Professor Peverell's letter turned to ashes in the fireplace, but the fire it had lit in Tom Riddle's heart had not fully gone out. On the surface, he returned to his usual calmness and scheming, even treating Ares with an almost deliberate "normalcy," as though that confrontation had never happened. Yet Ares could clearly feel that the scrutiny behind Tom's black eyes had become more frequent and more profound.
Tom began studying Ares with an entirely new, almost scholarly gaze. He would "casually" ask Ares about his intuitive feelings toward certain types of magic, especially magic related to contracts, bloodlines, or powerful protective spells; he watched the subtle differences in Ares's magical fluctuations with greater focus whenever Ares cast magic; and once, when Ares unconsciously brushed the markings beneath his eyes in his sleep, Tom lay awake in the opposite bed, silently watching him in the dark for a long time.
It was a silent, unrelenting pressure. In his own way, Tom was trying to peel back the mysterious veil surrounding Ares bit by bit, trying to bring this unexpected resource and potential risk entirely within the realm of what he understood and could control.
Ares understood this perfectly, but he could not stop it. He could only be even more careful to conceal the peculiarities connected to the blood pact and the system, attributing every anomaly to that explanation of "Symbiotic Magic of Light and Dark." Their relationship entered a delicate stage—still intimate, still sharing most of their secrets, such as the Mirror of Erised and the underground chamber, but an invisible barrier had risen in the most central of all areas.
Meanwhile, Professor Peverell's "academic enthusiasm" had not diminished simply because she received no reply. A few days later, another owl brought her a new letter. This time, she sent no sensitive images and did not mention any names directly. Instead, she adopted a more roundabout approach, one more fitting for a scholar.
In the letter, under the guise of discussing the theory of "Symbiotic Contracts" in ancient alchemy, she gave a detailed account of certain extremely ancient forms of magic involving soul or bloodline binding. Their outward manifestations often left distinctive marks upon those bound or their descendants, perhaps resembling "flowing metal" or "burning patterns." She cited several exceedingly obscure ancient texts, ones even Tom had never heard of, and "incidentally" mentioned that some early researchers of these theories were said to have deep connections with Godric's Hollow. Some even speculated that Professor Albus Dumbledore had dabbled in such research in his youth, though she cautiously noted that this was an unverified academic rumor.
The letter appeared to be an academic discussion, but in truth, every word was a carefully polished key meant to pry open the lock upon Ares. It explained the source of Professor Peverell's information—not that she was personally acquainted with Dumbledore or Grindelwald, which was highly unlikely given her age and field, but that she had made astonishing deductions through studying tomes and manuscripts recording ancient, obscure knowledge and combining them with fragmented information circulating in academic circles.
Tom finished reading the letter without expression, then handed it to Ares.
"She's probing." Tom's voice revealed no emotion, but the unconscious tapping of his fingers against the chair back exposed his inner unrest. "In this... seemingly harmless way. She's more persistent, and smarter, than we imagined."
Ares looked at the rigorous yet suggestive academic language on the parchment, his heart turning cold. Professor Peverell was like a patient archaeologist, brushing away the dust covering the truth bit by bit. Her information came from scattered, indirect sources, but precisely because it was academic and indirect, it was harder to stop her through forceful means.
"What does she want?" Ares asked.
"Knowledge. The sense of achievement from solving a mystery. Perhaps also greater prestige in the field of alchemy." Tom analyzed calmly. "But she doesn't understand that for some mysteries, knowing the answer itself can be dangerous."
He burned the letter again, but this time his movements were slower, as though he were considering how to deal with this steadily approaching trouble.
"We can't keep responding passively." Tom rose and began pacing around the room. "We need to divert her attention, or... make her realize she's out of her depth."
However, before Tom could devise a specific countermeasure, another potential threat began to show itself. In Charms, Professor Flitwick assigned a Silencing Charm exercise that required intense concentration. Ares completed it almost immediately and perfectly. The balanced, harmonious magical field radiating around him even helped several distracted Ravenclaw students beside him steady their emotions, indirectly contributing to their success.
Professor Flitwick delightedly awarded Ravenclaw points and, unusually, described Ares as possessing "a rare gift for soothing and guiding his peers." After class, several older Ravenclaw students gathered around Ares of their own accord, sincerely asking him for advice. Their eyes held nothing but pure appreciation for knowledge and ability.
Tom stood some distance away, watching Ares surrounded by Ravenclaw students, among them quite a few pretty, striking girls. He watched Ares answer their questions calmly and patiently, seeming to be naturally enveloped in an aura that made others feel reassured and convinced. Tom's lips tightened into a cold line.
That familiar displeasure rose in him again—the feeling of seeing something that belonged to him coveted and admired by others. Unlike the worship of younger students, these Ravenclaw students' appreciation was more mature, more... independent. The way they looked at Ares made it seem as though he were a self-contained source of light, rather than an accessory of Tom Riddle's.
When Ares finally escaped the crowd and walked toward Tom, Tom said nothing. He merely turned and left the classroom first, his pace faster than usual. Ares followed silently, able to feel the low pressure radiating from the figure ahead.
Professor Peverell was like a persistent hunter in the shadows, closing in step by step with knowledge and reasoning. Meanwhile, Ares's impossible-to-conceal charm was like an uncontrollable light, constantly drawing the eyes of others and testing Tom's sensitive nerves and increasingly swollen possessiveness.
The shadows of secrets and the attraction beneath the light wove an ever-tightening net around them both. Unease grew within Tom. He needed a more secure way to bind Ares—along with all his secrets and allure—completely and beyond dispute to his side. And that thought was quietly leading toward an ancient and dangerous realm of magic.
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