The corridors of Hogwarts hummed with that peculiar kind of tension that only appeared near exam season — half frantic, half resigned. Even the castle itself seemed quieter, as if the portraits had agreed to whisper out of pity.
I made my way to Slughorn's Potions classroom, the familiar scent of crushed herbs, simmering brews, and faint metallic tangs thick in the air. It was the final class before the end-of-year exams, and I wasn't about to let even a single mistake mar my record.
Slughorn waddled to the front, his round face gleaming under candlelight, voice booming with warmth."Now then, my finest students, today's brew — the Forgetfulness Potion. Simple in theory, difficult in execution. Precision, timing, and control — the marks of a true potioneer!"
I didn't need the encouragement. My wand was already out, my movements crisp, exact. Every motion was deliberate — no wasted time, no hesitation. The steam shifted from silver-blue to pearlescent white exactly as the textbook described. One clockwise stir too many would've spoiled it, but I already knew where perfection lay.
When Slughorn came around to inspect, his mustache twitched in satisfaction."Ah, Mr. Riddle — flawless consistency! You've done it again! Ten points to Slytherin!"
His praise echoed in the room, followed by a few glances — admiration mixed with envy. I smiled faintly. It wasn't arrogance; it was certainty. I'd long surpassed the expectations of a fifth-year student.
As the cauldrons were cleaned and the smell of potion faded, I could feel the pull of my next destination. The library.
The moment class ended, I gathered my things and left before anyone could slow me down. The air in the corridors was sharp and alive with the buzz of stress. People clutched books to their chests as if knowledge could be absorbed through desperation alone.
When I stepped into the library, it was packed. Tables were filled with students from every house, their faces pale with exhaustion, candles flickering low beside them. The usual calm of the library had transformed into a battlefield of quills, parchment, and muttered incantations.
I made my way toward my usual corner — the far-left table beneath the enchanted window that filtered soft daylight regardless of weather. I spread out my books — Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Ancient Runes — my mind shifting gears effortlessly between them.
With eidetic memory and an IQ that outstripped even Dumbledore's calculations, this wasn't just studying — it was refinement. Every page turned became another fragment of mastery lodged permanently in my mind.
Around me, students whispered spells under their breath."Wingardium Leviosa… no, that's not right—""Did you get the part about Polyjuice ingredients?""Riddle's already finished that section."I ignored them. Distraction was for those who didn't understand their own potential.
For the next few hours, I lost myself in an analytical trance. My quill danced over parchment — diagrams of spell mechanics, alchemical interactions, wand movement optimizations. I wasn't just memorizing; I was deconstructing magic itself.
Every now and then, I glanced up — catching familiar faces among the shelves. Abraxas, head buried in Charms. Orion, flipping through Defense notes with grim determination. Even Anne Rozier and Eileen Prince sat nearby, exchanging whispered formulas. All of them were pushing themselves, but I was different — my motivation wasn't marks or praise. It was the path to perfection.
By the time Madam Pince announced the library's closing, half the students groaned in protest. I, however, closed my final book with quiet satisfaction. Everything I needed was already in my mind, arranged, indexed, and recalled at will.
Walking back to the Slytherin dorms, the castle's torches flickered low, casting long shadows on the walls. I allowed myself a small smirk.
Exams were coming. Everyone else was preparing.I was ready.
Tomorrow would bring tests, scores, and stress for the rest — but for me?It was just another opportunity to remind Hogwarts why Tom Marvolo Riddle was already destined for greatness.