"Ginny, what is going on between you and Riddle?" Percy asked, unusually grave. Fred and George, for once, were not smiling. Ron stood at the back, nodding furiously. "Yeah, spell it out. What's your relationship with him?"
Ginny's smile faded a little.
"You lot never care what I do, which is fine, I do not need you. But the moment I make a friend, you all jump out?"
...
"Ginny, you are a Gryffindor."
"So what?" Ginny snapped. "Gryffindors cannot be friends with Slytherins now? Tom has taught me loads of spells. I helped him vent some anger. What about it?"
"Do you call that friendship?" Percy spluttered, spitting as he spoke. "You two were practically pressed..."
"Shut up!" Ginny cut him off, eyes like knives. "Percy, mind your own business. Is it not because Penelope Clearwater turned you down and got close to Tom that you cannot stand the sight of him? Petty."
"Er?"
Ron and the twins turned in unison to stare at Percy, whose face had gone as red as his hair. An unexpected harvest of gossip, apparently.
"Do not look at me. We are talking about Ginny," Percy barked.
"George, Fred, you lot are Tom's friends. Why can't I be?" Ginny turned on the twins.
Fred pulled a face. "Ordinary friendship is fine."
George cradled his head. "But Tom is a male Veela, practically. He always has at least two girls with him."
"You are our only sister," Fred sighed. "Dating is too early for you. We are saying this for your own good."
"I know what is best for me."
Ginny threw down the line, shoved past Ron, and went to find Luna.
The Weasley men looked at one another. In the end Ron spoke up, wary. "Maybe... we should tell Mum."
Fred and George said together, "Ronnie, you are finally using your head."
...
Friday night ended with fierce duels.
Leaving the Hall, Professor McGonagall looked grim, none of the joy she had shown during Ginny's three straight wins. The results did not flatter Hogwarts. Upper years lost more than they won... To be precise, only Cedric of Hufflepuff took a single victory. Every other bout above fourth year was a loss.
All four Heads felt their hearts sink. Some even wondered if Dumbledore had foreseen this and vanished in advance.
Snape's voice was cold. "This is not an ordinary gap. We need heavy measures. Dumbledore's string of second rate Defense hires got us here. We have one year. We must act."
"Severus, you know how hard it is to find a qualified professor," said McGonagall, first speaking for Dumbledore, then nodding. "But you are right. We cannot go on like this. This is not a burden for the Defense post alone."
"Colleagues, Mr Riddle made a suggestion to me earlier..." McGonagall took the chance to outline the exam reform. Snape lowered his head, a peculiar look in his eyes.
Tom Riddle... harming others and not helping himself. What was he after? With monthly quizzes and a big test each term, the sky would fall on students' heads. Not his concern, he was not a student.
"I think it is a good plan," Snape said crisply. "These brats have too much free time. Their minds are never on the right things. But there is a hole."
"What hole?" McGonagall asked at once. Changing the studies of near a thousand students required care.
"The first monthly exam is far too late." Snape folded his arms and smirked. "To keep their sense of urgency, I propose a placement test in the first week of term, to see whose brains turned into troll brains over the holidays. It will also help professors target instruction."
Flitwick and Sprout exchanged a complex look. Slytherin indeed. Students and Head alike, all ruthless.
"You disagree?" Snape met their stares without blinking. "No matter. I will implement it in Slytherin regardless. In the end, it is my House that carries the school's honor."
That hit below the belt. So Slytherin were heroes and the rest cowards?
"I have no objection. Minerva, I am off to write papers," said Sprout tightly, and left first. Then Flitwick.
McGonagall sighed. "Severus, I understand. But mind your tone in future. We all want what is best for the students and the school."
Snape gave a noncommittal nod, and they parted.
...
Midnight.
At the stroke of twelve, Tom slipped from the castle like a ghost, flew up to an eighth floor window, and walked into the Room of Requirement.
Ginny, bored in a rocking chair, sprang to her feet at the sound, pattering over with bright, expectant eyes.
"The reward? Give me something like the Petrifying Eye again. I am not picky."
"You call that not picky?" Tom rolled his eyes, drew his wand, and made a couple of neat passes at her.
Her school robes, and every layer beneath, shifted and flowed. In a blink she wore over knee white stockings and a black and white maid outfit.
Ginny's cheeks flamed.
"Y, you perv..."
"It is a reward," Tom said as if it were obvious. "You are my cute little maid. I give you a maid outfit. How is that not a reward?"
Ginny pounced with a yelp.
Reward me? This was clearly a reward for you!