Ruining My Good Deeds

Gellert Grindelwald quickly changed the subject, no longer mentioning the previous events, and brought up seeking help from Albus Dumbledore, vehemently disagreeing with Tom going to Newt Scamander Scamander.

Tom, looking at the bristling-haired first Dark Lord, couldn't help but tease him, "Mr. Grindelwald, have you got this backwards? Back then, you were the villain, and I was Albus Dumbledore's student. I was born to be on Scamander's side."

"But you're my apprentice!" Gellert Grindelwald cried out in anguish. "Albus Dumbledore is just a figurehead; what has he taught you? Nothing! And me? I've taught you all the practical skills. Can't you tell who's closer to you?"

Tom chuckled, "It was Albus Dumbledore who defeated you. You didn't mind me asking Albus Dumbledore, so why do you get so worked up just because Newt Scamander is mentioned? Where's your sense of perspective? Where's the Dark Lord's sense of perspective?"

Gellert Grindelwald was so angry he couldn't speak. After holding it in for a long time, he began to grit his teeth and list Newt Scamander's crimes.

"He was the ringleader in the New York arrests, he orchestrated the theft of the Blood Pact in Paris, and he was the one who brought the real Qilin to Bhutan. This is just the beginning!"

Gellert Grindelwald's voice grew increasingly agitated, "After I declared war, he ruined things ten times! Ten times! He led those strange and Fantastic Beasts around causing chaos, and he completely disrupted my plans."

Tom listened with great interest. These things weren't written in the book. So Newt Scamander was the mastermind behind everything, constantly putting the Acolyte in the dust.

"So you hate him?"

"Not hate," Gellert Grindelwald's voice turned cold, "It's disgust."

Tom thought for a moment. "What about your old buddies?"

Gellert Grindelwald snorted. "Even without me, they hate Scamander to death. He dares not go to Continental Europe countries except Britain and America now."

"He went there, and the next day he was struck by hundreds of Avada Kedavra curses and committed suicide."

Tom clicked his tongue in amazement. Hundreds of Killing Curse —what a deep grudge that must have been.

"Mr. Grindelwald, please listen to me." Tom's tone became serious.

"The first trial is a fire dragon, the second is a unicorn, and there are ten more trials to come, which may require even more Fantastic Beasts."

"You say, besides Scamander, who else is the most suitable helper?"

Gellert Grindelwald fell silent.

"I understand that you dislike him, but you can't let your dislike for him delay my trial, can you?"

The silence lasted a long time. Finally, Gellert Grindelwald sullenly said, "Don't let me see him when I meet that guy," and withdrew from the Study Space, returning to his main body in Nurmengard.

Tom was filled with mixed emotions. The first Dark Lord would lose his mind at the mere mention of Newt Scamander, and Gellert Grindelwald had been completely controlled by Scamander his entire life.

When Tom returned to the common room, it was noisy.

On the first weekend of the new semester, they had to re-elect the Shadow Prefect, a task he had already delegated to the seventh-year male Prefect Borgin.

Imogen Phyllis, the former Prefect of the fifth year, stood in the center of the field, her wand pointing to the opposite side. Eleanor Bellatrix, sitting opposite her, was already lying on the ground, her robes covered in dust.

Phyllis won! She had been holding back all semester and finally got her revenge. Phyllis clenched her fist excitedly, unable to suppress the smile on her face.

Borgin stood in the center and announced, "Phyllis has succeeded in her challenge! The new Shadow Prefect here! Are there any other grades who want to challenge her?"

Tom walked in and coughed. "First grade, anyone want to challenge me?"

His gaze swept over Malfoy intentionally or unintentionally, and Malfoy shrank behind Goyle and Crabbe in fright. Goyle and Crabbe were so big that they blocked his view completely.

Malfoy poked half his head out from the gap, then withdrew it again.

Everyone fell silent. Which first-grader would dare challenge Tom? That's practically courting death.

"Tom, I challenge you!"

Everyone was stunned. The speaker wasn't a first-year student, but the seventh-year male Prefect Borgin.

His expression was serious, and he already held his wand in his hand. Was he finally about to launch a counterattack after being suppressed for too long?

Tom squinted. "Are you sure?" Was this guy unwilling to be dominated and trying to turn the tables?

"I'm sure." Borgin took a step forward. "I know I'm no match for you, but in all of Slytherin, you're the only one most suitable for me to prove my worth."

Tom thought about it and realized that this mentality was similar to his challenge to a duel with Snape. He had found a stronger opponent to spar with; losing wouldn't be shameful, and winning would be a huge bonus.

"Okay. Come on."

The two stood in the center of the arena. Borgin took a deep breath and held his wand to his chest, while Tom's wand hung lazily at his side.

Borgin chanted a spell for two seconds, and a thick beam of black light shot out from the tip of the staff, heading straight for Tom's face. It was fast and powerful, and the surrounding audience held their breath.

Tom didn't move. He gently raised his wand, and a beam of red light shot out Silencio from the tip of the wand, colliding with the black light.

The black light only lasted half a second before being pushed back. The red light pushed the black light back slowly, like pushing a car that had run out of gas.

Borgin's eyes widened in surprise; he tried to dodge, but it was too late.

The red light struck his chest, sending him flying through the air. He crashed into the wall behind him, slid down, and sat on the ground.

The entire room fell silent.

Last time Tom fought Borgin, they went toe-to-toe, but this time, he was defeated in one move!

It was pure magical overpowering combined with exquisite control. Borgin's spell was powerful, but Tom's red light forcefully pushed it back, giving him no chance to dodge.

Phyllis's mouth was agape, and Carrow leaned against the wall, nearly dropping his wand.

Several shrewd older students have already begun to devise ways to get on Tom's good side.

Tom put away his wand, walked up to Borgin, and held out his hand.

Borgin grabbed his hand, stood up, dusted off his robe, and gave a wry smile. "You fought me for several minutes last time."

"Last time was last time."

How much of your strength did you use this time?

Tom thought for a moment. "Thirty percent?"

Borgin's face fell even more; he hadn't even caught thirty percent.

The next day, Tom received a message from Albus Dumbledore: the letter had been sent to United States.

Britain and United States are separated by the Atlantic Ocean, and a round trip would take at least half a month. Tom wasn't in a hurry, so he simply put the unicorn mission aside for now. Anyway, there was no time limit, so he could figure out a solution slowly.

Greengrass Manor

The letter Daphne sent home reached Mrs. Greengrass, who read it with disbelief.

In all her years, she had never heard of such an incredible Potions. Even if it existed, it shouldn't be something a first-year wizard could concoct.

In her letter, Daphne confidently assured everyone that she had used it herself and the effects were ridiculously good. Even if it couldn't cure the curse, it would be fine as a supplement, and there was no harm in giving it a try.

Astoria sat on the windowsill, flipping through a fashion magazine. Her silver hair reached her waist, and she had a small face with a pointed chin, looking so thin that she seemed like she could be blown away by a gust of wind.