— — — — — —
"What if I highlight our past achievements? …But what achievements?"
"Damn..."
Lucius froze, face darkening. "We've got nothing. Are the Malfoys this bad?"
He knew his family's history of "success" all too well. To put it bluntly: double-dealing, backstabbing, and seizing whatever they could get their hands on.
If he wanted to find something noble to brag about in the Malfoy legacy… that would be harder than making him Minister of Magic.
"Narcissa, what do you think about us… doing something good for once?" Lucius said suddenly.
His wife, who was quietly sipping tea and nibbling on a pastry, froze. Then she turned to him with alarm. "Lucius, what nonsense are you spouting? Since when do Malfoys do good deeds?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Did someone curse you?"
Lucius: "…"
"I only mean," he sighed, "that we should think about improving the Malfoy name a little."
He pointed to the newspaper in his hand. Narcissa caught on quickly and gave a disdainful little laugh.
"My dear, it's just an article by a student. You're taking it far too seriously. He hasn't written anything about us yet. If he dares, we'll deal with him directly. If you're truly worried, warn him in advance."
"Don't be reckless, Narcissa!" Lucius nearly leapt out of his chair, pale with fright. "Tom Riddle is not the kind of student you think he is."
"What's gotten into you?" she frowned. "I know the boy's talented—Draco's practically terrified of him—but still…"
"There is no 'but still,'" Lucius cut her off sharply.
Seeing her temper flare, he quickly softened his voice. "Darling, you trust my instincts, don't you?"
Narcissa hesitated, then nodded.
Lucius was no saint, but when it came to survival, his instincts were unmatched. Back when Voldemort fell, he not only dodged prosecution by the Ministry, he even managed to smooth things over for other "associates." The Malfoys didn't just escape unscathed—they profited.
"Then trust me on this," Lucius said firmly. "Remember last year, after the incident with Draco, I went to Hogwarts?"
"I remember. What about it?" Narcissa asked.
Lucius leaned in, lowering his voice. "I went there intending to confront Tom Riddle. But when he looked at me… it was the same gaze as the Dark Lord."
Narcissa shivered. "You're not joking?"
"Would I ever joke about something like this?" Lucius shook his head. "It was that same indifference to life. It chilled me to the bone. For a moment, I thought if I said one wrong word, I wouldn't be walking out alive."
He spoke gravely. "It's not just the name he shares with the Dark Lord. He's even more domineering. Think about it: Voldemort was once a model student at Hogwarts. No one would have believed he'd turn into… well, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"But this Tom Riddle? He doesn't even bother with the mask. He's beaten students, humiliated professors, disregards Snape, ignores Dumbledore, even rallied half of Slytherin to oppose Dumbledore and drove out one of his chosen professors. And what happened? Nothing. He still struts around Hogwarts untouchable."
Lucius's expression hardened. "We're not his enemies right now, and Draco seems to get along with him well enough. Best to leave it that way. As for these essays about bloodlines, we can try to persuade Riddle to place the Malfoy family further down the list."
"If he survives the wrath of the other pureblood families, then so be it—we'll accept it. If he doesn't, then he'll fall without us lifting a finger."
The seriousness in his tone left Narcissa unsettled, and she nodded obediently.
"I understand, Lucius. Let the other fools test his limits first. We'll watch from a distance."
"Exactly."
Lucius smiled faintly. Marrying Narcissa and fathering a clever son—those were the wisest decisions of his life.
---
At Hogwarts, during Potions class
Ignoring Snape's death glare, Tom was scribbling away in his magical notebook.
Across the ocean, his article had also been picked up by major American newspapers. Tina, of course, had stormed in immediately to "demand an explanation."
Newt had read it too, though with his level of social awareness, he hadn't sensed any trouble. To him, it was simply a well-written, scholarly essay.
Tina, however, knew better. She could already see the storm brewing.
『Tina Scamander』: Tom, why on earth would you write something like this? Stop before it's too late. This essay is purebloods' last shred of dignity. Now that you've ripped the veil off, you'll have half of them out for your blood.
『Tom Riddle』: Grandma Tina, if my whole life has been like walking on thin ice, do you really think I'll ever make it to the other side?
『Tina Scamander』: Speak human words.
『Tom Riddle』: No turning back now.
『Tina Scamander』: Sigh… Honestly, boy. Why didn't you talk to us first? Don't tell me you didn't even warn Nicolas.
『Tom Riddle』: I didn't. He's too old—I didn't want to trouble him with something so small.
『Tina Scamander』: Small? Ha. I'd bet a dozen galleons some pureblood family comes knocking any day now.
『Tom Riddle』: The purebloods in Britain are all trash (except the Greengrasses). As for those abroad, if they want to bother me, they can get through Dumbledore first. Otherwise, they don't even deserve a conversation.
"..."
Far away in America, Tina peered over her reading glasses, eyes sparkling mischievously.
Well, well. What a sly boy.
He'd just shoved Dumbledore forward as his shield.
But that was exactly what she liked about Tom—that streak of cunning, especially when it came at Dumbledore's expense. It made her grin with satisfaction.
『Tina Scamander』: You crafty devil. Still, don't get careless. You're spending the summer with Nicolas, aren't you? I'll send Newt too. The two of you making a public appearance together should be enough to keep some of the old fossils at bay.
『Tom Riddle』: …Fine.
Tom leaned back with a sigh, caught between amusement and exasperation.
Who would've thought his antics would end up giving Newt Scamander a chance to leave America for Paris? And those "old fossils" Tina mentioned…
Well, chances were, more than a few of them were already his allies.
Even without Dumbledore's presence looming over them, with Rosier pulling strings, most of the trouble could still be kept away.
Forget it—might as well let Newt stretch his legs a bit. Keeping him stuck in America all this time wasn't exactly fair.
...
After finishing his chat with Tina, the bell rang.
Tom once again got held back by Snape—not to scold him for slacking off in class, but to give him a lecture nearly identical to Tina's.
The gist of it was: "Riddle, you're not all that yet. If you were already a Dark Lord or someone on Dumbledore's level, then fine, maybe you could afford to make enemies. But right now? Cut the nonsense, focus on getting stronger, and stop playing these little games."
Tom, in turn, warmly invited Snape to see firsthand just how strong he already was… and got booted out by a furious Snape for his trouble.
...
That evening, it was time for the Dueling Class.
The Great Hall had been rearranged into five dueling stages. Compared to the first lesson, Laos was more relaxed this time. No more lecturing about basic etiquette—straight into practical combat drills.
"Don't fixate on your own wand. Pay attention to your opponent's wand—their movements, their eyes.
"The moment they lift their hand, you'll see it. That gives you time to predict, maybe even strike first.
"On the flip side, make sure your own movements are hidden. Don't let your opponent read your intent too easily. Dueling isn't just skill against skill—it's a battle of minds.
"I know it feels hard for you right now, but good habits need to be built early. If you wait until later, it'll be nearly impossible to fix. All right, pair up. Keep the pace a bit slower than usual. Winning doesn't matter—learning does.
"And if anyone has grudges to settle, you can take it up here on the main stage…"
Draco Malfoy looked like he was itching to challenge Harry again. But Harry wasn't so eager—after the whole Parseltongue incident, even Hufflepuff students were whispering that he might be the Heir of Slytherin.
Even Justin Finch-Fletchley, who used to chat with him now and then, bolted at the sight of him.
And the first to climb onto the main stage wasn't Malfoy at all—it was Celeste Rowle, Slytherin's perfect.
"Melrose! Didn't you say we always bully you with numbers? Well, here's your fair chance. Come on—dare to face me?"
Melrose, who had just paired off with her friends, went pale. She wanted nothing more than to run, but with so many people staring, bolting now would be social suicide.
So she forced herself up onto the stage… and couldn't even cast a single spell.
Celeste flattened her with nothing but a Jelly-Legs Jinx and a Bat-Bogey Hex. To kids from wizarding families, those petty curses were nothing—but for Melrose, it was total humiliation.
Tom was just about to summon Ariana to help restore the girl's confidence when a crisp voice called out behind him.
"Tom! Come here!"
Ginny's head popped out from behind the oak doors. She was waving at him, clearly sneaking around.
Tom raised a brow and strolled over. Outside the doors, Ginny was waiting with Luna.
As soon as he stepped out, Ginny quickly shut the door behind him. Tom caught her chubby little cheek between his fingers and pinched, making her yelp.
"Oww! What was that for?"
Ginny's face scrunched with mock-innocence. "All I did was ask you to come out—"
"Oh? So bold now, huh? Giving me orders?"
"How was that an order!"
"Still talking back?"
"I was wrong!" Ginny surrendered instantly.
Lately, she'd been writing Tom little essays every day—hundreds of words at a time. At first they'd been proper reflections. Then they devolved into gossip: which girl was being fake today, which boy was acting ridiculous.
That was exactly the kind of thing Tom liked hearing. The more they shared, the more they talked.
And as everyone knows, gossip was the best path to friendship.
Gradually, Ginny wasn't quite so afraid of him anymore. Sure, this Tom wasn't as sweetly understanding as the one in the diary—he only wanted to hear the fun bits—but he was real. His words might be cutting, but most of the time they lined up with what she was already thinking. They had a kind of unspoken rapport.
"Riddle, I asked Ginny to bring you," Luna said softly, almost dreamily.
"Thank you for your help. But really, I don't mind what they're doing. Melrose and the others were just playing pranks."
"No need to thank me." Tom shook his head. "Call it compensation for last time. Or gratitude, if you like."
"Then… can it stop?" Luna's eyes widened. "They're all scared of me now."
"Why should it stop? This is just my prank. If you don't mind, then clearly they don't either."
"But…" Luna frowned, caught in his twisted logic. "But Melrose's been crying for days."
"That just means her tear ducts are strong. Honestly, she's probably enjoying it. Before, she was invisible. Now she's the talk of the first-years. How is that not an upgrade?"
"Luna, do you really care if people are scared of you?"
Luna shook her head.
"Then forget it. Don't waste time on people who don't matter."
Tom pushed the door open again, letting in the noise of dueling.
"Come on, Ginny. You said I taught you a bunch of useful little hexes. Let's see how well you've learned them."
Ginny's face tensed, her worry slipping out. "Tom… the diary hasn't been affecting you, has it?"
"Of course not," Tom said casually. "Stick with me—life's way better than it ever was with that diary."
If lil Voldy had heard him just then, he would've exploded.
Better?
He was basically chained to a desk now, forced to churn out endless words. And if the quality slipped, unicorn blood burned him alive. It was torture—pure and simple. He'd trade places in a heartbeat.
For Voldy, Tom symbolized everything about an evil dark wizard. But he also opened his eyes to the idea that you could enslave someone without them ever realizing they were a slave… a reminder that no matter how high you climb in the dark path, there's always a higher peak.
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