After a pleasant Herbology lesson with the cheerful Professor Sprout, where Tom earned another five points for Slytherin, the time for his meeting with Snape arrived. Daphne, her face etched with worry, advised him to be apologetic. "He's known to be lenient with his own students if they are sincere," she whispered.
Tom thanked her for her concern but had no intention of being sincere.
Snape's office was a cold, dark room in the dungeons, lined with jars containing gruesome specimens. The air was thick with the smell of herbs and acrid potions. Snape sat behind his desk, ignoring Tom and pretending to read a journal.
Tom didn't wait to be invited. He transfigured a nearby bottle into a plush armchair, placed it directly opposite Snape, and sat down, closing his eyes as if to meditate.
The vein on Snape's forehead throbbed. Snap. The journal closed.
"Riddle. Did I permit you to sit?" Snape's voice was a low hiss.
Tom opened his eyes. "Is it against the rules to sit while speaking with a professor?"
"Insolence!" Snape sneered. "This is my office. You used magic without my permission. Eager to show off your pathetic little talent?"
Tom gave a short, dismissive laugh. "Professor, you are a man of great importance. I assumed you were engrossed in a vital article. As the Head of a House that values tradition and decorum, you would never intentionally be a poor host. I simply took the liberty of making myself comfortable to preserve Slytherin's reputation. Surely you understand?"
Snape's hand, hidden beneath his sleeve, clenched into a fist. He had been outmaneuvered. To argue the point would be to admit his own rudeness. He took a deep breath, his hatred for the boy deepening.
"You know why I summoned you."
"I'm afraid I don't, Professor. Please, enlighten me."
"You assaulted Zabini, Rosier, and Nott," Snape said, leaning forward. "On the very first day. Do you have any respect for me as your Head of House?"
Tom sighed dramatically. "Professor, I was forced to defend myself. A group of pure-bloods, disgusted by a Muggle-born orphan like myself, decided I should be their house-elf. This morning, I even heard them muttering the word 'Mudblood'."
He paused, then looked at Snape with an expression of earnest, almost painful sincerity.
"Professor, put yourself in my shoes. If someone were to call you… a Mudblood… wouldn't you agree that they deserve more than a beating? Wouldn't you say that hating them for a lifetime is a perfectly reasonable response?"
The effect was instantaneous. All color drained from Snape's face. His eyes widened in shock and raw pain, a strangled noise caught in his throat. The carefully constructed walls around his most secret wound crumbled to dust. He raised a trembling hand, pointing at Tom.
"You… you…"
"You see?" Tom pressed on, his voice filled with false empathy. "You feel it too, don't you? Anyone who uses that word deserves to be cut to pieces. They don't deserve friends, they don't deserve love. They deserve to die alone. I only beat them. I was being merciful."
"RIDDLE!" Snape roared, his eyes bloodshot. "BE SILENT!"
Tom held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and zipped his lips. The office was filled with the sound of Snape's ragged breathing. The Potions Master fought for control, the mask of the cold, intimidating professor slowly reassembling itself.
"I don't know where you learned such twisted logic," Snape finally spat, his voice shaking with fury, "but assaulting another student is against the rules. I will deduct…"
He stopped. He couldn't. Deducting points would punish Slytherin, punish him. He was trapped.
"Detention," Snape decided, a cruel smile forming. "A week. Starting tonight."
"No," Tom said simply.
"What did you say?" Snape asked, incredulous.
"I said no," Tom repeated calmly. "I did nothing wrong. Why should I serve detention? If anyone should be punished, it's them. You can deduct points. You can give me a demerit. You can even try to expel me. But detention is a physical punishment. My legs belong to me. I will not go."
Snape stared. The boy was a fortress. He couldn't deduct points. He couldn't contact a guardian—the boy was an orphan. He had no authority to expel him. He was utterly powerless.
"GET OUT!" Snape screamed, his composure finally shattering. "LEAVE MY OFFICE!"
"Goodbye, Professor." Tom stood, turned, and walked out, leaving the door wide open. A moment later, it slammed shut with a thunderous bang, courtesy of Snape's wand.
Back in the Learning Space, Andros, who had witnessed the entire exchange, let out a booming laugh. "That Potions Master of yours has quite a collection," he said, his voice filled with newfound purpose. "Tom… I think it's time we planned a little heist."