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Chapter 16 - Chapter 16: The First Night of Term

Eighth Floor, Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore had thoughtfully prepared a cup of honey water for Snape, but Snape merely took a token sip before placing it back down. His voice was low and cold as he asked, "Are you absolutely certain this isn't some trick by the Dark Lord? Some kind of magical resurrection, a body possession spell perhaps?"

Pfft—!

Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle and teased, "Severus, I must admit, I never realized you had such a sense of humor. You really should tell more jokes like this—it might just change the way your colleagues see you."

Snape's expression darkened. If he had the strength to take on the old man, he'd have already taught Dumbledore what it meant to face the wrath of the Half-Blood Prince.

"With wizards like you lot, nothing would surprise me."

Dumbledore shook his head with a smile. "Severus, you underestimate yourself far too much. And frankly, you're giving both me and Voldemort too much credit."

"Yes, he does possess abilities that are difficult to imagine—he's invented dark spells never seen before. Perhaps he could deceive even me. But that doesn't mean he could fool the Founders. Hogwarts does not allow the same person to be admitted twice."

Realization flickered across Snape's face.

As a Head of House, he knew very well how Hogwarts magically searched all over Britain for suitable young witches and wizards. If this Tom Riddle was the Tom Riddle, he wouldn't have been allowed to enroll again.

"Keep an eye on that boy," Dumbledore said. "His placement in Slytherin did catch me off guard. Considering the atmosphere in your house, he might encounter... complications."

"Survival of the fittest," Snape replied coldly. "Even as Head of House, I cannot overly interfere with student affairs. That's one of the reasons Slytherin has endured so long."

Slytherin, with its sharp focus on hierarchy, was more practical and more like the real world than the other three houses. Even if he had the ability to intervene, Snape had no interest in wasting time on a seemingly irrelevant student.

Harry Potter had just arrived, Quirrell was acting strangely, and now carried a familiar aura. Compared to those issues, Tom Riddle didn't even rank.

"No, Severus, you misunderstand," Dumbledore clarified. "I meant the other Slytherin students might be in trouble."

"This Riddle may not be that Tom, but the similarities are uncanny. His magical talent is extraordinary. And because of his background, he's used to protecting himself with force. If any conflicts arise, let's just hope he doesn't go too far."

Snape: "....."

To be fair, Dumbledore's instincts were usually spot on.

Not even the first day—on the eve of term—Tom had already begun "educating" his two roommates.

After the welcoming feast, Tom followed the crowd into the Slytherin common room. This year's Slytherin boys totaled twelve, neatly divided into three dorms of four.

Draco Malfoy, his two ever-present lackeys, formed one group.

Tom ended up sharing a room with Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Rosier.

As soon as they entered the dorm, Zabini began sneering.

"Ugh! Can't believe I have to room with a Mudblood wizard. Just my luck. Hey, Riddle, go make my bed. Use the sheets I brought from home—the ones the school provided are trash."

"Yeah, mine too."

"Also, fetch me a glass of water. Chop chop."

Rosier and Nott burst out laughing and joined in, barking orders as if they owned the place.

Tom sighed.

He had expected this sort of thing the moment he was sorted into Slytherin—he just hadn't expected it so soon.

With no contingency plan, he followed his instincts.

He drew his wand and turned around.

"Concussive Blast!"

Boom—!

A shockwave erupted in the center of the room, slamming all three boys into the walls. Before they could react, Tom's wand flicked toward a nearby pen holder. The three quills inside sprang to life, transforming into ropes that shot out and bound the boys tightly.

With another flick, Tom's wand elongated, softened, and morphed into a whip.

CRACK—!

"AAAGH!"

Zabini let out a howl. The lash struck his back, leaving him twitching in agony. The other two received no mercy either.

In mere moments, the dorm looked like a carousel of spinning tops.

Only after delivering a good dozen lashes each did Tom finally stop.

"I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning, shrewd, and ambitious. How did it end up with idiots like you?"

"You try to bully someone without even checking their background first—did you think I was an easy mark?"

"Pure-bloods. Hah."

"Waaah! I'm telling my mother! You'll be expelled!"

"Put me down, Riddle! Let me go!"

"I'm sorry! Don't hit me again!"

At the end of the day, they were still eleven-year-old kids. Their pure-blood superiority was something their parents had drilled into them. Tom's reasoning wouldn't reach them just yet.

But a whip... a whip got the message across just fine.

Another round of ten lashes for good measure.

Eventually, the room fell quiet.

Tom released the spell. Zabini, Rosier, and Nott knelt obediently before him, trembling.

"Remember this—I'm in charge of this dormitory now. Anyone who disobeys me, breaks my rules, or steps out of line... will feel my whip again. Or maybe," Tom's eyes gleamed darkly, "I'll strip you down and hang you by the school gates."

His gaze swept over them like a predator.

"Rosier. Selwyn. Descendants of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. What do you think your esteemed families would do if I actually did that?"

"Zabini. You talked a lot about your mother at the feast. Wouldn't want her to find out how badly you embarrassed yourself on the very first night of term, would you?"

The three boys shivered violently and nodded in unison.

Terrifying!

He was a dark wizard—no, worse than that!

Even the Dark Lord was one of their own. This Riddle was scarier than the Dark Lord!

"I'll give you a fair chance," Tom said, sheathing his wand. He was fully embracing his role now.

"We're Slytherins. Might makes right. If any of you ever manage to beat me—by any means necessary—then you can have your revenge. A hundredfold, if you like."

If the Sorting Hat could've heard that, it would have proudly bragged about its judgment for a solid month.

"But if you lose... you'll pay the price. Got it?"

"GOT IT!" the three shouted back in unison, hoping their enthusiasm might spare them another beating.

They buried their hatred deep.

The moment they could overpower Tom Riddle, they'd strike back.

They would never forget this humiliation.

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