BANG—!
"Outrageous!"
Snape slammed his hand on the desk, the echo thundering through the office. "Fighting classmates on the very first day—what does he think he's doing?!"
"Professor, that Riddle is completely out of control!"
Rosier was quick to throw mud. "He acts like the wizarding world is just another Muggle school of his. No sense of discipline, no respect at all—he clearly doesn't take you seriously!"
A cold gaze swept across him.
Rosier immediately shut his mouth, trembling like a leaf.
Snape's voice was frigid. "Whether or not he respects me, Rosier, is not for you to judge. That is for me to decide."
"I've heard enough. I'll handle it. You're dismissed."
"Yes, Professor."
Receiving the answer they wanted, the three students left Snape's office with undisguised glee, as if they could already see Tom Riddle being punished, perhaps even expelled from school.
But even after they left, Snape's expression remained grim.
He had dealt with arrogant students before—but this arrogant this early? That was new.
Not even Voldemort had been this brazen when he first entered Hogwarts. Tom had barely arrived and already beaten up three roommates, and even used a whip to "educate" them.
Snape had brushed off Dumbledore's warning last night, but the boomerang had come back faster than expected.
This wasn't just some problem child—this needed immediate and serious handling.
Snape's eyes flickered. He decided to deal with the matter himself. Best not to give that old man another opportunity to swoop in and play the benevolent hero.
Today, he would give Tom Riddle a lesson he wouldn't forget. One that would remind him whose territory Slytherin truly was.
There were over a hundred and forty staircases in Hogwarts, most of which had a mind of their own. A staircase might be on the second or third floor one moment, then whisk you to the top of the castle the next.
The good news? These staircases didn't move completely at random. Some shifted positions at fixed times, others reacted to how forcefully one walked—or would change if you stomped three times.
Sometimes you could even catch a shortcut straight from the first floor to your desired floor. Very efficient.
The bad news? As newcomers, Tom and Daphne didn't know any of this. They had to figure it out by trial and error.
To avoid being late for their first class, the two left early.
Unfortunately, after Tom gave one of the steps a light kick, a staircase from the third to the fourth floor suddenly whisked them all the way to the top of the castle. Huffing and puffing, they had to walk back down, each step taken with utmost care so as not to anger the unpredictable "Staircase Lords."
By the time they finally reached the classroom, class was about to begin.
Tom swore silently: One day, once I understand the layout of this castle, I'll rewrite the rules—make them even more annoying. No reason I should suffer alone.
With that vow in mind, he and Daphne stepped into the classroom.
On the professor's desk sat a tabby cat. Its markings were darker around the eyes than anywhere else. It perched there silently, watching the chattering students with steady eyes.
Tom glanced at it but said nothing. He had no intention of exposing its identity. Calmly, he walked further into the room.
"Riddle! Over here!"
Hermione waved energetically, pointing to the empty seat beside her.
Tom walked over. Daphne pouted, dragging her feet as she followed reluctantly.
Once they sat down, Hermione immediately leaned over. "So, how do you like Slytherin so far?"
"It's fine. Everyone's been pretty welcoming."
"Really? Huh. But according to the books, they're supposed to be hostile toward Muggle-borns and half-bloods."
"Is that so? I haven't noticed. My roommates were all very... friendly."
"Well, alright then." Hermione dropped the subject and patted her textbook proudly. "I finished reading this for the third time last night. How about you?"
Daphne couldn't hold back. "If magic could be learned just by reading books, don't you think Muggles would've taken over the wizarding world by now?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed at the hostility in Daphne's tone. "Since I do have magical talent, reading helps me learn faster. Or are you suggesting you pure-bloods can just lie around and absorb magic through osmosis?"
"At least we're not as desperate as you. Magic has been part of our lives since birth—it's second nature to us. You... you're just a country bumpkin."
That last jab was muttered under her breath—barely audible—afraid that Tom might hear and think less of her.
To Tom's surprise, Daphne was surprisingly good at quarreling—nothing like the innocent rich girl she appeared to be. Their back-and-forth was sharp and relentless, no room given.
Sitting between them, Tom remained expressionless. But he felt like both his ears were under attack.
"It's 8:55," he suddenly announced.
Hermione froze, realizing class would start any moment. The professor could arrive any second. With a huff, she turned away, refusing to engage further.
Daphne also turned her head, no longer looking at Hermione, and began whispering to Tom instead.
A few minutes later, the bell rang. Professor McGonagall still hadn't appeared—but two boys burst into the classroom, panting.
"Th-thank Merlin, we're not late."
Harry doubled over, hands on his knees, grinning with relief. He and Ron quickly found two empty seats and sat down.
"Bloody cursed staircases," Ron muttered between gasps. His face was drenched with sweat, but he smiled when he realized McGonagall hadn't arrived. "We're not late, but the professor is! If I'd known that, I wouldn't have sprinted up half the castle—I can barely breathe!"
Ron didn't bother lowering his voice. Even though he and Harry were seated near the back, his words carried easily to the front.
Tom turned his head, gazing at Ron with the look one might give a man walking toward a guillotine.
So what if he had beaten up his roommates on the first day? Ron Weasley was the real brave soul—provoking a professor on the very first lesson.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."
At that moment, the tabby cat leapt forward—and mid-air transformed into Professor McGonagall. The class collectively jumped in shock.
Ron's jaw dropped. His face turned pale.
Professor McGonagall glanced at him, then swept her sharp gaze over the entire class.
"I'm pleased to see no one is late for our first lesson. I do hope you maintain this level of punctuality. I, for one, am never late."
"Oh no... she heard me..."
Ron whimpered like a dying mosquito, his dreams of Hogwarts glory crumbling.
Harry, without a word, quietly shuffled his chair just a little further away from his newly acquired best mate.