Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord

"Success?"

Tom's eyes lit up in an instant. Just moments ago, he'd been fretting over whether he should call in a favor from Newt to find a Thunderbird and complete the trial—his hesitation came from the fact that he still hadn't figured out a working Flight Charm.

And now, just when he was "nodding off," someone had brought him the perfect "pillow."

Wasting no time, Tom urged the two to give him a demonstration right away.

Andros and Grindelwald exchanged a knowing glance, then broke into smiles.

"Actually," Andros explained to a rather confused Tom, "we've developed two different Flight Charms. Grindelwald and I excel at different things, so the spells we came up with have entirely different styles. It's just a coincidence we finished them almost at the same time."

Grindelwald gave a small nod. "A very curious coincidence. But I think you could combine both. Your magic has qualities from both Andros and me—and even greater potential."

"I'll see for myself first," Tom said, taking a few steps back to give them space.

"All right, I'll go first," Grindelwald offered.

He flicked his wand, and behind him appeared a pair of black, feathered wings—not physical wings, but ones entirely formed from pure magical energy. Every single feather shimmered faintly, glinting with a dark, raven-like luster.

The wings didn't flap. Instead, the feathers subtly shifted in angle, and Grindelwald rose smoothly into the air. His voice drifted down from above.

"The incantation for this spell is Pluma Tegmen—or you could call it 'Raven's Feather.' Don't you think it's perfect for Ravenclaw?"

Tom's face darkened. "Old Gellert, I'm a Slytherin. Don't you think making me learn a Ravenclaw-themed spell is a bit much?"

Hovering in midair, Grindelwald just shrugged. Glancing at his own wings, he replied, "Can't help it—I just thought the name fit perfectly."

Tom grudgingly nodded.

If it had been nighttime, Grindelwald, suspended in the air with those gleaming black wings, would indeed look just like a giant raven.

"My spell," Grindelwald continued, "is essentially controlling air currents through magical power. Every feather influences the flow of air, allowing for flight. The feathers also carry a degree of defensive magic—they can serve as a shield when needed."

To demonstrate, he folded the wings in front of him like a barrier. His flight speed dropped sharply—the reduced surface meant less air control.

"What's the top speed?" Tom asked.

Grindelwald shook his head and descended. "It's just been developed. You can't expect perfection. Later, by compressing air currents with magic, you can trigger bursts—speed will definitely increase."

Tom nodded.

It was brilliant—using magic to manipulate physical forces. Science and sorcery, perfectly entwined.

He then turned to Andros.

Andros grinned. A layer of white light shimmered over his body, and then he shot into the air.

"My magic isn't as precise as Grindelwald's," Andros admitted. "That's just the difference between our eras. So my method is simpler—and a lot more brutal."

"If the world uses gravity to bind humans to the ground, then fight gravity. Fight the world itself."

Andros' presence exploded like a storm. In the small space, he zipped around twice at astonishing speed—Tom estimated at least a hundred kilometers per hour.

After the show, Andros gave his explanation. "You use overwhelming magic to nullify every force acting on you. How you fly, how fast you fly—it all depends on how much magic you have, and how much you can push out at once."

Very Andros. Power is everything. If you're not strong enough, it's because you don't have enough magic, enough passion, or enough willpower. The solution? Add more—always more.

Grindelwald's spell emphasized refined control over magic—something Tom, with his evolved soul, could achieve. Andros' method relied on raw magical might—another area where Tom had solid foundations, his magical talent already surpassing Andros', though his total reserves couldn't yet match him.

No wonder Grindelwald had suggested combining the two into a new, superior Flight Charm.

But a road must be walked step by step. Both spells were still in their early stages and could be improved.

First, learn to fly. Then, think about flying faster.

"Let's start with Andros' method," Tom decided, moving immediately into action.

They entered the Meditation Room. Even though the room could only boost one person's learning at a time, nothing stopped Andros from standing by to teach.

An hour later, Tom left the learning space.

It was his last day staying at Hermione's house, and he couldn't spend all his time studying. They had planned to visit the aquarium and then have morning tea together one last time.

Hermione didn't want Tom to leave, but she knew if she kept him any longer, Daphne would storm over. And with Tom heading to America on the 15th, their time had been fairly divided—it was only fair.

The next morning, Tom said goodbye to Hermione and left the Grangers' home.

He had two options for getting to the Greengrass estate: the Knight Bus, or Apparating bit by bit until he found the place.

As for the Floo Network… not everyone's home was as freely accessible as the Weasleys' Burrow. Imagine if anyone could just say your address and step right into your living room through the fireplace—that would be a security nightmare.

So Tom chose a third option.

He would fly there.

Last night, he had studied both Grindelwald's and Andros' Flight Charms for hours, plus two rounds in his extraordinary learning mode—he had mastered them both. This was the perfect chance to practice.

First, he cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Then, he soared into the air, using Andros' spell to test his maximum distance and speed.

At first, flying through the city was tricky—there were too many skyscrapers, forcing constant adjustments. Several times, he nearly crashed into a high-rise.

But soon his sense of distance sharpened, and his movements became fluid.

Once outside the city, Tom poured on the power. His speed kept climbing, passing every car on the highway below.

If it had been night, and he hadn't been invisible, people would have seen a streak of white light blazing across the sky—a human shooting star.

His current speed definitely exceeded 200 kilometers per hour, though still short of 300. As for magical consumption? Impossible to measure.

Because before he felt even the slightest fatigue, he had already reached his destination.

The Greengrass manor sat beside a lake, protected not only by Muggle-repelling charms but also ancient wards against wizards.

These spells worked much like the Fidelius Charm—only if the resident sincerely told you the address, or wrote it down, could you see the place.

Snape had said that even Voldemort himself had needed an invitation to get in. That was how strong it was.

Standing at the manor's wrought-iron gates, Tom rang the bell.

He didn't have to wait long before someone came to greet him.