Chapter 500: Dividing the Fruit — Tom’s Open Strategy
— — — — — —
In the dining room, three gleaming golden apples sat quietly on an ornate table. Their skins were smooth and full, glowing softly under the lights.
Everyone gathered around them, staring at one another in silence.
Now Nicolas and the others finally understood why Tom had once described sothing as "the most apple-like apple."
Because the exact sa thought had popped into their heads.
If other apples didn’t look like these three, then clearly the problem lay with the other apples.
Tom had eaten one before, but he still examined these carefully, searching for differences.
They looked nearly identical, but the power inside them was noticeably thinner. Maybe a tenth of what the apple he ate.
Even so, this was already an unexpected bonus. According to his original plan, even if they held no power at all, that would have been fine. As long as they granted eternal youth and extended lifespan, that would have been enough.
Without warning, Tom reached out, drew the silver fruit platter closer, and lifted two apples.
He handed one to Tina, the other to Nicolas.
"Nope."
Nicolas imdiately shook his head. He looked almost disgusted at the treasure that could drive countless people mad, sothing that would make even Voldemort risk everything. "I’ve lived over six hundred years. I’ve had enough. I was ready to die a long ti ago. What are you giving it to
for?"
"Professor, that one’s not for you."
"???" Nicolas blinked.
You little brat.
Playing with , are you?
Ignoring the old man’s offended glare, Tom turned his attention to Tina, who was about to refuse the apple.
"Grandma Tina, yes, Golden Apples are rare. But they’re not unique. At the end of the day, they’re just fruit. The only difference is that the growth cycle is a bit longer."
"Not even that long," Newt cut in helpfully. "Regular apples take two to five years from planting to fruiting, and the first batch isn’t even that good. You usually have to wait a few more years. The Golden Apple Tree hasn’t even been planted a full year yet, so technically—"
"Be quiet!"
Tina shot him a look. Was this really the ti to discuss farming techniques?
Newt shrank back, silenced. He hadn’t been angling for an apple. He just felt Tom’s analogy wasn’t very accurate.
Tom gave Tina a sympathetic glance. Tina sighed. She was used to it.
"Forget lifespan for a mont. Just think about your appearance, your health. Don’t you want your youth back?"
"And Professor, the one I’m giving you is actually for Madam Perenelle. It has nothing to do with you. Don’t try to refuse on her behalf. My suggestion is simple. Live out your remaining years in a young body. And if one day you’re truly tired of living, co find . I’ll personally see you off."
All three of them wore identical expressions of black-lined disbelief.
Tom certainly knew how to talk. He almost sounded eager about it.
Nicolas laughed despite himself, half from exasperation. Still, he pocketed the apple without further protest. Tom was right. If it was ant for Perenelle, it wasn’t his place to refuse. If she didn’t want it, they could return it later.
As for Tina, she hesitated.
Won care most about the beauty that ti steals away. Provided they once had it. She didn’t particularly care about living forever, but her body instinctively longed for the vitality of youth.
In the end, after Tom’s repeated persuasion, she accepted it.
...
Back at Nicolas’s ho, Perenelle agreed as well. Her condition was far more fragile than Tina’s. Even getting out of bed required careful effort. What a young person could do in seconds took her several slow minutes.
No wonder the old couple no longer clung to life.
Nicolas had once told Tom plainly that if not for his curiosity about how far Tom might push alchemy, or simply to watch a few more years of chaos unfold, he and Perenelle would likely have ended things themselves long ago.
For them, immortality had once been a blessing.
Now it was a curse.
Physical suffering was one thing. The ntal burden was another entirely.
Why had they never had children? If they had, would they give the Elixir of Life to their child?
Of course they would.
Then what about their grandchild?
Also yes.
But what about the next generation, and the one after that?
The cycle had no solution. Either cut it off at the root or never start it in the first place.
So for centuries, Nicolas and Perenelle endured the hardest part. They watched dear friends die one by one. They never dared have descendants. They bore the loneliness of endless years alone.
By now, they were genuinely tired.
Still... if she could spend her final decades in comfort and youth, Perenelle was willing.
---
The next morning, the two won who had regained their youthful faces stood before mirrors for a full two and a half hours before they finally managed to calm down.
And "calm" was a generous word. It was closer to contained ecstasy.
"How many years has it been..." Nicolas murmured, eyes filled with nostalgia. "I’d nearly forgotten what Perenelle looked like when she was young..."
Newt nodded in agreent. "Sir, I haven’t lived as long as you, but I’d almost forgotten too. Though those eyes, bright and captivating like a fire salamander’s, I’ll never forget them."
"Newt!"
Rejuvenation didn’t just smooth wrinkles. It sharpened the senses. Tina heard every word from across the room.
How many tis had she told him not to compare her to that blasted fire salamander?
She turned, ready to glare, but her expression shifted halfway through.
To be fair, even at his age, Newt still looked spirited. That gentle Hufflepuff temperant of his had only deepened over ti. Send him out to a public square and he could probably charm half the retirees at a dance gathering.
But standing there in her restored youth, Tina found herself increasingly dissatisfied with her husband’s appearance. The wrinkles. The half-white, half-faded blond hair. The contrast was unbearable.
No. This wouldn’t do. She must get another Golden Apple and make Newt young again.
She wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines. Perenelle glanced at Nicolas and began to find her own little old man sowhat lacking.
Scientists had long pointed out that physical age influenced ntal age. Now that their bodies had rolled back the years, their minds and aesthetics had shifted too. Experience kept them steady, but their preferences had undeniably grown younger.
When the two won gathered around Tom, openly reserving the next batch of Golden Apples, Newt and Nicolas exchanged a look.
Their expressions changed.
"We’ve been had."
This was a blatant open strategy.
Tina and Perenelle were already dissatisfied. So what now? Should they eat the apples?
If they did, they would owe Tom a debt the size of a mountain, working like full-ti beasts of burden to repay him. If they didn’t, their hos would descend into chaos. At least, they’d be nagged to death.
"Tut, tut..."
At so point, Tom had slipped quietly behind them. He nodded faintly. "Truly enviable fortunes."
"You little devil, you’re rotten to the core," Nicolas snapped, turning around. His face was so dark with indignation it might as well have changed color entirely. "Are you not satisfied until you squeeze every last drop out of ? Fine. I’ll hand over all my inheritance. Just let
retire in peace."
"Professor, how can you say that?" Tom shook his head solemnly. "How could you ever be squeezed dry... I an," he corrected quickly under Nicolas’s murderous stare, "you’re my teacher. This is filial piety. How can that be exploitation? Isn’t it perfectly normal for a teacher to help his student solve a few problems?"
Normal?
Nicolas nearly twisted his nose off in anger. He knew damn well how things usually worked. Students were the ones slogging like nuclear-powered donkeys for their professors. How had it ended up reversed this ti?
"Grandpa Newt, please don’t feel pressured," Tom continued before Newt could speak. "You’ve helped
more than enough. Without the little world you provided and your careful maintenance, Aunt Tina and Madam Perenelle wouldn’t be enjoying these apples today."
"Also, it’s okay to call you grandpa and Tina aunt, right? After all, look at the difference."
He then patted Nicolas on the shoulder, eyes sparkling with mock admiration. "And you, Professor... six hundred and still in your pri. Keep shining."
"Oh, I imagine Aunt Tina’s wardrobe is about to expand significantly. Poor Grandpa Newt—he’ll have to work hard to support the household. A bit late for a midlife crisis, but better late than never. All right, I won’t keep you any longer; I still have classes to attend."
Having thoroughly stirred the pot, Tom decided not to linger and risk retaliation.
Especially not from Newt. When a gentle man gets angry, that’s when it’s truly frightening.
Best to make a clean escape.
Nicolas stood there, speechless, wondering how Tom had the audacity to spout such nonsense. Newt, anwhile, was so flustered his freckles seed to stand out more sharply.
"Nicolas Flal!"
"Hm?" Nicolas turned, confused.
"This is the student you raised! You—"
Newt had nowhere to vent his frustration. He couldn’t take it out on the younger one, so the older one would have to do.
But before he could say anything, Tina’s voice rang out.
"Newt, co on. You’re taking
shopping."
"Coming, coming!"
---
Back at school, Tom regretfully missed the morning Charms lesson. Skipping half a class only made things awkward for the professor, so he simply didn’t attend at all. Instead, he found an empty common room and took out the last Golden Apple, turning it slowly in his hand.
He had already decided its purpose.
He didn’t need it. The other girls were still young; eating it now wouldn’t maximize its effect.
Except for one person.
Astoria.
Her condition was worsening by the day. The blood curse inside her was growing far faster than he’d anticipated. Right now she was barely holding on with potent strengthening potions and diluted Elixir of Life. It was a desperate asure, like quenching thirst with poison. Only a fraction of the life force nourished her. The rest fed the curse.
This ti, he would extract the power within the Golden Apple.
He would eliminate the blood curse once and for all. And gain a healthy little sister-in-law in the process.
.
.
.
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