Hogwarts: Chill, I'm Not That Riddle-Chapter 513: First, Eliminate the Right Answer

— — — — — — 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"What do you mean?" Aberforth’s expression shifted. "You’re doubting Ariana? You think she’s a fake?"

"No." Dumbledore shook his head slowly, his fingers absently tracing the handle of his teacup. "The moment I saw her, something in my blood, in my soul, responded. It was her. My sister. I have no doubt."

He paused, his gaze drifting past the old window frame toward Hogsmeade. The once-quiet village was still unsettled from the recent battle, faint ripples of chaos lingering in the streets.

A thoughtful light flickered in the old wizard’s eyes.

"Aberforth, you and I both understand how difficult resurrection is. It isn’t as simple as reversing a Killing Curse. It touches the deepest mysteries of the soul. Of time. Of life and death themselves."

"We’ve both wished we could undo our mistakes. But we never even found a viable method, let alone dared to try."

He looked back at his brother. "Do you really think Grindelwald could accomplish something like that? I’ll admit he has exceptional talent in the Dark Arts. But he’s not that much stronger than I am."

"Oh, please." Aberforth snorted. "If you’d ever bothered to focus on the Dark Arts, Voldemort would’ve been carrying your books. Don’t put on an act in front of me, Albus."

"Is that really the point?" Dumbledore shot him an annoyed glance. He set down his teacup and rose, pacing slowly around the cluttered room. His fingers tapped lightly at several inconspicuous corners.

A firm, subtle web of anti-surveillance and soundproofing charms spread outward like silent ripples, sealing the room. No sound. No trace of magic. Nothing would leak beyond these walls.

"I understand what you’re saying," Aberforth said in a low voice. "You think the one who resurrected Ariana wasn’t Grindelwald. That there’s someone else."

"But who?" he pressed. "The strongest wizards in the world are you, Grindelwald... and that brat who almost killed the two of you."

Dumbledore’s fist tightened.

He really didn’t need to add that last part.

"Voldemort has returned as well," Dumbledore said quietly, dropping another bomb.

Aberforth’s eyes widened.

"It was the incident in Egypt," Dumbledore continued. "Though his resurrection wasn’t complete. And Tom blew him apart again."

"Aberforth, this world is far more complicated than you think. There are more players than the ones standing in the light. There are secrets that never surface."

"I suspect Grindelwald discovered something. Some... external assistance. That would explain why he left Nurmengard. Why his power hasn’t faded with time, but grown. And now, he has Ariana."

In truth, Dumbledore had suspected Tom.

But he had been good to the boy. He’d given him private lessons, turned a blind eye when he caused trouble, shown him more kindness than most ever would.

So if Tom had truly resurrected Ariana, why wouldn’t he bring her straight to him? Dumbledore would have sworn himself to Tom on the spot.

Why hand her over to Grindelwald instead?

The logic didn’t fit. So Dumbledore discarded the possibility.

The brothers talked long into the night.

They couldn’t identify the mastermind behind Ariana’s return, but they agreed on one thing: her resurrection was no simple miracle. Someone was using her to achieve something.

Grindelwald knew more than he was letting on. He was involved. But he guarded his secrets too well to pry loose.

"No matter what," Aberforth said firmly, "Ariana cannot stay at Durmstrang. Brother... it’s time you made amends."

The room fell silent.

So long that Aberforth thought Albus had fallen asleep.

Then, from the darkness, a faint voice drifted out.

"No one will ever hurt Ariana again. I swear it on my life."

...

Starting by eliminating the correct answer wasn’t because Dumbledore lacked intelligence. He simply didn’t have enough information. He had no idea how many cards Tom was holding.

But Nicolas Flamel was a different story.

Aside from the "insiders" within that study space, Nicolas and Newt were probably the ones who understood Tom best.

After eagerly devouring the latest drama, Nicolas immediately sized Tom up from head to toe.

"When did you start colluding with Grindelwald?" he demanded. "And how deep does it go?"

"Professor, what are you talking about?" Tom blinked innocently. "I don’t understand a word."

"Cut it out." Nicolas waved him off impatiently. "Save that act. I’m not one of those little witches you’ve got wrapped around your finger. You might fool them. You won’t fool me."

"Grindelwald at that level?" Nicolas scoffed. "You expect me to believe he could resurrect someone who’s been dead for nearly a hundred years?"

"If he could, he would’ve done it back then. Things wouldn’t have blown up with Dumbledore the way they did. What, you think a few decades locked up suddenly made him enlightened?"

Nicolas sounded openly disdainful. "There’s only one person in this world who could pull off something that insane. And that’s you."

"Professor..." Tom sighed. "I’m one of the good guys."

Nicolas didn’t respond. He just stared at him.

The old man had the distinct feeling his intelligence was being insulted. "There’s no one else here. Keep pretending and I swear I’ll donate my entire inheritance to charity."

"Alright, alright." Tom raised both hands in surrender. "Professor, everything really was an accident. Working with Grindelwald, resurrecting Ariana, it just... happened."

Drawing cards was random, after all. Calling it an accident wasn’t technically a lie.

"Can you keep it under control?" Nicolas asked.

The boy flashed a confident smile. "Didn’t you see just now? If I hadn’t held back at the end, Hogwarts and Durmstrang would both be looking for new headmasters."

Astral magic spoke for itself. Add the amplification from his arcane circuits and it became brute force at its purest. Overwhelming magical pressure sealed off space entirely. No Apparating away. You either defended, or you met it head-on.

If you survived, lucky you. If you didn’t... well, there wouldn’t be a second chance to "train harder."

And that wasn’t even counting the utterly unfair wand known as Hakuna Matata.

(A textbook case of free-to-play versus pay-to-win.)

"Don’t get careless," Nicolas warned. "Power is only one part of it. The winner isn’t always the strongest. But it’s always the one who survives to the end."

"Watch your back. Grindelwald isn’t the type to stay under someone else’s thumb."

Tom nodded but didn’t elaborate.

Nicolas had agreed to keep his secret, though he’d asked plenty of questions in return. About the method of resurrection. About what would happen to Ariana.

He couldn’t understand why Tom had placed her at Grindelwald’s side.

"That was her choice," Tom said helplessly. "Grindelwald carries guilt toward her. He’s teaching her everything he knows. Honestly, I wanted to keep her in Britain."

Nicolas understood.

Grindelwald wasn’t a typical Dark wizard. He had ideals. He had passion. Emotions most Dark wizards lacked. No one understood Ariana’s importance better than he did. It really was a clever arrangement.

"Well," the old man chuckled, "Dumbledore’s going to have a headache over this."

He was long past the age of sorting people into good and evil. As long as Tom didn’t lose control and plunge the world into chaos, watching the drama unfold was one of the few pleasures he still had.

"Come talk to me more often," Nicolas said with a grin. "I have a feeling Hogwarts is going to get very lively."

"Why not go see for yourself?" Tom suddenly suggested.

"Me?" Nicolas blinked.

"Take the position of Alchemy professor," Tom coaxed. "Only two classes a week for sixth and seventh years. Small groups. The rest of your time is free to enjoy the show."

Nicolas actually wavered. He didn’t agree immediately, but he did say he’d think about it before heading back to his room for the night.

Tom pulled out his codex afterward. His messages had already blown up. Hogwarts students and even the professors were professional-level gossip consumers. If he didn’t set the record straight today, tomorrow at school he’d be buried under a sea of eye rolls.

---

The next morning

Tom had planned to return to school directly, but at dawn, Fawkes arrived on Dumbledore’s orders and escorted him to the second floor of the Astra Abyssum Guild in Hogsmeade.

When he arrived, Ariana was having breakfast. Dumbledore didn’t even let Tom sit before whisking him away. The two Apparated to the edge of the village.

"Tom..."

Dumbledore smiled as always, warm and gentle.

But Tom couldn’t shake the feeling there was something faintly... ingratiating about it.

"Professor, if you have something to say, just say it. That smile is making me nervous." Tom took two steps back. He said he was nervous, yet his wand had already slipped into his hand.

Dumbledore’s eyelid twitched. He, too, drew his wand, looking faintly awkward.

"The Elder Wand is... a bit unusual," he admitted. "Since last night, it hasn’t been very cooperative. I need you to do me a favor."

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