Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

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History of Magic. Without a doubt, Tom's least favorite subject.

Unlike the other classes where you could at least earn house points or get credit from the system for learning something—even with Professor Quirrell, who mostly just slacked off during lessons—Tom could still score points by playing the role of a meek, cowardly student and occasionally snagging a few sympathy points after class.

But with Professor Binns? Nothing. Nada.

The ghostly old man droned on, reading straight from the book with all the enthusiasm of a broken record. No practical value, no useful knowledge. The system didn't even register his class as beneficial—no credits, no progress. And Binns never gave anyone a chance to ask questions, which meant no way to earn house points either.

So yeah, attending his class was a complete waste of time.

As soon as class started, Tom, like many others, laid his head on the desk—not to sleep, but to enter his study space and continue learning new spells from Andros.

The bell rang eventually, and Binns, as emotionless as ever, assigned homework and drifted straight through the wall back to his office.

Unfortunately, the students didn't have that luxury. They had to walk to the Great Hall like regular people.

Tom had just reached the Entrance Hall when Hermione, clearly waiting for him, stepped in his path.

"Not here. Let's talk in the courtyard," she whispered, glancing at the passing crowd.

Tom didn't mind. Daphne, however, seemed ready to tag along—but Hermione stopped her.

The younger witch looked like she was about to protest when Tom beat her to it.

"Daphne, I don't mind if you come, but we're going to be discussing some sensitive stuff involving other people. Could you wait for me in the Great Hall?"

Reluctantly, Daphne nodded, shot Hermione a glare, and walked off through the main doors.

By the time Hermione and Tom arrived at the courtyard garden, Harry and Ron were already seated at a stone table with snacks spread out in front of them.

As soon as everyone was settled, Harry spoke up.

"Riddle, I really owe you one for last night. I didn't know how to thank you, so… I brought snacks."

"You're surprisingly polite," Tom said, grabbing a Chocolate Frog without hesitation and biting off its head. The poor frog's limbs flailed helplessly.

"But hey, I was just trying to keep myself safe. Not like I was gonna sit there and let it bite me."

Harry chuckled awkwardly. "Still, if you hadn't been there, things could've gone south fast."

"Eh, no need to make a big deal out of it. Let's just move on," Tom said with a shrug, and Harry nodded in agreement.

The moment Tom finished the frog, Ron blurted out, "So what were you doing sneaking around last night?"

"Reading," Tom replied like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Needed to check something, but the books I had weren't enough. Figured the library might help. Is that a problem?"

Harry and Ron exchanged baffled looks. To them, sneaking out at night just to look up a book was completely insane.

Heh. Suckers.

The truth? Tom had been stalking them on purpose—just to piggyback off their little misadventure and get to the forbidden corridor on the third floor without suspicion.

He'd bet a Galleon there were Dumbledore's traps on that door. If he'd gone alone, he'd probably be flagged instantly. But if Harry "accidentally" stumbled upon it, the risk was way lower.

And the night had gone better than expected: he got to test a spell on a live target and earned twenty achievement points.

"So, what about you guys?" Tom asked, feigning ignorance. "What were you doing out there?"

While Harry and Ron were still unsure if they should bring up the duel with Malfoy, Hermione spilled everything.

"Wow… that's just low," Tom said after hearing the whole story.

That one comment broke the ice. Harry and Ron instantly warmed up to him, bonding over a shared hatred.

"You should've seen Malfoy's face this morning when we showed up perfectly fine. I swear, you could've fit two and a half eggs in that mouth."

"I swear, one day I'm gonna pound him into the floor," Ron growled.

"Violence is against school rules," Tom pointed out casually.

"Oh come on, now you're just siding with Slytherin," Ron grumbled.

Before Tom could respond, Hermione jumped in for him. "Weasley, if Tom was really on Malfoy's side, he would've just left you two locked in there last night."

She had zero patience for Ron's hot-headed attitude. Being impulsive was one thing—but charging into situations without a plan and no skills to back it up? That just made trouble for everyone.

Ron turned away with a scowl and stayed quiet. Things got a bit awkward for a moment.

"I am loyal to my house," Tom said, opening a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He popped one into his mouth—celery. Not the worst.

"But I hate sneaky tricks. I'm all about actions, not names. And what Malfoy pulled? That was scummy."

"If you want to get back at him, I'm all in. I'll even help you come up with a plan."

"But hitting him? That's the dumbest move you could make. You won't feel satisfied. Snape will. He'll finally have a reason to come down on you, Potter."

Harry's expression darkened instantly.

The Dursleys weren't even at the top of his hate list anymore.

Number one? Snape.

Number two? Malfoy.

Number three? Dudley.

"So what do you think I should do?" Harry asked warily, still not fully trusting him.

Tom smirked. "Easy. Spread the story."

"What, are you nuts?" Ron looked like he was about to explode. "If that gets out, we're dead! McGonagall will skin us alive!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione snapped. "Professor McGonagall would never do that."

Harry still eyed Tom suspiciously. "You're not just trying to get us in trouble, are you?"

"How could you say that?" Tom gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he'd been mortally wounded. "I just hate Malfoy as much as you do. You think it's easy for a Muggle-born orphan in Slytherin? Those pure-bloods… sigh."

That hit home. Harry and Ron suddenly remembered—Tom might be a Slytherin, but he was also a Muggle-born orphan.

That combo alone made his life hell in their eyes. Their expressions softened, but they still had doubts about his idea.

Tom didn't push. Instead, he turned to Ron with a friendly, persuasive tone.

"Weasley, let's think this through. Imagine this situation: You challenge another pure-blood family to a duel, using the proud name of the Weasley family. But when the duel time comes, you chicken out and don't show."

"Now imagine your parents find out. How do you think they'd react?"

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