A Curse Lifts You Nine Times

Aside from his initial aggressive attack, Tom seemed to be constantly battling the curse.

Snape's voice was much calmer. "Battle isn't just a simple exchange of magic. Many times, you can deal with my attacks in a much more time-efficient and effortless way."

"But you didn't. You chose the most flashy and magic-intensive method, thus wasting many opportunities to turn defense into offense."

"Your magical reserves are indeed ridiculously high, completely unlike those of a first-year student, but in this world, there will always be people stronger than you."

He said meaningfully, "If you haven't reached that point, then keep a low profile and don't always try to show off. The one who laughs last is the real winner."

Tom nodded, taking those words to heart.

On the way back to the castle, Tom asked a silly question. "Professor, have you ever seen Professor Dumbledore fight? How long could I last against him at my current level?"

Snape looked him up and down as if he were a monster before chuckling. "Nine out of ten, I suppose. One spell from him could send you flying nine times."

Tom pressed on, "How does that compare to other ordinary wizards?" The definition of strength in the Wizarding World was too vague, and he had seen very few wizards, so he could only rely on Snape for assessment.

Snape stopped in his tracks and stared at Tom for several seconds. "With your current abilities, passing the Auror's combat test will be no problem, and you'll do very well."

"But those underhanded tactics and clandestine maneuvers are not within the scope of this test. Don't let arrogance ruin your life."

He guessed that Tom might be about to do something dangerous, and could only offer this warning.

The next day at breakfast, Tom was still reviewing the previous night's battle and Snape's criticism.

In the past, whether facing human opponents or Fantastic Beasts enemies, he was always the one standing on high, thus employing various dazzling and ingenious methods to defeat them, which gave him an overwhelming advantage.

He concluded that fighting style cannot be changed; strength is a temporary issue, but coolness is a lifelong matter.

He won't change, he'd rather die than change. The problem isn't him, it's that he's not strong enough right now. If he's bad, he needs to practice more.

If he were to fight Snape in this way after surpassing him in every aspect, it would look like he was bullying a weakling, rather than showing off his skills.

Having figured this out, Tom felt much better. That wretched old bat had almost corrupted his Daoist heart.

"Tom, Tom!" Daphne gently shook the absent-minded Tom, pulling him back to reality. "We still need to fill out this before we can get on the train."

Tom looked down at the notice in front of him—<Regulations on Magical Restrictions for Underage Wizards During Vacation>.

Tom took the notice and glanced at it. The notice clearly stated that wizards under the age of seventeen were considered minors and were prohibited from using magic outside of school.

Young wizards born into Muggle families are forbidden from revealing any information about the magical world to anyone outside their immediate family.

The circulation of any magical items in the Muggle world is prohibited.

There are numerous restrictions, almost as if they are deliberately designed to limit Muggle students, and that is indeed the case.

The Ministry of Magic's detection methods mainly rely on Trace, but these Trace cannot accurately detect who is casting a spell; they can only detect if someone is casting a spell around the wand.

Even in Half-blood families, as long as an adult wizard is present, this rudimentary method can be easily passed off as legitimate.

Not to mention families with Pure-blood; the only thing that needs to be considered is the presence of elders in the family while they are at work.

But students from Muggle families are in a bad situation. After a holiday without being able to use a wand, they've long forgotten the feeling of casting spells, and it will take them a long time to readjust when school starts.

If they fall behind every year, will they still be able to compete with those of Pure-blood and Half-blood when they graduate?

Tom smiled, but there was no warmth in his smile.

He signed his name on the parchment, but he couldn't fight city hall; he was no match for the powerful now, just a nobody.

He remembered this grudge and would take revenge sooner or later. The International Statute of Secrecy was signed at the end of the 17th century, and those who drafted it are mostly long gone.

But it's okay, the debts of the predecessors will be repaid by the successors.

The students traveled by horse-drawn carriage to Hogsmeade Station.

The first-year students looked curiously at the empty carriage in front of them. There were no horses or other means of transportation; it was as if the carriage was moving by magic.

Tom couldn't see the Thestral either, but he reached out and touched it, feeling its soft fur. The Thestral was quite docile and didn't seem to mind.

The train was much less crowded, with quite a few students staying on campus, making the compartments much more spacious.

Tom, Hermione, and Daphne occupied a private room. As usual, Daphne bought a lot of snacks, and the three of them ate and drank their way through the room, hardly noticing the passage of time.

The train pulled into King's Cross Station, where Platform 9 3/4 was already quite crowded with parents picking up their children.

Hermione's parents, without a wizard's guidance, couldn't get onto the platform and had to wait inside the station.

After most of the other passengers had left, the three of them slowly walked out of the private compartment.

Tom immediately spotted a stunningly beautiful woman who stood out from the crowd.

The woman was tall, over 1.75 meters, wearing a pure white fur coat draped over her shoulders, simply adorned with a few accessories, and carrying a leather handbag.

Tom was certain that this was definitely Daphne's mother.

Daphne saw the woman and jumped for joy, waving her hand. "Mommy!"

The woman smiled, and Daphne pulled Tom by the hand to join her.

Tom turned around and gave Hermione a look, then raised his hand and waved it as if he were making a phone call.

Hermione smiled knowingly and stepped out of the platform through the stone pillar.

Daphne threw herself into Mrs. Greengrass's arms. "I've missed you so much! These past few months have been awful without you!"

Mrs. Greengrass didn't believe her daughter's sweet words and instead focused her attention on Tom was standing quietly to the side.

"This must be Tom, right?"

Tom bowed slightly. "Hello, Auntie, I'm Tom Riddle."

Mrs. Greengrass received one or two letters from her eldest daughter almost every week.

It started as letters home, talking about school, classmates, and professors, and later it became "Tom Riddle's Days at Hogwarts".

She began to wonder: what kind of person was Tom Riddle that he could be so infatuated with her daughter?

Mrs. Greengrass's gaze swept lightly over Tom, a hint of surprise flashing in her eyes.

The boy's demeanor and speech were nothing like those of an orphan. On the contrary, he was more composed and proper than many children raised by Pure-blood families. His eyes were clear yet contained a deep depth, making him unfathomable.