(Author's Note: I should explain Cassandra's temperament first, in case anyone thinks I wrote her OOC. I replayed Magic Awakened these past few days. Cassandra's defining trait is simple: make sure everyone knows their station is beneath hers. She believes her bloodline is superior, her family illustrious, and her own talent formidable. Now imagine a Muggle-born orphan, her age, standing above her and commenting on the thing she is most proud of. Before she understands the protagonist, of course she would be angry. That is why, in the last chapter, she used the word "qualified." In her view, Tom was not good enough to have the standing to judge her. She did not use other insulting language. I think that is not a problem. Perhaps it felt a bit sharp, but it fits her character. I set it up this way to pave the way for the plot. Cassandra's arc is about being "trained," so you have to hit hard first before you can, well, play with more flourish.)
Tom was smiling, and it was an annoyingly handsome smile.
Even so, everyone present felt a chill. Cassandra, staring straight at him, felt every hair rise. Panic rushed her all at once.
She opened her mouth to speak. For a split second the boy's eyes turned a molten, vertical gold.
Her soul seemed to ice over. No voice. No movement. Nothing.
"See? That is my qualification," Tom said softly. "When I speak, you stand there and listen nicely. You want to refute me?"
"You can try, but start by proving you can even open your mouth."
"Three… two… one."
"Senior Voray?!"
"Let her go!"
The Ilvermorny student who had come down the stairs with Tom saw Cassandra frozen like a fool and panicked. He whipped out his wand, but before he could level it, Tom flicked his sleeve as if shooing a fly.
A great force slammed into the boy. He bounced down the staircase like a leather ball.
"How do you feel now, Miss Voray?"
A huge wave of humiliation swelled inside Cassandra. She was on the verge of going mad.
Who was she?
Lady Cassandra Voray, heir of the Voray family. Their rise might be recent, but their pedigree and records were clear, a thousand-year line brought to a new peak in recent generations. Classmates respected her, professors spoke gently to her, even the President of the Magical Congress and the Head of the Auror Office would give the Vorays some face.
And Tom Riddle had pinned her to the spot with a look.
What kind of sorcery was this?
What gave him the right to lay a hand on her?
The cruel part was that under the deep petrification effect, only her thoughts could move. Her lashes could not even blink. That lovely face still held the half-formed alarm from the instant she sensed danger. The expression stuck mid-motion looked almost ridiculous.
Students gathered and watched in a hush. More and more came, and those who tried to speak were pulled back. No one would let them interrupt Riddle.
This result did not satisfy them yet. They grumbled in their hearts.
Had Riddle's bite grown dull, or was it because this was an exchange student, and a pretty one, that he was being soft?
Tom ignored the crowd. He conjured a mirror, glass clear as spring water, and set it in front of Cassandra.
"Here, Lady Voray. Enjoy the sight of yourself. Truly, without pure-blood breeding it is hard to produce such a richly layered expression. I find myself at a loss for words."
"Ha, Tom, you're so dumb!" The only person who would dare to speak now, and even mock Tom while doing it, was Daphne.
The girl stepped forward, chin higher than Cassandra's had ever been, and looked at her as if she were an insect. "Don't know the height of the sky or the depth of the earth, do you, ugly thing? You want to compare pedigrees? A pack of barbarians who fled to North America. Any random Slytherin can teach you what pure really means."
"Malfoy." Daphne suddenly turned to Draco, who was happily watching the show. "Yesterday you said Voray was your relative."
Goyle and Crabbe took a synchronized step away as if Draco had begun to reek of doom. Draco himself flailed so fast his hand left afterimages. "I didn't, I never, you misheard me."
"Her surname is Voray. Your surname is Malfoy. How could you be one family?"
"You yourself said a thousand years ago they were all Malfoys."
"Daphne, you cannot interpret it like that," Draco yelped, practically hopping. "Your great-grandfather was a Malfoy too. If we count like that, then you are Malfoy kin as well, which makes you Voray's relative!"
Blast it. Daphne was trying to throw him under the Knight Bus.
If Tom took that as the Malfoys opposing him, he was finished.
Was he going to end up dangling from a wall again?
Daphne's face stiffened.
Annoyingly, it made sense. She could not rebut it. The Greengrasses often intermarried with the Malfoys and the Lestranges. By blood, their ties did reach back close to the Ten Ancient Houses.
You dare argue with me?
Daphne glared daggers at Draco. Her wand had already become a whip. She was ready to run the routine and vent her anger on Cassandra.
"Wait, Daphne." Tom caught her hand. "A guest of the school, after all. Give Dumbledore a little face."
"Hanging her for one day will do."
He waved. Cassandra's rigid body slid backward as the wall rippled and swallowed her upside down. Only the back of her head and a shocked face stuck out from the stone.
Many students let out a breath in perfect satisfaction.
Comfort restored.
This was more like it. He had not needed to beat anyone, but at least she was on the wall.
"What happened here? Move aside, move aside!"
At long last, a professor appeared. Rouse shouldered through the crowd of little wizards, with Frank and Solenne right behind him. They had both attended Rouse's class today. Frank had been nitpicking him all period and left with a belly full of grievances.