Secret Conversation in the Midnight Corridor

Slughorn's invitation acted like a catalyst, accelerating Tom Riddle's rise within Slytherin. His already striking looks, polished manner of speaking, and talent in Potions and Transfiguration quickly made him the center of attention among the first-years. Some sharp-eyed older students had also begun noticing this boy from a Muggle orphanage who nevertheless carried himself with remarkable poise. Among them was fifth-year Abraxas Malfoy. During a chance "encounter" in the library, the Pure-blood heir—with his short pale blond hair, elegant manners, and innate arrogance—extended an olive branch to Tom, hinting at his recognition of Tom's potential and the "friendship" and resources the Malfoy family could offer.

Tom responded to the attention cautiously. Like the shrewdest chess player, he carefully cultivated his image—gifted yet humble and eager to learn, respectful of the long traditions of Pure-bloods while subtly revealing an edge that refused to remain beneath others. He knew that both Slughorn's club and Malfoy's favor were crucial stepping stones for his next plans.

Ares faithfully played the role of an "observer." He remained quiet, often reading the ancient scrolls brought from the vault or practicing his control over the Eternal Cycle wand. In the Common Room, he was more like part of the background, but the perceptive glances that occasionally passed through his mismatched eyes always made students boasting loudly rein themselves in unconsciously. His "difference" and Tom's "brilliance" formed a curious complement.

Friday evening arrived quickly. Tom changed into his neatest school robes—still secondhand, but pressed perfectly crisp with magic—while Ares dressed far more casually. Following the location Slughorn had given them, the two arrived at a warm, comfortable room on the castle's Seventh Floor.

It was completely different from the cold, gloomy Slytherin Common Room. Soft armchairs filled the room, a real warm fire burned in the hearth, and the air was thick with the scent of scones, cakes, and cloyingly sweet crystallized pineapple. More than a dozen students were already there, mostly upper-years from different Houses, all known for something "special"—whether they came from distinguished families like Abraxas Malfoy, who had arrived early, possessed exceptional academic achievements, or were geniuses with "unique backgrounds," like Tom.

Professor Slughorn wore even more extravagant reddish-purple robes as he bustled through the crowd like a cheerful walrus, enthusiastically introducing people and connecting those he considered "valuable."

"Ah! Mr. Riddell! Mr. Phoenix! Welcome, welcome!" Seeing them, Slughorn immediately called out and introduced them to several upper-years discussing the Ministry of Magic's newest decree. "This is Tom Riddle, a first-year with astonishing talent in Potions and Transfiguration! And this is Ares Phoenix, his... companion. He is also quite unique."

Tom immediately put on a perfect smile and joined the conversation. Rather than pretending to know what he did not, he asked questions at just the right moments, displaying an interest in the rules governing the Ministry of Magic and a keen sense for higher-level political maneuvering. He quickly drew the older students' attention. His performance showed respect for his seniors while cleverly demonstrating his intelligence and potential.

Ares accepted a glass of pumpkin juice from Slughorn and retreated to a corner near the bookshelves, hidden in shadow. He appeared to be browsing the books, but his magical senses were fully spread out like an invisible web, catching every conversation and every exchange of glances in the room.

He heard several Ravenclaw students discussing a difficult Ancient Runes translation; he heard two Hufflepuff students complaining about their A History of Magic essays; he heard Abraxas quietly discussing a recent marriage alliance among a Pure-blood family with a seventh-year Slytherin girl, his gaze occasionally sweeping over Tom with a hint of appraisal.

Meanwhile, Slughorn pulled Tom before a haughty-looking girl with long pale blond hair. "Riddell, this is Cassandra Vore, a fourth-year with extraordinary talent in prophecy—a true descendant of seers!"

Cassandra Vore studied Tom with misty gray eyes, her tone detached. "I saw the mist surrounding you, Riddell. Light and shadow are struggling, and your choice... will decide which prevails." Her words sounded like a prophecy, making Tom's smile stiffen for an instant before he quickly regained his composure.

"Fate must be written by oneself, Miss Vore," Tom replied politely, deftly steering away from the subject.

Ares took everything in. He noticed that whenever Tom spoke with others, he always unconsciously guided the conversation toward more profound magical fields or the core of power, especially matters concerning strength, influence, and control. He also noticed the barely concealed hunger in Tom's eyes whenever Slughorn mentioned precious magical materials or lost spells.

The gathering lasted more than an hour before ending in a friendly yet slightly utilitarian atmosphere. As they left, Slughorn warmly patted Tom on the shoulder, hinting that he looked forward to seeing him at the next gathering. Abraxas also gave Tom a meaningful, approving look.

On the way back to the Slytherin Common Room, Tom remained silent. Only after they entered the deep dungeon corridors did he speak, his voice carrying a trace of suppressed excitement. "The Vore family, an ancient bloodline of seers. The Malfoys, one of the Twenty-Eight Sacred Families, with both wealth and influence. And those seventh-years—their fathers have deep roots in the Ministry of Magic..."

It was as though he were taking stock of his gains. "Slughorn is a very useful springboard, but he knows too much, and... he likes showing off his 'collections' too much." Tom's tone carried a faint, almost imperceptible contempt.

"He likes valuable things," Ares calmly added. "People included. You need to make him feel that you are always the most valuable one."

Tom nodded, his black eyes gleaming with calculation in the dim torchlight. "I know. But there are some things he clearly will not share at gatherings." His steps slowed as they passed a fork leading toward a more secluded, abandoned corridor.

Just then, muffled, frightened sobbing and several vicious growls came from deep within that abandoned corridor.

The two stopped at the same time.

Tom frowned, irritation appearing on his face at being disturbed. Ares, meanwhile, sensed chaotic yet faint magical fluctuations coming from there, along with... the presence of some large creature.

"What is it?" Tom asked quietly, his hand already instinctively gripping the wand inside his robes.

Ares focused, his enhanced magical senses stretching forward like feelers. "Several upper-years... and... a half-giant? He is protecting something..."

A half-giant? Disgust and wariness flashed through Tom's eyes. In the Pure-blood ideology he had accepted and begun exploiting, giants were lowly creatures.

They silently approached the corner of the corridor and hid in the shadows, looking into its depths.

Three older boys in Slytherin robes surrounded a young boy of enormous build, dressed in a tattered moleskin coat. The boy looked only thirteen or fourteen, yet he was nearly three meters tall. Thick hair and beard framed black, beetle-like eyes now filled with rage and childlike helplessness. He stood like a wall before a battered wooden crate, behind which something seemed to be trembling.

"Get lost, you filthy mongrel!" one of the upper-years snarled, pointing his wand at the half-giant. "Hand over that crate! Who knows what monster you are raising in there!"

"N-no... can't give it to you..." the half-giant buzzed, his voice choked with tears. "It... it's just a poor little thing..."

"Why waste words on him? Teach him a lesson!" Another upper-year raised his wand, seeming ready to fire off some vicious curse.

Tom watched coldly, clearly having no intention of interfering. In his view, clashing with several upper-years—people he might need to deal with or use in the future—for the sake of a half-giant was simply not worth it.

But Ares's gaze fell upon the way the half-giant shielded the crate. It was a will to protect something utterly without regard for himself. He remembered the days when he and Tom had been bullied at the orphanage.

Just as the upper-year's spell was about to leave his lips—

"Stop."

A clear, calm voice rang through the silent corridor. It was not loud, yet it carried a strange penetrating force.

The upper-years jumped and spun around, seeing Ares and Tom emerge from the shadows. Though reluctant, Tom had followed him out.

"Who?" The leader narrowed his eyes. Recognizing them as younger students, and especially noticing Ares's mismatched eyes, he sneered. "What, do two first-year brats want to meddle in other people's business?"

Ares did not look at them. Instead, he looked at the half-giant and asked calmly, "What is your name?"

The half-giant seemed not to have expected anyone to ask his name. He froze for a moment, then stammered, "Ru... Rubeus... Rubeus Hagrid."

Ares nodded, then finally turned to the upper-years. His mismatched eyes seemed especially deep in the dim light. "Administrator Pringle appears to be patrolling nearby. He seems particularly 'concerned' about violations of school rules, especially lingering in abandoned areas."

He did not threaten them. He merely stated a fact. Yet combined with his calm, almost eerie tone and Tom's equally formidable presence beside him despite his silence, the upper-years hesitated. They exchanged glances, then glared at Hagrid once more.

"You got lucky, mongrel!" The leader resentfully lowered his wand and hurried away down the corridor with the other two.

Hagrid's massive body immediately relaxed. He looked gratefully at Ares and Tom, especially Ares. "Th-thank you!"

Tom gave Hagrid and the crate behind him a cold glance, said nothing, and turned away. He had no interest in the gratitude of someone so "weak."

Ares gave Hagrid a slight nod. His gaze lingered for a moment on the enormous body filled with protectiveness and the wooden crate, then he said softly, "Be careful." After that, he turned and followed Tom.

Only after leaving the abandoned corridor did Tom snort. "What a waste of time. A half-giant will only cause trouble."

"He may be useful," Ares said lightly. "The gamekeeper's assistant, right? He can come into contact with many things... around the castle's outskirts and the Forbidden Forest." He meant potentially unusual magical creatures or materials.

Tom's steps paused. He turned his head and looked at Ares, a flicker of calculation passing through his black eyes. "You always manage to see... different kinds of value." It was impossible to tell whether his tone held approval or something else.

This unexpected encounter was like a discordant note inserted into their carefully planned steps. Yet for Ares, it might have planted a seed of "protection" in Tom's world, which was becoming increasingly steeped in ambition and Pure-blood ideology. For Tom, it was merely an insignificant, even irritating interruption. His thoughts had long since flown toward how he could use Slughorn's club and Malfoy's favor to gain deeper magical knowledge, connections, and... uncover the castle's deeper secrets.

The secret conversation in the midnight corridor never took place, but this intervention in the silence quietly changed certain things in a corner no one knew about.