Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

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In the end, Nott and Zabini caved and agreed—snitching was the way to go.

It was low-effort, high-impact. All they had to do was discreetly report the incident to their Head of House, making sure to emphasize not telling their families or classmates—this way, their pride stayed intact.

The three of them worked out a plan and decided to report it right after breakfast.

Unfortunately, none of them noticed Daphne sitting nearby. She'd overheard the whole conversation, and a worried look flickered across her face.

By the time it was almost eight, Tom had finally gotten his fill of sleep. He got up feeling completely refreshed, cleaned himself up, and made his way to the Slytherin common room.

Last night, it was already dark by the time he arrived, so he hadn't had a chance to appreciate Slytherin's one unique feature—the view of the Black Lake from underwater.

Standing in front of the tall glass window now, Tom finally got to see it. The morning light barely filtered through the dark water, but it was enough to spot a few fish lazily drifting through the seaweed, completely carefree.

Then, out of nowhere, a massive shadow loomed over them.

The fish scattered in an instant.

And in the next moment, thick, monstrous tentacles glided past the glass.

Tom blinked. That had to be the legendary giant squid.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

Tom turned. Daphne had somehow appeared beside him, also gazing out the window. "I'd heard about Slytherin's underwater view before, but nothing compares to seeing it in person."

"It's pretty cool," Tom agreed. "Kinda feels like staying in one of those ocean-view hotels."

Though he didn't say the rest aloud: "That's pretty much the only nice thing about this place."

Aside from the view, the Slytherin dorms were honestly kind of awful. Dark, damp, and completely sunless.

The green-themed decor made it feel more haunted than elegant—even in the daytime, the vibe was downright creepy. It was hard to stay in a good mood here.

Honestly, Tom couldn't even blame Slytherin House entirely for churning out dark wizards left and right. Spend seven years in a place like this and anyone's personality would twist a bit.

...Well, except for a bright, optimistic guy like him, of course.

What really got on Tom's nerves was how wet everything felt. His blanket this morning felt like it had gained weight from the moisture. If he wrung it out, he was sure actual water would drip from it.

Goddamn it.

England was already humid enough. And Hogwarts was up in the Scottish Highlands, where the oceanic climate made everything even worse than London. Add in the dungeon-level location and the whole being-under-a-lake thing...

This place was basically uninhabitable.

Which made him wonder: what the hell was Salazar Slytherin thinking when he picked this spot for his House dorms? Was he trying to drive his students mad?

On the way to the Great Hall, Daphne leaned in and quietly filled Tom in on the conversation she'd overheard earlier.

Tom didn't seem fazed at all. He just thanked her for the heads-up and clearly didn't dwell on it.

"You're really not worried, Tom?"

Daphne glanced toward the teachers' table and saw that Snape had arrived. She dropped her voice to a whisper and stepped a bit closer. "I heard Professor Snape is super strict. And you did hit them yesterday…"

"Strict, maybe—but he's not stupid," Tom replied calmly. "Zabini was the one who provoked me. I just defended myself. If Professor Snape's reasonable, he'll figure out who's in the wrong."

"...You sure?"

Daphne still felt like something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Seeing Tom so confident made her relax—just a little.

When they sat down at the Slytherin table, along with the usual breakfast spread, the first-years also received their class schedules for the term.

Tom glanced at his and instantly grinned from ear to ear.

Easy. This is insanely easy. Honestly, he had more classes back in primary school.

First year at Hogwarts was mostly about building a foundation. There weren't any electives, just a few core classes. And most of them were short—only the double periods ran long.

Tom checked his schedule: only one class in the morning—Transfiguration with Gryffindor at nine—and Herbology with Ravenclaw at one in the afternoon.

That was it. A grand total of 100 minutes of class today.

The rest of the week looked just as relaxed. Two to three short classes a day, max.

Perfect. That gave him plenty of time for his own plans.

"Let's explore the castle a bit after breakfast," he told Daphne. "I heard the corridors here move around. Real easy to get lost."

Daphne nodded quickly. They both polished off breakfast in a few minutes, and Tom even grabbed two slices of bread and some butter for later—just in case he got hungry.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione watched them leave and looked like she wanted to follow, but Lavender Brown was chattering non-stop and Hermione couldn't break away.

As soon as Tom was gone, Zabini and the other two exchanged glances and gave a quick nod.

A few minutes later, Professor Snape left the hall—and the three of them jumped to their feet and chased after him, intercepting him just outside the entrance.

"Rosier," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. He didn't bother greeting the others—he'd only remembered Rosier's name.

After all, both of Rosier's parents had been Death Eaters—basically Snape's old "colleagues."

"Professor, you've got to help us!" Zabini cried.

And before Snape could say a word, Zabini pulled open his robes and exposed his chest, which was covered in thin red marks.

"AHHHHH!"

A girl who had just arrived to eat screamed in horror.

Wait—what?! A teacher and a young boy?!

My eyes... I can imagine it..

Mom, I'm not pure anymore.

It was peak breakfast time, and the entrance hall was packed. Everyone who saw the scene instantly perked up.

"You idiot, follow me!" Snape growled through gritted teeth, looking like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. Without another word, he bolted toward the dungeons, and the three boys scrambled after him.

If they stayed another minute, who knew what rumors would start flying around the castle tomorrow?

---

Once inside his office, Snape spun around and fixed Zabini with an icy glare.

"You better explain what the hell you're doing," he said coldly. "Or I'll give you detention for a month—even if you are one of my own."

"Professor, look at these marks! Tom Riddle did this to me!" Zabini pointed to his chest, practically shaking with emotion.

Just thinking about it made him want to cry. Not even his mother—or her six different husbands—had ever hit him like this.

Nott and Rosier quickly chimed in too, tripping over each other as they described what happened last night and this morning.

With every word, Snape's expression darkened.

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