The Slytherin common room was deathly silent. Not a single whisper could be heard — even the prefects were squeezed together on the stairs leading up to the dormitories.
Tom looked at them, puzzled. "Why are you all just standing there? Expecting me to put everything back by myself?"
That snapped them out of their trance. Everyone scrambled forward to help reorganize the room.
"Tom, you were incredible!"
Daphne practically flung herself into his arms, giving him a tight hug.
The petite young witch was soft and fragrant, and Tom instinctively took a deep breath.
"I just beat up a few students. No need to get so overexcited," he muttered, though his words got jumbled midway.
Passing Slytherins carrying chairs and tables overheard that and couldn't help clicking their tongues. Was this boy raised in Versailles or what?
"Just a few students," he said.
Confirmed: Tom Riddle was gunning for a professor's seat.
"But you're just a first-year," Daphne said, puzzled by why Tom expected so much of himself. "If I had your skills, my mum would probably double my allowance out of joy."
"If you're ever facing an enemy," Tom replied, gently patting her head, "they won't care how old you are."
Her golden hair felt smooth and silky under his fingers. He sighed. "The magical world is dangerous. I just want enough power to protect myself."
That only confused Daphne further. She'd never thought the wizarding world was particularly dangerous. The Dark Lord was already gone. Other dark wizards wouldn't dare cause trouble at Hogwarts — not unless they were under the Imperius Curse or completely out of their minds.
Pure-blood families disliked Dumbledore's fondness for Muggle-borns and half-bloods, sure, but no one ever doubted his strength.
The man had taken down two Dark Lords, after all.
Tom simply smiled at her confusion and didn't elaborate.
He knew the coming years at Hogwarts would be anything but peaceful. Dumbledore's grip on the school was weakening. Sirius Black had once snuck in and out of the castle like it had revolving doors, and even Mad-Eye Moody had been replaced right under Dumbledore's nose.
That was where Tom's sense of urgency came from. Sometimes danger came out of nowhere, thirty moves ahead of schedule. Who knew when it would all kick off?
…
Ten minutes later, the Slytherin common room was mostly restored — if you ignored the gaping holes in the walls and the charred patches on the floor.
The layout had changed a bit. A grand, luxurious armchair now stood at the center of the room, clearly the most prominent spot. The rest of the seating was arranged around it like stars orbiting a moon.
Tom sat there without hesitation. The chair was wide enough for two, so Daphne nestled in beside him.
His three roommates — Zabini, Nott, and Rosier — stood grinning behind him, not the least bit self-conscious. In fact, they looked rather proud.
When Burke returned with Snape's potion kit and saw the transformed common room, he paused for a second — but quickly grasped the situation and found a seat near Tom.
Roughly two-thirds of the students had stayed behind. All of them remained silent, eyes fixed on Tom.
Naturally, Tom began to speak.
"We'll need to pick stealth prefects from the other years. The weekend gives us two full days — that should be enough."
He paused, then added, "Actually, one per year might not be enough. Better to have one boy and one girl per year. Any objections?"
Everyone shook their heads. No one had anything to say.
"I'll handle the boys," said Burke, rubbing potion on his arm.
"I'll take care of the girls," added Carrow.
"Appreciate it," Tom nodded to both of them before continuing. "I need to clarify something. The role of stealth prefect isn't about lording it over others. Your job is to help the head of house and official prefects manage your year better."
"We're all respectable people here. I believe everyone sorted into Slytherin is among the magical elite. Surely no one would let a sliver of power cloud their judgment."
Many students smiled knowingly at that, nodding in agreement. Tom's words hit the perfect nerve — pride.
Slytherins prided themselves on their nobility. They were all ambitious, every one of them.
So you're a prefect? Big deal.
I don't acknowledge you now, but someday I'll surpass you and take your place.
Tom's message protected everyone's interests — naturally, it won their approval.
"But let me be clear."
His tone shifted. "Just because stealth prefects can't abuse their power doesn't mean others can ignore their authority. Reasonable orders must be followed. If someone repeatedly refuses, senior prefects will handle it."
"And no — these roles aren't permanent. At the beginning of every term, stealth prefects can be challenged. They cannot refuse. If they lose, they're replaced by the challenger."
Tom laid out a series of rules. No one objected. They quietly memorized each one.
Because they were fair. Completely fair.
The rules didn't favor the stealth prefects, but also didn't undermine them. Everyone's rights were protected. No one had to worry about being bullied by authority.
Best of all? The opportunity to challenge every term meant the power structure could always shift.
One moment you're on top — the next, someone else is.
The response was overwhelmingly positive.
Once he finished, Tom waved a hand to signal the meeting was over.
Daphne, knowing he must be exhausted after several battles in a row, didn't cling to him. Instead, she gently urged him to go rest.
His three roommates followed him back to the dorm, cheerfully dividing up tasks to prepare his toiletries.
"Tom," Zabini said with a grin, "I noticed your blanket's getting a bit worn. I've got a brand-new one at home — unicorn fleece and phoenix-feather stuffing. Super warm. Never used it. I'll ask my mum to send it over tomorrow."
Tom set down his rinsing cup and took the tissue Nott handed him to wipe his mouth. "That's a rare treasure. Wouldn't it be inappropriate for me to accept?"
"No, no — it's perfect!"
Zabini smacked his thigh excitedly. "I kick my blankets off in my sleep. Total waste on me. You using it would be perfect!"
"Well then, thank you, Blaise," Tom said, drying his hands.
Zabini happily went off to pour water, while Nott and Rosier cursed him under their breath for being such a suck-up. At the same time, they regretted not thinking of it first.
Their eyes darted around, minds already churning with ideas for what they could gift Tom.
Those who understand the times are wise.
Right now, Tom Riddle was the rising sun in Slytherin. The closer they got to the light, the more dazzling they'd appear in everyone else's eyes.
…
Late at night.
Tom lay in bed, for once not entering the study space.
Everything that happened today had been within his expectations—not that he had predicted Malfoy would be the one to jump out and openly target him. Just by being in Slytherin, he was already an outlier—an anomaly bound to attract those looking to make themselves feel important by challenging him.
Neville's plan had also been carefully crafted long in advance. A few battles now would save him from the endless wave of provocateurs in the future. It was a deal with immense return and little risk.
Without absolute confidence in defeating him, any students who had a problem with him wouldn't dare act rashly.
Even though Snape hadn't officially agreed to the title of "Invisible Head of House"—which admittedly sounded a bit ridiculous—after defeating every single prefect, Tom had already taken up that mantle in all but name.
Why else would so many Slytherin students be following his instructions?
Some things didn't need to be declared out loud—everyone just understood.
"Open system panel."
Tom reviewed the system logs.
Tonight had not only cleared away many future headaches but also brought an unexpected bounty of rewards.
[Congratulations, Host! Your proposal for the 'Invisible Prefect' system has been acknowledged by the House Head. Structural power dynamics of Slytherin House have been altered. You gain 150 Achievement Points.]
[Congratulations, Host! You are now the Invisible Prefect of the First Year. Achievement Points +20. While serving as Invisible Prefect, you will receive a fixed monthly salary of 100 Study Credits. This month's credits have been disbursed.]
Tonight alone, Tom had earned 170 Achievement Points—more than what he usually earned sneaking around the castle for an entire week.
And judging from the newly unlocked achievement list—Second Year, Third Year… every year had its own Invisible Prefect reward. That meant a steady stream of points in the future—well over a hundred to be claimed eventually.
Not to mention the 100 credits he'd earn monthly as a "salary." It might not seem like much at first glance, but who would turn down free rewards? It was a slow but steady income stream.
Consider it a monthly free pass to an "Transcendent State."
Wait!
Tom's eyes suddenly snapped open. A realization struck him, and he immediately questioned the system:
"System, are you scamming me out of Achievement Points and Credits? If being an Invisible Prefect has so many perks, why isn't there anything for being the Invisible Head of House?"
Though the system was rigid and emotionless, it still had enough intelligence to respond.
Whenever Tom had asked rules-based questions before, the system had always replied quickly. This time was no exception.
[The 'Invisible Prefect' system has been recognized by the actual authority of the House—Severus Snape. As such, the rule is deemed valid. However, while the 'Invisible Head of House' title was proposed by Host, it has not been acknowledged by the actual authority or any higher-ranking figures. No achievements can be generated.]
Now Tom understood.
To earn that achievement, he would need approval from Snape—or even Dumbledore. The difficulty level was simply too high. He decided to shelve that goal for now.
He glanced at the system panel one last time. He now had a stockpile of 700 Study Credits and over 500 Achievement Points. He was getting closer and closer to summoning his next "King of the Century"-level instructor.
Wondering who the new teacher would be, Tom gradually drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up the next day, it was already past 9 a.m.
At eleven or twelve years old, growing kids ate a lot and slept even more. As soon as he sat up, his stomach gave a loud growl.
After a quick wash-up, Tom was ready to hunt for breakfast.
One thing about Hogwarts—it was human-friendly. The school knew young wizards liked to sleep in on weekends, so breakfast was extended till 10:30 a.m.
And thanks to the warming charms on the plates, the food was never cold—although the more popular dishes might be gone if you were too late.
As he passed the common room, he noticed that the trio of Malfoy and his two cronies had disappeared from the wall.
Tom raised an eyebrow. Just then, a sharp-eyed student approached and whispered, "Malfoy and his two sidekicks returned to their dorms. Someone saw them fall off the wall early this morning."
Tom gave a small nod. "One night's enough. I wasn't planning on keeping them up there till next week. Did he say anything?"
"He said he's going to tell his father."
Tom let out a scornful chuckle.
Lucius Malfoy, huh?
The entire Malfoy family was just for show. Sure, they looked glamorous now, but it was all built on wealth and appearances.
Lucius donated vast sums to the Ministry of Magic each year, keeping close ties with Cornelius Fudge—the Minister himself. In the Muggle world, this was known as political donations.
But real strength?
They were just a family of three.
In the wizarding world, unless you were on the level of Dumbledore or Voldemort, a family's true power lay in numbers. It was like ancient farming societies—more people meant more power.
Just two adults? A couple of angry Dark wizards could wipe them out overnight.
And Tom Riddle wasn't above doing the job himself if needed.
"Oh, and your name?" Tom asked casually, impressed by the student's initiative.
The boy quickly introduced himself. "Marcellus Nott, fourth year."
"Nott? Are you…" Tom looked curious.
Marcellus gave an awkward smile. "Theodore Nott is my cousin… from dorm room 207."
Tom nodded in understanding—but grew even more intrigued.
"You're his cousin, so you must know what happened in our dorm, right?"
It was perfectly normal for kids to tattle to older siblings or relatives. Theodore must have gone crying to Marcellus—but strangely, the older cousin never came looking for trouble. On the contrary, he was now trying to make a good impression.
It was… odd.
Marcellus clearly understood Tom's confusion. He smiled wryly and explained, "Theodore did come to me. Wanted me to teach you a lesson. But I turned him down."
"Upperclassmen bullying first-years is never a good look. And frankly, he's had far more advantages than you. His family taught him magic early on. But he's lazy. Doesn't apply himself."
"And besides, he started the fight. If you make a choice, you have to face the consequences. Better he learn that now than when it's too late. Consider it a lesson."
Now Tom was truly impressed with Marcellus.
A clear head was worth more than brute strength. This was a textbook Slytherin: coldly logical, sharp-eyed, always weighing benefits.
"You're good, Marcellus."
Tom gave him a sly wink. "Hope I hear good news from you on Monday."
A person this ambitious? Tom had no doubt he'd go for the Invisible Prefect position. Especially in fourth year—next year was when the real prefects were selected. Most likely, today's Invisible Prefect would become next year's official one.
"I'll do my best," Marcellus replied humbly. And he meant it. He was hungry to climb.
As Tom walked away, Marcellus watched him, flames burning in his eyes.
The Nott family's ancestral creed was clear: Follow strength wherever it leads. In the previous war, their family chose the wrong side—and paid dearly for it. His parents were still rotting in Azkaban.
Marcellus knew he didn't have the potential to become the strongest wizard himself. So he'd been waiting—for someone worth following to appear.
And now, it seemed Tom Riddle might just be that person.
Of course, that didn't mean Marcellus was about to throw himself at Tom's feet and pledge loyalty.
Tom was still a first-year, after all. Beating up a few students only showed potential—and potential was cheap. Every few years, someone with potential came along. Very few made it to the top.
He was just laying the groundwork—building goodwill. When Tom truly rose, that's when Marcellus would commit.
It might not bring him the maximum benefits, but it was the safest path forward.
So long as he always stood on the side of "righteousness," his family would eventually rise again.
Meanwhile…
In the Headmaster's Office—
Snape had uncharacteristically arrived uninvited.
He needed a very serious discussion with Dumbledore—
—about Tom Riddle.
…