Tom didn't refuse Dumbledore's generosity, though his whiskers twitched with mild suspicion. His instincts whispered insistently that the Headmaster harbored ulterior motives beneath the grandfatherly kindness, that this "gift" came with invisible strings.
But what of it?
He had, in genuine, verifiable fact, extracted Ariana from that bizarre metaphysical space called Limbo. On that merit alone, requesting a small "thank you gift" was reasonable.
Even the Ministry of Magic charged fees for basic services, and they were significantly less helpful than he'd been.
As for those hidden intentions lurking behind Dumbledore's twinkling eyes...
'(ˉ▽￣～) Heh, why waste energy worrying?!'
Tom's internal monologue carried the smug satisfaction of someone who'd ventured on countless schemes.
'Besides, this old bee isn't fundamentally malicious. Even if he does eventually make requests, they probably won't be too unreasonable for a cat of my talents.'
He flicked his tail with confidence.
'Considering he has provided actual assistance, however minor—as long as his eventual demands aren't too excessive, I don't mind granting his little wishes as a favor.'
Thus the man and cat proceeded through Hogwarts' silent corridors with their respective thoughts.
The castle itself seemed to hold its breath around them.
"By the way, Tom."
When they reached the first-floor Great Hall, Dumbledore finally broke the silence.
(What is it?)
'Here it comes!'
Tom's attention sharpened. Just as he'd anticipated, this old bee definitely had something brewing!
'Hopefully it's not something too troublesome, like asking me to retrieve his parents' souls from wherever they've gone. That's completely beyond my current capabilities.'
In Tom's estimation, anything that required Dumbledore—a man who craved family connection to approach so indirectly and hesitantly, something Tom couldn't accomplish, would most likely be precisely that. But he genuinely couldn't do such a thing!
If he had a method to locate those particular souls, it would be different—at worst, it'd just be another soul-kidnapping operation. But his ability to find Ariana had been pure coincidence!
Tom himself couldn't comprehend why dying once from chocolate poisoning had transported him into Ariana's Limbo. It wasn't as though he'd been actively searching for her!
Fortunately, Dumbledore harbored no such intentions. Though he yearned for family, what haunted him most painfully even now was solely Ariana's death.
His parents? After more than a century, those emotions had long since faded. After a moment's contemplation, he fixed Tom with a solemn gaze:
His parents were gone. He'd made his peace with that reality decades ago.
"This may seem presumptuous," he began carefully, "but I need to know something. That technique you demonstrated earlier—expelling the Sorting Hat's soul from its physical housing, then reinserting it, could that process be replicated with other living beings?"
He paused, searching for the right words.
"Particularly the reinsertion process. The returning of a soul to a body."
(Huh? (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)ﾂ)
Tom blinked in complete astonishment, his carefully prepared rejection speech was vanishing. His tail stopped mid-swish, frozen in midair. His whiskers drooped with confusion.
He'd already drafted the entire refusal with sympathetic explanations, genuine regret, alternative suggestions and Dumbledore's actual question had blindsided him completely. This was so far removed from his predictions that his mental gears ground to a halt, requiring several seconds to restart.
'If that's all you wanted to ask, you could have just asked directly! What was all that agonizing about? All that subtle leading? Just ASK the question, old man! I don't bite! Much!'
Though he couldn't fathom Dumbledore's convoluted thought process—seriously, wizards overthought everything, Tom recovered his composure. His chest puffed out with unmistakable pride, his whiskers were bristling with confidence.
(Of course I can! That's child's play!)
As a cartoon character whose very existence defied natural law, he possessed abilities that even he didn't fully comprehend. Skills like extracting or reinserting souls registered as barely noteworthy in his vast, largely unconscious toolkit.
Honestly, if you'd asked Tom to list all his powers, he'd have struggled after the first fifty. Surviving fatal injuries? Obviously. Producing objects from thin air? Naturally. Temporarily defying physics? Standard Tuesday. Manipulating souls? Sure, why not—add it to the pile.
If Voldemort had asked this question, Tom might have concealed the truth. Knowledge was power, and giving a dark wizard information about soul manipulation seemed inadvisable even by his flexible ethical standards.
But Dumbledore? Dumbledore had earned a measure of trust, or at least warranted less active deception. Tom saw no compelling reason to hide such relatively trivial matters from someone who'd already proven himself reasonably benevolent.
"Then..."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his entire posture was radiating intense focus.
"Does there need to be a specific connection between the soul and body? For instance, can a soul only successfully enter the body that once belonged to it?"
Hearing this, Tom glanced at Dumbledore with newfound interest, beginning to grasp what he intended.
He'd never imagined that the man from canon who faced death with such calmness who'd even calculated his own death into his grand schemes would make this kind of decision.
'(￣ω￣) Still compared to that noseless electrical outlet, Dumbledore rates significantly higher on the "people I'm willing to help" scale. Helping him isn't out of the question~'
With this thought, Tom first nodded, then shook his head.
(If the soul already belongs to that specific body, naturally that's ideal. But even without a perfect match, it's not insurmountable.
As long as the differences aren't too extreme—and by extreme, I mean deeply incompatible, there won't be major problems. For example, forcing a human soul into an animal body would cause catastrophic rejection. Similarly, inserting a male soul into a female body, or vice versa, would generate severe dissonance.
As for appearance? The soul will gradually influence the flesh, reshaping it to match itself until it assumes the soul's original form.)
Tom wasn't inventing this knowledge. Though uncertain about this world's specific mechanics, this information was intrinsically part of his abilities.
Whenever he used his powers, the relevant knowledge flowed naturally into his mind, preventing situations where he possessed abilities but didn't know how to apply them.
It was remarkably convenient, actually. Like having an internal instruction manual that updated in real-time.
"Is that so?!"
Dumbledore's emotional state underwent violent oscillation, his heart rate was spiking so intensely he briefly worried about cardiac arrest.
When Tom had initially nodded, Dumbledore's hopes had plummeted. But then Tom's full explanation penetrated his racing thoughts, and hope ignited with the intensity of Fiendfyre. His heart hammered against his rib.
Not since his falling-out with Grindelwald and imprisoning him in Nurmengard had his heart pounded so intensely.
This excitement stemmed from possibility: the genuine, achievable prospect of Ariana's true resurrection. Not as a ghost bound to Hogwarts, not as a spirit forever separated from living experience, but as a real, breathing, living person.
'But... where could I possibly find a suitable human body?'
As the excitement ebbed, Dumbledore sank into contemplation once more.
Family represented what he valued most—the treasure he'd failed to protect, the relationship he'd destroyed through negligence and arrogance. But the principles and moral boundaries he'd upheld for decades, the ethical framework that defined his identity, weren't easily abandoned even for family.
Using an innocent person's life to restore his sister? He couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it. The very thought made him nauseous.
Dumbledore knew with clarity about his brother's likely response. If he told Aberforth about this possibility, his brother would unhesitatingly procure some ordinary Muggle from the non-magical world and sacrifice them without a moment's moral hesitation.
Aberforth's love for Ariana eclipsed all ethical considerations; he would burn the world for her resurrection.
But Dumbledore refused to witness or permit such an atrocity. He'd spent his entire life fighting dark wizards who treated Muggle lives as disposable resources. He couldn't and wouldn't become what he'd spent decades opposing, even for his sister.
If possible, Dumbledore would gladly trade his own life for Ariana's. Sacrifice himself without hesitation, offering his body as the vessel for her resurrection.
It seemed appropriate: he'd failed to protect her in life, so he'd restore her in death.
But Tom had been clear: male soul, female body were incompatible. His body couldn't serve as Ariana's vessel. The gender mismatch would create the exact rejection Tom had described.
"Alas..."
The sigh emerged from Dumbledore's chest like escaping steam, carrying the weight of new despair. His shoulders slumped, the brief surge of hope was draining away and leaving him feeling older than his years.
(Are you contemplating how to truly bring Ariana back to life?)
Watching Dumbledore waver and seemingly prepare to abandon the idea, Tom inquired.
Dumbledore glanced at Tom, gave no verbal response, only a weary, defeated nod.
He understood perfectly that from the moment he'd seen Ariana, from the instant he'd witnessed Tom's ability to manipulate souls, his mind had descended into chaos.
His usually composed intellect had become muddled, consumed solely with resurrecting Ariana, not even considering whether his questions might expose his inner turmoil!
Now, having finally learned how to revive his sister, Dumbledore found himself confronting a bitter realization: he couldn't do it. He lacked the resolve, the willingness to act.
Gradually, his rationality reasserted itself, temporarily suppressing the desperate impulse:
"Yes," he admitted quietly, his voice was rough with emotion. "I've been thinking of little else since you demonstrated your ability. But unfortunately, I cannot bring myself to claim another's life to restore Ariana. I simply cannot."
He met Tom's gaze directly, allowing his pain to show.
(What if it didn't require taking someone's life?)
"!"
Dumbledore froze as though struck by a Stunning Spell, his entire body went stiff. His barely-calmed thoughts erupted back into turbulent chaos. The careful control he'd just reestablished shattered instantly.
"How?!"
The word burst forth with desperation.
"What method? How is that possible? And what would you need from me?"
The questions tumbled out without filtering.
He didn't care about appearing vulnerable. Didn't care about exposing his desperation. Didn't care about maintaining his image. All that mattered was the sliver of possibility Tom had just dangled before him.
(Well, I'll need materials. Quite a lot of materials, actually.)
Tom's voice carried practicality, as though discussing ingredients for a complex potion.
His solution was straightforward: cloning.
Create a soulless cloned body for Ariana then have her spirit occupy the new vessel. Soul inserted into compatible body, resurrection achieved, problem solved.
Actually, cloning technology had already made significant progress in the Muggle world by this era. The basic principles were understood. Scientists had successfully cloned sheep, mice, other mammals. The biological processes were known, and reproducible.
However, all those experiments involved non-human animals. Cloning humans remained firmly in the realm of theoretical possibility rather than practical achievement.
The ethical complications alone generated massive controversy, and the technical challenges seemed insurmountable with current technology.
But so what?
Tom wasn't constrained by contemporary scientific limitations.
Though his inventive prowess didn't match Dexter's insane genius, Tom still possessed formidable capabilities. Constructing a cloning apparatus when he understood both the principles and objectives was trivially easy.
Of course, challenges existed. The primary obstacle wasn't technical complexity but material scarcity: his current stockpile of supplies was insufficient for human cloning.
'But since I'm helping Dumbledore resurrect his dead sister, surely he can provide the necessary materials! That's only fair—I provide the expertise and labor, he handles logistics and resources.'
Tom's whiskers twitched with satisfaction at this neat division of responsibilities.
"Leave it to me."
Predictably, upon hearing Tom's explanation, Dumbledore accepted full responsibility for material acquisition without hesitation.
However, before Tom could voice his specific requirements, Dumbledore's steps halted.
"We'll discuss the details later. For now, let me show you how to reach your dormitory."
They had arrived, almost without noticing, outside the Hufflepuff common room.