Stubborn Even in Defeat

Having survived the ordeal, the group was still shaken.

Ron asked, panting, "Where did you pop out from just now? How come we didn't see you?"

Hermione quickly pulled him back. "Don't ask! Filch might still be nearby. We'll talk about it tomorrow, let's get back now!"

"Fine, see you tomorrow." Tom waved his hand and turned to slip away, moving even faster than when he was being chased by Filch.

Ron had to bottle up his questions. The four of them sprinted back to the Gryffindor tower, Harry gave the password, and they ducked inside to return to their dormitory.

Harry lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep as the night's events played over and over in his mind.

Malfoy's underhanded tricks, Filch's pursuit, the terror of the Three-headed Dog, and finally, the image of Tom standing in front of them, casting spells—a wave of frustration washed over him.

Everyone called him the Savior, but compared to Tom, he was a nobody.

He hadn't even heard of those powerful spells, yet Tom could use them with ease. They were both first-years; how could the gap be so wide?

In the Slytherin dormitory in the dungeons, Tom was also reviewing the event, smacking his lips with dissatisfaction.

The Three-headed Dog had thick skin and dense flesh, with high resistance to both physical and magical attacks; many spells from adult wizards would have been like a tickle to it.

Relying on his "Absolute Justice" talent and a short burst of magic, he should have had an easier time. The lackluster result was entirely due to being disgusted by the beast's stench.

The smell in that enclosed corridor had hit him right in the face, severely distracting him.

"Looks like I need to practice casting in harsh environments." Tom added a line to his training schedule, adjusted his breathing, and fell asleep.

Not long after they left, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the corridor, wearing his pajamas and a conical nightcap.

He checked the Three-headed Dog's injuries, chatted briefly with the nearby portraits, and finally sighed, "The youth are truly formidable."

History of Magic was the subject Tom hated most—bar none.

Other classes either offered house points or system credits, and even if Quirrell slacked off every day, Tom could still intercept him after class to squeeze out some points.

But Professor Binns, that old ghost, just read from the textbook. The material was useless, the system deemed it of no value, and he never gave students a chance to answer questions, leaving no way to earn points.

Taking this class was a pure waste of time.

As soon as the bell rang, Tom would slump over his desk, appearing drowsy while actually diving into the Study Space to learn new spells from Andros.

When the bell rang to end class, Professor Binns would finish assigning homework with a blank expression and drift through the wall back to his office, while the students trudged miserably toward the Great Hall.

Just as they reached the entrance hall, Tom was intercepted by Hermione. She glanced at the passing crowd and whispered, "Too many eyes here. Let's talk in the courtyard garden."

Tom didn't refuse. Daphne wanted to follow, but Hermione blocked her.

The young witch was about to flare up, but Tom spoke first, his tone lazy and coaxing: "Daphne, what we're discussing involves someone else's secret. You go wait for me in the Great Hall; I'll be there soon."

Daphne nodded reluctantly, glared at Hermione, and stomped off toward the Great Hall.

Tom followed Hermione to the courtyard garden, where Harry and Ron had already claimed a stone table, snacks laid out upon it.

Once seated, Harry spoke first, his tone stiff: "Riddle, thank you for yesterday. We didn't have much to offer, so we just brought some snacks."

Tom nodded, picked up a Chocolate Frog, bit off its head, and said vaguely, "Don't mention it. I was saving myself, too. I couldn't just wait for that dog to eat me, could I?"

Harry gave a dry laugh. "Regardless, we would have been in real trouble without you."

"Enough with the endless talk, let's move on." Tom waved his hand and grabbed a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean.

Ron couldn't help but ask, "What were you actually doing out wandering at night? You couldn't have been breaking the rules just like us, right?"

"Reading," Tom said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I wanted to look up some information, didn't have it on hand, so I went to the library. Is there a problem?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other; the two slackers couldn't fathom risking being caught by Filch just to read a book.

They didn't know that Tom had already calculated everything. I'm lying to you; I was just stalking you guys, all to get into that fourth-floor corridor fair and square.

He would bet a Galleon that the door had one of Albus Dumbledore's trap spells on it; if he went alone, he would surely be targeted. Following Harry and his friends "by accident" made the risk much lower.

Besides, the harvest was significant: he had tested his spells on the Three-headed Dog and earned twenty achievement points. A massive profit.

"What about you two? Why were you wandering around in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?" Tom asked, feigning ignorance.

Harry and Ron were still hesitating, but Hermione had already spilled the whole story about the duel with Malfoy and how they'd been tricked.

"How truly shameless," Tom clicked his tongue, a single sentence bridging the distance between them. Harry and Ron immediately wore expressions of shared indignation.

"Exactly!" Ron slammed the table. "This morning, when Malfoy saw we were fine, his eyes went wide as saucers, and his mouth was open wide enough to fit two and a half eggs!"

"Next time I see him, I'm going to punch him!"

"Hitting people violates school rules," Tom reminded him slowly, his tone annoying.

Ron wasn't pleased. "You're just siding with Slytherin!"

"Weasley, is your brain missing a gear?" Hermione retorted first. "If Tom were siding with Malfoy, he would have locked you in that corridor yesterday and let the Three-headed Dog eat you!"

Ron was left speechless by the retort and turned his head away, the atmosphere becoming somewhat awkward.

Tom chewed on a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean and spoke nonchalantly: "Of course I side with Slytherin, just as you defend Gryffindor."

"But I despise underhanded schemes. I judge the action, not the person, and Malfoy was definitely in the wrong this time."

"If you want to get back at him, I'll support you and even offer ideas. But hitting people is the lowest move. If you do that, Snape will be the one happy; he's just waiting for an excuse to catch you and punish Potter."

Harry's expression changed instantly. Currently, the person he hated most was Snape, followed by Malfoy, and only then Dudley.

The mere thought of Snape's gloomy face made him shiver.

"Then how do you suggest we get back at him?" Harry asked tentatively, still feeling wary.

Tom replied dismissively, "Simple, just spread the word about what happened."

"Do you take us for fools?" Ron nearly jumped up. "If we say anything, Professor McGonagall will have us in detention until the holidays!"

"Rubbish!" Hermione glared at him. "Professor McGonagall would never do that!"

Harry also looked at Tom with suspicion. "Are you trying to set us up? Do you want us to lose points for Gryffindor?"

"How could you doubt a good person?" Tom clutched his chest, looking "hurt."

His tone carried a hint of grievance. "I just can't stand how arrogant Malfoy is. As a Muggle-born, you have no idea how hard it is for me in Slytherin. Those pure-bloods mock me every single day; I hate him just as much as you do."

Harry and Ron finally remembered that Tom was a Muggle-born orphan who must have suffered in Slytherin, and their expressions softened instantly, though they still felt the plan was unreliable.