Study Hard and Make Progress Every Day

He was too lazy to waste time with these Centaur, and the shields around him spun even faster. "Fight if you want, otherwise don't delay my work. It's three in the morning, I need to go back to sleep."

Magorian stared at him for a long while, then finally gritted her teeth and said, "I won't hold it against you, but I'll tell Albus Dumbledore about this."

"Whatever," Tom waved his hand dismissively.

Magorian stared at him and said, "Your magic is powerful, but I warn you, the Forbidden Forest is not your backyard."

Tom dusted off his robe. "The things in the Forbidden Forest don't belong to you, or me. Whoever has the ability to get them, they belong to them."

A Centaur muttered a curse under his breath, "Vicious Slytherin."

Tom was used to it; almost everyone was prejudiced against Slytherin.

But then he thought again, no, it wasn't prejudice. He never wanted to gain a good reputation; on the contrary, he became quite assertive about certain things.

"I'm a Slytherin now, what good things do you expect me to do?" With his moral bottom line lowered, Tom felt completely enlightened and at ease.

Tom packed his things, brushed the snow off his hands, and said, "You guys take care of this cow. If anyone points an arrow at me again, I won't just lose an arm."

After saying that, he turned and left, leaving a group of Centaur trembling with anger in the snow, but there was nothing they could do.

Magorian looked at her people, her tone a mixture of anger and helplessness. "Remember, don't mess with that student. Albus Dumbledore protects the people of Hogwarts; we can't afford to offend him."

The young Centaur, Firenze, gazed at the starry sky and murmured, "Antares is unusually bright. That little wizard will change many things."

Magorian shuddered, her face turning deathly pale.

The system panel flashed.

[Achievement Points: 923. 77 points needed to summon a new teacher.]

Tom's lips curled into a slight smile. "Almost there. Just one or two more hidden areas and that will be enough."

Christmas gifts for Hermione and Daphne are finally ready.

He walked back the way he came, passing the place where Hannah and the others had their picnic. The fire had gone out, and the pot and grill were gone.

Only a small patch of dried turf and a few shallow hoof prints remained on the ground.

After Tom left, the Centaur surrounded Orion, and Ronan pawed at the ground twice with his hooves.

"I'll have Hagrid take me to see Albus Dumbledore tomorrow, and that little pony will definitely be punished!"

Magorian snapped, "What are you looking for Albus Dumbledore?"

Ronan was stunned.

"What did you want to say to him? That the Centaur attacked the foal and was then killed by the foal? Where does that leave the Centaur's reputation?"

Magorian's voice was low, but every word was heavy. "I was saving face for the Centaur!"

His gaze swept sternly over all the Centaur. "I warn you, the rules of the Centaur are important, but all of them are contingent upon upholding the agreement with Albus Dumbledore."

"Absolutely, absolutely not! The foal must not be hurt! Not even with arrows pointed at it!"

The Centaur fell silent, their sorrow beyond words.

But they understood that this was Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore's territory.

If they leave here, they will only face more enemies.

Magorian walked over to the young Centaur, Firenze Firenze stood in the shade of a tree, without a bow or arrow, nor any other weapon.

His hair was light blonde, braided into thin plaits, and hung down his shoulders.

"What did you see?" Magorian asked.

Firenze looked up at the sky. The stars twinkled through the gaps in the tree canopy, the brightest one being Antares, the Centaur's natal constellation.

"Antares's light is flickering." Firenze's voice was soft, as soft as the wind rustling through leaves. "Whether it's an immortal star or its final brilliance, it's all up to you."

Magorian's pupils dilated. If he had just made the wrong decision, did that little wizard really have the power to wipe out their entire tribe?

He looked in the direction Tom had left; the bushes had returned to calm, and the footprints in the snow had been covered by fresh snow.

Tom returned to the castle at 3:30 a. m.

He walked into the dormitory and let out a long, comfortable sigh. The blanket that Zabini had given him was soft and warm, like sleeping with a little girl who was burning up.

The only downside to expensive things is that they are expensive.

He wasn't worried that the centaurs would go to Albus Dumbledore to complain Winged Horse.

He didn't use any Dark Magic today, nor did he actually poach. What's so serious about cutting off a Centaur's arm?

At worst, it'll just be a few hundred points deducted. Snape will be the Snape who suffers, not him.

He was simply envious of Albus Dumbledore; he was experiencing the White Lord's formidable reputation for the first time today.

The moment Albus Dumbledore's name was mentioned, the Centaur immediately quieted down, just like ordinary wizards would upon hearing Voldemort's name.

This kind of intimidation captivated him; when would he be able to reach that level?

"Take your time, no rush." He patted his face. "Study hard, improve every day, and one day you'll surpass everyone."

Tom slept until just before class started, his mind still foggy, like it was stuffed with a wad of wet cotton.

He slept through History of Magic class, and he slept through Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He didn't drink Wit-Sharpening Potion; potions might make you feel better, but sleeping makes you feel better.

That's why he chose the most primitive solution: he wanted to have some fun.

Daphne sat next to him and thoughtfully put two earplugs in his ears so he could sleep more soundly.

During Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Quirrell stood on the podium, trembling, and the smell of garlic was even stronger than before.

Tom was fast asleep, slumped over the table. Hermione leaned over from her Gryffindor seat and patted him on the shoulder.

"Tom, what did you do yesterday? Why are you so sleepy?"

Tom rubbed his eyes. "I went to the Forbidden Forest for a late-night snack yesterday." He smacked his lips, then touched his chin, feeling hungry again.

"Hannah's cooking is amazing! I wish I had such a talented little cook in my family."

Hermione's ears perked up. Daphne's ears perked up too.

"Little cook?" Hermione's voice was low and fast. "Hannah? What are you doing eating with Abbott?"

"I also ran into Susan, a second-grade girl, by chance."

Hermione secretly noted down the fact that Hannah Abbott was a great cook and that her cooking suited Tom's taste perfectly.

Tom, what are your plans for Christmas? Want to play together?

"Let's go home and talk about it later. I have a lot to do."

"My mom, dad, and I are going skiing in the Pyrenees Mountains. We can meet at Diagon Alley. It's not like we're going to Daphne's house; it's too far."

Daphne, who was eavesdropping nearby, nodded repeatedly. "You, Granger, you're such a good sister, you really know how to talk."