— — — — — —
At the Seventh Floor
Knock!
After removing the stone gargoyle at the entrance of the Headmaster's office and personally watching Dumbledore conjure a shabby wooden door to cover the entryway, Tom seized the bit of time he had left and hurried off to bother Snape.
With the help of the Marauder's Map, Tom intercepted him precisely in the courtyard garden.
"Riddle, what do you want now?" Snape immediately took two wary steps back.
He was honestly terrified of Tom by now. Every time Tom actively sought him out, there was a ninety percent chance it spelled trouble and a ten percent chance it was something good—though even the good things were the kind that made him deeply uncomfortable.
Awkward, hurtful, neither here nor there.
But no matter which outcome it was, Tom always left him thoroughly exhausted.
Snape layered every mental shield he had in place. "It's the holidays. I'm under no obligation to answer your questions. And that… potion—you already have it. Wilkinson collected the rest. Now get out of my way. If you miss the train, how exactly do you plan on getting home?"
"See you next term, Riddle."
But Tom didn't seem bothered by the icy dismissal. He took two effortless steps forward, positioning himself squarely in Snape's path, voice shifting into something almost gentle. "Professor—no, Severus. It's the holidays. So let's talk as friends."
Snape froze for a fraction of a second. This brat… he really knew how to step over every line with a smile.
"Are you really content with this?" Tom asked before Snape could think of a way to drive him off.
"What?" Snape frowned.
Tom stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Peter Pettigrew is going to be thrown into Azkaban soon. Do you think that's justice?"
"He's an Animagus, and he knows high-level dark magic straight from Voldemort. Can you guarantee he won't escape?"
Snape's expression stiffened, hatred flickering like cold flame in his eyes. But he stayed rational, answering flatly, "What are you suggesting? The Ministry has him. What do you expect me to do?"
"Lily…" Tom sighed. "Every time I think about Harry's mother dying at Voldemort's hand with no one to avenge her, I can't help but feel regret."
"I heard from Professor McGonagall that she was her favorite student—gentle, kind. Just like Hermione—"
"Enough!" Snape roared, face flushing, muscles twitching as he forced each word through clenched teeth. "Riddle. What. Are. You. Trying. To. Say?"
"Professor, I'm giving you a chance. A chance to take revenge with your own hands. To finally vent all those years of hatred."
Tom grinned. "After Pettigrew is sentenced, the Ministry will escort him to Azkaban."
"And you'll have the perfect scapegoat. Those Death Eaters still at large hate him—the traitor who made Voldemort vanish."
"The only thing you lack… is power."
Tom pulled a small notebook out and shoved it into Snape's arms.
"Normally, common criminals are escorted by a full team of Aurors. But Pettigrew is different. He's classified as a high-threat felon. Two Auror teams at least, maybe even Dementors. If you want to strike without exposing yourself, the odds are not in your favor. There's even a risk he could use the chaos to escape."
"So… you'll need backup."
Snape narrowed his eyes. "And that backup is you?"
Tom spread his hands. "Look across the whole of Britain—no, the whole world. Who else could possibly be more suitable than me?"
Snape didn't answer right away. He lowered his head, thinking.
Tom wasn't wrong. Going alone would be incredibly risky. And Snape's greatest weakness was that he had no friends.
Finding someone strong and trustworthy? Impossible.
Which left… annoyingly… Tom Riddle. Not because their relationship was good—it definitely wasn't.
Snape knew very clearly: Riddle was indifferent to most things unless there was something in it for him. So this time… what did he want?
"What's your price?" Snape finally asked. "You're bending over backward to get me to ambush Pettigrew. What do you want from me?"
Tom smiled lazily. "Relax, Professor. I just want some pocket money. A tiny bit. A small amount of Galleons will do."
"Galleons?"
Snape stared at him like he'd just told the funniest joke in history. "You? Short on money? Did the Greengrasses go bankrupt?"
This time, Tom's face darkened. "Professor, I don't live off other people. You clearly misunderstand me."
'You don't live off other people?'
Snape's lips twitched.
He admitted Tom had the ability to do well on his own. But that hardly stopped him from happily accepting extravagant gifts.
Looking at him now, top to bottom, there probably wasn't a single thing he was wearing that he'd bought himself. Mostly from Greengrass.
"Deal. How much exactly?" Afraid Tom might change his mind, Snape agreed immediately.
A Potions Master, short on money? Ridiculous.
Tom held up three fingers. "Thirty thousand."
Snape nearly jumped. "Riddle, why don't you just go rob Gringotts!"
"Robbery sounds like more work," Tom said cheerfully. "Professor, isn't the chance to avenge Lily Evans worth thirty thousand Galleons?"
It wasn't that Tom didn't want to ask for more. He just knew Snape didn't actually have that much cash on hand.
He wasn't poor—he just had no shortage of ways to make money, given time.
With the trial happening as soon as summer began, scraping together thirty thousand on short notice was probably Snape's limit. Anything more would be squeezing blood from a stone.
"You're ruthless, Riddle." Snape's voice was venomous, but he'd clearly accepted.
Even knowing full well that Tom was using Lily as an excuse for his greed, he couldn't refuse. If it meant Pettigrew's death… he'd pay.
Tom tapped the notebook. "Instructions are inside. Contact me anytime if you need me to make a move."
With that, he summoned Usaki, leapt onto its back, and flew toward Hogsmeade Station.
...
The train whistled and pulled away right on time.
As usual, Tom claimed a compartment with Daphne and the others. This time, Ginny dragged Luna in with her too.
The girls chatted and laughed, bouncing between every topic under the sun. Tom just stared out the window, lost in thought.
"What are you thinking so hard about?" Daphne finally asked when lunchtime came and he was still staring blankly outside.
"Me?" Tom blinked back to reality. "Nothing big. I just set a goal for myself and I'm figuring out how to reach it."
"What goal?" Hermione asked casually, chewing on her scrambled eggs.
"How to make five million Galleons quickly."
Pfff—!
Ginny's mouthful of milk sprayed out—thankfully in the direction of the floor. "How much?!"
Everyone else stared at Tom. No one thought they misheard him.
But… five million. In Galleons?
"Tom, are you sick?" Hermione reached out to touch his forehead. "Five million Galleons—that's like twenty-five million pounds. The wizarding economy isn't even that big. I seriously doubt Britain even has that much in circulation."
(A/N: Using the 1992–93 exchange rate, 1 Galleon ≈ 5 Pounds)
"..."
"Britain can handle that amount easily," Daphne said to the dumbfounded Hermione.
Hermione paused, then added, "Still, that's not the kind of money one person can just earn."
"Well… it's not impossible."
Tom's eyes lit up. "Daphne, you have an idea?"
Her cheeks flushed pink. Half-leaning on his shoulder, she leaned closer and whispered into his ear, lips brushing near his skin. "Um… if the two of us got engaged, then the Greengrass fortune would technically be yours. Oh—minus Astoria's half, of course."
"But even just half would definitely be over five million Galleons. Easy, right?"
Tom froze.
Was he born with the natural talent of living off rich girls?
Hermione and the others were stunned too. Daphne had tried to keep her voice low, but the compartment wasn't exactly big, and everyone's attention was already on them—they caught enough to get the idea.
Except for Luna, everyone turned slowly to look at Daphne like she had just attempted treason.
Even Astoria puffed up with indignation. Why did Daphne get to offer her half? She could help Tom too!
"I meant earn money, not… whatever that is." Tom couldn't even find a word for it. "And it's too early to even talk about that. Be good, eat your lunch. I need to think…"
Daphne pouted but seeing Tom slip back into thought mode, she didn't dare interrupt. She took out her frustration on the food instead.
Such a good opportunity… wasted again.
When would she finally manage to drag Tom home for good?
[Ding!]
A mechanical chime rang in Tom's head, snapping his mind back.
[Compilation complete. Host may now review your academic year summary and claim rewards.]
With a flick of thought, he opened the details.
[Congratulations, Host, on a fulfilling second year. You fearlessly eliminated corrupt staff, ignited a political movement to redefine pure-blood status, and led Slytherin to win the House Cup with a record-breaking score.]
[Multi-year Quest: Greatest Hogwarts Student in History – Stage Two complete.]
[Completion rating: Perfect (record-setting House Points increase).]
[Rewards: 1000 Achievement Points, 5000 Credits, and one Legendary Gacha Pull.]
"Yes!"
Tom pumped a fist inwardly.
He knew breaking a record would pay off. On top of the thousand achievement points, he'd scored another legendary gacha.
---
▶Host: Tom Riddle
▶Status: Hogwarts Rising Third-Year
▶Credits: 11,863
▶Achievement Points: 4,784
▶Unclaimed Rewards: One Legendary Gacha
---
Only two hundred more points to hit five thousand. The number made his head throb.
A year and a half of grinding, and still two hundred short?
No way. This summer, he was going to publish papers like a madman. Whatever it took, he would summon the first SSS Professor.
...
The long whistle of the Hogwarts Express echoed through Platform 9¾. The train slowed to a halt under the warm gaze of waiting families.
Students rushed into their parents' arms, scenes of reunion playing out everywhere.
"Message me later," Ginny said, tapping her Codex before pulling Luna toward the cluster of trademark red hair.
"Mum!" she threw herself at Mrs. Weasley.
"My darling girl." Molly stroked her head fondly, then glanced toward the train. "That boy you were talking to—that was Tom Riddle?"
"That's right. That was Tom."
"What a lovely child. Handsome and kind," Molly said without a hint of reservation.
The rest of the Weasleys blinked in disbelief.
Percy remembered perfectly well that Molly had instructed him to keep Ginny away from Tom. Yet now she had flipped like a pancake. "Mum, didn't you say—"
"Percy! Enough." Molly cut him off sharply.
"I looked into it. Tom is a good boy. He even received the Order of Merlin, First Class. That's extraordinary, isn't it?"
"Being friends with someone so outstanding will only make Ginny better. All of you, stay out of your sister's business."
Ginny shot her brothers a smug face.
And why had Molly changed her mind so drastically?
Because Ginny confessed everything.
She told Molly about the diary, about Voldemort… and made sure to emphasize exactly how much Tom had done (certain omitted parts involving being strung up aside).
Molly, after reading it all, had been horrified—and deeply grateful.
One daughter among six sons—Ginny was the jewel of the Weasley family. Tom wasn't just a friend. He had saved their daughter's life.
What was wrong with staying close to your family's savior? Absolutely nothing.
Of course, to protect Ginny's privacy, she wouldn't reveal the details to Fred, George, or the others. She'd let them stew in confusion.
...
Meanwhile, Tom sped up his pace and intercepted the Malfoys.
"Good day, Mr. Malfoy."
"R-Riddle… Mr. Riddle," Lucius managed a stiff smile, subtly shielding his wife and son behind him. Even after all this time, he couldn't forget that cold look Tom had once given him.
"Let's set a time to talk tomorrow," Tom said pleasantly, as if he hadn't noticed Lucius's guarded posture. His voice dropped just a bit. "To discuss the diary problem."
Lucius felt a chill run down his spine as he nodded mechanically.
.
.
.