— — — — — —
Three minutes later, the Turbo mode faded. Tom collapsed flat on his back, gasping for breath.
But the results? Absolutely worth it.
Sure, his spell power dropped toward the end due to magical exhaustion, but his control had improved drastically. He only accidentally hit two training dummies this time—every other target was taken down cleanly and in perfect order.
There was no doubt now: combining Embodied Learning with Turbo boost was a total game-changer. In just ten minutes, Tom had made progress most people wouldn't achieve in a lifetime.
Even Andros couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
With talent like this—okay, it's the system, but with it—Tom was destined to become one of the most powerful wizards in history. No question.
---
After half an hour of rest, Tom finally started to feel a bit more like himself. The dizziness faded, and the weakness slowly lifted—a sure sign his magical reserves were recovering.
Even though he was still tired, he forced himself back to training.
Comfort was nice, but power? Power was better.
Two lifetimes had taught Tom a simple truth: only those with true power get to live life on their own terms.
In his previous life, "power" meant wealth and influence.
In this life, it meant magic.
So honestly, it made perfect sense the Sorting Hat had placed him in Slytherin. Tom might tell himself he sought power just to survive—to live a better life—but that's still ambition.
Ambition, lineage, and talent. Those three traits made Tom the ideal Slytherin.
Whoosh!
A red burst of magic shot around the obstacle and hit the target dead-on.
Still, Tom frowned.
He remembered clearly how Andros's spells had looked. The speed, the force—it was on a whole other level. Andros's spells weren't just faster; they hit harder too. If Tom's spell power was a one, Andros's was easily a three or four.
Tom knew he was still a long way from catching up. But that didn't bother him.
Progress was progress. Spells were spells. He just had to take it one step at a time.
First goal: improve his speed and accuracy. Once he nailed those, he'd already be among the best of the average wizards.
...
Two full days passed. Aside from sleeping in his dorm and eating in the Great Hall, Tom basically lived in the Room of Requirement.
He even upgraded his training conditions.
Instead of predictable, slow-moving dummies, the room now gave him knight puppets wielding dulled greatswords that actively charged and attacked.
As soon as the cooldown on Embodied Learning ended, Tom reactivated it—this time, along with his Turbo Mode.
"Tom, your body's too weak," Andros complained once the training session ended and they returned to the study space. "You need to start prepping that potion. Fast. Your body's falling behind your magical growth."
"What's the rush?" Tom replied coolly. "The bigger the plan, the more important it is not to rush. Hurrying only leads to mistakes."
"Besides, with my current skill level, do you think I can even brew something that advanced?"
"Even if I had the ingredients, I'd just end up staring at them—or wasting them. You think I'm getting another batch for free?"
Andros fell silent.
He'd been so focused on gathering materials that he forgot Tom had only taken one Potions class so far. Even with Andros's real-time guidance, failure was still a real risk.
"Well then, starting next week, you'd better take Potions more seriously," Andros warned. "It's not a subject you can master just by reading. You need hands-on practice—and a lot of it—to build your own understanding."
"Yeah, I know." Tom nodded. "I'm planning to head into the Forbidden Forest to scavenge for ingredients. Whatever I can't find, I'll buy."
"As long as you've got a plan." Andros approved.
— — —
Meanwhile, in a luxurious manor tucked away in Yorkshire—
A beautiful blonde woman in her forties was reading a letter delivered by owl post.
She was Elise Greengrass, the current head of the Greengrass family—and Daphne's mother.
As she read the letter, her expression shifted between amused and mildly annoyed.
At first, it was touching. Her daughter's whining and the little hints of homesickness were genuinely heartwarming.
But halfway through, the tone flipped.
Suddenly, it was all complaints about how "hard" life at Hogwarts was—and then, bam, out came the punchline: a request for 500 Galleons.
The school year had barely started! She'd only been gone a week!
Elise knew exactly what Hogwarts was like. She'd gone there herself. It wasn't exactly luxury, but it certainly wasn't harsh. Five hundred Galleons? What was she doing, turning into some kind of gold-guzzling monster?
At first, Elise worried that Daphne might be getting bullied at school and needed money for protection or something.
But the cheerful tone behind the exaggerated complaints—and the upward curve of her handwriting—quickly eased that concern.
Clearly, Daphne was doing just fine.
So why the money?
As Elise sat in thought, a gentle voice called from outside the room, "Mom? Did Sis send a letter?"
Elise turned and waved. "Astoria! Come here, take a look. Your sister's begging for cash again."
A pale, delicate girl in a simple dress stepped into the room.
Her features were beautiful, but her face was an unhealthy shade of white. Her hair, which should've been the same dazzling blonde as her mother and sister's, had faded into a dull silver from malnutrition.
A flash of pity crossed Elise's eyes, but she quickly hid it—she didn't want Astoria to notice.
Astoria stepped up to the writing desk and quickly read through the letter.
"Mom," she asked curiously, "is going to Hogwarts really that expensive?"
"Of course not," Elise said with a smile. "Your sister's just never been good with money. She probably saw some jewelry or fancy dress she couldn't resist."
With her daughter beside her, Elise began writing a reply.
She'd send the money—five hundred Galleons wasn't that much—but Daphne would owe her an explanation. Otherwise, next term's allowance might look very different.
As they finished, Astoria's eyes flicked with thought. After a moment, she excused herself and went back to her room. From her cabinet, she pulled out the pouch where she'd quietly saved up a thousand Galleons.
If her sister needed money, then she could help. It wasn't like she had much to spend it on anyway.
.
.
.