Tom's competitive spirit was sparked. It reminded him of his past life, swimming through the agonizing depths of Advanced Mathematics.
Casting magic wasn't just a matter of waving a wand and casually reciting a few incantations.
The level of abstraction required was easily on par with the math from his previous life.
First, he needed to use his imagination!
The Hover Charm required imagining oneself as a soaring bird.
The Wand-Lighting Charm meant projecting oneself as a glowing lamp.
But what the hell were you supposed to imagine for Sectumsempra?
He needed a target to project onto. Who was the best fit?
Snape!
Without a doubt, Severus Snape was the perfect candidate. As the creator of Sectumsempra, and given how much time Tom spent with him, projecting the man shouldn't be too difficult.
But what kind of person was Snape?
A tsundere?
No, that was only the side he showed Tom. He needed to imagine Snape's public persona.
Tom ruffled his hair into a messy mop and forced his face into a deadpan, icy scowl. Finally, he looked a little bit like the Potions Master!
"Sectumsempra!"
Nothing happened.
For the first time ever, Tom found learning magic genuinely difficult. With his usual spells—even advanced, upper-year magic—he could grasp the core trick within ten tries and slowly build his proficiency from there.
...
Hermione had picked up a little follower.
Oh wait, two.
One hiding in the shadows, and another hiding even deeper within those shadows.
"Hermione, have you noticed Malfoy's been tailing us?" Harry whispered. "We've circled this area three times, and he's still right back there. Does he honestly think he's being stealthy?"
Ron nodded. "Harry, that evil little Slytherin snake is definitely targeting you. I mean, you are the legendary Boy Who Lived."
"I didn't ask for that title!"
To Harry, the most precious thing in the world was his parents. If he could trade that title to get them back, he'd drop it in a heartbeat.
Who the hell wanted to be the Boy Who Lived?
"Maybe we should take the initiative. Let's confront Malfoy and ask him exactly what he wants."
The trio agreed instantly. Harry and Ron ducked around the next corner to hide, while Hermione kept walking forward.
Sure enough, Malfoy hurried to keep up.
"Malfoy, what exactly are you trying to pull?!" Ron grabbed Malfoy's shoulder, cutting off his escape. "You've been tailing us all day!
If you don't give us a damn good reason, we're handing you straight over to Professor McGonagall!"
Harry nodded in agreement. "Be a man and own up to it!"
"Who's following you? Get your hands off me!" Malfoy shoved Ron's arm away, rubbing his shoulder.
He instinctively wanted to spit out insults about poor, red-headed blood-traitors and filthy mudbloods. But remembering his last encounter in the Forbidden Forest, he swallowed the words.
"I'm only following Granger."
Hermione stepped forward, getting right in Malfoy's face. "Why are you following me? Malfoy, you owe me an explanation right now!"
She crossed her arms, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line.
She had absolutely zero goodwill toward the Draco Malfoy standing in front of her—not even a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean's worth!
"Tch. None of your business." Malfoy glared coldly at the group, turned on his heel, and stalked off.
As he walked away, he secretly cast a few backward glances at Hermione.
Hermione Granger. A mudblood.
She was somewhat smart, somewhat pretty, and packed a serious punch. Malfoy had to admit that her courage and magical skills were far above his own.
As a Malfoy, Draco despised owing anyone a favor.
Hermione hadn't told anyone about his cowardly, panicked retreat in the Forbidden Forest. That meant he owed her one.
It was a pity Tom wasn't there. If he were, he would have found this absolutely hilarious.
Since when did Draco Malfoy start gaslighting himself into debt?
Malfoy didn't actually have any malicious intent following Hermione. He'd just noticed that Dobby—their family's House-Elf—kept vanishing lately.
After some indirect questioning, he figured out Dobby was secretly tailing Hermione. Even though he had asked his father about it, Lucius hadn't revealed a thing. That was what prompted Draco to investigate the girl himself.
...
"Malfoy is acting super weird." Harry scratched his head, unable to put his finger on it. "Hermione, have you had any run-ins with him lately? You don't think they're planning something against you in the shadows, do you?
We still don't know the full story behind the troll, and You-Know-Who showed up in the Forbidden Forest... Hmm..."
Harry was firmly convinced there was a massive conspiracy brewing at Hogwarts!
And even now, he steadfastly believed Snape was the mastermind behind it all!
He couldn't fathom why Hermione trusted the man so much. Maybe she'd been brainwashed.
"Anyway, Hermione, I've been meaning to ask—where are you heading?"
"Just walking around."
Hermione had checked the Potions lab that morning, but Tom wasn't there.
That meant he could only be in one place: the Head of Slytherin's office.
Professor Snape's office.
"Hello."
The trio looked up to see a third-year student. The older boy was a bit on the chubby side, and his face was inexplicably flushed red.
"I-I'm a third-year Gryffindor, Lavendon Chris. You're Hermione Granger, right?"
Hermione frowned and nodded. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you?"
"Christmas—I mean, the Yule Ball is coming up, and I wanted to invite you to be my date!" The upperclassman bowed deeply. "Please, Miss Granger! I'll do whatever you want!"
"I'm a first-year!" Hermione said, completely exasperated. "Maybe you should look for someone in your own year instead of bothering first-year girls!
With all the students at Hogwarts, can you really not find a single date?"
The older boy shook his head frantically. "I-I really don't have any other options! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but please, just this once!"
"Maybe you should go ask Lavender Brown. She's my roommate. She's prettier and more mature than I am. If she dresses up properly, the professors might not even notice."
The boy looked incredibly awkward. "Miss Brown is actually the one who told me to find you."
That traitor!
"Not going to happen." Hermione rejected him without a second thought. "But I do have another candidate in mind. If he agrees to go with you, you'll be the center of attention at the ball."
"He?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, he.
If you want to show off, you should go ask Tom Riddle, a first-year in Ravenclaw.
If you can get him into a dress, you'll be the absolute envy of every guy at the ball. Go on, stop bothering me!"
"Could you tell me where he is right now?"
Is he seriously considering it?
Hermione paused, genuinely shocked.
Were students these days so desperate to save face that they didn't care about anything else? Tom was a guy, for crying out loud!
"The Head of Slytherin's office. Be my guest."
"Professor Snape's office?!" the boy gasped. "No way."
"If you don't even have the guts to go knock on a door, how do you expect to get a date? No wonder you're still flying solo!" Hermione's words were barbed, piercing straight through his psychological defenses. "But remember one thing: you absolutely cannot tell him I sent you."
...
Snape's Office.
Tom had devoured the entire book. He had memorized it from cover to cover and knew it backward and forward.
But actually executing Sectumsempra? That was currently beyond him.
Running a hand through his messy hair, Tom was just about to tie it back when a knock echoed from the office door.
Knock, knock, knock—
It definitely wasn't Professor Snape. Snape never knocked.
He would just violently throw the door open and start interrogating him.
Tom opened the door. "Professor Snape isn't here right now. If it's important, you can wait for him to get back."
"Actually, I'm here for you. Hello, Mr. Riddle. My name is Lavendon Chris, a third-year Gryffindor."
"Mr. Chris, what can I do for you?"
Tom had absolutely zero memory of ever meeting this guy.
"I would like to invite you to attend the Christmas Ball with me!"
Tom: "?"
You British guys might swing that way, but I definitely don't!
"Sorry, but I'm a guy. And a first-year. I have no idea why you'd seek me out..." Tom scratched his head, utterly baffled.
At first, Chris hadn't understood it either, but seeing Tom in person, it all made perfect sense.
If you put some makeup on Tom and shoved him into an elegant gown, his pretty face would make even the girls fiercely jealous!
"Mr. Riddle, I'm begging you! I'll do anything! I just have to attend this ball. I've asked so many people, even first-year girls, but..."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "Let me guess. Did a girl named Hermione Granger send you to me?"
Seeing the boy desperately try to deny it while his face contorted with unmistakable guilt, Hermione's wicked, smug little smile instantly flashed through Tom's mind.
Why is she sabotaging me?!
All I did was make her do a tiny, infinitesimal mountain of homework!
BOOM—
A spark of inspiration exploded in Tom's mind.
He felt like he had just unlocked the ultimate secret to Sectumsempra.
He didn't need to project anyone! He didn't need to use his imagination!
For a spell with such extreme lethal intent, all Tom needed to do was... genuinely want to murder the person!
Just like how Hermione had deliberately framed him right now.
Hermione, I thank you.
But you'd better pray I don't catch you outside, or I'm going to make you pay.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Riddle, but please, come with me! I'm completely out of options!"
Given that he was desperate enough to brave Professor Snape's office, he really must be out of options.
"Absolutely not!"
The rejection didn't come from Tom. It came from Professor Snape, who had finally returned.
The bat-like Potions Master wore a frosty glare as his eyes swept over the two of them.
"Riddle, you neglected to mention you harbored these sorts of peculiar inclinations."