Tom spoke with a perfectly straight face, as if he weren't pushing his luck but defending his reputation.
Pushing his luck! Those four words popped into every little snake's mind.
The boy had already won and achieved his goal, yet he still wouldn't quit. He had to beat every single Prefect.
Was he trying to grind Snape's and all the Prefects' faces into the floor?
Only the seventh-year Burke and Snape understood that Tom was trying to establish his authority.
Only by beating every Prefect could he truly secure the position of Shadow Prefect and earn the respect of all the little snakes.
Snape took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to hit someone, and ground out through clenched teeth,
"Fine. If you're looking to get beaten up, we'll continue. But there won't be a break. Phyllis, you're up."
The fifth-year female Prefect, Imogen Phyllis, immediately stepped forward, her face full of fury. She had long been fed up with Tom's arrogance.
But Tom showed not a hint of chivalry. The moment Snape announced the start, he flung two Non-verbal Spells at her.
Phyllis hadn't expected Tom to use Non-verbal Spells at all. She hadn't even finished saying the Iron Armor Charm before both spells slammed into her.
The next second, her wand flew away and she toppled stiffly to the floor, sleeping even more soundly than Malfoy.
"Next." Tom weighed the wand in his hand, his expression as indifferent as if he'd just stepped on an ant. The remaining Prefects burned with anger, yet couldn't help feeling shaken.
"I'll do it!" The fifth-year male Prefect, Enrique Flint, sprang out furiously before Snape could call on him.
He had an older brother, Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall had given him detention today, so he'd missed this spectacle.
Flint was smarter than Avery and had learned from the previous two. As soon as the duel began, he conjured a huge door to shield himself.
Then he used Transfiguration to turn the chairs and cups around them into a pack of little animals. They could harass Tom and serve as meat shields against spells.
The frost on Snape's face finally eased a little. At least he has some sense. He knows to play to his strengths.
Flint had a real talent for Transfiguration and was a member of Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Club. His animal transformations were better than those of quite a few sixth- and seventh-year students.
This was the first time all day Tom hadn't ended things in a flash. His eyes lit up, and he finally showed some interest. His voice grew excited. "Now that's interesting. Give me more!"
"Incendio!" Tom swept his wand, and flames burst out of the fireplace, sending the temperature in the common room soaring.
He flourished his wand elegantly, shaping the flames into three Fire Serpents. With their jaws open and scorching tongues flickering, they charged wildly around the dueling area.
The little animals Flint had transformed turned back into their original forms as soon as they touched the Fire Serpents, and in moments they were nothing but charred lumps.
The door didn't hold out for long, either. The Fire Serpents soon burned a huge hole through it, and it looked ready to be consumed entirely.
"Magic Molding!" Snape ground out the words, one by one, his eyes full of disbelief.
It was a Transfiguration technique more advanced than material conversion, not even covered in the N.E.W.T. exams. How could Tom, a first-year student, possibly know it? How could he?
While Snape questioned his entire understanding of life, Flint looked at the three Fire Serpents before him and gave a helpless, wry smile. He lowered his wand.
"I surrender." He knew that holding on would only be a waste of effort and make him look even worse.
Next came the sixth-year female Prefect. She fared even worse than Flint, spending the whole time casting Iron Armor Charms on herself.
But she couldn't cast them as fast as Tom could hit her with spells. He disarmed her in just a few moves, and she surrendered in disgrace.
The little snakes were stunned. Tom had won four duels in a row, beating all the fifth- and sixth-year Prefects, yet he wasn't even out of breath. He looked as if nothing had happened.
A number of girls gazed at Tom with stars in their eyes. Daphne clenched her fists, practically bursting to cheer. If there hadn't been so many people around, she would have rushed over to applaud him.
Some of the older girls looked at Tom differently, too. A cute, talented young thing like him would be a handsome man in a couple of years. Even if they were taking advantage of a younger boy, they wouldn't be losing out!
"I surrender."
Everyone froze and turned toward the speaker. It was the seventh-year female Prefect, Yuxil Carrow.
Facing everyone's stares, she wasn't the least bit embarrassed. She even winked at Tom and said with a smile,
"I can't beat Riddle, so there's no point going up there to humiliate myself. Burke is much stronger than I am. I'm just saving your magic so you can have a proper duel with him."
Burke took a deep breath and stepped out of the crowd. First he gave Snape a slight bow, then walked over to face Tom.
His expression was so grave it might have dripped with water. He knew the real battle was only just beginning.
The Burke family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, with a long history.
The family's most famous member these days was Caractacus Burke, owner of Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley. Everyone was used to calling him old Borgin.
Old Borgin wielded considerable influence. Lucius Malfoy sold him any Dark Magic objects he couldn't handle, convinced that Borgin could withstand an investigation by the Ministry of Magic.
The Burke family was mysterious. None of them worked for the Ministry of Magic, and they had always been fanatical about Dark Magic objects.
Tom thought Sithwell Burke was no simple character. He might be the most deeply concealed person in Slytherin.
Tom couldn't sense how powerful Burke's magic was. Magical power couldn't be quantified; even Albus Dumbledore couldn't do it.
All he could judge was Burke's expression. No matter how many Prefects Tom beat, Burke did no more than frown gravely. There wasn't a trace of fear in him.
That meant Burke was confident he could handle Tom's abilities, even if it would be tricky. Tom grew interested. Among all the Prefects, are you the only one this good?
Carrow had surrendered outright, which suited Tom just fine. It saved him from having to fight a boring duel.
"Prefect Burke, go easy on me." Tom smiled in a way that begged to be punched, though his manners were impeccable.
Burke found him unsettling. Tom looked at him as if he were a lab mouse, and it made him uncomfortable all over.
Snape called out "Begin" with a dark expression, and Burke immediately cast a spell. "Cloudy Mist Spell!"
Thick fog filled the common room in an instant. In the blink of an eye, it was impossible to see even a hand in front of one's face.
The little snakes hurried back beneath the stairs to avoid getting hurt. Only Snape remained at his post as referee, protected by an Iron Armor Charm.
Tom had planned to use the same trick as before and blow the fog away with a Gale Spell. Then he was left dumbfounded.
There wasn't much ventilation in the room. The Gale Spell blew through the fog, thinning it by the tiniest bit, but the way ahead was still impossible to see.
"Not bad, brother. You even know to take the terrain into account?" Tom praised him sincerely. In a Wizarding World where everyone was so busy blasting spells at each other, considering the terrain showed at least some brains.
Two spells whistled through the air toward him. Tom flicked his wrist, and his wand knocked them aside with perfect accuracy.
At the same time, he casually returned fire with a few spells, sending them toward the sound as if hoping a blind cat might catch a dead mouse.
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