That afternoon, after their last class ended.
Tom piled all his first-year textbooks in front of Ron.
Ron leafed through them, his eyes lighting up.
"Wow! Big brother, where did you get such complete notes?"
"Copy all these notes into your own books tonight," Tom instructed.
Tom's textbooks were all secondhand, and most already had some notes in them. But the quality of student notes was uneven, and they often contained mistakes or omissions.
Luckily, Quirrell was right there.
How could Tom not make use of such a handy tool?
So he'd ordered the former theory whiz to help fill in the gaps and complete the notes.
The notes were almost perfect, and Tom naturally wasn't going to hoard them. How much Ron managed to learn from them was up to him.
"Big brother..." At that moment, Ron only had eyes for Tom.
Lately, Tom had been teaching him both how to train and how to use magic.
Being around Tom, Ron felt as if he were experiencing genuine care from an older brother. He'd never felt that from his own brothers—not since he was old enough to remember, at least.
This kindness, this debt of gratitude... He'd probably never be able to repay it, even if he spent his whole life trying.
"Study hard. If you want to stand out, this is a shortcut," Tom said.
"Yes!" Ron nodded vigorously.
[Friendliness +3 progress]
After saying goodbye to Ron, it was time for Quidditch.
Five minutes later...
In the Slytherin changing room at the Quidditch Pitch.
Tom and Harry were dressed in green Quidditch robes.
Now that they had their own brooms, it was only natural that they'd start training with the Quidditch team every day, in addition to their regular classes.
"Tsk, they haven't even started training, and they've already bought Nimbus 2000s. Just goes to show, bad students have all the fancy gear."
A Slytherin player who happened to be passing by curled his lip in displeasure.
"Hm?" Harry frowned. He immediately grabbed one end of his broom, ready to teach the foul-mouthed idiot a lesson.
But before he could do anything, Marcus, the team captain, stepped out and rapped the player on the back of the head.
After reprimanding the idiot for undermining team unity, Marcus smiled and apologized to the two on his teammate's behalf.
"He's still young and doesn't know how to speak properly. Please don't take offense."
Tom didn't mind.
Though he looked only eleven, he was an adult in mind. Unless there was a good reason, he wasn't going to get angry over some random insult.
At the same time, Marcus sized them up.
When Tom had been sorted, Marcus had heard the Sorting Hat call him "a natural-born Slytherin." After the ceremony, he'd made a point of finding out more about him. He knew Tom was an orphan with no influential connections.
Yet Professor McGonagall had personally introduced him to Marcus, and he'd even been given a Nimbus 2001, a broom Marcus had never heard of.
He didn't know what was going on behind the scenes, but clearly, this orphan was unusual—at least, not as ordinary as he seemed.
"So..." Harry broke the silence first. "What are we learning on our first day?"
He was eager to get started.
Compared to sitting in class, getting some exercise was much more his style.
He'd heard that Beater was the most brutal position in Quidditch. He wondered just how brutal it was.
He was itching to get into the action.
"Making Potions," Marcus replied slowly.
"Potions?"
As Harry stared at him in confusion, Marcus retrieved a few exquisite cauldrons and several jars of common herbs from the back of the changing room.
"It's still early. There are two hours left before evening activities end, so I'll teach you two how to brew Itching Potion and Diarrhea Potion during that time."
As he spoke, Marcus filled a cauldron with the Aguamenti Charm, then sorted the prepared herbs and sprinkled them into it, ready to demonstrate.
"?"
"?"
A huge question mark appeared over both Harry and Tom's heads.
Weren't they here to learn how to hit?
Get the Bludgers out!
"What do you think is the most important goal in Quidditch?" Marcus asked as he brewed the potion.
"The goal? Obviously, glory," Harry answered without hesitation.
He'd recently heard that his father had been an excellent Gryffindor Seeker. His father's name was still displayed in the school corridors.
Harry wanted them to hang his name on the wall after he died, too, alongside Big Brother and his third and fourth brothers.
"You could put it that way, but the real point is... winning." Marcus's lips curled into a slight smile. He liked people with a strong competitive streak.
"Use whatever means you like. Win fair and square, or play dirty and pull tricks behind the scenes... As long as you win, that's all that matters.
"If you get caught breaking the rules, that just means you weren't good enough. If you lose, there's nothing you can do about it. Take the loss."
Marcus's words were astonishing. He didn't sound like a proper student at all, but Tom understood where he was coming from.
After all, in the original story, Marcus and Draco had dressed up as Dementors and frightened Harry during a match, hoping he'd fall from the sky.
That had always left Tom thinking Marcus was a shameless captain who'd do anything to win. But after meeting him today, Marcus seemed different from what he'd imagined.
The Marcus before him knew how to manage relationships between teammates, and he was even willing to teach them dirty tricks himself. In a way... he really was a capable captain.
"Captain, you may not be a hero, but..." Harry hesitated, then continued, "I suppose I can call you a great schemer."
A dirty trickster who could accept losing deserved to be called a great schemer. One who couldn't was just a clown.
"Sure sounds like a Slytherin student. You caught on quickly," Marcus said with a smile.
"Remember: watch closely and learn well. The secrets I'm teaching you aren't in any textbook. They're the Slytherin Quidditch Team's secret potion recipes, passed down from generation to generation."
At Hogwarts, the potions recipes taught in textbooks or found in the library were generally for killing or saving people, or for flying or teleporting. They were always practical.
The kinds of potions Marcus was teaching, on the other hand, were mostly for pranks. They could make a victim throw up, suffer from diarrhea, and feel uncomfortable all over.
These recipes were more like the things Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would sell.
Except the joke shop didn't exist yet.
"I see. So that's what these recipes are like..."
Tom watched the potions being brewed with rapt attention, committing every step to memory.
He might be able to use these tricks in the Dueling Club later.
As for Harry, he was yawning nonstop beside him, barely able to keep his eyes open.
It wasn't that he didn't want to study. He just couldn't help getting sleepy whenever he looked at a book, and he had no idea why.
Hogwarts Castle.
Daphne stood by a window in the corridor, gazing in the direction of the Quidditch Pitch in the distance.
"Tom's training must be exhausting."
Getting along with the Pure-blood girls in her dormitory always wore Daphne out, so whenever she could, she'd find a chance to be alone and enjoy some peace and quiet.
The more tired she felt from dealing with the people around her, the more she enjoyed spending time with Tom.
But Tom was usually very busy, and Daphne had to wait for the right opportunity to talk to him.
"Can I think of a reason to spend more time talking with Tom?" Daphne pondered, racking her brains.
Before you continue