Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord Chapter 235 235: Awakening Ancient Power

Right!

Draco realized in a flash—he hadn't even thought about casting spells. He had simply let Zabini tornt him. Wasn't that nothing but taking a beating for free?!

Listening to Malfoy's shrill screams and Zabini's manic laughter, Tom could only shake his head helplessly and step out of the lounge.

"Tom."

Grindelwald suddenly appeared. "Did you ntion to Ariana?"

"I did," Tom replied casually, nodding to passing classmates who greeted him. "I told her to take you as her target. To grow stronger, and to avenge herself."

"Avenge herself?"

Grindelwald blinked, then burst into wild laughter. "Fine by ! I'll wait for her revenge. At that ti, I'll hold myself back to the level I had at fourteen years old. Let think… how strong was I at fourteen?"

"And how would that compare to right now?" Tom asked offhandedly.

The laughter died instantly.

Who the hell could compare with a monster like you?

It wasn't just the dragon bloodline or the Thunderbird bloodline that made Tom terrifying. Even his very essence—his life force and the core of his soul—was leagues beyond anything Grindelwald had ever known.

He had once discussed this with Andros, trying to place Tom's current strength within their own life trajectories.

For Andros, Tom's power now was equivalent to when he had just begun to make a na for himself in Greece, stepping onto his legendary Hundred Battles Path. Once Andros completed that road, he beca invincible—the King of the Century. And even that path had taken him five whole years to walk.

For Grindelwald, Tom now was on par with himself in the later years of his world travels, when he absorbed the essence of magic from every land, then spent a decade weaving it together into a new realm of mastery.

Forget being the sa age—even if they were ten years older, twenty years older, they would still be utterly crushed by Tom today. There was no comparison.

"Why aren't you speaking?" Tom asked lightly.

"What the hell is there to say?" Grindelwald snapped. "We were monsters, and compared to you we're nothing but garbage. You want to admit that out loud?"

"Don't belittle yourself," Tom said smoothly. "At least for now, you still have things you can teach . When the day cos that I've drained you dry, then you can despair."

That was the final straw. Grindelwald vanished from the learning space altogether, retreating back to Nurngard in sullen silence.

But Andros had no such escape. Tom had summoned the learning space at dawn not for a leisurely walk but to practice ancient magic in the real world.

Inside the space, Tom could succeed in casting ancient magic maybe three out of ten tis, its destructive power great enough to reduce a door into shards no bigger than his palm.

The reason for his failures was always the sa: he couldn't grasp the elusive, eternal aura hidden deep within his magic. Only by fully stirring that aura could the spells flow smoothly and unleash their true might.

It was ti to break through.

Embodint Transcendence, activate!

Tom soared out of Hogwarts at lightning speed, streaking across more than a hundred kiloters before descending into a remote valley.

Embodint state: engaged.

Andros took control.

"Tom," Andros began, his voice calm but steady, "the greatest difference between ancient magic and modern spells lies in how magic is used.

"Modern magic consus magic power as fuel to achieve its end. Ancient magic, however, uses your magic as a guide—an invitation to the primordial mysteries of the world itself.

"To succeed, the key is to make your magic alive—to let the world hear your voice more clearly."

Andros had studied with Tom long enough to piece together coherent theories, and when he lectured, he sounded like a master in his own right.

But theory was always shallow compared to practice.

He had told Tom these sa words many tis before, yet Tom could never find the right sensation.

Now, with Tom's body under his command, the experience was utterly different.

Once Transcendence Mode activated, Tom's senses expanded to terrifying levels.

Andros stirred the magic slowly, deliberately slowing down the drawing of the magic circle so Tom could observe in detail.

And at once, Tom felt it.

His magic was boiling, a tranquil river turned raging torrent. Every rune carved into the air by his power contained imnse complexity, but Andros wasn't consciously shaping them—his instincts alone drove the strokes, constantly provoking the magic, making it wilder, fiercer.

And within that turbulence, the mysterious aura Tom had always failed to grasp suddenly blazed clear.

RUMBLE!

The sky darkened. Thunder roared like the wrath of heaven. Almost the instant the circle completed, bolts of lightning rained down in a cataclysmic storm.

Infused with the breath of ancient magic, the lightning was transford. Even a Thunderbird struck by such bolts would likely be reduced to a smoldering heap of ash.

The spell ended, and though Tom's magic reserves had dropped sharply, what remained of him felt drained, hollow.

"If it were ," Andros explained, "I could imdiately cast another ancient spell. Once you've mastered that aura completely, it becos natural. But for you, after using one, it'll take ti to catch it again."

With that, Andros unleashed a second ancient spell.

A colossal wave of force surged forth, brimming with an overwhelming power of rejection. Everything in its path was annihilated—trees ripped from their roots, and even an entire mountainside was shaved bare, as if soone had given it a clean bald shave.

When the devastation ended, Andros said nothing. He rely waited in silence for Tom to digest the experience.

Half an hour passed before Tom finally exhaled a long breath.

"Well?" Andros asked gently, now back in the learning space.

The boy's lips curled into a smile. "The harvest was imnse."