Gryffindor Loses Ten Points

Tom was in a good mood and didn't mind offering her a few pointers: "The more anxious you are, the worse it goes. The more pressure you put on yourself, the harder it is to succeed. Don't treat spellcasting like assembly-line work; every cast relies on talent, so just keep a level head."

He paused, then added a cheeky remark, "Just pretend you're the master of that toothpick. If you tell it to become a needle, it has to become a needle. Since when does a master's word not hold weight?"

Daphne, standing nearby, took a deep breath and, following Tom's advice, waved her wand naturally.

With a flash of silver light, the toothpick actually changed. It turned into a silver toothpick—it could barely pass for a needle; aside from not being able to hold thread, the shape wasn't far off.

Even so, Daphne was so excited she nearly jumped.

"I did it, Tom! You're amazing!" With that, Daphne earned another point for Slytherin.

Unfortunately, since it wasn't Tom who earned it, the system didn't grant him any credits, but that was enough to leave Hermione feeling frustrated. Being the competitive type, she didn't speak to Tom again and buried her head in her practice.

Finally, just before class ended, Hermione managed to make her toothpick change as well. It turned into a silvery-bright needle, though the material remained wood.

Even so, Professor McGonagall was quite pleased and awarded a point to Gryffindor as well.

Just then, a loud "bang" suddenly erupted, startling Professor McGonagall. This was Transfiguration, not Defense Against the Dark Arts—why was there an explosion?

She spotted the culprits immediately: Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom were staring at each other, both sporting frizzy, scorched hair, while the toothpicks on their desk had turned into charred lumps of coal.

Professor McGonagall's face turned as dark as the bottom of a pot. Gritting her teeth in anger, she deducted a point from Gryffindor on the spot and dismissed the class.

Tom chuckled to himself: Hogwarts was truly full of hidden talents. Not only did it have a "jinchuriki" like him, but it also had a master of the "Explosion Release" like Seamus. It was terrifying, truly terrifying!

As soon as the bell rang, Daphne wanted to leave with Tom, but she was a step too slow and was intercepted by Millicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson. She could only watch helplessly as Hermione dragged Tom off to the library.

"Greengrass, aren't you ashamed to be walking so close to a Muggle-born?" Pansy looked dissatisfied, the disdain in her tone practically overflowing.

"Exactly!" Bulstrode chimed in, "Does being pretty put food on the table? You can't change a lowly bloodline. Just wait, Nott and the others will surely have him begging for mercy in a few days."

"Since when is my choice of friends any of your business? Worry about yourselves first." With Tom gone, Daphne's high-society temper flared up, and she didn't even bother looking them in the eye. "Parkinson, pick the spinach out of your teeth before you speak; it's disgusting to look at."

She glanced at Bulstrode, her tone even more dismissive: "And you, you didn't even move your toothpick once the entire lesson, yet you have the nerve to judge Tom's bloodline? You're a disgrace to purebloods."

With that, Daphne ignored their faces, which were cycling between pale and flushed, and turned to leave.

The Greengrass family's status was enough for her to ignore Bulstrode and Parkinson—even if they were all part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, if she didn't want to bother with them, there was nothing they could do.

Daphne had intended to follow Tom, but she didn't want to be around Hermione, so she simply turned back to the dormitory to write a letter home.

On the other side, Tom had already arrived at Hogwarts' "Dragon Field"—the library—with Hermione.

In his previous life, it was through the books here that Tom had learned key spells and built a solid foundation, allowing him to soar after graduation.

It wasn't just him; many wizards benefited greatly here. What the professors taught was only enough to graduate smoothly; if one truly wanted to learn special spells, they had to dig through books themselves. This was the key to widening the gap between wizards of equal talent.

Some exhausted their potential, while others wasted most of it; naturally, people had different fates.

The librarian, Madam Pince, had eyes like a hawk. Anyone who dared to speak loudly or mistreat the books would immediately receive her death stare.

Hermione grabbed a copy of Detailed Explanation of Elementary Transfiguration Splitting and began reading quietly.

Tom sat opposite her and grabbed three books at once, immediately drawing Madam Pince's attention.

But Tom needed to enrich the collection in his Study Space and couldn't care less about Madam Pince's expression. He flipped through each book just enough to ensure it was recorded, then put it back on the shelf.

By the time he picked up the thirteenth book, Madam Pince finally couldn't take it anymore. She walked over with a feather duster and asked in a low voice, "Child, what exactly are you looking for?"

Tom blinked with feigned confusion, looking completely innocent: "I don't know what I'm looking for, so I'm flipping through them to see. Is there a problem?"

Madam Pince took a deep breath, suppressing her frustration: "No problem, but don't disturb others."

"Thank you, Madam, I understand." Tom nodded and immediately went back to flipping through books.

He wasn't making noise, nor was he tearing pages. If this could disturb others, those people shouldn't be in the library at all; they should find a detention room to stay in—that would be the quietest place.

As for Madam Pince's dissatisfaction, he didn't take it to heart at all.

Tom mused to himself that Madam Pince was likely a Squib, just like Filch.

There was no record in the original books of her ever using magic, and he had just glanced at her—she didn't carry a wand.

Albus Dumbledore was certainly bold to let a Squib guard so many treasures; wasn't he afraid of things going missing?

When the clock struck twelve, Tom immediately pulled Hermione out of the library. "What book were you looking for, anyway?" Hermione finally couldn't help but ask about his confusing behavior earlier.

"Nothing in particular, just browsing to get a feel for what each book covers so it's easier to find things later," Tom brushed her off.

Hermione's eyes lit up, thinking the method was indeed sound, and immediately decided to try it herself in the afternoon.

Entering the Great Hall, Hermione headed to the Gryffindor table. Just as Tom sat down at the Slytherin table, an older student walked over—a sixth-year Slytherin prefect whom Tom vaguely remembered.

"Riddle, Professor Snape wants to see you after class this afternoon. His office is in the dungeon, right next to the Potions classroom."

"Got it." Tom nodded, his gaze drifting to Zabini and his two companions not far away.

Rosier didn't look away when he saw Tom; he grinned hideously and made a throat-slitting gesture, full of provocation.

Tom smiled, looking perfectly harmless, but he was delighted inside: Great, I can stretch my limbs tonight and beat someone up to relieve the boredom. Saves me from being idle.

Snape's summons didn't affect Tom's good mood at all. After lunch, he even went back to the dormitory for a nap, only strolling toward the greenhouses when it was almost time for Herbology.