Hogwarts: Chill, I'm Not That Riddle-Chapter 493: Prominence Invites Criticism

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On the very first day of term, the students clearly hadn’t adjusted to waking up early yet. They drifted out of their common rooms and into the Great Hall like ghosts, dark circles hanging under their eyes.

Either that, or they hadn’t slept at all, staying up the entire night frantically finishing homework.

As they passed the House points board at the entrance to the Great Hall, almost everyone slowed down without realizing it, their expressions turning strange.

Hogwarts used to track House points using gemstones: rubies for Gryffindor, sapphires for Ravenclaw, emeralds for Slytherin, and yellow diamonds for Hufflepuff. The more gems a House had, the higher its score. For the past two years, Slytherin had practically overflowed the board.

This year, though, the points display had undergone a major overhaul. Ravenclaw’s and Hufflepuff’s hourglasses were completely empty, while the bottoms of Slytherin’s and Gryffindor’s already held a noticeable pile of black gems.

When Tom and Snape came up, plenty of students were still gathered around. The moment someone noticed the old bat’s dark expression, the crowd scattered instantly, terrified of getting caught in the fallout.

"What were you thinking?" Tom stared at Snape with a head full of question marks. "Don’t tell me Professor McGonagall got to you yesterday. No, wait. It must’ve been Flitwick and Sprout teaming up and hitting you with the Imperius Curse."

"Two hundred points," Tom went on. "Do you really not want a ten-year winning streak anymore?"

Snape didn’t reply. His expression darkened further as he realized he’d overthought everything yesterday. Tom clearly hadn’t been worried about Malfoy at all. And he shouldn’t take the chance to be petty; in the end, he’d only hurt himself.

Snape knew he couldn’t explain himself—not without making a fool of himself. If he tried, Tom would laugh himself to death.

So Snape forced together an excuse. "Prominence invites criticism. After winning for so many years in a row, Slytherin has already become the common enemy of the other three houses. I’m deliberately easing off. We’ll slowly catch up, then surge ahead again before the end of the year."

The more he spoke, the more reasonable it sounded to him. By the end, he was downright confident. "If you win the Wizarding championship, Dumbledore will definitely give you points. At least two or three hundred. A ten-year streak would be effortless."

Tom tilted his head. "Professor, who told you I’m entering the competition?"

"You’re not?" Snape hadn’t expected that answer. "You were ready to enter the dueling tournament last time!"

Tom sighed. "Do you believe me if I say that the moment I announce I’m competing, all six schools will withdraw by this afternoon?"

"Besides, I have a ton of responsibilities with the ranking system. I don’t have time to play house games with students. The one competing this time is Daphne from my house. Didn’t I tell you last time?"

After his previous attempt to compete had been rejected, the system hadn’t just given him a consolation prize. It had also issued a task: [From where you fall, rise again: participate in a major competition. Final rewards will be determined by the event’s scale and overall influence.]

Originally, Tom had planned to be shameless about it. It wasn’t like he had a good reputation to protect anyway. Later, though, he realized that "participate" didn’t necessarily mean entering as a contestant. Being an organizer counted too.

If he competed personally, the influence wouldn’t be worth much. After all, everyone else would just flee. For the sake of the reward, Tom decided it was better to keep a bit of dignity.

The old bat stared at the boy expressionlessly. "You’re sending a Greengrass into the competition? Planning to switch girlfriends?"

"Don’t underestimate her," Tom snorted. "I trained Daphne specially for this."

Snape’s interest stirred.

He didn’t know the full extent of Tom’s methods, only that the boy always seemed to have endless trump cards. Judging by that confident look, could Daphne really take first place?

"I’ll be waiting for you to prove me wrong," Snape said.

With that, he strode into the Great Hall. Tom headed for the Slytherin table as well.

---

The entire morning, the hall was filled with yawns. Young witches and wizards chatted listlessly about the champion selection rules, tossing around all sorts of wild theories.

The age restriction had been lowered from seventeen to fourteen. The prize money had jumped from one thousand Galleons to five thousand.

Fred and George Weasley had already claimed one of the champion slots in their minds and were arguing fiercely over which of them would compete.

Plenty of younger students were also tempted by the massive reward and the glory that came with it.

Several of the events weren’t purely about dueling ability. Otherwise, it would just be another dueling tournament. If that wasn’t the case, then maybe they had a shot at winning too.

Ginny watched Ron daydreaming and looked like she might choke on her own disdain.

Fred and George fantasizing was one thing. Their grades weren’t great, but that didn’t mean they were stupid. If anything, they were sharp, just uninterested in useless academic knowledge. They knew more weird and obscure spells than she did. If they competed, they might actually get a decent result.

But Ron?

What exactly did he have? An overactive imagination and a fully planned budget for how to spend those five thousand Galleons?

...

After eight o’clock, students began heading to their classrooms. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had Herbology for their first lesson, while Slytherin started with Charms.

This term, Slytherin and Gryffindor barely shared any classes at all. Only Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Transfiguration overlapped. Hermione sulked about it for days.

If she ever got the chance to be Sorted again, she’d choose Slytherin without hesitation.

By now, Hermione understood that house affiliation wasn’t what really mattered. Learning was your own responsibility. You could study anywhere. What mattered most was choosing the right people to learn from.

On the way to Charms, Daphne told Tom about Travers and Hector. After listening, Tom wasn’t surprised. He simply nodded.

"Relax. They don’t even count as trouble. I’ve already figured out how to deal with it."

He’d expected something like this. Beyond Travers and Hector, he’d sensed two other people whose hostility toward him had already crossed into outright hatred.

That was normal enough. Slytherin was practically one giant family tree. If you really traced it back, Travers and Hector were still Daphne’s relatives three generations up. The connections were a mess.

Some family ties were close, others had long since grown distant. Tom guessed the other two who hated him were from families closely allied with Travers and Hector’s.

People like that had to be dealt with, and dealt with early. Tom had no intention of waiting around for retaliation before acting.

Still, he couldn’t just kill someone outright at Hogwarts. That would shatter the existing order and cause endless problems down the line.

He already had a plan. He intended to have Gellert Grindelwald lure those hostile students in, dragging them and their families into the sphere of the Acolytes’ influence.

If he played it right, he might even use this as bait to flush out a few more rats.

Seeing how confident he was, Daphne finally relaxed.

In Charms class, Professor Filius Flitwick cheerfully announced that they would be learning a new spell, the Summoning Charm.

"Remember," he said, "you must picture the object you’re calling as clearly as possible. Its size, shape, location, and the path it will take as it flies to you. Like this. Accio! Blackboard eraser!"

From a supply crate at the back of the classroom, an eraser floated up, zipped around several students, and landed neatly in Flitwick’s hand.

"See? There were many erasers in that box, but this is the one I wanted," Flitwick said, giving it a shake. "An old eraser I’ve personally used before. Don’t hesitate. Any doubt greatly increases the chance of failure."

After explaining the key points, Flitwick had everyone move to one side of the room, leaving an item behind on the other.

Soon, the classroom filled with chanting.

"Accio! Quill!"

"Accio! Textbook!"

"Accio! Slippers!"

"Accio! Bralette!"

Tom immediately looked over, wondering which brave soul was pulling that stunt. He’d assumed it was a girl. Instead, it was Zabini.

"Blaise, you..." Nott stared at him in shock. "Why do you even have something like that?"

Zabini’s face turned red. "I... I bought it for someone else."

Tom realized he really hadn’t been paying enough attention to his dormmates. He’d missed some quality gossip.

Just as he was wondering who Zabini was seeing, a phoenix feather drifted in through the open window and landed softly in his hand.

The feather transformed into a line of glowing golden text.

"Mr. Riddle, please come to my office after class."

Tom’s first reaction wasn’t curiosity about what Dumbledore wanted from him. Then, it was sympathy for Fawkes.

How many feathers could one bird possibly have? Could it really survive Dumbledore using them like this?

What a waste.

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