He Won't Starve

All the students in the common room stared in shock. No one dared say a word. Nobody had expected Tom to attack a Prefect—especially a sixth-year Prefect!

Zabini and Nott huddled in a corner, secretly relieved they hadn't joined Malfoy in stirring up trouble.

Tom walked up to Avery and prodded his face with his wand. "So you're a Prefect? You think that makes you impressive? Let me tell you, around here, Prefects aren't worth a damn."

Avery clutched his chest, too pained to speak. Shock and resentment filled his eyes. He couldn't believe that a first-year could be this strong.

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

"Honestly, I don't want to bully you. You're the one who came over here looking for attention."

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

"If you can't, then I'll be in charge of the Slytherin first-years from now on. You stay out of it."

Avery's eyes lit up. He was a sixth-year, after all, and had far more magical power than a first-year. If he dueled Tom, he was sure to win.

He scrambled to his feet and raised his wand. "Fine! It's a deal! The loser has to do whatever the winner says!"

"No problem." Tom shrugged and struck a dueling stance, though he deliberately leaned to one side, looking utterly careless.

"But I want to add something to the stakes. If I win, then besides putting me in charge of the first-years, you three Prefects will have to bow and greet me whenever you see me."

Avery agreed without a second thought. "Deal! I can definitely beat you!"

The other two Prefects chimed in. "That's right! Avery will definitely win. You'd better get ready to apologize!"

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

Avery immediately raised his wand. "Disarming Charm!" A flash of white shot toward Tom. He thought he could take Tom down with a single spell.

But the next second, Tom used a spell to yank Avery's wand right out of his hand.

"Wow, turns out you're a useless Prefect after all." Tom toyed with Avery's wand and shook his head. "You can't even cast a Disarming Charm properly, and you call yourself a Prefect?"

Avery went deathly pale and reached for his wand, but Tom dodged lightly and cast a spell. Avery was instantly frozen in place, unable to move.

The other two Prefects trembled with fear. They didn't even have the courage to run.

Tom walked up to Avery and prodded his face with his wand. "Beating you wasn't much of a challenge."

He paused, then suddenly broke into a sly grin.

"Oh, right. Don't forget the stakes I mentioned. You three, bow and greet me. Keep bowing until I'm satisfied."

The other two Prefects didn't dare resist. They hurriedly dragged the immobilized Avery along and bowed deeply to Tom, repeating over and over,

"Lord Riddle, we were wrong! We'll never do it again!"

Tom waved a hand, lifted the Petrificus Totalus curse from Avery, and said with a grin, "All right, all right, stop bowing. You'll break your backs if you keep it up."

"But, you know, I've suddenly decided that being in charge of the first-years isn't enough."

Avery rubbed his arm and looked confused. "What else do you want?"

"It's simple." Tom grinned like he was asking for a punch. "I want to be Slytherin's Shadow Prefect—no, its Shadow Head of House!"

The entire common room fell silent. Everyone stared wide-eyed, unable to believe their ears.

Avery was so shocked that he jumped to his feet. "Are you crazy? Shadow Head of House? You're a first-year, and you think you can ask for something like that?"

"Why not?" Tom raised an eyebrow and tossed Avery's wand back to him. "Isn't Slytherin all about the strong ruling? I'm stronger than you. Why shouldn't I be in charge?"

He paused, then added, "I'm not taking your Prefect positions. Officially, you'll still be Prefects. You can keep doing the school's duties and collecting your perks."

"All I want is authority over all of Slytherin. Any year, any student—I can manage them if I feel like it."

Avery was so angry his face turned green. "You're completely unreasonable! That's impossible! The school will never agree to it!"

"Whether the school agrees or not doesn't matter." Tom shrugged, his tone casual but carrying unquestionable authority.

"What matters is whether you agree. If you do, I'll have your backs from now on. If you don't, you can find out for yourselves what Avery just went through."

The two Prefects exchanged a look, and both saw fear in the other's eyes.

They didn't want Tom to beat them up, so they could only swallow their pride and nod. "We agree! We agree!"

Avery tried to object, but the other two Prefects held him back.

One of them leaned close to his ear and whispered, "Don't fight it. We can't beat him. If we resist, it'll only get worse!"

Avery looked at Tom's infuriating grin, then at his companions' pleading faces. In the end, he gritted his teeth and said resentfully, "I agree too."

Tom clapped his hands in satisfaction. "That's more like it. You should've agreed from the start and saved me the trouble.

"From today on, I'm Slytherin's Shadow Head of House. You three Prefects are my subordinates. Understand?"

"Understood!" the three replied in unison, sounding utterly resigned. They had well and truly fallen into Tom's hands.

Barely ten minutes later, Snape's footsteps came thundering into the Slytherin Common Room, each one heavy with anger.

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

These were the young wizards' private spaces. When a professor came in, even the students snacking had to duck their heads.

But today's incident was simply too outrageous. The young snakes were all eager to watch the spectacle, so they had gone ahead and invited the Dark-Faced professor over.

They wanted him to see for himself the absurd sight of a first-year "usurping" control of his own House.

Snape didn't look at anyone else when he entered. He strode straight toward Tom, his face dark and his gaze venomous.

"Riddle, I hear you want to be Slytherin's Head of House?"

As for the black-eyed and bruised Avery and Malfoy, who lay unconscious on the floor, Snape didn't even glance at them. In his eyes, there was no point wasting a look on the pathetic.

Tom immediately dropped his infuriating act and forced a sweet, innocent smile onto his face. He sounded as if he'd been bullied.

"Professor, please don't tease me. I'm just a new student. I wouldn't dare covet the position of Head of House."

He spread his hands, looking helpless. "The main problem is that these Pure-blood young masters and ladies are so annoying. They're always giving me trouble. I had no choice but to come up with a way to get some peace and quiet."

Snape sneered, his sarcasm practically dripping from every word.

"Shadow Head of House? What an ambitious claim. You're only in your first year and already want to be my equal. Give it another couple of years, and will you try to take Dumbledore's position as Headmaster too?"