ares's partially honest explanation and incorporated the astonishing secret into his own plans. He did not press for further details, because he knew pushing too hard might have the opposite effect. As long as Ares remained by his side, as long as their bond remained strong, this secret would sooner or later become entirely useful to him.
Yet a crack had already formed. Between Tom's desire for "complete control" and the core secrets Ares was bound to keep lay an irreconcilable contradiction. This confrontation had been a dangerous compromise, not a true resolution. Tom's doubts had merely been suppressed for the moment, like a dormant volcano. Ares, too, clearly realized that as they ventured deeper into the heart of the magical world, the secret of his origins would eventually rise to the surface like an unstoppable tide.
That night, in the dormitory, Tom unusually did not immediately bury himself in reading or practice. Instead, he stood by the window, gazing into the depths of the Black Lake. After a long while, he spoke with his back to Ares. "Remember what you said today, Ares."
"I will remember," Ares replied.
Trust had been forcibly pulled back from the edge of the cliff, but the rope holding it had already gone taut. They still stood side by side, but fine yet impossible-to-ignore cracks had appeared in the foundation beneath their feet. The symbiosis of light and darkness had entered an even more precarious stage beneath the shadow of secrets.
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