— — — — — —
Ghosts could give out house points? This was the first time any student had ever heard of such a thing — and the way they gave them out was absurd. A hundred points for flipping through a book?
Plenty of professors wouldn't hand out a hundred points in an entire month.
Only Tom Riddle managed to do that — mooching points off ghosts.
A few crafty students immediately got ideas.
Compared to sweating for points from professors, tricking ghosts into handing some over sounded way easier.
"..." x 2
George's eyes flashed quickly. He and Fred were among the most excited.
It wasn't like they weren't used to sitting at the top of Gryffindor's deduction leaderboard every year. Only after their foolish little brother and Harry enrolled did they finally have some cover.
But still, a new way to get points? They must try it.
"Fred, let's go find Nearly Headless Nick," George murmured. "We'll flip a few pages for him, bring a little offering, and maybe he'll give us a few dozen points. It's a guaranteed win."
Fred thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. We're not that close with Nick. Just running up to him like that probably won't do anything. We need someone he's actually friendly with. Didn't Harry go to Nick's Deathday Party last term? Let Harry do it."
George had to admit that sounded reasonable. But after scanning the entire Gryffindor table, they couldn't find Harry anywhere, so they decided to wait until he came back to the dorm.
---
At eight-thirty, Harry dragged himself back to Gryffindor Tower, exhausted.
He'd just finished remedial lessons with Lupin — who had somehow found yet another boggart. Of course, the thing immediately turned into a Dementor. Harry's worst fear was still that chilling presence, and even the boggart version could mess with his emotions.
Tonight was his first attempt at the Patronus Charm. After an entire evening, he still hadn't managed a single successful casting. He wasn't panicking though. Tom had warned him how hard the spell was.
What annoyed him more was that he'd already scheduled another practice session for tomorrow night — only for Snape to suddenly accuse him of "wandering the castle" and sentence him to a night of detention. Now he had to postpone until the day after.
"Harry! Finally! Where've you been this whole time?"
The moment he stepped into the common room, the twins — who had been waiting since dinner — grabbed him.
"Nothing," Harry said with a quick shake of his head. He didn't want to mention he'd been practicing the Patronus with Lupin. "Snape just gave me trouble again."
The twins didn't even blink. The day Snape didn't give Harry trouble would be the real miracle.
"I'll lob a dungbomb into his office for you another time," Fred said. "Right now we've got something more important…"
They told Harry about their discovery — ghosts giving out points — and their plan to have him ask Nick for a few tasks in exchange for a reward.
"Um… is that really okay?" Harry was stunned. If ghosts could give points, did that mean Peeves could too?
"Just try. It's free," George urged. "We just lost the match, Tom picked up another two hundred points in a row, and if we don't start doing something, the House Cup's practically decided already."
Guilt hit Harry immediately. It was his fainting that made them lose the game. He nodded without hesitation. "Alright. I'll go talk to Nick tomorrow."
The next day, Harry found Nick in a second-floor west corridor. Nick often lingered there because a portrait of an old friend hung on the wall, and the two of them liked chatting.
"Harry, is something the matter?"
"Nick… could you give me a task? And if I finish it… could you award me some points?" Harry still had a line he wouldn't cross — mooching without doing anything wasn't something he'd do.
"Points?" Nick stared at him like he'd said something outrageous — half his head actually fell off. "I don't have the authority to give anyone points. Who told you that?"
"Eh? But Tom got a hundred yesterday."
Nick looked even more baffled. "Who gave it to him?"
"Fred said it was the Grey Lady. The Ravenclaw ghost."
"Oh. That explains it." Nick nodded as his half-fallen head drifted back into place. Seeing how confused Harry still looked, he couldn't help laughing.
"Harry, the Grey Lady is… special. We all respect her. I didn't know she could award points either, but honestly, it's not surprising. After all…" Nick shook his head and stopped himself.
As the daughter of a Founder, tossing a few house points around really wasn't a big deal.
"Alright, don't waste your time on me. If you want points, study properly."
With that, Nick floated off, leaving Harry bewildered as he wandered back toward the Great Hall.
The Grey Lady truly was the most unusual ghost.
Every student who'd gotten the same idea as Harry had already heard the rumor. At this point, whether they could get points wasn't even the main concern anymore — everyone just wanted to know what made her so special.
But no matter how many ghosts or professors they asked, no one knew. Most people genuinely had no idea. A few ghosts who did know the truth about her identity would never reveal it.
Some Ravenclaw students even tried asking her directly, which left Helena completely fed up. She had already complained to Tom several times in the last two days.
"..."
Tom felt wronged. All he'd wanted was to farm a few points. His recent use of Turbo Mode and Claircognition Mode had drained a ton of credits, and his reserves were almost gone. How could he have predicted that a bit of point-grinding would blow up into this hassle?
Thankfully, Helena was an easy-to-soothe sweetheart. A little gentle coaxing and she calmed down, even telling him he could come to her again if he ever needed to earn more points.
But Tom didn't plan to farm any more for now. He knew when to stop.
Slytherin had already been far ahead before Helena gave him any points, and Professor McGonagall had awarded him a hundred, so there wasn't a shred of backlash after his big boost. He'd only consider another round near the end of the school year.
---
Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic…
Cornelius Fudge finally understood what Dumbledore's warning last year had really meant. Compared to the humiliation of Dumbledore showing up to scold him, Tom was actual, tangible trouble.
After the Ministry bought tons of new equipment and purchased batches of the Codex notebooks and supplies, their finances were a disaster. Even raiding a few vaults at Gringotts hadn't fixed the hole.
And right at this critical moment, more than ten families — including the Malfoys, Rosiers, and Selwyns — all sent letters on the same day announcing they'd be reducing next year's donations by thirty percent.
This was practically a death sentence.
Forget a thirty percent cut; Fudge had been planning to beg them to increase donations by another thirty. Before he even opened his mouth, they'd already pulled the rug out.
The one thing all these families had in common: their children were at Hogwarts.
Fudge wanted to scream at them. If your sons and daughters ever get kidnapped, just tell me, I'll march every Auror in the Ministry straight into Hogwarts to arrest whoever you want.
Sadly, it could only stay in his imagination. He had no evidence. He didn't even know for sure this was Tom's doing — he simply guessed it, and they both pretended otherwise.
After failing to convince even one family to reconsider, Fudge finally understood the root of the problem. As long as Tom didn't back down, none of them would.
What Fudge really couldn't comprehend was why a bunch of purebloods were bowing to a Muggle-born student.
He failed to grasp the most important point. It wasn't just that Tom was dangerous — although he was, and after his Patronus wiped out over a hundred Dementors, many people had been deeply unsettled.
The real issue was Fudge himself.
Compared to Tom, the Minister was the softer and easier target. If the Minister had been Amelia Bones or Scrimgeour, none of these families would dare push this far.
But Fudge's nature was obvious to everyone. That's why they acted without restraint.
...
A few nights later, Tom received a message from Fudge and laughed after reading it.
He'd thought Fudge might hold out a bit longer, but the man lasted less than a week before coming to beg for peace with a very low posture.
『Tom Riddle』: Minister, I have no personal issue with you. I just found an opportunity this time and couldn't let it slip.
In London, Fudge nearly cheered.
As long as Tom had desires, he could negotiate. What terrified him was the thought that Tom simply hated him and wanted him gone for no reason. There'd be no way to bargain with that.
『Cornelius Fudge』: Mr. Riddle, whatever conditions you have, name them. I'll do my best to meet them.
『Tom Riddle』: Minister, my Christmas wish this year is a First-Class Order of Merlin. How does that sound?
An Order of Merlin?
Why was Riddle so obsessed with such pointless prestige?
Fudge never expected that Tom had rallied so many people to pressure him… all for a Merlin medal. Even a First-Class one felt meaningless to him.
One was enough. If Dumbledore were awarded based on merit, he'd need at least five to start. But why only one?
Because having more didn't matter.
『Cornelius Fudge』: Just for a Merlin medal? No other conditions?
『Tom Riddle』: Of course. Minister, my greatest hobby right now is collecting top-tier honors.
『Cornelius Fudge』: But you already have one.
『Tom Riddle』: The more the better. I plan to win one First-Class medal for every year I'm at Hogwarts.
『Cornelius Fudge』: "..."
He couldn't understand Tom's strange hobby, but for him… this condition wasn't even difficult. With all of Tom's inventions and the fact he'd already received one Order of Merlin, the biggest barrier was gone.
Merlin medals were like the bottom line. Once you broke it once, breaking it again became easy.
So Fudge accepted immediately, promising Tom a satisfying Christmas gift. Tom politely agreed to donate a hundred thousand Galleons to the Ministry's operational funds.
He honestly had nowhere to spend his money. He earned tens of thousands of Galleons every day. He couldn't use them fast enough. If there were a place to exchange Galleons for achievement points, he would happily dump every coin he had into it.
...
After that surprisingly pleasant conversation, Tom returned to the meditation room to study.
Both of his main training projects had made huge progress.
First was mind-split casting. He could now comfortably divide his attention three ways, thinking about three different things at once without interference.
It put a huge strain on his brain, but inside the study space, he didn't have that limitation. It kept him at peak performance and massively boosted his efficiency.
The other was Ravenclaw's memory magic. His Memory Seeds were almost perfected. The hard part was finding a way to apply them to puppets.
While Tom worked, Rowena Ravenclaw watched quietly from the side.
The more she watched, the more distracted she became.
She had never seen a student as hardworking as Tom. During the day, even while attending classes or spending time with his girlfriend, part of his mind was still studying in here. At night, he worked through entire evenings without stopping.
Even she hadn't been this dedicated in her own time.
"Tom." Ravenclaw spoke suddenly.
Tom stopped what he was doing and looked up at her in confusion.
"Why do you work so hard?" she asked, genuinely puzzled. "You're already far beyond your peers, beyond most people in the world. Even if you took things slowly, you'd still end up at the top. So why can you maintain this level of intensity every single day?"
Tom didn't answer right away. He thought for a moment, then gave her a bright smile.
"Maybe… because I used to be ordinary. So when I saw a chance, I grabbed it and refused to let go."
"...Ordinary people cling hardest to the extraordinary."
From the experiences of his past life, Tom understood the truth behind the saying: 'when you've tasted mediocrity, opportunity becomes a feast you can't bear to leave untouched.'
.
.
.