Success at Last

But not yet. Never mind whether he could beat the older students; if he actually did it, Dumbledore would probably come talk to him.

For now, he needed to keep his head down and focus on growing stronger.

"Think carefully about what you've done. I'm going to eat." Tom patted Zabini on the shoulder again, then turned and left the dormitory.

The dormitory fell instantly silent. Rosier and Nott glared furiously at Zabini. If they weren't still hurting, they probably would've already started swinging.

They both gave a cold snort and burrowed beneath their blankets, too annoyed to talk to him.

Zabini felt thoroughly uncomfortable. He quietly left the dormitory and sat in a daze in the common room.

He didn't think he'd done anything wrong. If he hadn't sold out his teammates, he'd have been the one getting beaten. What was the point of stubbornly taking a beating?

He didn't know that Rosier was simply angry about being betrayed, while Nott was mostly furious that Zabini had surrendered before him and left him to take another beating.

An invisible rift quietly opened between the three of them, never to be healed.

The next day, Tom's "dormitory lessons" began to show results.

Zabini and the others still woke up before him, but they didn't dare make a sound. They stayed quietly where they were, afraid of displeasing him.

After breakfast, the first-year Slytherins and Ravenclaws entered the Charms classroom together.

Their teacher, Professor Flitwick, had Goblin ancestry. He was very short, but a skilled wizard who had reportedly won a dueling championship when he was young.

Tom muttered to himself, He's probably small and nimble, so spells miss him—that must be how he won. Jokes aside, Flitwick was an excellent teacher.

He didn't rush into teaching specific spells. Instead, he spent the whole lesson talking about how charms could be used in everyday life, demonstrating them as he went.

The young witches and wizards watched the dazzling variety of magic with shining eyes. Once he'd stirred up their enthusiasm, he slowly moved on to the basics: how to hold a wand, wand movements, and how to channel power.

By the end of the lesson, Tom had earned twenty credits. Unfortunately, they were all knowledge credits from answering questions, so they didn't add any House Points to Slytherin. What a shame.

That afternoon came the class all the first-years had been looking forward to: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone except Tom.

He knew Quirrell was useless, and that attending this class was a waste of time.

Quirrell, however, was especially eager. More precisely, the one eager was Voldemort, hiding on the back of his head.

The Dark Lord wanted a close look at Harry Potter—the boy who lived—and Tom Riddle, who shared his name.

The moment Quirrell entered the classroom, the smell of garlic filled the room. He explained that garlic repelled vampires, and that the hat on his head was a gift from an African prince, given in gratitude for driving off a Ghoul.

The other young witches and wizards believed him, but Tom nearly burst out laughing. He leisurely raised his hand, stretching his arm high.

"R-Riddle?" Quirrell stammered. "Do you have a question?" He was miserable inside. Voldemort was roaring in his mind; that surname always reminded the Dark Lord of his own origins.

Tom stood up and asked with apparent sincerity, "Professor, I've read in books that garlic repels vampires, but this is Hogwarts, and Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the century. What kind of vampire would dare come here and bother you?"

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom, and the young witches and wizards nodded along. Even the Muggle-born first-years knew that Dumbledore was the Wizarding World's pillar of strength.

Quirrell's face flushed bright red. He hurriedly tried to recover. "I-I'm afraid they might curse me! Never underestimate the danger of dark creatures!"

Then he quickly awarded points. "That was an excellent question. Five points to Slytherin!"

"Thank you, Professor." Tom sat back down, secretly delighted. As expected, Quirrell can only settle things by handing out points. I'd be a fool not to take advantage of that.

For the rest of the class, Quirrell simply read from the textbook, rephrasing what it said. He didn't demonstrate a thing. The young witches and wizards were all disappointed, yawning nonstop.

When the bell rang, Tom saw Malfoy arguing with Harry again.

That guy had eyes only for Harry and picked on him every day. He'd forgotten all about Tom, the "aberration," which saved Tom a lot of trouble.

The next few days passed peacefully for Tom. Apart from attending classes, he spent his time navigating between two young witches. Hermione was always dragging him to the library or asking him to practice magic.

Daphne, meanwhile, took him around the castle, supposedly to explore its secrets. He had no other friends besides the two of them.

Slytherins looked down on him because of his background, while students from the other houses disliked him because he was a Slytherin. He really was one of a kind among Slytherins.

Tom quietly shifted the blame. The little snakes are snobs, but Snape deserves half the blame too.

In just a few days, Slytherin had surged far ahead in House Points. It wasn't because they'd earned so many; it was because Snape deducted points from everyone else so ruthlessly.

Tom had seen Snape take two points from two Ravenclaw girls just because they were walking a little too fast.

Hermione's face turned red with anger as she complained under her breath, "How can he do that? He's using a magnifying glass to hunt for mistakes in the other houses!"

Daphne chimed in sarcastically, "At least our professor only uses a magnifying glass. He doesn't make things up out of thin air."

Tom silently nodded. That's very Slytherin of her. Snape always had a reason for taking points; it was just a matter of whether he needed to.

He knew those two girls had probably taken the blame for him. Snape had been glaring at him just moments ago.

"If you two keep arguing, I'm going to starve to death," Tom said helplessly. The two of them had been bickering constantly these past few days, turning even the smallest things into drawn-out arguments.

"Come on, Tom. We have Astronomy tonight, so eat plenty." Daphne pulled Tom toward the long table. Hermione bit her lip and turned toward the Gryffindor table.

That night, Tom joined his classmates in using telescopes to record the names of more than a dozen stars. It was late by the time he left the rooftop, exhausted.

When he returned to the dormitory, Zabini and the others were already fast asleep. Tom hit them with another Stunning Spell, then cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself. His first nighttime stroll around Hogwarts—here he came!

There was an old saying at Hogwarts: a student's education wasn't complete without sneaking around at night.

The school officially had rules, but the older students all knew that breaking them wasn't the scary part. Getting caught in the act was.

Tom wasn't sneaking around because he was rebellious. He was here to rack up achievement points. The system had only ever issued one quest, "Compete for the House Cup," but the achievement list was already unlocked.

He'd discovered that achievement points were easy to earn early on. Just by attending class, answering questions, and occasionally accompanying Daphne around the castle, he'd collected a hundred and fifty points over the past few days.

The achievement list included a "Nighttime Castle Roaming" series. The more ground he covered, the more points he'd earn. Today, Tom had come to "stock up."

Andros was opposed to Dark Magic and had no talent for it. Tom wanted to save up a thousand points, then summon a King of the Century who excelled at Dark Magic to be his teacher.

After leaving the Slytherin Common Room, Tom strolled leisurely down the corridor. The wall sconces flickered, making them perfect for practicing the Disillusionment Charm.

The Disillusionment Charm didn't make you truly invisible. Its principle was like a chameleon's: it changed how light reflected off your body so you blended into your surroundings.

In a stable environment, the Disillusionment Charm was hard to detect. But places with shifting light and shadows were a real test of skill.

The nighttime corridors were quiet, with the occasional ghostly shadow drifting past. Tom adjusted the color of his reflection to match the changing light, until his figure almost blended into the corridor.