Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

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Facing Hermione's question, Tom answered with absolute confidence, "Obviously I'm out for a nighttime stroll—just like you lot."

Hermione almost choked. How could he say something that blatantly breaks the rules with such a straight face?

But there wasn't time to argue—someone was chasing them.

She grabbed Tom's hand. "Filch is right behind us—we need to hide!"

And so, Tom was reluctantly dragged along by four people who clearly had no sense of direction—straight into a dead end.

At the end of the corridor stood a door.

A locked door.

"We're done for." Ron, too panicked to notice there was an extra person with them now, let out a whimper. His legs turned to jelly. He could already hear the approaching footsteps—Filch and his wretched cat.

"Move!"

Hermione shoved Ron aside and pointed her wand at the door.

"Alohomora!"

Click.

The door swung open, and the five of them squeezed inside in a hurry, pressing themselves against the walls as they listened to Filch arguing with Peeves somewhere behind them. Eventually, the footsteps faded into the distance.

"Are… are we safe now?" Harry whispered.

Gulp—

Neville swallowed hard. He tugged on Harry's sleeve, voice trembling and thick with fear.

"No. We're not."

Everyone turned to look at him, confused—until they saw why.

The door hadn't led to a classroom like they'd hoped. It led to another corridor.

And at the end of that corridor… was a massive three-headed dog.

The beast filled the space from floor to ceiling. All three heads were staring straight at them, six bloodshot eyes gleaming with hostility. Thick strings of drool hung from its snarling mouths.

The look in its eyes was all too familiar—exactly like the one Ron gave his late-night snacks.

"ROOOAAAR!"

All three heads roared at once.

Hermione spun around and tried to open the door—they were better off getting caught by Filch than becoming dog chow. But in her rush to keep Filch out earlier, she'd flipped the lock—and now it was jammed. No matter how hard she pushed, the old mechanism refused to budge.

Hermione's heart nearly stopped.

The dog was lunging.

But Tom stepped forward.

"Stupefy!"

A flash of white light shot out from his wand, striking the middle head square in the face.

The head let out a pained snarl, but all it left was a scorch mark—no real damage. In fact, it just made the beast angrier.

"I knew being gentle wouldn't work," Tom muttered.

His wrist snapped into motion.

"Fulminis Impulsus!" (Lightning Shock)

"Lamina Venti!" (Wind Blade)

"Tempestas Unda!" (Storm Surge)

The others stared at him in stunned silence.

Tom was like a walking magic turret, unleashing spell after spell—Some they'd never even heard of. Bright bursts of magic zipped across the room. The three-headed dog was so massive, Tom didn't even need to aim—everything hit.

One spell alone might not have done much. But layered together, they overwhelmed even this thick-skinned beast. It howled, staggering backward under the onslaught.

Finally, it collapsed at the far end of the hallway, all three heads lowered in submission, whimpering pitifully.

Honestly, it sounded kind of sad.

Tom lowered his wand and turned to Hermione. "That lock still giving you trouble?"

"Huh? Oh—right!"

Snapped out of her daze, Hermione quickly went back to fiddling with the broken mechanism. After a few tense seconds—click—the door finally opened again.

Ron practically squeezed through the crack the moment it gave way, followed by Harry and Neville. Hermione stepped out next.

Tom lingered for a moment. He glanced back at the massive dog, now watching him quietly from the floor.

This time, he didn't attack.

Instead, he raised his wand and cast a few healing charms over its body.

Whine~

The dog let out a soft whimper again. Whether it was gratitude or fear, no one could tell.

Tom didn't stick around to find out. He stepped out last and gently shut the door behind him.

After such a close call, they were all still rattled. That's when Ron finally remembered a critical detail.

"Wait—when did you get here?" he asked, staring at Tom.

Before Tom could answer, Hermione jumped in, fast: "He caught me when I tripped back there. Filch could've shown up any second—this really isn't the time for questions. Let's talk tomorrow."

"Alright then," Tom said to Hermione with a small smile, then nodded to the others before walking off down the hall.

Once he was gone, Ron was left stewing with unanswered questions.

The four of them hurried back to Gryffindor Tower. Thankfully, the Fat Lady had returned from her gossiping. Ignoring her barrage of nosy questions, Harry quickly gave the password, and they all rushed inside.

Back in their respective dorms, Harry lay awake in bed, his thoughts racing.

Malfoy's scheming, Filch's relentless pursuit, the terrifying presence of the three-headed dog… and finally, Tom standing alone in front of the beast, calmly holding the line.

That image lingered in Harry's mind.

A bitter frustration welled up inside him.

People called him the Boy Who Lived, the one who defeated Voldemort—but compared to Tom, he felt useless.

Those powerful spells? He didn't even recognize them.

They were both first-years… so why was the gap so huge?

...

Meanwhile, deep in the Slytherin dorms, Tom was also reflecting on what had happened.

The three-headed dog was notoriously tough—resistant to both physical and magical attacks.

Not even most adult wizards could scratch it.

But with his [Absolute Justice] talent and temporary magic surges, Tom had expected better results.

[Absolute Justice: Non-dark magic attack spells cast by the host receive a power boost. The boost scales with the host's growing magical strength.]

What held him back, oddly enough, wasn't power—it was the smell.

That dog clearly hadn't had a bath in ages. The stench in that sealed hallway was so awful it messed with his focus.

Looks like he'd have to start training under disgusting conditions, too.

Tom jotted down a new note in his training plan, took a deep breath, and finally drifted off to sleep.

Unbeknownst to them, not long after they'd left the corridor, someone else arrived.

Dumbledore.

Wearing his pajamas and a rather whimsical cone-shaped nightcap, he walked into the corridor and quietly checked the dog's injuries. Then he struck up a conversation with one of the nearby portraits.

After a pause, he gave a soft chuckle and said to himself—

"Truly impressive..."

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Yo~

Sorry for the irregular update schedule these past two weeks—my graduation project has been taking up most of my time. Tomorrow is that big day, so I won't be able to post. After that, things will return to normal—or maybe even better!

See ya Sunday~ 

P.S: I put this note across all my fics, so you might see it again. Just making sure everyone's in the loop!