Tom walked at the very back of the group, following the new students to the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. Hearing the prefect give the password, "pure-blood," he raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips unhappily. While eating in the Great Hall, he had already overheard some decidedly impolite remarks.
It seemed discrimination and hostility still existed in the wizarding world. Tom's gaze swept over his secondhand school robes. With his head lowered, he followed the prefect's arrangements, walked through the passageway, and found his dormitory.
After looking over the room he would be living in for the next seven years, Tom curled his lips into a smile. A single room was quite nice. At the very least, he would not have to live with those people who held their noses in the air, and the room was much larger than the one he had had at the orphanage.
After tidying his bed a little, Tom ran his hand over the silver-thread embroidered sheets, then turned and lay down on the soft mattress. How wonderful~ Hogwarts was practically the home of his dreams. He would not have to worry about going hungry, nor would he have to beg others for charity for his next meal.
Tom raised his small hand and looked through the gaps between his fingers at the silver lantern hanging overhead. "I will definitely become someone worthy of respect, just like Professor Dumbledore!" His spread hand suddenly clenched into a fist. Tom got up, walked to his desk, and reopened A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
Although he was already familiar with the textbook's contents, Tom still listened very carefully to every professor's explanations. The casting techniques he could not yet use proficiently became easier to understand after the professors explained them. Remembering the rule he had read—that magic could not bring back the dead—Tom felt somewhat disappointed. It seemed magic was not omnipotent either. Then could it at least help someone escape death?
"Riddle, tell us the first of Gamp's Basic Laws of Transfiguration."
Hearing his name, Tom snapped out of his thoughts. Looking up at the somewhat helpless Professor Dumbledore, he felt inexplicably guilty. He stood and recalled the contents of the book. "Food cannot be created out of thin air. But if you know where food is, you can summon it. If you already have some, you can transfigure it, or make more of it."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "A very complete explanation. One point to Slytherin~ But..." He blinked playfully and put on a slightly wounded expression. "Was my class truly so boring that it made you lose focus? That really hurts my feelings..."
Unsure how to explain himself, Tom pressed his lips together, lowered his head, and apologized softly. "Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean it that way..."
With the expression of someone whose prank had succeeded, Dumbledore grinned and returned to his cheerful manner. After gesturing for the little boy to sit down, he continued his explanation.
Tom listened closely to every word the professor said. He could not let Professor Dumbledore be disappointed in him again. Taking the match he needed, he waved his wand and transformed it into a needle gleaming with silver light. His bright eyes fixed on the professor looking at him.
Dumbledore picked up the silver needle from the desk and examined it himself. He blinked, then awarded another point under the little wizard's praise-seeking gaze before turning to continue guiding the other students. Too similar—far too similar. Exceptionally gifted, handsome, and skilled at concealing his feelings... he was practically a smaller version of Gellert.
Dumbledore ground his back teeth in frustration. He still needed more time to observe him. Since the start of term, all his colleagues had held an extremely favorable impression of this handsome, outstanding student. Yet Dumbledore always felt that something was off. Perhaps it was because of the secret only he knew? Parseltongue... that was troublesome. The Gaunt family were all madmen.
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