— — — — — —
"Professor, did you need me for something?" Tom stopped in front of Professor McGonagall, his voice calm and polite.
These days, Tom's power and achievements easily rivaled hers, but somehow, every time the old cat showed up, he still felt a twinge of guilt.
That was just how it was — a student's instinctive fear of a teacher. Maybe it'd fade after graduation, but it would never go away completely.
McGonagall lowered her voice. "Mr. Riddle, do you still have the Marauder's Map?"
Tom froze for a moment, then nodded. "Professor Dumbledore borrowed it as evidence, but he returned it to me not long after."
McGonagall adjusted her glasses and nodded slightly.
"The map proved invaluable," she said softly. "If not for it, Peter Pettigrew's crimes might never have been exposed…"
Her voice trailed off into a sigh, filled with mixed emotions. It still hurt her — the thought that one of her students had turned out like Pettigrew, and that Lily Evans had died because of it. Even now, every time she thought of them, the ache returned.
"But…" McGonagall's tone shifted. "As impressive as the map is, it also makes it far too easy for students to… bend the rules. That's not something Hogwarts can allow."
Her gaze hardened. "So, Mr. Riddle, I'd like you to hand it over to me for safekeeping."
Tom nodded in understanding. For a brief moment, McGonagall felt relieved — until he shook his head.
"I understand, Professor," he said with a smile. "But I'm afraid I can't give it to you."
McGonagall frowned. "Why?"
"The map was created by students, and it's meant to stay in student hands." Tom said gently. "When I graduate, I'll pass it down to someone else — a gift from one generation to the next. Eventually it'll be confiscated again, maybe forgotten for a while, until some mischievous twins stumble upon it once more. The cycle repeats."
He gave a small, knowing smile. "It's part of the eternal game between students and professors. You can try to track or crack it if you like — that's fair play. But demanding it outright? That breaks the rules of the game."
"So I can't hand it over. Of course, if you manage to catch me red-handed one of these days, then by all means — it's yours."
McGonagall stared at him, speechless for several seconds, before pointing a finger at him in mock irritation. "A 'game' between students and professors, is it? You really do have an excuse for everything. Fine then — but if I do catch you, expect a heavy penalty."
Tom grinned. "Don't worry, Professor. I'm quite capable of keeping myself safe, even without the map."
As he walked away, McGonagall couldn't help but smile silently to herself. Her mind was already turning — thinking of ways to outsmart the map's enchantments.
And Tom was right, though. There was an unspoken understanding between students and professors, a delicate balance that shouldn't be broken just for one enchanted piece of parchment.
"A battle of wits with Riddle, then?" She chuckled softly. "That might actually be… rather fun."
...The cat and mouse game began.
---
Late at night.
In the Forbidden Forest, Tom released the three little unicorns he'd been keeping with him. He'd wanted to set his two pandas free here too, but they clung to his legs, whining miserably.
Honestly, what kind of pandas liked living in the wild anyway? Hunting for food every day when they could just lie around being fed in comfort inside his pocket dimension — it was a no-brainer.
When they got bored, they could always spar with the Runespoors a bit.
So when Tom mentioned releasing them into the forest, the poor pandas nearly cried. In the end, he gave up and coaxed them back into the pocket world. They made excellent pillows for his afternoon naps, anyway.
The unicorns trotted off gleefully in another direction, while Tom continued deeper into the forest. Each step carried him ten meters at a time, and soon he reached the territory of the Acromantulas.
A faint rustling echoed through the darkness — not the sound of spiders coming to attack, but of them fleeing.
Can't blame them. Acromantulas were rare among magical creatures for their intelligence — and they definitely remembered the walking disaster named Tom Riddle.
From a deep pit, Aragog emerged, legs trembling. He hadn't seen Tom since that incident. These days, Hagrid acted as the middleman. So why had that devil returned?
"M-my Lord…"
"You've done well," Tom said calmly.
Relief flooded through Aragog. Good. He wasn't here to kill anyone this time.
"However," Tom continued, "the quality of your venom still isn't improving. That's a problem."
Aragog hesitated. "The forest offers little, my Lord. And since you require corpses as well… I've no idea how else to improve it."
"No need. I've already found a solution."
Tom snapped his fingers. A glass vial floated from his pocket. Inside, a bright crimson liquid shimmered. The vial burst open midair, a thin thread of glowing red flowing straight into Aragog's open maw. Before the spider could react, it had swallowed it all.
Aragog didn't even consider the possibility of poison — if Tom wanted him dead, he wouldn't need theatrics.
Moments later, energy surged through his massive body. His legs straightened, the old stiffness fading away. He felt… young again — decades younger.
"M-my Lord… this is…" The old creature's voice shook with excitement. The legs that had once struggled to hold his weight now stood firm and strong, making him tower higher than an elephant.
"Life essence," Tom explained. "I gave you the strongest version. It doesn't actually add decades to your life, but it'll give you a few good years — two or three, maybe."
"I've got weaker batches too. But I'll leave those with Hagrid for your offspring. Between that and this tonic, the venom output should improve."
This "life essence" was a modified version of Kel'Thuzad's notes — Tom's own improvement. He'd used the blood of various magical creatures (procured with help from Newt) and refined it into something akin to a Philosopher's Stone derivative. Not as powerful in extending life, but packed with raw vitality.
Perfect nutrition for spiders. And best of all, no harm done to the creatures it was drawn from — a little blood now and then was all it took.
"..."
For a fleeting moment, Aragog's greed stirred. What if he kept all the essence for himself?
But the thought died almost immediately. He wasn't stupid. Try to steal from Tom, and he might drink all the essence… but he wouldn't live long enough to enjoy it.
"My Lord," Aragog rasped, bowing low, "rest assured. Once our growth issues are resolved, I will guarantee an increase in venom production."
Tom nodded approvingly. "You're a clever spider. Don't do anything foolish. I'm sure plenty of your offspring already dream of taking your place — maybe even feasting on your corpse when you're gone."
Aragog trembled harder at that, and Tom's form dissolved into mist, vanishing into the night.
No beast, no matter how cunning, could compare to human malice. Tom knew that with the right mix of reward and fear, Aragog would be loyal and efficient — not only working himself to the bone but driving his offspring to do the same.
...
Back in his dorm, Tom was ready to sleep when a notification popped up on Codex — a new friend request.
He smiled faintly, accepted it, and added a note.
『Tom Riddle』: You got it that fast?
『Cassandra Vole』: Just had someone bring it over from Germany. It's insane — I can chat with you in real time all the way from North America. Even crazier that YOU invented this thing.
『Tom Riddle』: Can't really call it an invention. I just borrowed a few Muggle ideas and tweaked the design.
『Cassandra Vole』: In the wizarding world, that is an invention. The Muggles don't have your version. Don't be modest.
『Cassandra Vole』: By the way, why didn't you release it in North America?
『Tom Riddle』: Not enough production capacity. And I don't have anyone reliable there. Too far.
The Americas were easily the weakest region in Tom's network. Even the Acolytes had no reach there. And he couldn't exactly ask Newt and Tina for help — they weren't the business type, plus he didn't need to drag them into it.
『Cassandra Vole』: Then give me the stock. I'll sell it for you.
『Tom Riddle』: I don't know your family well enough. Not happening.
『Cassandra Vole』: Not my family — ME. You said you can't go large-scale yet, right? I can sell it at Ilvermorny. I bet I'll make more than you do in Britain.
Across the ocean, Cassandra sent the message and anxiously waited for his reply.
During summer break, she'd made a solemn vow: she was going to make money — loads of it — and become a rich, powerful witch. Then she'd use her wealth to… well, make Tom do whatever she wanted.
But so far, she hadn't found any decent business ideas. Being a student seriously limited her options. That was, until Codex came along — and she got her hands on a real, working device. Suddenly, inspiration struck.
Now it all depended on whether Tom agreed.
Still, part of her felt a bit weird about it. Selling Riddle's product to make money, just to use that money to mess with Riddle… didn't sound exactly normal.
"Hmm..." Tom thought it over. It actually wasn't a bad idea.
If Ilvermorny became the first test market, it'd help build buzz. Once production caught up, expansion would be far easier.
『Tom Riddle』: Fine. I'll have the stock delivered in a couple of days. You'll get it at my retail price. Whatever profit you make beyond that is yours.
『Cassandra Vole』: Deal. Don't dawdle — I'm ready to start making money.
Tom closed Codex, shaking his head. Cassandra had once acted like she couldn't care less about money. Now she sounded like a full-blown little miser. Was the Vole family going bankrupt or something?
---
The next morning
Yawning students shuffled out of their dorms, half-asleep. Most had stayed up late finishing homework. Even those who'd already finished were revising — exams were only two days away, after all.
But there were always a few who thought differently. Three particularly curious Gryffindors had decided it would be a brilliant idea to find out what a Dementor felt like up close. They snuck to the castle gates in the middle of the night to "experience it firsthand."
And they almost didn't make it back.
If Hagrid hadn't spotted them and hauled them back like a bunch of kittens, they'd probably still be unconscious in the snow.
When McGonagall heard what happened, she nearly fainted.
She had just given a speech the day before, stressing safety on the first day of term. And these three had already gone looking for death.
The Gryffindor hourglass dropped several dozen points in an instant. The culprits were sentenced to two weeks of detention — not just weekends, but every single evening after class, under Filch's supervision.
"A bunch of idiots," the Slytherins muttered when the story spread. "Gryffindors. Still as brainless as ever."
They used to see Gryffindor as rivals. Now it just felt embarrassing to even make the comparison. Having those idiots as opponents was an insult to their reputation.
"By the way, Draco," Tom suddenly said, glancing over, "send me your father's Codex ID. I forgot to ask him for it."
Draco Malfoy perked up immediately, eager to please. He pulled out his Codex notebook, checked the contact, and added Tom as a friend while he was at it. When he closed it, he made sure everyone could see the special cover — the Deluxe Edition.
Even in Slytherin, only a handful could afford to drop a hundred Galleons for the premium version.
"Show-off," Zabini muttered, pulling out his own to flaunt. Rosier joined in too.
Only Nott just sighed miserably — his family had the pedigree, but not the money. He'd bought his basic version with his own pocket savings.
Tom ignored their childish one-upmanship — in fact, he encouraged it. Let them flaunt their wealth. Divide themselves by class.
That was how he made his money, after all.
"Let's go, Daphne," he said, standing. After breakfast, he and Daphne headed off toward the Charms classroom for their first lesson of the new term.
.
.
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