— — — — — —
"Filius, your multi-casting is even stronger than before."
"Professor Flitwick, that was truly eye-opening. We must find time to exchange pointers."
"Flitwick, what a magnificent battle."
When Tom brought Flitwick back to the waiting area, the other professors immediately greeted him with praise and congratulations. Their enthusiasm was unmistakable.
Being the first to step into the arena took courage. No one really knew how strong the dragons would be, so the first challenger was essentially feeling his way across an unknown river.
Flitwick wasn't just the first to make it across. He effectively blazed the trail for everyone who came after him. Every professor present now owed him at least a small favor.
Flitwick returned each compliment with a smile. After a brief round of conversation, and without Tom needing to call anyone's name, Guillaume Moreau of Beauxbatons voluntarily stepped forward as the second challenger.
A Fireball, also called a Liondragon, came roaring down from the sky, no less terrifying than the Hungarian Horntail Flitwick had faced before.
Snape stared at the dragon and fell into deep thought.
Which dragon blood was superior? Horntail or Fireball?
As far as he knew, nobody had ever seriously compared them. Dragon blood had always been lumped together under the simple label of just "dragon blood."
At that moment, he could practically see a Merlin Order waving frantically at him.
...
..
Down in the Howling Abyss, Moreau's battle with the dragon was even fiercer than Flitwick's.
The old wizard's technique wasn't quite as refined, but he had centuries of experience, immense magical power, and the support of alchemy in combat.
Wizards had never been divided into rigid ranks. As long as one's combat ability met the standard, they qualified under the grading system Tom had established. Consequently, there was no rule forbiting outside assistance during the assessment.
Any ability a wizard could personally wield counted as part of their strength. And as an alchemist, Moreau had the right to use his creations.
SHEHH—
Suddenly, a vast cloud of corrosive poison spread across the battlefield, especially around the area where the dragon stood.
Then Moreau ignited it with a wave of his hand.
The Howling Abyss was instantly swallowed by a sea of green flames.
Even the dragon sensed the danger and beat its wings, climbing into the sky. Unfortunately, once it rose above twenty meters, the compressed gravity of the space itself began pressing down on it. Flying high wasn't an option.
A moment later, one after another, transformed flame creatures surged upward like demons rising from hell.
Fearlessly, they hurled themselves at the dragon.
The dragon tore through them with ease, shredding them apart with claws, wings, and fangs. Yet the creatures kept coming.
As long as the sea of fire remained down there, Transfiguration could continuously reform them.
Tom watched with repeated nods of approval.
The world depicted in the original story had simply been too small. It was as if Hogwarts were the only school on Earth and magical Britain the entirety of the wizarding world.
One really had to look beyond those boundaries.
Many excellent wizards, even if they weren't as powerful as Dumbledore, still possessed talents worth learning from.
Take Moreau, for example. His integration of alchemy and magic was brilliant. Watching it had already given Tom several new ideas.
...
Five minutes later, the Fireball Dragon crashed helplessly to the ground.
Trembling, it stretched out a claw in surrender while glaring furiously at the old wizard, who was laughing his head off.
If it could talk, the Fireball would have called the human utterly shameless.
The flames had been mixed with poison gas. Every time it shattered one of the flame creatures, a small amount of toxin slipped into its body. A little here, a little there, until the poison finally accumulated and erupted all at once.
Now it couldn't muster even a shred of strength.
...
Up in the Headmasters' Box, Madame Maxime was all smiles as she accepted congratulations from the other headmasters.
Soon, it was time for the third challenger, a professor from Mahoutokoro.
In terms of raw power, he was clearly weaker than the first two professors. He could only barely hold his own against the dragon for a while and had no way to break the stalemate.
In the end, despite his caution, a single mistake proved fatal.
Under mounting pressure, he failed to notice that the distance between himself and the dragon was steadily shrinking.
Suddenly, the dragon burst forward.
Before he could react, it seized him in its claws.
The assessment ended in failure.
...The next few challengers followed one after another.
The professor from Castelobruxo was defeated.
The professor from Uagadou, however, used a bizarre and powerful curse that left the dragon severely weakened before ultimately knocking it unconscious and securing victory.
Representing Durmstrang was Vogel.
The Vogel of the past might not have stood a chance against a dragon, but over the years he had received a considerable number of strengthening potions and bloodline fusion potions from Grindelwald. His physical abilities and magical power had improved dramatically.
Relying on devastating Dark Magic, Vogel shattered the wing of a Norwegian Ridgeback. Standing triumphantly amid the aftermath, he gave a respectful bow toward the Headmasters' Box.
...
"Professor, you're up next~"
Tom turned to Snape with a bright smile. "Slytherin's honor is all in your hands now. Good luck."
At this point, aside from Joseph, who had already been carried out, Snape was the only one left who hadn't taken the field.
And his opponent was... the Hungarian Horntail that Flitwick had defeated in the very first match.
The injuries it had suffered had long since been healed by Fawkes, but its anger remained. It circled the skies above the Howling Abyss, radiating hostility as it waited for its next opponent.
Snape's steps faltered.
He had every reason to suspect that Tom had deliberately saved him for last just to make things harder.
Anyone with half a brain knew which was preferable: a normal dragon or an enraged one.
But then he thought about dragon blood.
Dragon scales. Dragon hide. Precious, unique materials practically beckoning him.
...Forget it.
Where there's a will, there's a way
Snape charged forward with admirable determination.
The moment the battle began, he unleashed more than a dozen razor-sharp wind blades, each over three meters long.
For the first time in public, he revealed the flight magic he had learned from Voldemort.
His black robes billowed around him as he drifted through the air like a tattered scrap of dark cloth caught in the wind. He moved so swiftly and unpredictably that even the dragon couldn't catch him.
"Professor Snape has improved quite a bit."
Tom could clearly see the difference.
The sharpness and sheer number of those wind blades were at least twice what they had been back in Snape's first year. And that was just his opening move.
Flitwick's eyes widened in surprise as he nodded in agreement. "Severus really has changed. In the past, he was almost entirely focused on Dark Magic and potion-making."
As he spoke, he secretly glanced at the young man beside him.
In his opinion, Tom was probably the reason.
Having a student that exceptional would make any teacher feel pressure.
Especially when that student was as reckless and impossible to control as Tom Riddle.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Mixed among the wind blades were numerous invisible slashes from Sectumsempra.
They were even harder to detect than the wind blades themselves.
After a series of cuts, several wounds quickly opened across the dragon's body.
Snape's eyes lit up.
He immediately pulled out a crystal vial he had prepared in advance through Transfiguration.
While weaving through the air to avoid the dragon's pursuit, he used magic to draw the dragon blood from its wounds. Before long, he had filled an entire bottle.
Then he calmly produced a second one.
Not a single drop went to waste.
Tom: "..."
Tom fell completely silent. He hadn't expected Snape to be this shameless, or for someone to actually have the time to think about collecting materials during the trial.
No wonder.... no wonder Snape had suddenly stopped haggling earlier.
The man had been planning to freeload all along.
Well, as expected from his Head of House—almost as shameless as he was.
...
Meanwhile, one of the other professors watching the match suddenly brightened.
His eyes practically sparkled.
'Wait. We could do that?'
.
.
.