The Late Cheat

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"Garrick, did you not sleep well last night? You're wobbling like a baby deer," Dumbledore said quickly, stepping forward to help Ollivander to his feet. Smooth, and he even gave the old man a polite excuse.

"Albus, as sharp as ever," Ollivander chuckled, patting his chest. "I was up half the night thinking about new wand materials. My head's still spinning."

He clearly realized his reaction had been over the top and took the out Dumbledore offered, brushing it off with a smile.

Then he turned to Tom with a gentle expression. "But don't worry, my boy. Even if I were on my deathbed, I'd still find the perfect wand for you."

"..."

It looked like Ollivander had accepted the coincidence of the name—Tom Riddle—but inwardly, he was still shaken. After taking Tom's measurements, the first wand he handed over was made of yew.

Dumbledore's eyelid twitched.

Yew. A wood associated with life and death. Powerful, but often chosen by Dark wizards. Ideal for curses and defense magic.

The other Tom Riddle had used a yew wand too…

As the wand fired a burst of flames from its tip, Ollivander quickly snatched it away with a frown and opened another box.

"That one was too gentle. Not quite the right fit. Try this."

Tom took the second wand—and a flurry of birds exploded from the tip.

"Still no good," Ollivander muttered, snatching it back. "Thestral tail hair and you don't seem to get along. Let's try this one."

Tom grasped the third wand, and the moment it touched his fingers, something clicked. It was effortless. He flicked it toward a broken flowerpot in the corner—boom, dust and shards.

[Future path detected. Anchoring initiated... Anchoring complete.]

[Welcome, host. The Ultimate Study System is now online.]

Tom lowered his eyes slightly, expression unreadable, as if he hadn't heard anything at all.

Meanwhile, Ollivander clapped his hands together, grinning. "Perfect fit! Fourteen and a half inches, yew wood, dragon heartstring core. I can already imagine the spells you'll cast with it."

"I'll use it well, Mr. Ollivander."

"Remember, a wand isn't just a tool—it's a partner, my boy." Then he added cheerfully, "Eight Galleons, please."

Tom paid the fee, turning the wand over in his hands.

There was no magical "bonding" moment or anything, but the way it cast spells—so smooth, so natural—was enough for now. Ollivander definitely knew his stuff. Maybe the whole "wand chooses the wizard" thing wasn't just a myth after all.

Until a wizard reached a certain level of power, the fit of their wand could really affect how well they performed.

With the simple wand care kit Ollivander handed him, Tom left the shop.

The second the door closed behind them, the old wandmaker's pleasant smile vanished. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

A wand over thirteen and a half inches? That's considered abnormally long. It usually means the wizard has an iron will and a powerful desire for control.

Too short, and it indicates the opposite—pettiness, narrow-mindedness. Ollivander remembered the shortest wand he ever sold… to a witch named Umbridge.

And the longest? The one he'd just handed to this Tom.

Pair that with a dragon heartstring core, which only responds to witches and wizards with raw magical power?

"Albus," he muttered under his breath, placing scattered wand boxes back in their rightful spots. "You know what this combination means, don't you?"

— — —

"Ah, Mr. Riddle, I nearly forgot," Dumbledore said, pointing to the pet shop across the street. "First-years are allowed to bring one pet. Would you like to take a look?"

"I'll pass, Professor," Tom replied, shaking his head. "Owls are basically postal workers—I don't have much use for one. As for toads and rats… sorry, they're just not my thing."

Dumbledore nodded, dropping the subject. "Very well. That's everything for today, then. Let's grab a drink with Tom the barkeep, and then I'll take you home."

Tom didn't object.

They returned to the Leaky Cauldron. It was dinner time now, and only two seats were open—one of them saved just for them by the owner.

Dumbledore's presence noticeably quieted the room. Still, he and Tom each just had a drink and didn't linger long.

Sitting beside the old man, Tom suddenly understood why, in his past life, Dumbledore had always given off a certain… loneliness.

The man's status was simply too high. Everyone in the country treated him like a living legend—he was basically wizarding royalty.

And like most royals, he was alone.

At least a king has a queen. But Dumbledore? Well… he did have a "queen" once. And he put "him" in prison.

The thought made Tom glance at the smiling old man beside him with just a twinge of pity.

An hour and a half later, Dumbledore walked Tom back to the orphanage.

"I look forward to seeing you again soon, Mr. Riddle."

"Likewise, Professor."

Once Dumbledore disappeared from sight, Tom finally stepped back into the building.

Dinner was ready. Ms. Allman had already left for the night, and the other four boys were finishing up their meals. A big plate had been set aside just for Tom.

"You really going to that weird school run by that old white-bearded dude?" Seth asked, the only one who stayed behind.

The other boys, after greeting Tom with a nervous glance, scarfed down their food and vanished upstairs to wash dishes or hide in their rooms. They were new, and after getting thrashed once by Tom, they now treated him like a predator.

Only Seth and Tom were permanent residents of the orphanage now.

"That's none of your business," Tom said through a mouthful of steak. "But if I find out your grades dropped while I'm gone, don't be surprised if I come back during break and beat some sense into you."

Seth shrank back, not daring to argue.

But in his heart, he was pissed—for Tom's sake.

His big bro was the smartest, toughest guy in school. If anyone deserved to go to fancy schools like Eton, it was him. But the tuition was insane, and they couldn't afford it. That's the only reason Tom had to leave.

Tom didn't know Seth was busy raging on his behalf. He didn't say much either—Dumbledore had warned him not to reveal anything about the magical world to Muggles.

No showing off magic stuff, no bringing magical items home. As a new student, Tom wasn't in a position to challenge those rules.

After dinner, he cleaned his plate and returned to his room.

"Open system panel," he said.

[System Panel Activated]

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