Thinking it over, Tom ultimately abandoned the idea.
Setting aside whether Snape could even be judged a "good child" by Santa Claus, even if he qualified, Tom was dead certain that one of the man's wishes would be "never see James Potter again."
He wasn't sure Santa would actually grant something like that, but Tom decided it wasn't worth the risk anyway.
The main reason, of course, was that Snape's personality was just too vile.
Tom only got decent treatment in Potions because he held the leverage of resurrecting Lily—Snape's greatest weakness. If he actually brought her back—
Tom didn't even want to imagine what that snake would turn into.
For the sake of his own peaceful life, Tom decided he'd handle resurrecting Lily and James himself when the time came. Then Snape and James could love each other and kill each other to their hearts' content.
"Got everything sorted?"
Dumbledore's voice drifted over while Tom was still thinking.
[Of course.]
Tom nodded.
[Though I still don't know exactly how it triggered that mechanism. Just to be safe, I raised its standards for judging children and distinguishing good from evil. Hopefully even if the mechanism activates again, it won't do anything too outrageous. Probably—]
There was a hint of uncertainty in Tom's words. He still wasn't entirely clear on why the Santa golem had suddenly decided to track down Helena and purify Ravenclaw's diadem.
"That's enough."
Dumbledore nodded. "We can't guarantee everything will go exactly according to plan. As long as nothing catastrophic happens, we'll manage. If something unexpected comes up… we'll just have to adapt on the fly, won't we?"
Tom nodded. When he first built the golem, he'd installed a hard lock so it couldn't break the law by stealing people's property. With that safeguard in place, even if the earlier mechanism triggered again, Santa wouldn't do anything too far out of line.
Seeing Tom's expression, Dumbledore smiled in quiet relief and continued, "Since there's no problem, let it get back to work. There are still plenty of gifts left to deliver. If we keep it here any longer, you'll miss your plans with your friends. Besides, I'm sure it wouldn't want any young wizards going without their presents~"
[Since you put it that way, Headmaster—]
Tom nodded, reached up, and gave Santa a firm pat on the waist.
[Keep delivering the gifts. There are still plenty of young wizards outside Hogwarts waiting for theirs.]
The reawakened Santa nodded, climbed back onto its sleigh, flicked the reins, and vanished into thin air.
Just like Tom said—it still had a lot of work to do.
"Well then, Lady Grey, could you please tell us what happened?"
"—Alright. Though you might as well call me by my other name. Helena. Helena Ravenclaw."
"? Wait—Ravenclaw? Don't tell me you're—"
Newt suddenly realized something and stared at Helena in disbelief.
"That's right. I am Rowena—daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts who established Ravenclaw House."
Helena gently stroked the diadem in her hands, feeling a touch she hadn't experienced in who knew how many years. Her voice was especially soft, as if she were afraid of waking from a beautiful dream.
That's right—in her eyes, she was probably caught in a wonderful dream. Though ghosts couldn't sleep, compared to the diadem being restored and her being able to touch it with her own hands, she'd rather believe this was just a beautiful dream.
"If this is a dream… then please let me never wake up."
She prayed silently in her heart.
Even so, she still told them everything she knew, holding nothing back.
She explained how she had stolen the diadem from her mother, how Voldemort had used honeyed words to coax its location out of her, and how he had later returned to the school carrying the diadem turned into a Horcrux. She laid it all out without a single omission.
"So it really was a Horcrux—"
Hearing Helena personally confirm that the diadem had once been made into a Horcrux, Dumbledore's brow furrowed deeply. This was one of the worst possibilities he had considered.
As long as other Horcruxes existed, Voldemort could never truly be killed. They had accidentally destroyed one, but no one knew how many he had actually created.
"Voldemort is an extremely cautious man. From what I know of him, if he chose to make Horcruxes, he definitely wouldn't have stopped at just one."
Dumbledore's expression tightened. "But who knows how many he actually made? And we have no idea where he hid them all. If he simply picked a random grain of sand, turned it into a Horcrux, and scattered it on a beach somewhere… we'd probably never find it in our lifetimes."
Nicolas's face had grown serious as well.
Unlike Grindelwald, the old Dark Lord—ambitious though he was—would never have stooped to something as crazy and despicable as Horcruxes. With Grindelwald's personality, he would have looked down on such trash.
"Not quite," Dumbledore shook his head. "Though Voldemort is cautious, he has his own pride. He wouldn't use just any random object as a vessel for his soul. Just like with the diadem this time—only something of extremely high value was worthy, in his eyes."
"But the real problem is we don't know where to even start looking—"
He paused, turning to Tom.
"Wait—Tom. Are you saying it could help us find the Horcruxes?"
"It?"
Tom blinked, then realized Dumbledore was probably talking about Santa.
He thought for a moment, then shook his head.
[Not very likely.]
Before Dumbledore could press further, he continued.
[Though it did find the diadem—which happened to be one of Voldemort's Horcruxes—its original intent wasn't to hunt for Horcruxes. It was fulfilling Lady Helena's wish. In other words, unless someone's deepest, most heartfelt wish is to find a Horcrux, it probably won't go looking for them.
Ask yourself honestly—is your deepest wish really to find the Horcruxes?]
Faced with Tom's question, Dumbledore fell silent.
Even he couldn't guarantee that finding the Horcruxes was his most desperate wish without magically altering his own mind—let alone anyone else.
As for using magic to change one's mind—
He had considered it. But after seeing Tom and remembering everything the golem had just done, he had thrown the idea out of his head.
That golem, like Tom, was a complete cheat. Whether magic meant to alter the mind would even work on it was anyone's guess.
Still… a heartfelt wish?
Dumbledore's gaze grew distant, drifting sometimes to Ariana, sometimes into empty space.
Though it wasn't his most desperate desire, destroying Voldemort was certainly something he wanted. If—
Lost in thought, he didn't notice what Tom said next.
[Besides, if you really wanted it to help fulfill a wish, why not just have it kill Voldemort for good?]
After all, it was a conceptual god he had created himself. Tom had plenty of faith in its power.
Unfortunately, Dumbledore didn't catch that. Even if he had, he probably wouldn't have changed his mind.
In his view, it was better not to pin hopes on something so unstable.
"Alright, I've told you everything I know. Do you have any other questions?"
Helena was the first to break the silence. "If not, please leave. This is the Ravenclaw common room—a place for young wizards to rest. And we don't welcome intruders here, even if you are the headmaster."
"Oh, of course."
Dumbledore snapped back to attention and smiled. "We'll be on our way."
As he spoke, he gave Tom a meaningful look. Tom rolled his eyes, rubbed his fingers together, and put on a clear "you know what I want" expression.
Watching Tom act like he was about to extort him at any moment, Dumbledore almost laughed in exasperation. Seriously? You really think I can't manage without you?
Thinking this, Dumbledore called his phoenix, Fawkes, intending to have it teleport them out.
However—
[It says the space is sealed. We can't teleport.]
Tom played temporary translator.
"I can understand it just fine. No need for you to translate!"
Dumbledore was utterly speechless. "And this is your doing too, isn't it?!"
[Well… maybe~]
As he said it, Tom's gaze drifted—just enough to make it obvious this was his handiwork.
"You— Sigh. Fine."
What could Dumbledore do? Though he didn't think Tom was his match, as headmaster he couldn't actually attack a student. Besides, Tom hadn't broken any school rules, so there were no grounds to deduct points (not that Tom cared about house points anyway).
Most importantly—
Watching Ariana sidle up to Tom and pester him to teach her the trick, Dumbledore was completely helpless.
Tom didn't ask for much usually anyway. Might as well consider it his scholarship.
Lost in these thoughts, Dumbledore completely failed to notice the meaningful eye contact passing between Fawkes on his shoulder and Tom.
Yeah, that's right—though Tom had the ability to seal space, he hadn't actually done any of that messy, troublesome stuff right now. As for Fawkes's so-called "space sealing"—
The only ones who could teleport here were it and Tom. Whether they could teleport or not… wasn't that entirely up to it~?
And so, Dumbledore had no idea that while he wasn't paying attention, his bird had already been charmed away by a cat. What could you say? Tom's charm was as potent as ever~
After watching Tom and the others leave, Helena's hand once again stroked the patterns on the diadem.
"It really was a beautiful dream."
As she spoke, she looked at the diadem with some reluctance, carefully carried it over to Rowena's statue nearby, and placed it on the statue's head.
"Mother, I brought it back. A lot happened in between, but it's finally home. Did you see?
I'm sorry. Back then… I was wrong—"
As her voice faded, soft sobbing gradually echoed through the quiet common room.
But all of that had nothing to do with Tom and the others anymore.
At the same time, outside Hogwarts, a thin, twisted wisp of black smoke was struggling to move—it was the fragment of Voldemort's soul that had escaped.
He fled cautiously the whole way, trying to memorize the route. In his mind there was only one thought: he had already conquered the world. Those people trying to destroy his Horcruxes were just a bunch of despicable rats hiding in the gutters!
Can't beat me, so you try to destroy my Horcruxes? Once I find my main body, I'll make sure you pay the price!
However, as he kept exploring deeper and taking in the terrain, he felt more and more that something was wrong.
If he wasn't mistaken, this seemed to be Hogwarts, right? If his main body had already conquered the world, why would those gutter rats dare to openly destroy his Horcrux inside Hogwarts?
Though he didn't know what his future self was thinking, for the him right now—if he'd conquered the world, he absolutely wouldn't have let Hogwarts go. This place could only belong to him, could only be ruled by him!
But now—
It must be that Dumbledore and his old cronies were still putting up a desperate fight!
He tried to comfort himself:
It's fine. As long as I find my main body and coordinate with him from inside and out, Hogwarts will be ours in no time—
However, what terrified him was that no matter how he sensed or tried, he couldn't feel his main body's magic at all.
And the farther he went, the more he discovered that everything around him was so peaceful—there wasn't the slightest trace of Voldemort's rule.
No wizards kneeling in submission, no Muggles living in fear—only the everyday smoke and fire of ordinary towns. Everything was so calm.
"Impossible. Absolutely impossible!"
The humanoid soul began to twist and tremble. "I will never fail. I am the Dark Lord—the Dark Lord who conquered death!
The world should be ruled by me. Wizards should bow at my feet. Mudbloods should be destroyed by my own hand. And those foolish Muggles—they're nothing but a pack of lowly slaves!
But why—why can't I feel their fear? Why can't I sense my main body's presence?
This has to be an illusion!"
He frantically released his weak magic, trying to sense if his main body was nearby. But unfortunately, he still came up empty.
"Don't worry. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, honorary member of the Dark Arts Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."
Just then, a voice rang out from the town below. "Though I don't always go on about those awards, as an excellent wizard with all sorts of heroic deeds under my belt, this little problem is nothing I can't handle."
Floating in midair, Voldemort heard this voice and showed a thoughtful expression. He needed an anchor—a vessel where he could nurture his soul and learn what had happened to this world.
And this powerful wizard below with so many honors… might make a decent puppet.
As for failure? Voldemort never believed he would fail.