— — — — — — 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Portkeys are a common method of long-distance travel among wizards. They let you quickly move from one fixed location to another.

Sure, Apparition is technically more convenient, but not every witch or wizard can pull it off reliably. Even among those who can, few have the skill to cover truly long distances.

It’s important to note that Portkeys don’t work like instant teleportation. They operate more like magical high-speed travel—whoever touches the Portkey gets dragged through the air at breakneck speed, over a thousand miles per hour, straight to the destination.

Because of how powerful and potentially dangerous they are, the Ministry of Magic heavily regulates their use. Anyone who wants to make one has to file an application, and used Portkeys must be turned in for proper disposal. International Portkeys are even more tightly controlled—you need to apply at least two weeks in advance and get approval from both countries’ Ministries.

Tom had originally planned to fly to America. After all, he was underage—there was no way the Ministry would approve his request for an international Portkey. What he didn’t expect was that Madam Greengrass had already taken care of everything for him.

Well, that made sense. As the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, applying for international Portkeys was basically just paperwork she signed off on herself.

"While you’re at it, could you set me up with two Portkeys from the U.S. to France? I’m planning to visit Nicolas Flamel in August," Tom said, remembering part of his summer schedule.

"Of course. I’ll contact them. Once you check in, they’ll give you a return Portkey. You can head straight from the UK to France then."

"Thanks a lot."

"No need to thank me, Tom," she said warmly.

---

After the lunch feast, Daphne was planning to take her little sister to see Tom’s unicorns, but Madam Greengrass invited Tom to her study. The two girls reluctantly went off for a nap instead, planning to sneak out again in the afternoon.

Tom followed her upstairs. There were a lot of studies in the castle—hell, the entire east wing from the first to third floor was basically one giant library. But the study she took him to was a private one, located on the fourth floor where the family bedrooms were.

They sat across from each other at a massive desk. With a casual wave of her hand, tea appeared in front of them.

"Tom, how much do you know about Astoria’s curse?"

Tom shared everything he’d learned—from Dumbledore, from Grindelwald (still in Dumbledore’s name). He didn’t leave anything out.

Madam Greengrass frowned slightly at the mention of Dumbledore, but the expression passed quickly. She nodded slowly.

"You’ve got a pretty good handle on it already. It’s a life-draining curse, one that always appears once per generation. My sister... my aunt—they were both victims of it."

Her elegant features grew soft with sorrow. "But what could I do? After Daphne was born, I had to have another child for the family’s sake. I knew one of them would be cursed. One of them would suffer."

She looked at Tom with quiet gratitude. "If it weren’t for you, Astoria wouldn’t be living as comfortably as she is now."

"To be honest," she continued, "my ancestors tried to get help from Nicolas Flamel a long time ago. But that great alchemist never shared even a drop of his Elixir of Life. I was honestly shocked you got your hands on the Philosopher’s Stone."

Tom smiled and shook his head. "I just got lucky, really. Dumbledore told me Flamel and his wife were ready to call it quits—they felt they’d lived long enough. That’s why he gave the Stone to Dumbledore as bait. I just happened to grab it at the right moment."

"That kind of luck is a skill too," she said. In her eyes, Tom was being far too modest. Especially considering he still dared to ask for something like that from Dumbledore? That was no easy feat.

Her tone turned serious again. "Tom, I’ll open up the Greengrass family’s vault—our treasures, our resources. I’ll help you climb to the very top of the magical world."

"All I ask is that you try—when you can—to find a way to break this blood curse for good."

Tom shook his head. "You don’t need to do that. I’d help you anyway—for Daphne’s sake. When I was new to the magical world, she was one of the first people to look out for me. If I wasn’t willing to help, I wouldn’t have handed over the Stone in the first place."

Of course, what Tom really wanted was to learn the blood curse (malediction). Imagine having that in your arsenal—being able to target someone’s bloodline, cut off their legacy? For most pureblood families, there was nothing more important than lineage. A curse like that would be a nightmare.

He’d asked Grindelwald about it once. Unfortunately, the blood maledictions Grindelwald knew were all pretty underwhelming. Mostly useless.

And thinking about it, that made sense. The wizards who came up with these kinds of vile curses were usually the most twisted, evil kinds of Dark wizards. And someone like that? They weren’t the type to go around teaching others their most terrifying spells.

"You’re a loyal young man," Lady Greengrass said with a small smile. "Our family values that above all else."

That, in truth, was the main reason she was investing in Tom. The 1,500 Galleons Daphne had given him earlier? That wasn’t even enough to cover a month’s expenses for the estate. But what Tom had given in return was already worth far more.

Wizards are creatures of intuition and belief. Unless something major shakes their worldview, their personalities don’t change much,

There’s a saying: "A wizard at ten is a wizard for life." It applies.

...

"Tom, I know you might think power is all about raw magic power. That in the end, it’s just you versus the world. And yeah, sometimes it is."

"But even if I’m not that powerful myself, the family’s legacy still has weight. And that’s something I can give you."

As she spoke, she stood and walked over to one of the bookshelves, casting a special unlocking spell on a hidden compartment. From it, she pulled out a stack of old parchment, then returned to her seat and placed it on the desk between them.

She smiled faintly. "Do you know why the Greengrass family has stayed strong and wealthy for generations—without ever having to hide or keep a low profile?"

Tom shook his head.

Honestly, he had been wondering about that. Look at the Greengrasses now: one gorgeous middle-aged woman, two beautiful daughters, not even a full set of elderly or family members—and yet they lived in luxury, no fear, no modesty.

Why weren’t those Dark Arts-crazed pure-blood families jealous?

"This is our family’s ultimate secret," Lady Greengrass said with a calm smile. "Of course, many of the old families are already aware of it."

She slid a piece of parchment across the table toward Tom."Take a look."

Tom glanced down, and his eyes widened slightly.

It was... a contract?

The first parchment was clearly a magical contract, binding the Greengrass and Lestrange families. The terms were simple: as long as it didn’t severely harm the Lestranges’ interests, they were obligated to help the Greengrass family unconditionally with one task.

Tom flipped to the next one—this one with the Beaulieu family. He recognized the name. A well-known pure-blood family from France. One of their members even served as France’s Minister of Magic.

Then came contracts with the Averys, the Carrows, the Crouches, the Burkes...

Out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, only the Longbottoms, Weasleys, and Shacklebolts were missing. The rest were all listed—some even had multiple contracts.

Tom sucked in a sharp breath and stared at Lady Greengrass in disbelief.

"These contracts..."

She smiled modestly. "They’re all real. Some were signed in recent years. Others were passed down from my ancestors. You see, our family’s legacy lies in contract magic. Greengrasses have always loved making friends and doing business. Over hundreds of years, friendships turned into alliances, and alliances turned into obligations."

Tom asked, "What happens if someone breaks the contract?"

"They permanently lose half their power and half their lifespan," she replied without hesitation. "So rest assured—very few wizards would risk something like that. The contracts were drawn up fairly. They’re not meant to ruin anyone."

Now it all made sense.

These weren’t just contracts—they were basically thousands of IOUs from the most powerful families in the wizarding world.

If someone dared to cross the Greengrasses, all they’d have to do is toss out a few contracts, and support would come flooding in from all over the world. Sure, maybe a few people would try to weasel out of their end of the deal—but with that sheer volume of backing, losing one or two wouldn’t matter.

And through these contracts, the Greengrasses could extend their influence into nearly every industry. As long as they didn’t go after anyone’s core interests, no one wanted to mess with them.

Over time, they became this enormous presence—an invisible hand touching every part of the wizarding world and quietly amassing an unimaginable fortune.

Tom asked curiously, "Professor Snape mentioned that Voldemort once came to the manor... and afterward issued an order that no one was to provoke the Greengrasses. What exactly happened?"

"Ah, the Dark Lord..." Lady Greengrass said, reminiscing. "That was shortly after I graduated. My mother was still alive then—it was she who persuaded him to leave."

"I remember... she offered a hundred thousand Galleons, plus ten foreign contracts to show goodwill."

"Truthfully, my mother agreed with many of the Dark Lord’s ideals. He promised a brighter future for pure-bloods, after all. But our family creed has always been to never pick a side. We survive on connections, not loyalty. So we supported him... just enough."

"Back then, Voldemort hadn’t completely lost his mind yet. He wanted to use our contracts to expand his influence overseas, so he treated us with some respect. But before he could conquer Britain, Harry Potter defeated him. Honestly, it was all rather dramatic."

Tom could understand that mindset. Slytherin pure-bloods were born to rule. Naturally, they resented Dumbledore’s egalitarian ideals. And Voldemort hadn’t always been insane. It was only after Harry deflected the Killing Curse and he kept creating more and more Horcruxes that things went downhill.

Everything came down to perspective. Sure, Dumbledore lost Slytherin’s support, but the other three houses were mostly half-bloods and Muggle-borns. That’s why he still held power.

"Remember that Griffon eye you asked for last time?" Lady Greengrass added. "I had to call in a contract favor just to get it quickly."

She spoke softly, "This time, I plan to use several contracts to get you copies of every pure-blood family’s private collection of books. Aside from a few core texts that are impossible to access, most of it should be no problem. I think they’ll be quite useful for you."

Tom’s eyes lit up.

Useful? Nah~ This was a gold mine.

All the pure-blood collections combined could probably rival—if not outright surpass—Hogwarts’ Restricted Section. At the very least, they’d be neck and neck.

"Thank you so much, Auntie," Tom said, dropping the formal act and expressing genuine gratitude.

She gave him a gentle smile. "It’s a win-win, really. Consider it a small gift."

"But I hope you understand—the Greengrass family will never openly take sides. Not for you, not even for Daphne. The help I provide will always be indirect."

"I understand. This is already more than enough."

And it truly was. These resources were things most wizards couldn’t even dream of in their lifetime. Tom had no reason to complain.

As for ambition?

He was a Slytherin. What kind of Slytherin would he be without a little ambition?

He had the talent, the potential—so why should he let others decide his life?

Dumbledore, with all his lofty ideals and aloof detachment, wasn’t someone Tom admired. He didn’t believe in that kind of nobility.

Even Cornelius Fudge turned on him then Dumbledore ended up disgraced and forced underground with the Order of the Phoenix for a whole year.

That’s why Tom believed: with great power should come great influence. That was his reward—his right.

And honestly, he could fix the magical world—build a bridge between Muggles and wizards.

He knew that people’s views out there were already changing, like Gen Z wouldn’t just accept magic—they’d celebrate it.

.

.

.