Monday.

Tom stared blankly at the dragonhide pouch containing five thousand Galleons.

"Tom, it really worked!"

Daphne was bouncing with joy in front of him. "Mum said Astoria's cheeks have color again, and she ate an entire plate of spaghetti for dinner! She used to only manage a third. I was always afraid she'd starve."

Tom gave her a small smile. "I expected it to work."

He let her celebrate a while longer before casually shaking the heavy pouch in his hand.

"So… what's all this gold about?"

"Payment for the potion, obviously," Daphne replied matter-of-factly.

"It's far too valuable to just take for free. Mum's already helping you gather the ingredients for the next batch. From now on, each vial will be 5,000 Galleons—don't you dare say it's too much or too little."

"Oh! And she also said if you need any other ingredients, just let her know—she'll source them for you. Also, carrying this much gold around is dangerous, so she's planning to set up a vault for you. That way, she can deposit funds directly and you can just withdraw as needed."

She spoke in one breath, clearly pleased, but Tom had fallen silent.

A rather unsettling question was circling in his mind:

Where exactly did the Greengrass family's money come from?

They were treating five thousand Galleons the same way most people treated five Sickles.

He suspected this tied into some closely-guarded family secret. But Tom didn't ask—not because he feared Daphne wouldn't tell him, but because... well, she likely didn't know either.

"Daphne," he said suddenly, his tone unusually serious.

She blinked and tensed. "What's wrong?"

"I told you before—the potion was a gift. I'm not taking your money."

Daphne opened her mouth to protest, but Tom cut her off quickly:

"I know you're anxious. But wait—let me finish."

She shut her mouth, lips pursed in reluctant silence.

"I'm not short on gold," Tom explained. "I haven't even spent the money you gave me before. And don't forget, I still have those dragon parts. Once sold, they'll fetch a fortune."

He leaned forward slightly. "Let me ask you something. If I needed money, and came to you for help, would you lend it to me?"

"Of course!" Daphne answered without hesitation.

"Exactly," Tom said with a shrug. "And I would do the same. Astoria is your sister—which makes her my sister too. If my little sister is sick, and I have the ability to help her, do you think I'm going to charge her for it?"

"So, as long as your mother can provide the ingredients, I'll keep brewing the potion. No payment necessary."

"But," he added, "I should warn you—this Strengthening Elixir has a resistance buildup. After fifteen to twenty doses, its effects will diminish."

Daphne was already teary-eyed with emotion. Words failed her, so she simply acted.

Mwah!

She pressed a soft kiss to Tom's cheek.

Realizing what she'd done, her face instantly turned crimson, and she fled from the grove like a startled pixie.

Back at the Greengrass estate, her mother read Daphne's letter with a thoughtful expression.

Meeting Tom wasn't just Daphne's fortune—it was Astoria's salvation.

Tom might refuse gold now, but she couldn't let that slide. Come summer holidays, she would make sure Daphne invited him to visit. She'd give him the vault key as a welcome gift—not for the potion, but as a gesture of goodwill. He wouldn't be able to reject that... right?

Still, even that wasn't enough.

Astoria's condition hadn't been cured entirely. They might still need Tom's help in the future. And help must be earned—with genuine sincerity.

Resolved, Lady Greengrass stepped to her wardrobe, unlocked a private compartment with a drop of her own blood, and carefully drew out a blank piece of parchment. The only marking on it was the family crest pressed into the corner—a silent but powerful symbol of the Greengrass name.

…

Tom quickly learned just how efficient old wizarding families could be.

Three days later, every ingredient he had requested arrived—in bulk.

Two fresh dragon hearts, five pairs of sphinx eyes, and every other component in fivefold quantities. Just the sight of those two freshly harvested hearts made Tom's own skip a beat.

When he asked Daphne how they managed it so fast, she just smiled.

Though the Greengrass family didn't own a dragon ranch, they had shares in several. They simply swapped part of their annual dividends for the raw materials he needed.

Bloody capitalists.

Tom had spent an entire holiday sweating over how to secure rare ingredients. Meanwhile, a single word from her family had all the rarest magical components neatly boxed and owl-delivered in three days.

He wept internally.

Was he doomed to rely on soft meals for the rest of his life?

Still, with the ingredients secured, he was set for over a hundred vials—enough to basically achieve potion freedom. In a burst of generosity, he even prepared a set for Hermione.

In return, Hermione gave him a... lifetime dental care plan?

He wasn't sure whether "lifetime" referred to him or to Mr. Granger's practice, but either way—it didn't seem like a bad deal.

Wizards had teeth too, after all.

Even Dumbledore had once confided in him that he occasionally saw a Muggle dentist—it beat swallowing those nasty brews.

Tom didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but with how hard he worked his brain (and how thoroughly two old men were squeezing him dry), sugar was practically fuel. Hermione's gift might turn out to be quite handy.

…

Time marched on. The castle remained unusually peaceful, with no major events to disturb the term.

Tom's own schedule was just as orderly: classes, daily visits to the Forbidden Forest, checking on potions, and trying to build rapport with the unicorns.

He'd located all five in the forest: four adults and one foal—two males, three females.

Tom ignored the stallions and focused his charm offensive on the two mares. Unfortunately, thanks to his draconic bloodline, his dragon aura made the unicorns instinctively wary. They fled at the mere sight of him, and his frustration grew to the point he skipped dinner one night out of sheer irritation.

The Twelve Trials seemed rigged.

Many magical creatures feared dragonkind—yet the first reward he'd gotten was a fire dragon bloodline?

Wasn't that making things harder on purpose?

Still, not all hope was lost.

The foal—the youngest unicorn—was beginning to warm up to him. As any true foodie would, Tom knew that the fastest way to win someone over was through food.

The little unicorn had started accepting the herbs and raw meat Tom brought along. But it still wouldn't let him within three meters. Any closer and it would spook and bolt. Tom didn't dare push it—he couldn't risk ruining what little trust he'd built.

Still, three meters was close enough for him to cast a tracking charm laced with a subtle proximity warning. If the foal were ever attacked, Tom would know instantly—even if he were all the way back in the castle.

And while he worked on the unicorns, he hadn't neglected his magical studies either.

Andros had finally begun training him in wandless magic.

Thanks to his dragon blood, Tom now technically qualified as half-magical creature. No magical beast needed a wand to cast spells, and his affinity in this area had noticeably improved.

But Andros's level? Tom was still far from that summit.