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[Hogwarts] Ch 85: Maxed-Out Favorability
🕑 Added 2025-07-09 17:32:13 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
"Everyone, you heard what Mr. Laos and I just said."
Aside from the unconscious female Auror, the other three male Aurors were injured but still conscious. They'd managed to stagger to their feet by now.
Tom gave his wand a little twirl. "I'm giving Mr. Laos one day. You'll get a day to recover too."
"As long as he leaves the UK, it's none of my business what happens next. Sound fair?"
The three Aurors exchanged glances. You could see the hesitation and inner struggle in their eyes.
Tom noticed their wavering and pressed on, casually persuasive. "Come on, we're all just trying to get by here. I'm out here hustling for a few Galleons, and you guys are working a government gig—probably barely covering rent. No need to risk your necks over this."
"Remember: you don't get paid enough for this shit."
"But if you don't take the offer, I'll have to break your wands."
Their faces changed instantly. "No! Please!" x3
"Don't hesitate, Allen," Laos chimed in. "Come on, I made a tiny mistake, that's all! That guy, Graves, is just abusing his authority!"
"Shut it, Wilkinson!" snapped the chubby Auror, furious. "You call that a tiny mistake? Graves used to be your teacher! And you slept with his wife!"
Yikes.
Tom, hidden behind his mask, had to fight hard to keep a straight face. His eye twitched.
This was getting so weird. That Graves guy—the Auror Deputy Director—was actually...
"My teacher? Have you forgotten what he did to me?" Laos exploded, clearly fed up. "Back then, he had it out for me. I swore I'd get revenge. You think I wanted to sleep with his wife? She's 4'11" and 150 pounds! Do you know how hard I had to try just to get it up?!"
That broke everyone. Even the three Aurors couldn't hide their reactions—brows raised, mouths twitching.
Allen, the chubby one, clearly had a mental image of his boss's wife now. The way he looked at Laos even showed a flicker of sympathy.
Still, it gave both sides a way to back down without losing face. The mood lightened a bit.
"I'll take your deal," Allen finally grumbled. "We won't go after Laos Wilkinson today. But after that, I expect you to stay out of it."
Honestly, even if they wanted to keep chasing them, they couldn't. Allen's internal organs were probably out of place. He needed healing fast.
And the masked guy had a point—no paycheck's worth dying for.
"Appreciate the cooperation," Tom said simply, returning their wands without hesitation.
He wasn't worried they'd turn on him. Most wizards feared death more than anything—especially Aurors with a promising future. These guys were elite, top-of-the-class types. Very few of them were actually willing to go down fighting a dark wizard.
And judging by the way Allen and Laos talked, they probably knew each other.
Sure enough, the moment he had his wand back, Allen cast a Levitation Charm to carry the unconscious female Auror. Then he and the other two slowly backed away until they exited the anti-apparition zone—then vanished with a crack, fleeing the scene.
Laos let out a deep sigh of relief. Safe—for now. He turned toward Tom with a grin and held out his hand.
"Brother, you really saved me today. Thought I was a goner. Name is Laos Wilkinson. What should I call you?"
"Michael."
"Then Michael it's. Man, old Borgin really does know people. Didn't think someone that strong would show up to help little ol' me."
Laos clearly didn't buy the name, but he didn't care. He gave Tom a bright smile and even pulled out his coin pouch. "One day's more than enough to get far away. You've gone above and beyond, so take it—it's all I've got on me. Don't mind the amount."
Tom didn't take the pouch. Instead, he raised a brow. "You're on the run now. Shouldn't you keep some gold for the road? What'll you do if you hand it all to me?"
Laos shrugged with a carefree laugh. "Ah, it's fine. I'm headed to Germany. Got family there. And the German Ministry hates the International Confederation. The Aurors won't have any power over me there."
Family in Germany? Tom nodded. Purebloods—makes sense. Wherever you go, there's probably a cousin nearby. Especially in America, where most purebloods were originally immigrants. Who knows which branch of the family tree you're on?
But this was the first he'd heard about the German Ministry being at odds with the Confederation.
"I'm guessing you've got a tracking spell on you," Tom said suddenly. "I can remove it."
"Seriously?" Laos lit up, but then looked awkward. "I mean… I just gave you all my money. Can I wire you the gold from Germany through Gringotts? Have it sent to Borgin—he'll keep it safe."
"Works for me," Tom said with a grin. "But I want one more thing."
"What is it?" Laos narrowed his eyes.
"I want to know what really happened between you and the Deputy Director."
"No problem!"
Laos immediately lit up, clearly proud of his own drama, and dove into the story.
As he spoke, Tom started to piece it all together.
Laos Wilkinson—Ilvermorny School graduate.
Their grudge went way back—started with their families, actually.
The Magical Congress of the United States of America was originally managed by twelve founding Aurors. Their descendants inherited both power and prestige—unless the bloodline died out.
Some families had dwindled, but others kept growing, helped along by their "founder shares."
Both the Wilkinson and Graves families were descendants of those twelve. Today, they were among the most influential names in the American magical world.
Not all of those founding families were from the same background either. For example, Abraham Potter was a British immigrant.
Wilkinsons came from Germany. The Graves family? French. And anyone who knows those two countries knows what kind of rivalry that implies.
Even after settling in a new continent, the old grudges stayed alive. The Wilkinsons and Graves were constantly fighting—sometimes openly, sometimes in secret.
Still, even so, Graves probably wouldn't have messed with a student... if it weren't for Laos running his mouth.
Once, while joking around with friends, Laos had made fun of Percival Graves. Unfortunately, Professor Robert Graves—Percival's grandson—overheard him.
Now here's where it gets messier.
Percival Graves was the guy whose identity was stolen by Grindelwald.
Yep, that Gellert Grindelwald.
To his credit, Grindelwald didn't kill him—maybe out of respect for Dumbledore, who also had "Percival" in his name?
But even after being rescued, Percival lived in shame. Some say he even doubted whether his own kid was really his—his wife got pregnant during the time he was being impersonated.
So yeah… Robert Graves was not about to let Laos off easy.
Hiding behind his title as a professor and their equal bloodline status, Robert took every opportunity to make Laos' life hell. No one would've guessed Laos would grit his teeth through all of it until graduation... and then quietly go sleep with Robert's wife.
And not just that—he even left a little note afterward: "Don't worry. Your son isn't mine.... Maybe?"
If Robert didn't explode after that, he wouldn't be a man. He slapped some trumped-up charges on Laos and used his influence to call in the International Aurors for a manhunt.
Tom could only shake his head after hearing the whole story. The web of drama here was insane.
But one thing he was sure of—Robert's father was definitely part of the Graves family. Grindelwald? He'd already been in love with someone else back then. He wasn't the type to fool around with a woman.
Now that his thirst for gossip was fully satisfied, Tom kept his promise and cast a counter-tracking charm on Laos to cancel out the International Aurors' spell.
Laos instantly felt lighter, thanked Tom again, and finally the two parted ways.
— — —
The next day, Tom—still in disguise using Polyjuice Potion as "Michael"—returned to Borgin and Burkes.
"Ah, our honored customer has arrived at last."
Borgin greeted him with his trademark fake smile. "Mr. Wilkinson had nothing but praise for you. Here's your payment—and an extra 500 Galleons. I advanced it for him."
Tom took the money without hesitation. He was already halfway to affording that dragon heart he needed.
"Got any more jobs like that, Mr. Borgin?" he asked.
"Not at the moment," Borgin said with a regretful shake of his head. "Clients like Mr. Wilkinson don't come around often. The other available jobs either take too long or involve ancient ruins—risky and low return."
Tom gave a short nod. "If something comes up, just send an owl to Michael's address."
"Of course," Borgin said with another oily grin.
Once everything was settled, Tom left Knockturn Alley and got back to his other focus—his Muggle world hustle.
Looking back on his holiday, everything he'd done so far had one goal: make money.
First, Galleons. Now? Pounds and dollars.
Yep, even in the UK, cash is king.
Using a few tricks, he helped "Michael" get a National Insurance number and a driver's license—basically the British version of an official ID.
Now that he wasn't a "ghost" in the system, he could open a bank account and start investing. Tom dumped everything from his secret stash into military stocks—then added some leverage, doubling his position.
After the northern conflict broke out, Tom didn't need to check to know stocks would skyrocket. A few years from now, that bubble would peak. When it did, he'd just dump it all into Microsoft and ride the wave.
He didn't need a fortune—just enough for financial freedom and a few vacation estates.
Of course, the real money was in grabbing up real estate. But that would take time and energy, and Tom didn't want to waste too much time. He chose the lazy route—quick, efficient, and still passive.
— — —
Leading up to Christmas, Tom stayed busy.
Hermione and Daphne both sent letters. Hermione even invited him to visit her home. He turned her down, replying with a brief note about how things were going, then left it at that.
He took two more jobs from Borgin. One was threatening a wizard into selling an artifact to the shop. The other? Debt collection.
Borgin had been right—clients like Laos were rare. These jobs barely paid 200 Galleons in total.
Still, the upside? Tom finally mastered Apparition and Disapparition. Way more convenient now.
But the dragon heart he'd been after? Still no news.
Tom had even lowered his standards. He'd settle for slices instead of a whole one—so long as they were well-preserved. Dried-up hearts with no vital essence left were useless to him.
He was seriously considering asking Snape for help. With that man's connections, getting a few slices of dragon heart shouldn't be hard.
But that might remind Snape of a certain... event Tom had taken in the past.
(You know and I know.)
Tom decided to wait a few more days. If nothing turned up after term started, he'd take the risk.
And if he got caught? Well, he had a backup plan.
For example… he could always hand over Peter Pettigrew as a gift. That'd win Snape over.
But that was a last resort. Too valuable to waste without maximizing the return.
— — —
And just like that, it was December 24th.
London was blanketed in a picture-perfect snowfall—couldn't have picked a better day for Christmas Eve.
Fir trees stood proudly outside homes, decorated with twinkling fairy lights and shiny lucky stars.
Tom even put up a tree outside the orphanage—just for show.
People are social creatures. When everyone around you celebrates something, it's hard not to get pulled in. That's the strange, silent power of shared will—it creeps in and changes you when you least notice.
Later that afternoon, Mrs. Allman stopped by. She was surprised to see Tom home. They chatted for a bit before she headed off, leaving him with warm holiday wishes.
Originally, she'd planned to help tidy up the place, but seeing it already spotless, there was no need to stay.
...
After she left, Tom cooked himself a decent dinner. Nowhere near Hannah's level, but still edible.
He skipped the traditional turkey—he'd tried it once out of curiosity and still remembered how dry and tough it was.
He set the long table with all kinds of dishes, took a seat at the head... and looked out at the empty chairs.
And for a moment, he just sat there, staring.
This might've been his loneliest Christmas yet. In past years, the orphanage had been full of other kids. Now? Just him.
No. Not just him.
A thought flickered across his mind, and Tom opened up his mental study space.
"Merry Christmas, Andros."
The ancient wizard, deep in sleep, stirred as Tom's voice echoed through the void. He was expecting a question. Instead, he got a holiday greeting.
Andros smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Tom."
[Andros' favorability has reached 100% Congratulations, host.]
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