Tom took the opportunity to think about spell proficiency. There were no clearly defined levels, but roughly speaking, it could be divided into several stages. At the beginner level, a spell might work only half the time.
Once mastered, a spell would succeed nearly every time, and the caster could control it more precisely. With the Levitation Charm, for example, some people could only make things bob up and down, while others could make them dance.
The next level was non-verbal magic, which made casting more discreet. But many wizards still spoke the incantation even when they knew how to cast a non-verbal spell. It helped them focus, guide their magic, and make the spell more powerful.
At the very top was Wandless Magic, and Andros was a master of it.
According to Andros, Wandless Magic had nothing to do with proficiency. It mainly depended on one's understanding of magic and natural talent.
Some people could practice the Disarming Charm until they could hold their own against Avada Kedavra, but without a wand they were as good as helpless. That meant they lacked talent.
Tom realized that his own talent lay entirely in control. Once he learned a spell, it only took a few tries to use it proficiently. In that respect, he was a little like Hermione: she knew a lot of spells, but they were generally not very powerful.
Tom was different. He had inherited Andros's talent for magic, giving him a high ceiling. Maybe one day he could use beginner spells like Unforgivable Curses.
After wandering around for two hours, Tom finally reached the second floor. He unlocked the doors one by one, spending a little time in each room, and earned twenty achievement points.
He was tired from walking and hungry, so he decided to head to the kitchen for something to eat.
The Slytherin Common Room was in the southern part of the castle, and the kitchen was directly below it, though still some distance away.
Tom descended a spiral staircase and reached a spacious underground area. Barrels stood there, and paintings hung on the walls.
Opposite a painting of fruit stood a large wooden barrel. It was the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. Knock on the barrel in the right rhythm, and the door would open.
But only Hufflepuff students could get it open. Anyone else would be punished by getting doused with vinegar.
Tom was envious. Hufflepuff had it so good: their dormitory was right beside the kitchen, a kitchen that was open around the clock and ready to serve them whenever they wanted. They were also close to the Great Hall and the classrooms.
The other houses, on the other hand, had it rough. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were at the top of the tower, while Slytherin was tucked away in some obscure corner. They had to walk thousands of extra steps every day.
Tom walked up to the fruit painting and tickled the green pear in the fruit bowl. It twisted around, giggling, until it turned into a doorknob.
Tom's mouth twitched. "Huh. That's certainly original. Helga must have had a playful side." He pulled the doorknob, revealing a room about the size of the Great Hall, packed with copper pots and pans.
As soon as he stepped inside, a House-elf appeared with a pop and bowed deeply. "Sir! I'm Hobby. How may I serve you?"
"I'm Tom Riddle," Tom said casually. "I'm hungry, so I came to find something to eat."
"Hobby will prepare something at once!" the House-elf squealed and hurried toward the stove.
Tom leaned against a table and waited for his food. Then the kitchen door opened again.
Two identical red heads poked inside, meeting his eyes at just the right moment. It was George and Fred.
They hurried over, speaking in quick alternation. "Well, well, look who it is! The new little Slytherin snake!" "Riddle, you're the fastest first-year to sneak into the kitchen that we know of—except for the Hufflepuffs."
Tom clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "I really do wonder if you two can read each other's minds. Otherwise, how do you manage to work together so well? You even pick up each other's sentences without missing a beat."
The twins exchanged a smug look and introduced themselves. "I'm Fred!" "I'm George!" "We're both from the Weasley family. Remember that!"
Tom lifted his chin, his tone tinged with amusement. "Tom Riddle. The famous Weasley Twins. Even though we've only been at school for a few days, it'd be hard not to know you."
"Our Prefect, Phyllis, talks about you every day in the Slytherin Common Room. His insults are so vicious, they keep raising the bar."
Fred pursed his lips dismissively. "Oh, what else would he be complaining about? Probably us stuffing Dungbombs into his bag.
"Such a tightwad. He can't take a joke." George was about to reply, but Fred poked him in the arm and said scornfully, "Idiot, you got your introduction wrong. I'm Fred!"
"Bullshit, you were the one who gave the wrong name first!" George retorted indignantly. "Ask again if you don't believe me. I'm Fred!"
"Really? I don't remember that." Fred feigned confusion, and the two immediately started arguing.
Tom leaned against the table, laughing. After they had argued themselves out, Fred came over and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Riddle, seriously, you're way more famous than we are. You set a record as soon as you got here."
"What record?" Tom played along, pretending to be curious, though his eyes barely flickered.
George cleared his throat and deliberately dragged it out. "You're the first Muggle-born student in over a decade to get into Slytherin."
Fred immediately added, sounding a little more serious, "To be precise, it was thirty-two years. The last Muggle-born Slytherin disappeared after graduating. Everyone says a dark wizard killed him."
"That's it?" Tom shrugged, looking disappointed. His tone was indifferent. "I already knew that. What's so surprising about it?"
Fred pressed him, curiosity filling his eyes. "They haven't given you a hard time in Slytherin? Those Pure-bloods all have their noses in the air. Doesn't it drive you mad, having to spend every day with them?"
"Not at all." Tom waved a hand and brazenly made things up. "My roommates are all very friendly and look after me. We get along wonderfully."
Family business stayed within the family. He had no interest in telling outsiders about how he had trained his three roommates.
The three chatted over a late-night snack, and Fred and George truly were Hogwarts know-it-alls.
They rattled off the castle's secret passages and fun little corners as if they knew them by heart. They even knew exactly where to find the sweetest mead.
Tom casually fished for information, and the twins didn't call him out. They rarely met a first-year as interesting as him—someone who could fend off their pranks and even turn the tables on them. He was much more entertaining than their own younger brothers.
After eating their fill, the three parted ways in the Entrance Hall.
Before leaving, the twins thumped their chests and promised earnestly, "Riddle, if any Slytherins give you trouble, come to us! We'll make sure they stink of Dungbombs from head to toe and make fools of themselves!"
Tom's mouth twitched, but he said nothing. He thought to himself, They don't want to help me. They're just looking for an excuse to pull a prank. Do they really think I'm an idiot?
The night passed without incident, and before he knew it, it was Friday.
On Friday morning, Tom went to Potions Class with Daphne. As they passed Snape's office, he glanced at it without drawing attention to himself.
He had learned from older students that Snape's bedroom connected to his office.
He wasn't planning to act rashly just yet. He needed to wait for a safe opportunity before going on a "free shopping spree" for potion ingredients.
At nine o'clock sharp, the bell rang. Snape strode into the classroom with the bell, moving quickly, his black robes billowing behind him. A chill seemed to descend over the entire room.
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