Beta: Cloudy

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

With the first week officially down—no one was given detention from Umbridge—I decided it was time to test out my new acquisition.

At the edge of my bed rested the dark oak vanishing trunk Sil bought for me at the start of summer. I was grateful no one questioned why I needed a second "trunk" with my belongings that year, nor did anyone figure out what it truly was.

I lovingly patted it. "Welp. Time to test it out!"

I popped it open, hopped inside the blue velvety interior, shut the lid, counted to three, then—

It was a sensation like falling, as if someone had tossed the trunk into water. No sound could be heard, and even with my eyes opened wide I only saw darkness. When the sensation subsided, I opened the lid. To my delight, I found myself staring up at the ceiling at my home in Lunar's Orchard.

"Sil?" I tentatively called out as I sat up in the chest.

My House Elf appeared before me in her cute little dress and apron. "Yes, missus?"

"It worked!" I squealed. "Yay! Okay."

I crawled out of the trunk, examining the living room of my house with a big smile on my face. I had a floo connection installed last summer. The connection would only allow those I had keyed into the wards to use the floo. Presently, only Fenrir and myself were keyed in to do so. The floo was hooked up to public access so I'd be able to floo to Diagon Alley or other public points across Britain—including the Ministry.

As it was a ward-keyed floo connection, the magic on the system would be able to identify me. If I said home, it would take me here, so I wouldn't need to give out my address.

My smile was as bright as can be.

I officially had an easy way in and out of Hogwarts.

Best way to celebrate that would be a heist, of course! Something grand to explain why Gentleman Rose had to take a small break.

There was supposed to be a visiting fossil exhibition in Edinburgh and some fossils on display are the canis dirus.

If our hypothesis was correct and the canis dirus was what was used as the base ritual for the lycanthrope curse, then it'd (probably) be terribly important to obtain as many versions of the fossil as I could.

I'll need to set up some preservation cases first. I wouldn't want them to get damaged under my care. I don't plan to keep them long-term if I can help it, things important to science should be returned once done.

Fossils were fun to steal but not grand enough... what else could be added?

"Tom, correct my memory if I'm wrong—but doesn't the Noble family of Rosier live near Edinburgh?"

"The Ancient and Noble manor of Rosier is hidden in Pentland near Edinburgh," affirmed Tom.

"I think this semester is the perfect time to see if I can break into a Noble home."

"What a delight," said Tom. "I do have some good news."

"Oh?"

"I may have found a way to substitute the binding ingredient, if you're ready for another test run."

"You know what? It's Friday night. If I've got the ingredients, let's do it now."

"Wh—Really?"

"Yeah. I've got plenty of spare stuff from the last ritual here somewhere, what else do I need to get? Sil could probably go buy it while I draw up the circle."

Tom let out a small chuckle. "You always amaze me."

I smiled. "It's just because I'm trying to impress you."

"You've succeeded."

"Feel free to fall in love with me any day now."

"And deprive the world of the same opportunity? I could never."

"Aha. So you'd be fine if someone else fell in love with me?" I teased.

"Of course," he responded cordially.

"I bet you're only saying that because right now you're thinking: It doesn't matter what they feel. She could never, ever, do better than me for I am perfect in nearly every way. Therefore, she would never be with anyone else!"

He started to laugh quite loudly.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

One breath-taking ritual later...

"How long d'ya expect this one to last?" I breathlessly asked him, nodding at his body. I was still catching my breath, struggling to keep my tone even. Tom's soul literally passing out of me was a wretchedly odd feeling. It literally took my breath away, causing me to dizzily fall to the floor. Having performed the ritual a second time, I was able to pay more attention to how my magic and his magic reacted during the ritual.

I found it pretty cute that his magic held onto mine until the very end.

"Optimistically, a month. Realistically, a week," he said, offering me a hand. I accepted it and he helped me to my feet, my legs still weak. "Should give me time to properly test out its limitations at least."

"Nice. Guess we should get you a wand then."

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"A wand," I said. "Er—you don't want one?"

"I do, I—" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I did not expect you to—never mind."

"We can go shopping tomorrow. Get you some clothes, too," I said, reaching forward to fix one of his stray bangs. He caught my hand, his thumb tracing down to rest over my pulse.

Dark eyes met mine. Slowly he said, "It's a date."

"Sure," I said, then realized what was said and turned pink. "Tom you don't—"

"I would like to," he said.

"Ah," came a surprisingly weak response on my end. "Okay. A date. Sil?"

"Yes, Missus?"

I would have gestured to Tom, but he hadn't let go of me (and in my flustered state I did not think to use my other hand). Instead, I nodded in his direction as I said a little breathlessly, "This is Tom. Treat him as an honored guest, and please prepare a room for him. Don't let anyone else know he's here, and bring him whatever he needs. He's—er—going to need clothes for tomorrow. And—er—keyed into the wards to use the floo."

Sil nodded quickly, her ears flopping adorably. "Sil will take care of it, Missus."

"Thank you." I swallowed roughly, acutely aware of the fact that Tom Marvolo Riddle was still holding my wrist. "Um."

He let go.

"If we're going out tomorrow, I should finish all of my homework," I said meekly. "See you here after breakfast."

Tom's dark angelic smile was downright dangerous. With a voice coated in honey, he practically purred, "Sweet dreams, Rosie."

I took a stumbling step back, hating how hot my face felt. We both knew what he was doing, and from the amused sparkle in his eyes I knew he was loving it.

"You play so dirty," I whispered accusingly.

His smile stretched wider. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Goodnight my favorite schemer."

"Goodnight my favorite witch."

That got a smile out of me before I turned away and headed back to my dorm room.

Tom with a body and not just a voice in my head is a tough opponent for my heart. This is gonna be so much fun.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Saturday morning after breakfast I met up with Tom at Lunar's Orchid. I had taken extra care in my appearance, softening my curls and picking out a cute witchy dress and short cloak.

Crawling out of the chest, I was greeted by the smell of biscuits, bacon, and strong tea. Tom had seated himself at the kitchen table, and from the stack of plates beside him, I could tell that Sil had delighted in feeding him a variety of food.

Although that's quite the stack, I thought as I eyed it.

Increased metabolism from the ritual, or did a homunculus body require it?

"My, my," I said. "If you're that hungry, do you want to start off by getting a treat first?"

Tom delicately wiped at his mouth with a napkin. I hadn't noticed it, but apparently my home at the Orchid had matching kitchen sets complete with embroidered napkins. Glad that witch I hired to decorate it years ago hadn't skimped out. "Whatever you have in mind."

"You know what? Let's start the day off with ice cream," I said, noticing that Tom was eyeing some more food.

Tom inclined his head, tearing his gaze away from the scrumptious scones Sil made and focusing on me. "As you wish. Before we leave, I'd like to cast a spell over us."

I handed him my wand as he stood up.

"Fuht Andwlita," said Tom, doing a slow wave over his face then my own.

I didn't recognize the language, nor the spell. Intrigued, I asked, "What's that do?"

"Our faces will be foggy and hard to remember. Anyone looking directly at us will have a hard time seeing us as anything other than painfully average," he said. "Or at least that's how it should work, this will be my first time casting it since I made it up in your mind palace."

I grinned. "I love live testing."

Tom handed my wand back over, and I pocketed it up one of my cloak sleeves.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," he answered. "Travel by floo first?"

"Yeah. We'll go to the Leaky Cauldron."

"After you."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Once through the pub and into the alley, Tom graciously offered his arm in escort. With a smile, I humored him, hooking my arm through his as we made our way to the first stop.

Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour was a painted white shop squashed in between Obscurus Books and Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. Its sign was written in flowy green lettering. In its window stood two charmed nutcrackers with enchanted ice cream spiraling around them.

It was a favorite place to visit. Canonically Florean Fortescue had been kidnapped and killed by Death Eaters in Harry's sixth year, but if my plans worked out the owner would avoid such an unsavory death. It'd be a downright tragedy if the store was forced to close down. Florean hadn't even chosen a successor to pass on his ingenious flavors.

Butterbeer chocolate ice cream. Who else could create such a masterpiece and not have the two flavors fight for dominance? The man was a treasured culinary mastermind.

There were a few mint green tables inside already filled up. Tom curiously peered around it as we took our place in the back of the line. Despite it being in the morning the place had a decent amount of customers. His voice was quiet as he commented, "This wasn't here when I attended Hogwarts."

A small gasp escaped me. "Truly? What a waste. I love the butterbeer-chocolate."

"I remember," said Tom. "Personally, I'm not overly fond of desserts."

"Hmm." I cocked my head. "Too sweet?"

"Yes," he answered.

"That makes sense," I murmured, mostly to myself. "You—er—you grew up in—er—in an orphanage?"

"Am I that obvious?" he asked, more amused at my stumbling than offended at the question.

I shrugged, not answering.

"Yes," he affirmed. Casually, he went on to say, "Not much food to begin with. Coming to Hogwarts was an adjustment in many ways. I ate too much at first and got sick a lot for the first month or so."

Got sick—

That would imply Tom had starved to the point that it triggered refeeding syndrome; when food was reintroduced too quickly after a period of starvation or malnourishment it could lead to electrolyte imbalances and severe complications. In worst cases it would even be fatal.

It'd be even more dangerous if the child had never experienced what it meant to be full, and so they would overindulge to a dangerous level.

The dismissive manner Tom addressed it was a subtle implication to not pry further. It was enough that he felt comfortable with me to share even that information.

Yikes.

Would Tom have been one of the better fed children because the others were intimidated by him, or one of the worst ones because the adults thought him evil?

Either way, yikes.

"You might like the saffron and rose ice cream, or maybe matcha, or tiramisu," I pointed at the flavors. It was nearly our turn to pick. "They aren't very sweet at all. Matcha's more on the bitter side."

"Mn." Tom examined the flavors. "Are you sticking with your favorite?"

"Nah. I'll try the chai flavor this time around," I answered as I peered around some customers to see the line up.

Upon our turn to order Tom, to my surprise, picked out butterbeer and chocolate ice cream while I ordered chai. I raised an eyebrow at his selection after I paid. He smiled coyly in response. "You always seemed to enjoy it."

We were each handed our ice cream cones. The butterbeer and chocolate was a golden colored with a milk chocolate swirl around it. The chai I had picked out was an off-shade white.

"I have a sweet tooth," I pointed out as I licked my ice cream. Tom held out his right arm in a silent offer, holding his ice cream with his left hand. I hooked my left arm through his arm, adjusting to keep my ice cream in my right hand.

Tom tried a bit of his own. "Tastes can change, Rosie."

"Suddenly craving some sweetness in your life, Tom?" I teased.

Tom's dark brown eyes moved away from the ice cream to beguiley regard me. "Craving some bitterness in yours?"

Such a Slytherin thing to do to answer a question with a question. It was hard to read him without him being so closely tied to my magic. I had become intimate with Tom's magic to the point I could feel his presence in an adjacent room, but I wasn't able to tell how he felt without directly interacting with his magic. I had to actually rely on my cunning and wit against him which was unnerving.

Unable to think of a clever response, I leaned forward and licked the top of his ice cream.

Mm. Butterbeer-chocolate.

Tom thought it only fair to take a bite out of mine afterward. Which was not fair because he took a way bigger bite than my dainty little lick. The prat.

We ate our ice creams as we continued to window shop. Tom had cast hover charms on them; whenever we needed to use our hands the ice creams would hover in place wherever we let them go.

Tom lingered in the stationary and book stores most frequently. He was meticulous in picking out his personal notebooks, pens, and so on. He compared parchment papers, inks, quills—everything was scrutinized and repeatedly double-checked to see if he could find something better. It took the better part of two hours before he finally picked out the basic writing supplies for him to continue his own research.

"You're not the type to rush things are you," I dryly asked after I had finished paying.

"Why rush?" he retorted.

Another question with a question.

I must have seemed pouty to him because he had an amused expression. He smiled. "Yes. I prefer to take things slow and steady, if my two-hour shopping to pick out basic utensils is anything to go by."

Slow and steady, huh?

That reminded me of something completely unrelated.

"You know, I realized that we've never played chess against one each other," I said, genuinely surprised by that revelation. Chess was universally considered the best game for schemers and brilliant evil masterminds to play, yet somehow I hadn't played it with Tom? Blasphemy.

"Not a fan of it," he dismissed. "Too linear."

"What a waste," I said, clicking my tongue.

"It's for the best. I'd hate to break your winning streak," he said slyly, dark eyes lingering in my gaze.

Keeping eye contact, I said, "That's a blatant challenge."

"Yes."

"You're going to lose."

Tom's expression warmed up to charmingly smug. "A queen may be higher than a lord, but the game is over without the king."

"Okay," I said firmly. "We're going to be playing some chess tonight."

"Won't you need to be getting back?" he asked. "You know I prefer to take my time."

"Doesn't matter. I'll stay up all night," I said stubbornly.

Tom squeezed my arm, burnished eyes bright with mirth. "Careful with your statements. I'll keep you all night."

I already mentally prepared myself. I had claimed victory over my family and all the Slytherins and Ravenclaws. I hadn't had the pleasure of dueling Ronald Weasley, but I knew I was a damn good chess master. When I retired as a thief (if ever) I'd start entering chess tournaments, maybe find my prized pupil to pass on my legacy.

Tom threatened that legacy.

That could not stand.

"You will topple before me," I whispered.

Tom Riddle leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I'll take your queen in the first ten turns."

THIS. BOY.

My eyes narrowed. "A bold statement for someone who couldn't pick out a quill in the first ten minutes."

"Direct insults already?" He chuckled. "I'm sorry to have intimidated you so early."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. MY. GOD.

Before I could say anything else in response, we had arrived at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and Tom ushered us inside. The shit talking was placed on hold as Tom spent another hour picking out a variety of robes. Thankfully he already knew what he wanted going in—he had browsed the catalogs Sil provided him yesterday—and most of the time was spent going over a handful of items he wanted specially made.

Expensive items.

I am so his sugar momma right now, I thought to myself as I paid for his items again. I am Tom Riddle's sugar momma. What the bloody hell has my life become?

We stopped by a café for lunch, resuming our shit-talking while we ate. The conversation flowed easily from one topic to another. We decided to head to Ollivander's next, but we stopped by any store that caught our fancy along the way. I purchased a little mini castle for my enchanted mini Horntail, along with a book on how to take care of unicorns (something I could never, ever buy during family trips to the Alley and had to keep hidden at all costs).

Tom wanted his own potion set—and thank Magic he already knew exactly what he wanted so it barely took thirty minutes to gather all the items—as well a few more books on alchemy. After purchasing a heavy stack of tomes, Tom wore an oddly melancholic look.

"It would be useful if I could find..." he trailed off, his gaze thoughtful.

When he did not complete the statement after a minute, I gently probed. "Anything I can help with?"

He had been direct in requesting items beforehand. Tom knew I wasn't someone short of money and would easily earn it back if I got low. Especially since I'd be doing heists on the weekends when I could and my werewolf sanctuary was turning a hefty profit.

"If you found another piece of me, what would you do?" he asked.

The question came as a surprise, eliciting a genuine reaction from me. Nervous and flustered, I stumbled as I lied, "I haven't given it a lot of serious thought. What would you like me to do?"

Damn it.

It was so much easier to lie to strangers. I rarely—if ever—had to directly lie to my family. I was comfortable not bringing things up—lying by omission—but when confronted I found my lack of experience worked against me. I hadn't been a liar in the past life, and I wasn't naturally cunning enough to compensate for bold-face lying to someone I cared about without a lot of mental and emotional preparation.

It didn't help that I knew Tom Riddle was in a league of his own when it came to lies, manipulation, and wits. He was born with a silver tongue.

I didn't have any confidence that I could tell an unexpected lie directly to Tom Riddle without him seeing straight through me.

Which only heightened my nerves and made the situation much worse.

Admittedly, it didn't help that I kind of had a crush on him and he adored capitalizing on it like the sneaky little manipulator he was.

"Bring it to me, maybe," he said.

Why is he even bringing this up? I hadn't told him I was one of his Horcruxes.

Hesitantly, I asked, "Am I supposed to be on the lookout for more of your... phylacteries?"

I didn't know what else to ask or say in response. I didn't understand the logic or motive behind him bringing it up in the first place. It seemed out of character. Tom might have become genuinely fond of me, but that was fondness at best.

He didn't trust me enough to discuss the details of his childhood, yet somehow he was okay to talk about his most dangerous secret?

No. Something stank.

Or... maybe? I don't know what to think. Maybe he doesn't think of it as a secret anymore since I know he's himself and Voldemort.

Was I overthinking it? Did I hype him up too much in my head and consequently was blowing a random thought way out of proportion?

My gut told me something stank, my head said it was too soon to judge, and my heart was hopeful maybe he really had become that fond of me.

Oof.

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know what the other me has done. Given its level of... derangement, nothing would surprise me."

I was saved from having to respond because we had arrived at Ollivander's.

Thoughts for another day. For now, let's enjoy the date.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Ollivander's store had not changed one bit since the day I picked up my darling muse. I peered at my own wand—Redwood with a phoenix feather core—and gently ran my finger down its smooth wood. I had named it Muse, and it had served me well these past few years. I did so adore my darling Muse, taking extra care of it by polishing it at least once a week.

Tom's eyes lit up with delight upon entering the store, undoubtedly recalling his own first visit. I tried to picture a baby-faced Tom eagerly accepting his wand and the image made me smile briefly. Until I recalled the little details: baby-faced, but probably dirty and in ragged clothes that didn't fit his starved form. Bright-eyed, but anxious at the new environment.

Hopeful, and incapable of imagining the horrors that would await him just because he was not an established pure-blood...

My grip on Tom's arm tightened, eliciting a concerned look from Tom.

Ollivander stepped into the store front, smiling vapidly. "Good day. It's not often I get day visitors. What can I do for you?"

Lowering my voice to give it a mature sultry tone to help mask it, I said, "My friend here lost his wand to a Dark Wizard. He needs a replacement until we can reclaim it."

"My condolences on your loss," demurred Ollivander. "It is... most unfortunate."

Tom did not respond, bowing his head. He adjusted his own voice to carry a heavier accent. "I hope to reclaim it soon, but to do that I need a second wand."

"Yes. A tragic necessity. Second wands can be rather picky. What was your first?"

"Yew with a phoenix core," he said.

"A rare combination. I've personally only sold a few dozen during my tenure," observed Ollivander. "We can start with something similar. Just one moment..."

Out came the measuring tape. I stepped away from Tom as the magical instruments flew about him and Ollivander started to pull out boxes.

"You do not intend to purchase a second wand for yourself?" inquired Tom as he watched Ollivander move about.

I reflexively reached for my muse. "Isn't that—isn't that kind of cheating? I mean I get why you need one, but—"

Tom's sharp look of reproach cut me by surprise and I faltered.

His voice boarded on scorn, "I am surprised someone so normally well-prepared would refuse an opportunity out of—what? Wand monogamy?"

My lips pursed. "Well—"

"Do you not remember what happened earlier this year?" he probed, softening and warming his voice, juxtaposed to his previously scornful tone. "If you had a second wand, you would not have needed to rely on your mental state to cast wandless. You could have avoided... prolonged treatment."

That—

Was true.

My first wand was knocked away from me, and the Crucio had scrambled my mental state to the point where I couldn't cast my wandless spells. A second wand attached to my thigh, maybe hidden under a skirt...

Tom had a point. I had already been caught ill-prepared for a situation I thought I was prepared for. Was there ever such a thing as having too many hidden aces?

Nope.

"Well," I said after a moment, carefully caressing my wand, "I—I suppose it would be smart to have a second wand."

"Mm-hmm."

I sighed. "Mr. Ollivander—would you mind terribly helping me choose a second wand?"

Ollivander paused as he pulled out more boxes. "Not at all."

"One that I could keep hidden," I tentatively added.

Ollivander smiled humorlessly. "It is not uncommon for veterans to request something similar. I am sorry you feel the need to."

"Aha." I didn't know how else to respond to that.

We left the store about an hour later. Tom with a thirteen and a half inch cedar wand with a phoenix feather core—cores never changed—and I with a handsome walnut wand that also had a phoenix feather core.

With that purchase, our date was concluded. It was time to head back.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Lunar's Orchid had a heavy preference for Tudor-style homes and my personal home there was no exception. The distinct style leaned into the quaint storybook appearance, and the architect for the town did not hold back with that aesthetic. The streets were cobblestone lined with the black iron lamps that had playful blue and purple fires inside.

My home at the Orchid blended in with the fellow Tudor homes around it. The only thing that differentiated my home from the others was my backyard that could not easily be seen over the privacy fence. Although my roof was a skylight it had been enchanted, so people on the outside would only see a regular roof.

The downstairs was pretty open. The white marbled kitchen stretched to cover the back wall then opened up to an oak dining room. There were plenty of windows—enchanted to view outside but no one could see inside—that let in an abundance of natural light. A heavy glass backdoor was built into the dining room that led to my garden. Sil would often open the windows that faced the backyard to allow a natural breeze in. Not as much in the dead of winter, but it was still fall so the smell of crisp autumn leaves filled the home.

From my dining room it opened up into a spacious living room. There was a large brick fireplace that has an assortment of comfy furniture in front of it. There were shelves filled with books too Dark to keep at home, along with medical textbooks, and anything related to rituals I had found.

The stairs in the living room spiraled up to the second and third floor, or down into the basement. My basement was my laboratory that I shared with Anyo and Odette to research the potion, but now that Tom was staying here I asked the two to take over other projects.

Odette was happy to focus on the school in town, and Anyo was content to head back to the vampire community and start marketing our sun-proof potion. That had the added benefit of assessing if any of the vampires would want to join up with Voldemort. Anyo doubted they would, but there were enough oddballs to consider the possibility.

The second floor of my home had two bedrooms—one for me, another for a guest—two baths, and a study. The third floor was a giant greenhouse with my roof being almost entirely one big skylight.

It was marvelous to lay up there and look at the night sky. The plants I grew—well, Sil did all the work—had an overall smell that was remarkably similar to lavender.

Tom swept into the living room, placing his shopping bags on the couch for the moment. He kept his new wand and headed straight to the dining room where he flicked his wand once to push the tables and chairs back.

He held his new wand aloft, peering at it with dark eyes. "Do you know how wands are created?"

"Put something magical in between two pieces of wood then meld it together?" I hazarded a guess.

He let out a small heh. He waved his wand at his right hand and conjured a long piece of chalk. He knelt down onto the hardwood floor and began to slowly draw. "The essence of a magical beast is placed between wood that has been soaked in magic since birth. Runes are carefully carved on the inside, then everything is melded together. Do you know what one of those runes is?"

"Nope."

"The trace," he answered.

My eyes widened. I had always wondered how the trace worked. I hadn't used my wand during heists, and I was never found to be practicing magic. Sometimes the magic I used would trigger the Accidental Magic squad, but not often. I did remember Harry's magic triggering the trace when he blew up his aunt in the canon story—and somehow Dobby's House Elf Magic also triggered it—but the details had never been explained.

House Elf magic is an entirely foreign branch of magic that I hadn't had a chance to properly study.

"When a wand bonds with a witch or wizard it can recognize their age. If they are of age—as defined by the wandmaker when creating the rune—the rune will deactivate and the trace will be gone. If they are underage, the rune will work."

"But—" I rubbed at my forehead. "What about when Muggleborns use magic and ya'know people show up?"

"Doesn't always happen. There are plenty of Muggleborns who don't know they're magical until they receive a Hogwarts letter," pointed out Tom. I suddenly remembered a few instances where canon Harry used magic yet no squad of aurors showed up to his door (such as Apparating to get away from Dudley or vanishing the glass in the zoo). Tom carried on, "I didn't and I certainly used magic whenever I pleased prior. If it's done in an obviously public place someone will report it in. There is no spell over the entire country to monitor magical outbursts."

"But—I mean—I've seen some Obliviators show up at my heists," I blurted out. "Before I even had my wand."

"Could have been another accident in the area," dismissed Tom. "Coincidences do happen."

"I—I—"

"If they could actually use a device or ritual to monitor the age of people using spells, then surely they could have developed something similar to monitor the type of spell used such as illegal curses? It wouldn't be that different," he shrewdly said. "They're not that powerful, Rosie, simply clever. "

"What hogwash. Then it's not actually placed on the witch or wizard?" My mind working through my memories to find anything to contradict that.

Even then—

It was always possible that there was an error to my knowledge. A preconceived notion set into place by restless nights reading fanfiction. Was there anything that explained the trace?

No... I didn't think there was. Nothing concrete, only speculation and theories tossed about by the fandom. The most popular one I remembered was that it was a spell placed by a Hogwarts professor when the students came. I had personally suspected that to be the case up until Tom told me otherwise.

Tom shook his head as he continued to draw.

"No. That was simply a ruse. It's exceedingly rare for an underage witch or wizard to regularly use magic without a wand after all," dismissed Tom. "There is no device, no ritual, nothing powerful enough to literally monitor every witch or wizard under the age of eighteen across the country on its own. The runes merely react when used by an underage witch or wizard, every time. Areas of approved magic—Hogwarts or magical homes, for example—are automatically filtered out in the alert system, so the Ministry is not tipped off."

Tom held out his left palm. "It's an orb about this size. If a rune is triggered in a non-approved area it'll sound an alarm and flash coordinates. That's it."

I stared in disbelief. "That's it?"

"Yes." Tom paused in drawing the small ritual circle.

"What—what about if a wand is passed down?"

"The rune re-activates. It can cause a wand to malfunction if enough time has passed and the rune deteriorated too much."

My mind was blown. I had to admit it was hard to swallow that such powerful magic was cast over the entire country—maybe world?—yet no one would replicate it to monitor actual criminals or certain spells. I never stopped to ponder much about it, simply accepting the information I had obtained as fact.

Impressive ruse. Whichever Minister came up with it deserved an award.

I asked him, "What about Hogwarts letters? How does Hogwarts find Muggleborns in Britain?"

"No clue," he said with a quick smile. "I wasn't able to see the castle runes prior to... making my diary. I suppose I must have figured out where they were eventually as that thing cursed the DADA position."

"Huh," I said, scratching my cheek.

"There we go," said Tom, finished drawing his circle. He placed his wand at the center. "I'll be removing the trace from my wand now."

"Wait—what? You can do that?"

"Oh yes. I found out the truth about the trace third year from Nott—Theodore's grandfather—and created the ritual fourth year," said Tom as he hovered his hands over the wand. "It would be inconvenient to have to deal with the trace."

"Yeah."

The outline of the circle glowed a pale blue-ish white, there was the sound of static crackling then the light faded. Tom picked up the wand, examining it. "Yes. That will do. Give me yours."

I blinked. "Pardon?"

He held out his hand. "Your wands. I'll break the trace on them as well."

I handed over my wands. "Oh, thank you."

"Consider it a belated birthday present," he murmured as he repeated the ritual. "There."

He handed them back to me and I accepted it with a soft murmur of thanks. Tom had loosely grabbed my hand when I took back my wands.

"You are quite welcome," he said, smoothly turning my hand-over and kissing the back of it. My cheeks warmed in response. I fidgeted in place, acutely aware of how warm and soft his lips were on my skin.

My response must have pleased him, because he released my hand with an extremely self-satisfied expression.

Keeping a handsome smirk, he went on, "Now, while Sil prepares dinner why don't I destroy you in a lovely game of chess?"

"Aha." My eyes narrowed. Hormones aside, I was not about to let him get away with threatening my future chess master legacy. "I'll have you whimpering before the sun sets, little boy."

"As loathe as I am to disappoint you; tonight I will be the one on top," he said with a devilish smile that made me feel uncomfortably warm and breathless.

"You play so unfair," I complained, looking away as an embarrassed blushed crawled up to my ear tips.

He tilted his head, his normally dark eyes bright with amusement. "Only because your reactions are delightful. Do you need me to stop?"

"Hell no."

He laughed.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Bucket List Completed:

58. Go on a real date.

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Y'all have no idea how tempted I was to name the chapter Year 5 - 7 (Sugar Momma).

Going by the lovely reviews / comments, I figured this would be another reread hence it was named.

I feel very strongly that next chapter will be a double update.

Answer: Knock back jinx because there are a lot of stairs in Hogwarts and that's not an easy to prove spell. :)

Question: Favorite ice cream flavor?

Reviews are love!

For those curious -

Walnut: "Highly intelligent witches and wizards ought to be offered a walnut wand for trial first, because in nine cases out of ten, the two will find in each other their ideal mate. Walnut wands are often found in the hands of magical innovators and inventors; this is a handsome wood possessed of unusual versatility and adaptability. A note of caution, however: while some woods are difficult to dominate, and may resist the performance of spells that are foreign to their natures, the walnut wand will, once subjugated, perform any task its owner desires, provided that the user is of sufficient brilliance. This makes for a truly lethal weapon in the hands of a witch or wizard of no conscience, for the wand and the wizard may feed from each other in a particularly unhealthy manner."

Cedar: "Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, 'you will never fool the cedar carrier,' and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them."