— — — — — —
The Slytherin common room was dead silent. Everyone—including the prefects—was crowding around the stairs leading to the dorms, frozen in place.
Tom looked at them, puzzled. "Why are you all just standing there? You expect me to clean all this up by myself?"
Snapped out of their daze, the group scrambled forward and began tidying up the room.
"Tom, you were amazing!"
Daphne all but threw herself into his arms, giving him a tight hug.
"It was just a few students. No big deal," Tom said, brushing it off.
Some younger Slytherins passing by with chairs overheard him and nearly choked.
Wasn't he a student too?
And who talks like that?
"Just a few students," he said… Yeah, right. We're convinced now—Tom Riddle's aiming to rule.
"But you're only a first-year student," Daphne said, still not understanding why he pushed himself so hard. "If I had your skills, my mum would double my allowance out of sheer joy."
"If you run into enemies, they're not going to care how old you are."
Tom gently patted her head. Her golden hair felt silky under his fingers. He sighed. "The magical world's a dangerous place. I just want to be prepared."
That left Daphne even more confused. She never thought the wizarding world was all that dangerous. Voldemort was gone. Any remaining Dark Wizards were either locked away or under the Imperius Curse—not the type to cause trouble at Hogwarts.
Pureblood families mostly just hated how Dumbledore treated Muggle-borns and half-bloods. No one ever questioned the old man's power. That had been tested by not one, but two Dark Lords.
Tom just smiled at her confusion, offering no further explanation.
The next few years at Hogwarts weren't going to be peaceful, and Tom knew it. Dumbledore's grip on the school was slowly slipping. Sirius Black could sneak in and out of Hogwarts like it was nothing, and even Mad-Eye Moody got replaced right under his nose.
That sense of danger? That's what drove Tom. Sometimes, your enemies are shadows you don't even see coming.
...
Ten minutes later, the Slytherin common room was back in order—mostly if you ignored the massive dent in the wall and a few scorched patches on the floor.
The layout had changed a bit. The most extravagant chair had been placed dead center of the room, with all other seating arranged around it.
Naturally, Tom sat right in that chair. It was wide enough to fit two people, and Daphne was seated comfortably beside him.
Zabini, Nott, and Rosier stood behind them like grinning idiots, not the least bit self-conscious—actually, they looked kind of proud.
When Burke returned from fetching healing ointment from Snape, he paused at the sight, but quickly understood what was going on and found a seat near Tom without saying a word.
About two-thirds of the house had stayed behind. They all sat in silence, eyes on Tom.
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Tom began speaking. "We need to pick the shadow prefects for the upper years as soon as possible. Luckily, it's the weekend, so we've got two full days. That should be enough."
He paused, then added, "Actually, I've been thinking. Just one shadow prefect might not be enough. Better to have one male and one female per year. Any objections?"
No one spoke. Everyone shook their heads.
"I'll take care of the boys," said Burke as he rubbed salve on his arm.
"I've got the girls," Carrow added.
"Thanks. Appreciate it," Tom nodded, then continued:
"Let me be clear— shadow prefects are here to help the House Head and regular prefects manage their year. Not to throw their weight around or act like tyrants."
"Look, we're all respectable people here. Slytherins. I believe we're the best of the magical world—the elite. We shouldn't be blinded by something as petty as a bit of authority."
Several people smiled at that. Some even nodded in agreement.
Slytherins prided themselves on their ambition. And Tom's words hit the mark.
'You might be a prefect, but that doesn't mean I'll submit to you.'
'I might not be able to beat you now—but one day, I will.'
Tom's proposal balanced the scales. Everyone's interests were protected. Naturally, that earned him support.
"But let me just say this upfront—" Tom's tone shifted slightly. "Just because a shadow prefect isn't allowed to abuse their authority doesn't mean you can ignore them. Reasonable requests and orders must be followed. Anyone who refuses will be handled—by upper-year prefects if necessary."
"Also, the position isn't permanent. At the start of every term, there'll be a chance to challenge the current shadow prefects. They can't refuse. If they lose, they're out. The winner takes the spot."
Tom laid out several more rules. No one objected. Everyone quietly committed them to memory.
Why would they complain? The rules were fair—no bias toward the shadow prefects, but their authority was protected, and the rights of the rest of the students remained intact.
And the best part? You could challenge for the position every term. That meant the tables could turn at any time.
The response was overwhelmingly positive.
After finishing the last point, Tom waved his hand. "That's all for now. You're dismissed."
Daphne, knowing Tom had just fought multiple battles in a row, didn't stick to him like she usually would. Instead, she gently encouraged him to go rest.
His three roommates happily followed him back to the dorm, each with a task already in mind—one grabbed towels, another set out toiletries, and the third even started running warm water.
"Tom," said Zabini with a big smile, "your blanket looks a little worn. My family's got a spare made from Unicorn hair and a Phoenix feather. It's super warm. Never been used. I can have my mum send it tomorrow."
Tom put down his rinse cup and took the tissue Nott handed him to dry his mouth.
"That sounds way too extravagant. It's really not necessary."
"No, no—it's perfectly necessary!"
Zabini slapped his thigh in excitement. "I'm the type who kicks off my blanket in the middle of the night—it'd be completely wasted on me. But you? You'd actually use it!"
"Well, I'll thank you in advance then, Blaise."
Zabini skipped off happily to fetch some water. Meanwhile, Nott and Rosier glared at him behind his back, muttering about what a brown-noser he was. But deep down, they regretted not thinking of it first. Their eyes darted around, clearly trying to come up with a gift of their own.
It was obvious—if you had any sense at all, you'd stick close to the rising star. And right now, Tom was shining brighter than anyone else in Slytherin. The closer they were to him, the more they'd glow in the eyes of others.
---
Later that night…
Tom lay in bed, for once not diving into his study space. He just stared at the ceiling, letting his mind drift.
Honestly, everything that had happened today had been within his expectations. Not that he specifically predicted Malfoy would make a move—but if it hadn't been Malfoy, it would've been someone else.
Slytherin was filled with people like that—guys looking to stir things up just to make themselves feel important. And to them, Tom was an outsider.
His strategy with Avery had been set in stone for a while now: deal with a few fights early on to avoid being constantly challenged later. A small investment for a massive return.
Now that he'd shown what he could do, nobody would come after him lightly—not unless they were absolutely sure they could win.
And as for the whole "Shadow Prefect" idea… even if Snape hadn't openly approved it, after defeating every single actual prefect, Tom had basically claimed the title by default.
Otherwise, why would so many Slytherins be following his lead?
Some things didn't need to be said out loud—everyone just understood.
"Let's check the system panel," he murmured.
Tom pulled up the system log.
Tonight hadn't just been about clearing a few obstacles—it had been wildly profitable in every sense.
[Congratulations! The 'Shadow Prefect' system proposed by the host has been acknowledged by the Head of House, modifying Slytherin's power structure.]
[Awarded: 150 Achievement Points.]
[Congratulations! The host has become the First-Year Shadow Prefect.]
[Awarded: 20 Achievement Points.]
[While serving as Shadow Prefect, you will receive a monthly salary of 100 Credits. This month's credits have been issued.]
A total of 170 Achievement Points in one evening—more than he usually earned from a week of sneaking around the castle at night.
And judging by the newly unlocked achievement list, each year level's Shadow Prefect position counted separately—second year, third year, and so on. That meant he could look forward to another hundred points or more down the line, guaranteed.
Not to mention the monthly credit bonus—100 may not seem like much, but passive income was passive income. A steady stream like that would add up fast.
He could treat it like a free use of his "Turbo" mode every month.
Wait a second—!
Tom's eyes flew open as he realized something.
"System," he said sharply, "are you shortchanging me on Achievement Points? If the Shadow Prefect role is worth this much, why didn't I get anything for becoming the Shadow Head of House?"
His system was cold and robotic, lacking emotion—but it still had decent AI. It usually gave answers pretty quickly when asked about rule-related stuff.
And sure enough, it replied just as promptly this time:
[The 'Shadow Prefect' system was acknowledged by the acting Head of House, thus fulfilling requirements for achievement generation.]
[In contrast, the proposal for 'Shadow Head of House' was not recognized by either the acting Head or the school's higher authorities. Therefore, no achievement can be granted.]
So that was it.
If he wanted to get the reward, he'd have to get Snape—or even Dumbledore—to officially recognize the role.
Yeah, good luck with that.
Tom mentally shelved the idea for now.
He glanced at his current treasure—700 Credits saved, over 500 Achievement Points banked. He was getting closer and closer to summoning the next [King of the Century] SS-level instructor.
As he couldn't help wondering what kind of teacher it would be next time.
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