Chapter 171: Good is bad — Bad is good
— — — — — —
There’s a saying Tom always thought was dead on: Good habits are hard to build, but bad ones come easy.
To raise someone into a righteous, principled person takes years of brainwashing plus countless corrections just to shape someone who looks decent on the surface.
But to raise a villain? That’s child’s play.
Because being bad feels good. The first time is nerve-wracking, the second time easier, the third time you’re itching for more, the fourth you’re restless with hunger, and by the fifth you’re already a natural.
One path fights against instinct and desire. The other follows the heart.
So Tom decided: he would raise Ariana into a villain. He wanted her to vent all that bottled-up rage, all that suffocating pressure from her Obscurus.
It wasn’t as though she could leave this space anyway. The only ones who’d suffer for it were Grindelwald and Andros. Well, Grindelwald probably wouldn’t even mind—he’d be glad Ariana turned out that way. At least it would mean, in education, he’d beaten Dumbledore.
...
Half an hour later, Tom had finished telling Ariana the story of Grindelwald as he knew it. The summary was simple: lawless, reckless, and free.
And for contrast, he lined Dumbledore up beside him.
While Grindelwald thrived in America disguised as Graves, Dumbledore was stuck under Ministry surveillance.
While Grindelwald rallied followers in Paris with speeches that turned hearts, Dumbledore was slapped with magical restraints, practically imprisoned—just because he refused to openly oppose Grindelwald.
By the time Grindelwald was nearly running for President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Dumbledore had little more than a handful of loyal friends—and had to sneak into the assembly like a fugitive.
Ariana had never imagined her brother’s life was so miserable. Listening to it left her frustrated on his behalf, and as her emotions stirred, so did her Obscurus. Wisps of shadowy smoke curled faintly from her.
Tom glanced at it once and immediately pushed the thing back down. Not on his watch. He wasn’t about to let it sway Ariana’s thoughts.
"But... but my brother won in the end," Ariana offered weakly, trying to defend him.
"True, he did." Tom nodded. "That duel is remembered as the greatest of the century. Grindelwald lost—but was that a matter of good versus evil? No. He lost because his magic wasn’t strong enough. Not because he was wrong, but because Dumbledore was stronger."
He sighed softly. "And do you really think winning made Dumbledore happy? You know how close they once were."
Ariana’s lips pressed into a pout. Of course she knew. Because of Grindelwald, her own brother had forgotten she existed.
Beating Grindelwald and locking him in a tower for fifty years must’ve been agony. Probably like the day she’d cried while eating her own beloved rabbit just to survive.
"Poor Albus," Ariana whispered before she could stop herself.
"And that’s only part of it," Tom said, shaking his head. "He became the great wizard, worshipped by everyone. But because he followed the rules too closely, even people who couldn’t match a single finger of his dared mock him. Behind his back, they laughed at him as a senile old fool."
He leaned in closer, his voice a low murmur in her ear. "See, Ariana? Being good is bad."
"Being bad is good."
The space between them was barely a fist’s width. His words slid gently into her mind, persuasive and dark.
"Better to be a villain. If someone tries to hurt you, crush them until they’re afraid of you. That fear will turn them into ’good people’ who only want to please you."
"And if they still don’t learn..." Tom trailed off deliberately, letting the thought hang. No need to rush.
"If I were you, Ariana, I’d study magic with everything I had and take revenge on Grindelwald. Magic isn’t the root of your tragedy—it’s your gift, the very foundation of what we are as wizards."
"I..." Ariana’s lips parted. She wanted to argue, but all that came out was a helpless whisper, no words at all.
Tom ruffled her hair lightly. "You’re already dead. You’ve got nothing to lose. Why not try what you spent your life running from? It can’t possibly be worse, right?"
He tilted his head, teasing. "Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to be my teacher? Hiding in here all day watching Tom & Jerry—are you planning to teach me how to catch mice?"
That earned a laugh from her. "No one can catch Jerry."
"Who says?" Tom grinned. "Tom is just easy on him. He considers Jerry his friend."
With a soft pop, several beginner spellbooks appeared on the coffee table. Tom’s body faded, turning more and more transparent until he vanished completely.
Ariana just stared at the books. For a long while she hesitated. But finally... she reached out, picked up an elementary charms textbook, and conjured Tom’s wand into her hand.
...
The next morning Tom knew she had made her choice.
Andros was stunned that Ariana had come to him on her own yesterday to ask questions. For a girl with her history, that was unbelievable.
"Tom," Andros said, half in awe, half in jest, "if charming women had rankings, you’d be a living legend, a true SSS-tier. Not even a poor King of the Century could compare. Even Merlin’s wife would—"
"Ok ok I get it..."
"Was that really supposed to be a compliment?" Tom muttered, skeptical, as he left the study space and his room.
...
Down the stairs he heard a barrage of shouted incantations.
In the lounge, three groups of students were practicing the Shield Charm. Among them were Malfoy and Zabini.
Zabini, of course, wasn’t holding back. He threw hex after hex. Malfoy’s lips swelled like sausages, his teeth grew to ridiculous size, his balance flipped upside down so he couldn’t even stand.
He downed antidotes like water just to keep up.
Tom couldn’t help admiring Potter—anyone who could make Malfoy endure this much must’ve been a "genius".
Finally, unable to watch, he spoke up. "Draco, I told you yesterday, didn’t I? You’re supposed to try casting the Shield Charm while you’re under attack, not just stand there and take it!"
Malfoy, fresh off another hex, froze.
Right. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He’d been so busy getting smashed, he’d forgotten the whole point was to practice the spell.
As Malfoy’s screams rang out again and Zabini cackled like a madman, Tom shook his head and left the common room.
"Tom."
Grindelwald’s voice cut in out of nowhere. "Did you mention me to Ariana?"
"I did." Tom returned greetings from classmates while answering him casually. "I told her to make you her target, to train hard so she can take revenge."
"Revenge?"
Grindelwald blinked, then burst out laughing. "Fine. I’ll be waiting. When the time comes, I’ll limit myself to the strength I had at fourteen. Let me think... just how strong was I back then? Hahaha~"
"Oh? How would that compare to me right now?" Tom asked offhandedly.
Grindelwald’s laughter died in his throat.
Compare to this freak?
Never mind Tom’s dragon bloodline and thunderbird bloodline amplifying his power. Even without that, just his body and soul completely outclassed Grindelwald’s.
He and Andros had debated this before: what stage of their lives did Tom’s power match?
For Andros, Tom now was roughly equal to his own early years in Greece—the time when he first started earning his reputation on the battlefield. Five years later, he had completed the Hundred Battles Road and became invincible, crowned as King of the Century.
For Grindelwald, Tom’s current level was like his years of wandering the world, absorbing magical knowledge from every corner, and then spending another decade weaving it all together into something entirely new.
Forget being the same age—even if Grindelwald and Andros were ten years older, Tom could still thrash them. There simply wasn’t a fair comparison.
"Why so quiet?" Tom prodded.
"Quiet, my ass," Grindelwald snapped. "We were supposed to be monsters, but standing next to you we look average. What do you want me to say?"
Tom smirked. "Don’t sell yourself short. At least for now, you still have things you can teach me. The day I’ve drained you dry—that’s when you can sulk."
That shut Grindelwald up completely. He disappeared from the Study space and went back to sulk in Nurmengard.
— — —
Inside the study space
Tom began practicing ancient magic for real with Andros next.
He managed to succeed three times out of ten when casting a spell. Each success was powerful enough to blow a door into palm-sized shards.
The problem was always the same: he couldn’t quite grasp that ancient resonance buried deep in his magic. To cast properly, he had to rouse it fully. Only then could the spells become smoother, deadlier.
Which meant—it was time to cheat a little.
Time for Embodied Learning plus Turbo Mode.
...
After some time...
Tom flew fast and far, leaving Hogwarts behind. About a hundred kilometers out, he landed in a remote valley.
Embodied Learning activated—Andros took over.
"Tom, the biggest difference between ancient and modern magic is how you use your power," Andros lectured.
"Modern spells spend magic as fuel to achieve an effect. Ancient magic, though—it’s about letting your magic act as a bridge to the primal mysteries of the world itself."
"To succeed, you need to stir your magic to life. Let the world hear your voice."
Andros had studied long enough to put theory into words with ease. But theory was never enough. He’d said this many times before, but Tom had never managed to feel it properly.
Now, with Andros directly using Tom’s body, the difference was striking.
Turbo Mode widened Tom’s senses further.
Andros began channeling magic, deliberately slowing the drawing of the runic circle so Tom could observe.
At once, Tom felt it.
His magic boiled, like a calm river turning into a raging torrent. Every rune stroke of the spell circle carried unfathomable skill—though Andros wasn’t forcing the process. He simply kept prodding Tom’s magic, making it wilder, freer.
And in that turbulence, the elusive resonance finally revealed itself.
Rumble...
The sky darkened. Thunder rolled across the heavens.
Almost the instant the circle was complete, bolts of lightning hammered down.
Because the spell carried the essence of ancient magic, the lightning wasn’t normal—it had been transformed. A strike like that could probably reduce even a thunderbird to charred scraps.
"Huff..."
When the magic faded, Tom’s reserves had plummeted, leaving him drained and sluggish.
"If it were me," Andros said, "I could cast another immediately—I’ve already mastered the resonance. But for you, after one spell, it’ll take time to catch it again."
Then he unleashed another.
This time a tidal wave of power swept out, carrying the weight of rejection, erasing all in its path.
Where the wave touched, trees tore from their roots, an entire mountainside shaved bald like a freshly shorn head.
When it ended, Andros stopped. He said nothing, waiting for Tom to process.
Half an hour later, Tom finally began to realize something.
---
An hour later
"Well?"
Back in the study space, Andros asked with concern.
Tom smiled faintly. "I gained a lot."
.
.
.