After reopening, the Hogwarts Castle was like a gigantic creature just waking up from a two-month-long slumber.
The corridors of the castle were like interconnected veins, with different colors of "blood" flowing through them—noise, laughter, and occasional screams triggered by a student being turned into a pig-tailed creature by a spell were its unique heartbeat and breath—Tom was also a part of the "blood."
What was rather bizarre was that he was sorted into the "vein" called Gryffindor.
If according to common sense, he felt his personality might be sorted into Slytherin or perhaps Ravenclaw?
From books (referring to Hogwarts: A History), students from these two houses always seemed...a bit smarter? Although Tom never considered himself very smart...well, he obviously thought he was smart enough—there's nothing to hide about narcissism, besides, Tom was actually very aware of his identity—
Otherwise, he wouldn't remember William at all.
But since his "deal" with William did not reveal anything, even Dumbledore, who knew the truth and facts the most, considered Tom merely a "newborn" soul under William's bold plan.
Never mind when you were "born."
So, Tom knew he once was Voldemort, although he didn't have any memories of Voldemort—
Only, this situation was known only to William and himself, even Harry forgot about the little boy who once appeared in the Illusory Realm.
After all, that "adventure" was just a dream for Harry, and if no one mentioned it again, it would probably forever remain in the depths of the boy's memory.
Although he didn't quite understand why he was sorted into Gryffindor House, Tom chose to go with the flow.
His roommates were standard Gryffindor students—although the rough division of the four houses couldn't completely interpret complex human beings, it still served as a reference. These guys were either keen on Quidditch, speaking like a rapid-fire cannon, or bursting with energy like a troll, acting so clumsy like they stepped out without bringing their brain...
So silly.
This was the conclusion Tom made after observing for a day.
Their noise lacked depth, their enthusiasm carried a kind of blind optimism, their daily worries and conversations seemed naively outrageous to Tom.
In the dormitory, the boy quietly packed his things, placing the birthday gift from William (William chose the day Tom was "revived" as his birthday), a copy of Practical Low-Level Magic Spells, under his pillow, listening to his roommates' boring discussions about whether the new products from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes would make Filch so angry he'd have a stroke.
He thought nothing would change for a while, and life would pass by blandly.
Apparently, Tom didn't expect he would be assimilated so quickly—
When that roommate named Oliver for the third time in Transfiguration Class turned a matchstick into a toothpick with a crooked mouth and was sharply commented by Professor McGonagall, "Hope you don't French kiss that mouth while picking your teeth," another roommate, Jack, started mimicking Professor McGonagall's Scottish accent after they returned to the common room after Transfiguration Class.
Then, he humorously comforted Oliver by putting a biscuit into his hand.
The unsuspecting boy, as he bit into the biscuit, was magically transformed into a ridiculous canary bursting with silliness, and in an instant, the entire Gryffindor common room erupted into joyous laughter, and Tom couldn't help curling the corner of his mouth up into a pixelated point—
Then, his smile—does a pixel point really count as a smile?—was "caught" by Jack, so this silly guy sidled next to Tom—"I thought you didn't know how to laugh?!", "Want some Sizzling Honey Candy?", "You have a nice smile..."
I am a geographer, and this level is indeed South Pass!
Looking at the arm draped over his shoulder, Tom frowned.
The interaction between the two was a textbook example of mindless and unhappy.
Then, probably due to the overwhelming influence of the mindless, the unhappy only lasted two days before becoming happy—
A bit awkward, but... not unpleasant.
Tom wrote in his diary, though he didn't know why he had the habit of writing in a diary.
...
Time quickly came to the eagerly anticipated Friday.
After lunch, the Great Hall was cleared, with the long tables of the various houses disappearing, leaving only a few rows of benches at the edges for spectators.
But now those benches were already in short supply, most little wizards were sitting on the ground, and the buzzing chatter seemed almost to raise the roof.
Finally, the clock on the wall pointed to three, and William's figure timely pushed the door open, and then the entire hall fell into silence, all eyes followed William's figure slowly moving, as the air filled with a sound that felt like it was tearing because of anticipation.
William was wearing a well-fitting dark blue wizard robe today, casually draped with a professor's black cloak from Hogwarts (Snape usually had one on his shoulder too, often fluttering in the wind as he walked), the man's steps were relaxed, with a gentle smile on his face.
However, those familiar with William in the Duel Club all involuntarily inhaled sharply when they saw this smile.
This smile appearing on William's face often meant someone was in for a big trouble...
"Good afternoon, everyone."
William started speaking, his voice was low but clearly reached everyone's ears, with a touch of teasing, "Welcome to the public experience class of Wizard Magic Practical Application—though I don't actually know why they write the course title so long—I'm William Richard, your—hmm, new 'toy' tester."
A few soft laughs came from Ravenclaw's direction.
"Today, we won't talk about boring theories."
William glanced around, his gaze pausing nowhere, "After all, whether the 'new toy' is fun or not, we'll have to see the demonstration to know—so why don't we start by directly talking about the matter of 'wizard battles'. To many people, a battle is about competing to see who casts spells faster, whose magic power is stronger, isn't it?"
Quite a few students, especially those from Gryffindor, subconsciously nodded their heads.
"This answer is obviously... completely wrong."
William shook his head, his tone unchanged but seemingly carrying a strong penetrating force that instantly grabbed everyone's attention, "A wizard's battle is actually a contest of minds because the battle scenes are most often not fair, high magic power does not mean absolute advantage—"
Saying this, he raised his magic wand, didn't utter any spell, just casually traced movements in the air, leaving light blue magical trails that sketched out transforming patterns—a soaring hawk first morphed into a chain, then into flowing water, and finally condensed into a shield-shaped phantom.
"Take a good look, ladies and gentlemen, this isn't a performance."
William's voice carried an assured confidence that was hard to doubt, "In a real battle, your opponent will attack in various ways, at various moments, he might even seize the moment you sneeze to launch an attack, at which time, the environment, objects, and even your emotions will become your weapon... or your flaw—ah-choo!!"
Before his words were finished—
"Expelliarmus!"
A blinding red light shot out without warning from the left side of the hall, as fast as lightning, aimed directly at William.