Know Your Place

Albus Dumbledore smiled and explained, "No, Severus, you misunderstand. I meant the other Slytherin students might run into trouble."

He added, "This Riddle isn't the Tom of back then, but the two have a lot in common. He's exceptionally talented, an orphan, and used to protecting himself with force. If a fight does break out, I hope he goes easy on them."

Snape fell silent. He'd figured it out: Dumbledore was worried the other Slytherins would get beaten to a pulp by this Muggle-born wizard.

Dumbledore was certainly good at reading people. On the night before term began, Tom gave his three new roommates an unforgettable "welcome lesson."

After the feast, Tom followed the Slytherin Quidditch Team back to the common room.

There were twelve Slytherin boys this year, making four to a room an easy arrangement. Malfoy was roomed with his cronies and Monet Selwyn, while Tom was assigned to share with Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Casare Rosier.

As soon as they entered the dormitory, Zabini crossed his legs and sneered. "Just my luck, having to share a room with a Muggle-born wizard. Riddle, make my bed with the sheets I brought. That junk the school provides isn't fit for my bed."

"Mine too. Hurry up, don't dawdle," Rosier chimed in, speaking in a domineering tone.

"And pour me a glass of cold water. I can't stand hot water," Nott piled on. The three of them laughed arrogantly, treating Tom like a servant.

Tom sighed, looking exasperated.

He'd expected this when he was sorted into Slytherin. He just hadn't thought the idiots would be so eager to get a beating.

He hadn't planned for this, so he'd follow his instincts. He'd never been a patient man.

Tom slowly drew his wand and turned around. His smile vanished, and his gaze grew cold. "Concussive Impact!"

With a bang, an invisible shock wave burst out. Zabini and the other two were sent flying into the wall, where they hit with a thud and grimaced in pain.

Before they could recover, Tom pointed his wand at the pen holder. Three quills turned into thick ropes and instantly bound the three boys.

Then Tom flicked his wrist. His wand stretched and softened into a whip. Crack! The whip lashed Zabini, and he let out a piercing scream. The other two didn't escape either. The whip struck again and again, making all three howl and roll around on the floor.

After a dozen lashes, Tom stopped. He looked down at the three groaning boys and sneered. "I heard every Slytherin was clever and ambitious. How did they end up with three idiots like you? You pick a fight without finding out who you're dealing with? You really thought I'd be an easy target?"

He scoffed. "Pure-blood? In my eyes, trash is trash. Blood has nothing to do with it."

"Waaah, I'm telling my mum! I'll get the school to expel you!" Zabini wailed.

"Let me down! Riddle, you hit me, and I'll make you regret it!" Rosier blustered, though his voice trembled.

"I was wrong! Stop hitting me! I won't do it again!" Nott immediately begged for mercy.

They were only eleven-year-old boys, after all. Their families had drilled the Pure-blood ideology into them.

They couldn't take in Tom's reasoning, but the pain of the whip made sure they listened.

Tom gave them another ten lashes apiece. He only stopped when all three were crying and begging, their bluster gone.

Tom dispelled the magic. Zabini and the others immediately dropped to their knees, trembling all over and afraid to look up.

"Remember: from today on, I make the rules in this dormitory." Tom toyed with his wand, his amused gaze sweeping over them.

"If anyone disobeys me or breaks my rules, you can either take the whip or I'll strip you and hang you from the school gates."

He spoke more forcefully. "Rosier, Nott, you're from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. What will your elders do when they find out a Muggle-born wizard beat you until you were on your knees begging?"

"And you, Zabini. At the feast, you kept saying 'my mum.' I take it her opinion matters a lot to you. If I tell her how pathetic you were today, will she think you've disgraced your whole family?"

The three nodded frantically, mumbling over and over, "I understand," and "I won't do it again."

This Tom Riddle was even more frightening than the Dark Lord they'd heard about. He was brutal, and his actions were impossible to predict.

"And don't say I never gave you a chance." Tom put away his wand and grinned roguishly.

"We're Slytherins. The winner makes the rules. If any of you can beat me, use whatever means you like and take whatever revenge you want. I won't fight back."

If the Sorting Hat knew how quickly Tom had settled into his Slytherin role, it would probably brag about it in Dumbledore's office for a month.

"But if you lose, you'll pay the price. Like taking another beating. Understand?"

"Understood!" the three shouted in unison, afraid they'd get punished again if they didn't speak loudly enough.

They buried their resentment deep inside, their eyes full of indignation. They'd remember this grudge—and one day, they'd get even tenfold!

After dealing with his three foolish roommates, the heavy pressure in Tom's chest finally eased a little.

He nudged their shins with his foot and waved them away impatiently. "Get washed up and go to bed. If you keep dawdling, I'll give you another beating."

Only when the dormitory had gone completely quiet did he plunge into the Study Space, without even catching his breath.

"What took you so long?" Tom had shut the space after the feast, so Andros had no idea about the beating that came afterward. He frowned as soon as Tom came in.

Tom wore a long face as he explained how the three Pure-blood brats had picked a fight and gotten what was coming to them. Andros burst out laughing, slapping his thigh and nearly jumping to his feet.

"That's hilarious! Reality's even more ridiculous than the books!" He laughed so hard he could barely stand, wiping tears from the corner of his eye.

"Pure-blood? In the face of real strength, that's worth less than shit. They're just using it to make themselves look important."

"Honestly, Tom, you handled that beautifully today. You didn't hesitate when it was time to act. Go too easy and they won't learn; go too far and the teachers will nag you. This was just right—you beat it into them for life."

Tom flopped onto the platform beside him, limp as a boneless fish. The corner of his mouth curved into a cold smile. "It's not that easy. It's only the first day of term. There's bound to be more trouble ahead."

He sighed, sounding utterly resigned. "I just want to keep my head down, study, and come first in my exams. Why did I have to get shoved into Slytherin? This place is nothing but backstabbing. It's exhausting."

Andros scoffed and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His tone turned unusually serious. "Kid, I didn't call you out on it before because I wanted to spare your feelings and respect that naive little idea of yours about 'just wanting to study.' But I've looked through all those Hogwarts records, and honestly, Slytherin suits you best."

"Suited to me?" Tom raised an eyebrow and sat up, clearly unconvinced. "I don't scheme or chase power. Wouldn't it be nicer to quietly bury myself in books in Ravenclaw? Who wants to stay in this lousy snake house and put up with all this?"