"Right, looks like I'll have to learn some sensing magic from now on. I can't keep fumbling around blind just because I'm relying on my eyes."
He dodged as he rambled, but he wasn't panicking. If anything, he found it kind of interesting.
Tom's eyes suddenly lit up. If I can't blow it away, I'll suck it in!
The tip of his wand turned into a little trumpet. A powerful suction burst forth, and the fog rushed toward him in a frenzy. His vision cleared in no time.
Snape stood to one side and couldn't help nodding. Leaving aside Tom's reckless personality, that was a genuinely clever solution.
It was just a variation of the Scourgify charm: using the method for sweeping up dust to deal with dense fog. Quite ingenious.
He almost wanted to take Tom on as an apprentice, but immediately suppressed the thought. Tom was ambitious, and his talent was downright unsettling.
If Dumbledore hadn't vouched for him, Snape would have suspected he was Voldemort reincarnated. He had to tell Dumbledore about this.
When Borgin saw his fog dispelled, he was stunned. He hurriedly fired two spells to stop Tom, but Tom moved nimbly and dodged them with ease.
Borgin gritted his teeth and growled, "Soul-Eating Poison Fog!"
The remaining fog turned dark green. It hissed as it landed on the walls and floor, giving off a pungent stench. It was practically sulfuric acid.
Tom's expression turned serious. He knew it was Dark Magic. He glanced at Snape and saw that he was calm, so the spell clearly wasn't beyond the pale.
"Confringo!" Tom swung his wand, sending a furious fireball straight at the poisonous fog. It exploded with a roar, vaporizing half of it, but the rest still drifted through the air.
Before he could attack again, two poisonous snakes suddenly shot out of the fog, one on either side, and coiled toward his legs. Venom was almost dripping from their gaping jaws.
But just as the snakes were about to reach his trousers, they slammed into an invisible barrier with a thud and hit the floor in a writhing heap.
Borgin's expression changed drastically. "When did you cast the Iron Armor Charm?" He realized at once that Tom must have cast it while the fog was blocking everyone's view!
Tom flicked out wind blades to deal with the snakes, then held his breath and fired off a string of blasting spells. Once he cleared the remaining fog, Borgin could only struggle to defend himself.
Borgin's Iron Armor Charm shattered. His next spell went awry, and the fireball skimmed his arm before crashing into the wall and blasting a huge crater in it.
"Stop!" Snape barked. "Tom Riddle wins. Borgin, do you have a problem with that?"
Clutching his burned arm, Borgin shook his head repeatedly. "No, Professor. I concede!"
His arm burned like fire, and he could barely hold his wand. There was no way he could keep fighting. He cursed Tom as a monster in his heart.
His own blasting spells were only good for lighting candles compared with Tom's.
Snape gave Tom a long look, then cast a healing charm on Borgin. "Come to my office with me and get some Dittany for that burn. Don't go to the Hospital Wing. Understood?"
Borgin nodded quickly. "Understood, Professor." He knew perfectly well that Snape wanted to keep this quiet and stop today's farce from getting out.
He didn't want to spread it around either. Losing to a first-year was bad enough; it was better if only Slytherins knew.
If those stupid Gryffindor lions found out, they'd laugh at him all the way to graduation.
Before leaving, Snape lowered the unconscious Malfoy to the floor and warned Tom, "Don't take things too far. Lucius Malfoy is not someone you want to cross." With that, he left with Borgin.
"Don't worry, Professor!" Tom smiled sweetly. "I won't bully him!"
But the moment the Common Room door clicked shut, Tom's expression changed. He flicked his wand.
Malfoy, who had only just landed, and his two lackeys were lifted into the air again. Their feet hung three feet above the ground as they swayed back and forth like strips of hanging meat.
The young Slytherins present shivered in unison, and the same thought popped into their heads: Tom Riddle held a grudge like nobody else!
They'd better never provoke him, or who knew what he'd do to them!
The Slytherin Common Room was so quiet they could hear one another breathing.
Prefects and ordinary students alike had crowded by the stairs leading to the dormitories, like a flock of startled quails, staring fixedly at Tom.
Tom tilted his head at them, looking disgusted. "Why are you all standing there? Are you expecting me to put all the tables and chairs back by myself?"
You're all so lazy, you're making a disgrace of Slytherin."
Only then did everyone snap out of it. They hurried over to move the tables and chairs and arrange the sofas, scrambling around nonstop.
"Tom, you were amazing!" Daphne bounced over and threw her arms around him, giving him a tight hug. Her little body was soft and warm, with a faint, sweet scent.
Tom instinctively took a deep breath and thought, Madam Spire's shampoo, with a hint of milky sweetness. Much better than that soapy smell from the Potter family.
But aloud, he waved it off with false modesty. "Oh, it was nothing. I only beat up a few students who didn't know what was good for them. What's there to get so excited about?"
The young Slytherins moving a table nearly dropped it on their feet when they heard that.
Wow, what a humblebrag. Did his family own the Palace of Versailles or something?
"Only a few students"? You beat a seventh-year Prefect into the ground. Were you planning to replace Professor Snape, too?
Daphne looked up at him, her face full of confusion. "But you're only a first-year! If I were as good as you, my mother would double my allowance!"
Tom reached out and ruffled her blond hair. It felt soft and fluffy. He sighed and put on a profound expression.
"Foolish girl, enemies won't go easy on you just because you're young. In the Wizarding World, the more skills you learn, the longer you'll survive."
Daphne was even more bewildered. The Dark Lord was gone; who would dare cause trouble at Hogwarts?
The Pure-bloods might complain that Dumbledore was too friendly to Muggle-born wizards, but no one dared question the old man's strength. After all, he was a formidable wizard whom neither of the two Dark Lords had been able to defeat.
Tom looked at her bewildered expression and didn't explain further.
He knew perfectly well that Hogwarts wouldn't be so peaceful in the years to come. Dumbledore's grip on the school was already far weaker than it used to be.
Sirius could come and go seven times without being caught, and Moody could be replaced by an impostor. Who knew what major trouble might crop up one day? There was no point telling a little girl about it.
Ten minutes later, the Common Room was finally tidy again, except for the big black crater in the wall and a few charred marks on the floor. It looked just like a battlefield after a fight.
The layout had changed, though. The most luxurious armchair was now in the very center, with all the other seats arranged in a circle around it, like stars surrounding the moon.
Tom sat down without hesitation. The sofa was wide enough for two, so Daphne naturally settled in beside him.
His three roommates, Zabini, Nott, and Rosier, stood dumbly behind the sofa. They didn't feel the least bit humiliated; in fact, they looked proud, like Tom's little lackeys.
Before long, Borgin returned with the burn ointment Snape had given him. He froze for two seconds at the sight of the Common Room, then quickly understood what had happened.
He found a seat close to Tom and sat down, quietly applying the ointment.
About two-thirds of the students stayed. No one spoke. They simply sat in silence, their eyes filled with awe as they all looked toward Tom.
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