— — — — — —
The same room.The same position.
Ginny found herself hanging in midair again.
Because of what she was wearing, this time felt even more embarrassing than usual. The ropes pressed against the bare skin of her thighs, and the sting of it made goosebumps rise all over her body.
It hurt... but it also—
Wait, what was she thinking?!
"Put me down right now!" she shouted, squirming in outrage. "I fought for you today, and this is how you treat me? Tom Riddle, you heartless monster!"
Tom watched her twist and fume and couldn't help feeling something was off.
She was yelling at him, sure—but that expression… that wasn't anger. She was enjoying this. Absolutely.
"I thought you'd be starving after all those duels," he said, brushing off the thought. With a tap of his fingers on the table, a full spread of steaming dishes appeared out of thin air.
He sighed theatrically. "I'd planned this as your victory feast, but it seems I'll have to eat it alone."
"Tom! Tom! I'm hungry! I'm starving!"
The aroma of roast chicken and smoked bacon filled the air, and Ginny's stomach growled so loudly that even Tom smirked.
"Then beg," he said, cutting into a perfectly cooked steak. "Say please, and I'll let you down."
He took a bite—juicy, flavorful, cooked just right.
He preferred his steak medium-well: pink and tender inside but without the bloodiness of medium-rare. Pala, his ever-efficient house-elf, always got it perfect.
"Beg you? Not a chance."
Ginny turned her head away defiantly. "I'm not getting down! I'm the hero today—you should feed me!"
Tom raised a brow. Their positions... their angle...
Interesting.
"Fine," he said with mock solemnity. "Let's honor our champion properly."
He flicked his wand, and the rope lengthened until Ginny was hovering just above the table. Then, with an amused smirk, he began feeding her.
She didn't hold back—bite after bite, she cleaned up nearly a third of the massive feast.
"Impressive," Tom said dryly. "Didn't know you could pack it away like that."
"You ate more than me!" Ginny shot back, licking a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. "You eat like your life depends on it."
"I'm training my stomach," Tom said casually.
He'd been experimenting with his food capacity lately—trying to magically speed up digestion. Progress was good. And once Newt sent over that panda he'd promised, Tom figured he'd be able to eat like one too.
Eventually, he let Ginny down. Hanging upside down wasn't great for digestion anyway.
As soon as her feet hit the floor, she gave a satisfied burp and turned to him with puppy eyes. "Teach me a few more spells? I almost lost to that stupid girl today."
"If you keep learning, it'll turn into Dark Magic," Tom said. "Vole isn't weak, and she's two years older than you. You were lucky to win."
He leaned back in his chair. "That's an age and development gap, not something you fix with a couple of new spells. Unless, of course, you use dark ones."
"Then how come you can?" Ginny shot back. "Astoria told me—you hadn't even been at Hogwarts for two months before you beat all the Slytherin prefects."
Tom shrugged. "I'm lucky. Gifted and blessed. Speaking of which—drink this."
A small vial and a piece of parchment appeared on the table.
"Follow the instructions on the diagram after you drink it."
Ginny uncorked it without hesitation and downed it in one gulp. Almost immediately, her skin flushed and warmth spread through her body.
"Better start moving," Tom warned with a smirk. "If you don't burn off the reaction, don't blame me when you wake up with elephant legs and a potbelly."
He wasn't serious, but the look on her face made it worth it.
Tom valued emotion more than obedience. Ginny's performance today—fiery, determined, fearless—had pleased him more than any win could. Even if she had lost, he wouldn't have minded. What mattered was her attitude.
And so, for the first time, he decided to give her something that was normally reserved only for his inner circle.
After half an hour, Ginny's flush faded. She felt alert, almost hyper-focused—like she'd just woken up from the best nap of her life.
When Tom explained what she'd just taken, her eyes went wide.
The potion didn't just enhance physical energy—it strengthened life essence, compressed the time needed for growth, and purified one's magic and body simultaneously.
For most people, it would just make them "better." For someone talented, though, it could multiply that talent.
"Tom," Ginny said softly, her eyes glistening, "you're so good to me. When I grow up, I'll be your girlfriend."
Tom pinched her cheek. "Trying to climb ranks already? Be a good little maid and don't overthink it."
Ginny pouted.
Tom smiled faintly. "Since you've been such a good girl, how about helping me with one more thing?"
He pulled out the Marauder's Map and spread it open. "Find your brother's dorm for me."
"Which brother?" Ginny asked, blinking.
"Ron."
"Oh."
She traced the map with her finger, following Tom's wand tip—and then frowned.
Ron's name overlapped almost completely with another. She squinted to read it.
"Peter... Pettigrew? That's such a weird name."
"Wait, Peter Pettigrew? This... it can only mean—"
She trailed off, eyes widening.
That was definitely a man's name. And having owned the map herself once, she knew just how precise it was.
Her mind instantly flooded with horrifying mental images.
"Oh, eww!"
Her face went white. She collapsed straight into Tom's arms, gagging at her own imagination.
"What are you thinking?" Tom asked dryly.
"What can I think?" Ginny said weakly. "I'm trying to be open-minded here! I mean—Ron, seriously? I thought if anyone it'd be Harry! Thank Merlin there are enough Weasley men to keep the family line going. If this were the Malfoys, their whole world would collapse!"
Tom's expression darkened.
Was that what he'd been asking? Leave it to Ginny Weasley's brain to sprint straight off a cliff.
"Merlin's beard—no! Could you not focus on that? I meant—does Gryffindor even have a student named Peter Pettigrew?"
Ginny froze. It took her a second to realize she'd completely gone off the rails.
Then her brows furrowed.
Sure, there were over two hundred students in Gryffindor, and she didn't know all the names—especially the older boys—but a name that odd would've stuck. Someone like "Peter Pettigrew"? There's no way she wouldn't have heard it before.
"Where did he come from?" she murmured.
Tom leaned back in his chair, his voice turning slow and deliberate. "Eleven years ago, Harry Potter's parents—James and Lily—were found by Voldemort because someone betrayed their hiding place. The one blamed for that betrayal was Sirius Black, who was sent to Azkaban."
Ginny's eyes widened.
"But before Sirius was caught," Tom went on, "he went after another friend of theirs. There was an explosion. Half a street gone, twelve Muggles killed instantly."
"Such a horrible crime!" Ginny whispered. The number might have seemed small elsewhere, but in the wizarding world, that was a massacre.
"And the man Sirius was supposedly trying to kill," Tom continued, "was never found—no body, just a single finger left at the scene. And that man's name was…"
"Peter Pettigrew," Ginny finished for him, her voice trembling. She'd already pieced it together.
"But if he's been dead for over a decade," she said, her nerves tightening, "then why is his name showing up next to Ron's?"
"I don't know," Tom admitted calmly. "But from what I can tell, Peter Pettigrew is most likely… Ron's pet rat, Scabbers."
"Scabbers?" Ginny's voice jumped an octave. "You're telling me he's an Animagus? You mean Peter Pettigrew's been living in my house—for as long as I have?"
"Yup~"
"Bring him to me," Tom smirked. "I heard Professor Snape keeps a good stash of Veritaserum. A few drops of truth potion, and we'll know everything."
"Wait—I'm supposed to catch him?" Ginny looked horrified.
"I can't exactly stroll into Gryffindor Tower, can I?" Tom said.
"Yeah, but…" She hesitated. She knew her limits. Picking fights with first-years was one thing, but Peter Pettigrew was a full-fledged wizard—a trained Animagus, at that. Even if he was a coward, he wasn't weak.
"Idiot," Tom said lightly, flicking her forehead. "You've got that petrifying eye, don't you? Use your brain—trick him, ambush him. Problem solved."
"Oh, right." Ginny smacked her palm to her forehead. How could she forget her best weapon?
Then she suddenly blinked and asked, "Hey—what about the other basilisk eye? Who'd you give that one to?"
"You don't know her," Tom said, waving a hand dismissively. "She's not from our school."
"Definitely a girl," Ginny said accusingly, her tone dripping with jealousy.
Tom didn't even try to deny it. "She's just a kid—seven, maybe eight. It's for protection. The world's not safe, especially for girls traveling alone."
The other petrifying eye, the twin to Ginny's, had gone to Gabrielle Delacour. It was different—more defensive in nature. When activated, it created a powerful protective field strong enough to fend off multiple adult wizards.
Fleur, however, hadn't exactly taken the gesture well.
Picture it: she receives an elegant, beautifully crafted magical artifact from the boy she adores—rare, precious, clearly made with care—and then she flips to the end of the note and reads:
"Please deliver this to your little sister."
Anyone would've exploded.
Tom had spent the past two weeks avoiding Fleur's angry messages, quietly bribing Narcissa Malfoy to order a few exquisite French jewelry sets on his behalf.
"I still don't know enough spells," Ginny said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of fear and cunning. "If that rat tries to run, I'll need to stop him. You have to teach me at least two more spells, just in case."
Tom thought for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll teach you Sectumsempra, the Laceration Curse. But use it carefully. Without the counter-curse, those wounds won't heal."
Among his circle, each girl had a role—Daphne for joy, Hermione for intellect, Fleur for beauty, Astoria for charm.
And when it came to combat… that was Ginny's department.
He didn't mind investing in his fighter.
— — —
Saturday morning in the Great Hall was unusually quiet.
After yesterday's embarrassment at the hands of Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo, Hogwarts' collective pride had taken a hit. Only Ginny and Cedric's strong performances had salvaged enough dignity for everyone to show up for breakfast without hanging their heads.
After eating, Tom made his way to the Whomping Willow. With summer coming, its branches had grown dense and heavy—it'd soon be harvest time. Combined with the centaurs' new potion base, the Codex project he'd been developing was finally ready for large-scale production.
"Tom!"
Hagrid waved from across the grounds, a shovel in one hand.
"Morning, Hagrid," Tom said, walking over. "How's the Acromantula colony? Are they delivering goods on schedule?"
"Course they are!" Hagrid boomed cheerfully. "Thanks to those little creatures you put there, Aragog's kids haven't gone hungry once."
"Good," Tom said. "When summer comes, have the materials delivered to Fawkes. He'll bring them to me."
Hagrid blinked in confusion but nodded anyway.
Since when had Dumbledore's phoenix started doing errands for Tom Riddle?
...
After parting ways, Tom spent a quiet morning with Astoria and Daphne, then headed to his meeting spot.
Professors Isabella Camado and Alessio Villa from Castelobruxo were already waiting when he arrived.
.
.
.