You Shouldn't Have Come

Tom didn't rush, turning his head to look at Ron. "Weasley, put yourself in their shoes."

"Suppose you challenged another pure-blood family to a duel in the name of the Weasley family, but then got cold feet and ran away. If your parents found out, what would they do to you?"

Ron immediately imagined the scenario Tom described. In just two seconds, his face turned deathly pale.

He stammered, "If I dared to do that, my mother would definitely send a Howler and scream at me in the middle of the Great Hall."

"Percy would lecture me endlessly about shaming the family; those two jerks, Fred and George, would prank me for an entire semester, and they might even secretly change my last name to 'Coward'..."

The more Ron spoke, the more terrified he became, his voice trembling.

Even if the Weasleys were strapped for cash, they were still pure-bloods who valued family honor above all else. If Mrs. Weasley found out he had backed down from a duel, he might truly be disowned.

Snap! Tom slammed his hand on the table, making the three of them jump, while he wore a look of smug satisfaction. "See? Now you get it, don't you?"

"Last night's duel was Malfoy's scheme, but it was undeniably him who challenged Potter first, only to shrink away and not show up. There's no excuse that can change that."

"If this gets out, you'll lose a few points at most, but he'll be losing the face of the Malfoy family! That's a prestigious pure-blood house; they can't afford to lose that kind of face."

"If old Malfoy finds out, he'll definitely give him a thrashing when he gets home, maybe even strip him of that platinum hair. Either way, you guys don't lose, right?"

Harry and Ron nodded in unison, their eyes lighting up. Ron was already imagining the scene of the elder Malfoy thrashing his son, and the more he thought about it, the more satisfying it felt.

But the joy lasted less than two seconds before Harry's face fell again. "But if this gets out and we lose points, what will the other students think of us?"

He didn't finish, sneaking a glance at Hermione, clearly afraid of being looked down upon by the top student.

Hermione frowned in thought, feeling that Tom was using Harry and Ron as pawns. If the truth came out, Slytherin would lose points too—what was he gaining from this?

She couldn't figure it out no matter how hard she tried, so she completely ignored Harry's hint.

"Superficial, Potter, you are far too superficial!" Tom shook his head, looking like a charlatan. "Don't get so hung up on those measly points; they'll alienate a person from their own efforts!"

"What do you think Gryffindor cares about most?" he asked, intentionally building suspense.

"Honor, and the House Cup," Harry blurted out.

"Wrong! Dead wrong!" Tom slammed the table again, his voice rising a notch. "What Gryffindor cares about most is face! It's prestige!"

"Losing points isn't scary. If you lose them for a noble cause—like protecting a classmate or standing up to Dark Magic—you'll be hailed as a hero. But if you're caught breaking rules for petty nonsense, that's when you're laughed at."

"You're losing points to defend the honor of the Potter family and to keep from being bullied by Slytherin. Everyone will only envy you. How cool is that? You'll be the center of attention."

"Plus, with Malfoy backing down, it means Slytherin is afraid of Gryffindor. By then, it won't just be envy; it'll be school-wide admiration. You'll have defeated the arrogant Slytherin!"

Ron's face flushed with excitement as he breathed heavily, his eyes burning. This was his first chance to be in the spotlight; there was no way he was letting it pass.

"Harry..." he looked at Harry with longing in his eyes.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest. He was swayed, though a shred of reason remained. "I'll give it serious thought, Riddle. By the way, just call me Harry. Don't call me Potter; it's too distant."

"Me too! Call me Ron. There are too many Weasleys at this school!" Ron followed up immediately, already viewing Tom as a brother from another mother.

"Alright, Harry, Ron. You can just call me Tom," Tom said with a smile, though he was secretly gloating. The fish were about to take the bait.

"This does carry risks, so thinking it over carefully is the right move. I promise the events of last night won't leak from me." He patted his chest in assurance.

The two nodded gratefully, their defenses completely down.

"One last reminder: everything has a shelf life. If you wait too long to expose it, it won't have any effect. Once you decide, do it quickly. Don't drag your feet."

"Alright, I'm off to eat. If I don't go now, the roast chicken legs will be gone. See you." Tom stood up and left, decisive and clean, giving them no chance to back out.

After he left, only a hesitant Harry, an eager Ron, and a pensive Hermione remained.

Tom knew clearly that the bait had been cast, and the fish would definitely bite.

Although Harry was a reckless Gryffindor, he had occasional flashes of shrewdness and might be able to suppress his desire for revenge, but Ron couldn't. Someone who had been overlooked for so long craved the spotlight more than anything, and he would never pass up this opportunity.

Tom just had to wait for the show to begin.

Soon, it was Potions class. Snape, unaware that Slytherin was about to suffer a blow to its reputation, was still taking great pleasure in making things difficult for Harry, whom he found insufferable in every way.

To make it even more enjoyable, he split Harry and Ron up, assigning Neville as Harry's partner. With these two "talents" together, there was no way Gryffindor could hold onto their points.

Snape only had to stand behind them for Harry to feel completely uncomfortable, and Neville was so terrified he couldn't even hold his wand steady.

On top of that, Neville's poor memory resulted in a potion that was a black, bubbling mess, emitting strange, ominous pops that even Snape couldn't identify.

"Wasting school resources, inattentive in class, ignoring instructions," Snape said, expressionless. "Gryffindor, ten points from!"

With that, he happily announced the end of class, not even glancing at Tom. In his eyes, Tom was just an unremarkable Muggle-born wizard.

Harry dejectedly packed his cauldron, and Malfoy's taunts reached his ears: "Potter, you and Longbottom are truly a match made in heaven."

"With you two around, Potions class will never run out of negative examples. You're a real disgrace to Gryffindor!"

Crabbe and Goyle snickered beside him, making Ron tremble with rage.

Harry didn't speak, but he exchanged a look with Ron. Flames ignited in both their eyes as they nodded heavily.

They were going to do it! Even if it cost them points, they would make Malfoy pay!

A person fights for their dignity, just as a temple fights for its incense.

Ever since the train ride, Malfoy had been like an annoying flea, harassing and mocking Harry every single day. Even though Harry hadn't wanted to cause trouble, this time he was thoroughly provoked.

Even if it meant mutual destruction, he would teach Malfoy a lesson he wouldn't forget.

Harry cast a cold glance at Malfoy and hurried back to the dormitory with Ron, intent on spreading the word about Malfoy's cowardice.

As for Tom, Daphne had gone off to afternoon tea with her roommates, while he returned to the Slytherin dormitory with his own.

The moment they stepped inside, Nott, Rosier, and Zabini busied themselves with practiced ease.

Nott arranged the chairs, Rosier wiped down the table and fetched snacks, and Zabini tossed his schoolbag aside to pour the tea.

According to Tom, this was a loving dormitory built on mutual aid: the three of them served him, and in return, he ensured they were never bullied.

"Riddle, freshly brewed tea. Careful, it's hot," Zabini said fawningly, placing the cup before Tom.

Tom didn't even look up from his book, merely offering a grunt of acknowledgment, looking entirely accustomed to the treatment.