He Won't Starve

The students in the common room were stunned, none daring to speak. No one had expected Tom to actually lay a hand on a prefect, let alone a sixth-year one!

Zabini and Nott huddled in a corner, secretly thanking their lucky stars that they hadn't followed Malfoy in stirring up trouble.

Tom walked up to Avery and poked his face with his wand. "A prefect, are you? Feeling pretty high and mighty? Let me tell you, as far as I'm concerned, a prefect is worth nothing."

Avery clutched his chest, too pained to speak, his eyes filled with shock and resentment. He couldn't fathom how a first-year freshman could be this strong.

Tom crouched down, patted Avery on the shoulder, and said calmly.

"Actually, I didn't want to bully you, but you just had to come over and beg for attention."

"How about this? Let's play a game. If you can beat me, I'll apologize and do your lines."

"But if you lose, from now on, everything involving the Slytherin first-years belongs to me. You stay out of it."

Avery's eyes lit up. He was a sixth-year, after all; his magic was far superior to a first-year's. As long as he dueled Tom, he was sure to win.

He scrambled to his feet immediately and raised his wand. "Fine! It's a deal! The loser must obey the winner!"

"No problem." Tom shrugged and took a dueling stance, though he stood crookedly, looking entirely nonchalant.

"But I have to add a stake. If I win, besides having control over the first-years, the three of you prefects must bow and greet me whenever you see me."

Avery agreed without a second thought. "Done! I'm definitely going to win!"

The two other prefects chimed in, "That's right! Avery will definitely win. Just wait to apologize!"

Tom scoffed and flicked his wand. "Let's start. Don't waste time; I still have to go play Gobstones with Daphne."

Avery immediately raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!" A white light flew toward Tom, as he expected to subdue him in one move.

But the next second, his own wand was snatched away by a spell from Tom.

"Well, it seems this prefect is just a hollow shell." Tom toyed with Avery's wand and shook his head. "You can't even use Expelliarmus properly, and you're a prefect?"

Avery's face turned pale. He reached out to grab his wand, but Tom dodged lightly and cast a spell, instantly freezing Avery in place, unable to move.

The other two prefects were trembling with fear, not even daring to run away.

Tom walked up to Avery and poked his face with his wand again. "Beating you doesn't seem to be much of a challenge, does it?"

He paused, then suddenly revealed a cunning smile.

"Right, don't forget the stake I mentioned earlier. The three of you, bow and greet me until I'm satisfied."

The two prefects dared not resist; they hurriedly grabbed the frozen Avery and bowed deeply to Tom, chanting repeatedly.

"Lord Riddle, we were wrong! We won't dare do it again!"

Tom waved his hand, lifted the Petrificus Totalus from Avery, and said with a grin, "Alright, alright, stop bowing. You'll break your backs if you keep going."

"However, I suddenly feel that having jurisdiction over just the first-years isn't enough."

Avery rubbed his arm, looking confused. "What else do you want?"

"It's simple." Tom smiled with a look that begged to be punched. "I want to be the shadow prefect of Slytherin—no, the shadow Head of House!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire common room went silent. Everyone's eyes widened, unable to believe their ears.

Avery jumped up in shock. "Are you crazy? Shadow Head of House? You, a first-year freshman, dare to think of such a thing?"

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Tom raised an eyebrow and tossed Avery's wand back to him. "Isn't Slytherin all about strength? I'm stronger than you, so why shouldn't I be?"

He paused and added, "I'm not taking your prefect positions. In name, you are still the prefects; you'll still do the school's tasks and keep the perks."

"What I want is jurisdiction over all of Slytherin. No matter the year, if I want to manage it, I will."

Avery was so angry his face turned green. "You are completely unreasonable! This is impossible! The school won't agree to this!"

"Whether the school agrees or not is irrelevant." Tom shrugged, his tone casual yet carrying an unquestionable authority.

"What matters is whether you agree. If you agree, I'll look after you; if you don't, you can taste the same suffering Avery just did."

The two prefects exchanged a glance, seeing the fear in each other's eyes.

They didn't want to get beaten up by Tom, so they could only bite the bullet and nod. "We agree! We agree!"

Avery wanted to argue, but he was held back by the two prefects.

One of them leaned into his ear and whispered, "Don't resist. We can't beat him; resisting will only make it worse!"

Avery looked at Tom's infuriating smile, then at his pleading companions, and finally gritted his teeth. "I agree too," he said, full of resentment.

Tom clapped his hands in satisfaction. "That's more like it. It would have been better if you'd done this sooner, saving me the trouble."

"From today on, I am the shadow Head of Slytherin, and you three prefects are my subordinates. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" the three replied in unison, their voices filled with helplessness. They had truly fallen into Tom's hands.

Barely ten minutes later, Snape's footsteps, heavy with fury, thundered into the Slytherin common room.

According to Hogwarts rules, professors—even Heads of House—rarely set foot in student common rooms.

This was the students' private sanctuary; usually, if a professor walked in, even those snacking would shrink back in fear.

But today's incident was too outrageous, and the little snakes, wanting to watch the show, had simply invited this dark-faced man here.

They wanted him to see with his own eyes the absurd scene of his house being "usurped" by a first-year freshman.

Snape entered the room without sparing a glance for anyone else, heading straight for Tom with a face as dark as thunder and eyes that looked as if they had been steeped in poison.

"Riddle, I hear you want to be the Head of Slytherin?"

As for Avery, who was bruised and battered on the sidelines, and Malfoy, who lay unconscious on the floor, Snape did not even bother to sweep a glance their way; in his eyes, the pathetic state of failures was not worth wasting a look on.

Tom immediately dropped his provocative expression, squeezing out a pure and harmless smile while his tone turned as aggrieved as if he had been bullied.

"Professor, please don't mock me. I'm just a first-year student who just enrolled; how could I ever dare to covet the position of Head of House?"

He spread his hands, looking utterly helpless. "It's just that these pure-blood young masters and misses are too annoying. They trouble me all day long, and I really had no choice but to come up with a way to find some peace and quiet."

Snape let out a cold sneer, the sarcasm in his tone practically overflowing.

"A shadow Head of House? Such grand ambitions. You're only in your first year and you already want to stand on equal footing with me? By the time you've grown another two years, are you planning to snatch Albus Dumbledore's position as Headmaster as well?"