The younger students hurriedly backed up, giving the two duelists a wider arena.

Tom drew his wand, skipping all formalities, and motioned for Burke to make the first move.

Burke didn't hesitate. He deliberately lowered his stance and took advantage of his initiative, chanting for a full two seconds before his wand shot out a thick beam of dark energy.

Tom raised his hand. No incantation. Just a silent spell.

A sleek red beam shot from his wand, meeting Burke's dark magic head-on. The two clashed midair for half a second—before the red light forcefully overpowered the black. The spell was flung back the way it came, slamming into Burke before he could even react.

Luckily, much of the spell's power had been eaten up by Tom's counterattack. By the time it struck, it only had enough force to send Burke crashing into the wall before fizzling out harmlessly.

Tom expertly dispersed the lingering energy with a flick of his wand.

Burke slid down the wall, dazed and blinking, staring at the boy who had already holstered his wand with a bitter smile.

That wasn't just a win. That was absolute magical domination—raw power, flawless control. The gap between them was far larger than he'd imagined.

The younger students watching the duel held their breath in stunned silence.

Last year, Burke had at least managed to spar with Tom for a few rounds. But now? One spell. Just one.

Some of the more cunning students already began thinking about how to get on Tom Riddle's good side.

The next morning, Tom received an owl from Dumbledore: the letter had been sent.

Between Britain and America stretched the vast Atlantic. It would take at least a couple of weeks for the letter to reach its destination—and even longer for a reply. So Tom didn't expect any developments soon.

In the meantime, he set the unicorn matter aside. There was no deadline for this trial, no rush. He could focus on other things.

But to his surprise, Daphne's letter—along with the potion—reached Lady Greengrass the very next day.

After reading the contents, Lady Greengrass was… speechless.

A potion that powerful? Something capable of alleviating Astoria's curse symptoms? She'd never heard of such a thing—not in any official medical tome, nor whispered among elite potion masters.

And from a first-year student, no less?

Even the last Tom Riddle wouldn't have been capable of this.

Yet Daphne had written with such conviction—claiming she'd used the potion herself, and that the results were undeniable.

Even if it didn't cure anything, it would function as a harmless tonic. There was no risk to giving it a try.

After reading the letter a second and third time, Lady Greengrass finally stood, potion in hand, and headed to her daughter's room.

Tom had no reason to hurt Astoria. And Daphne? She would never harm her sister. Just as Daphne had said—at worst, the potion did nothing. At best, it might help.

What did she have to lose?

—

"Mother? What brings you here?"

Astoria's soft voice rang out as she lay on her bed, flipping through the fashion magazine Tom had sent her for Christmas. The silver-haired girl tilted her head curiously.

"This is from Daphne," her mother said, handing her the letter.

Astoria's eyes lit up. She eagerly took the parchment, reading it carefully. Her smile slowly faded into calm.

"If Daphne says it works… then I'll give it a try."

She wasn't being dismissive—just… exhausted. Too many times had she tried promising remedies and therapies. All of them ended in disappointment.

Hope had long since stopped knocking at her door.

"Do these movements first. Once you've mastered them, then take the potion," Lady Greengrass said gently.

Tom, wary that written instructions might be too ambiguous, had included a magically animated diagram: a little stick figure performing a series of unusual motions.

It made Astoria chuckle softly.

She obediently got out of bed and began mimicking the figure. By the end of the sequence, she was panting and red-faced, and Lady Greengrass's heart ached at the sight.

Could her daughter truly handle life at Hogwarts like this?

After a short rest to regain her strength, Astoria picked up the vial and drank it all in one go.

The taste was hard to describe—thick, slightly gritty, and unpleasantly herbal. She frowned.

Then it hit her.

Just as described in the letter, a warm current surged through her frail body, flooding her limbs with an unfamiliar sensation—vitality.

"Is… is it really working?" Astoria gasped in awe.

Lady Greengrass leapt to her feet, eyes wide.

"Quick, do the motions again! Help the potion circulate!"

Fifteen minutes later, Astoria had gone through the entire routine—twice—and didn't look the least bit winded. A flush had returned to her cheeks, soft and rosy.

"It's working. It's actually working."

Lady Greengrass dropped to her knees, wrapping her daughter in a tight embrace, tears streaking down her face.

She had never imagined salvation would come from a schoolboy.

"Mother… I feel warm," Astoria murmured, her smile as soft as her voice.

She didn't feel weak anymore. She didn't have to rest after just a few steps.

In fact, she wanted to go outside, to stretch her limbs and savor this strength she'd almost forgotten the feeling of.

But outside, it was still too cold.

Lady Greengrass, of course, refused. Only when she promised to allow Astoria out once the weather improved did the girl reluctantly pout and settle down.

After calming her daughter, Lady Greengrass left the room, her mind racing.

Five thousand Galleons.

That's what Daphne had written. The cost of the potion.

Expensive? No. Not at all. In fact, it was a bargain.

True, the potion hadn't cured the curse—not yet. But if it could allow Astoria to live comfortably, even just for a while… she would gladly pay whatever it took.

If she had to, she would buy it forever.

Now, about the Sphinx's Eye...

Tom had mentioned it as a required ingredient. The Greengrass vaults were filled with treasures—but rare alchemical reagents with limited shelf lives had little value for collectors. The few Sphinx's Eyes they'd once owned were now dried-out trophies, turned into display pieces long ago.

She needed fresh ingredients.

And this one... was incredibly rare. Some might even say it came from the gray side of the market.

Still, her mind was made up.

She walked to a long, hidden wall of cabinets, pricked her finger, and let a single drop of blood fall. The cabinet unlocked with a soft click.

From the thick stack of yellowed parchment, she pulled out a single sheet.

She had a plan.