— — — — — —

After some thorough observation, Tom could say with confidence: this guy was a legit potions genius.

He'd managed to successfully brew Draught of Living Death—a high-level potion—on his first try. And the result wasn't half bad either. In fact, Tom had already tested a few drops in the tea.

The idea to poison his tea with Living Death? That was Tom's suggestion.

It all started in their Potions class. Snape had mentioned the potion in one of his opening questions, and it clearly stuck with Zabini.

After doing his research and gathering the necessary ingredients, he got to work. Took him two full days, holed up in the boys' bathroom, to finish brewing it.

"You've really impressed me, Blaise," Tom said, setting down his teacup. "With talent like yours in Potions, who cares about bloodlines or family name? You'll earn respect on your own merits."

Tom's praise hit Blaise Zabini like a bucket of ice water in the middle of a scorching summer—refreshing and oddly satisfying.

Sure, compliments from others were nice, but this was Tom. Tom, who had beaten him three or four times already.

It's true what they say: nothing feels better than getting acknowledged by someone you once considered an enemy.

Well—technically, Tom wasn't his enemy anymore.

He was his boss, his big bro now.

Zabini gave a sheepish bow. "Riddle, I was out of line before. From now on, I swear I won't even think about revenge. It was my fault for running my mouth on day one."

Tom smiled approvingly and patted him on the shoulder. "Good attitude." Then he turned to Nott and Rosier. "What about you two?"

They both shook their heads vigorously. "Nope! Never again. Promise."

"Great. Now hand over your pocket money."

"..."

Another 30 Galleons added to his stash. Tom stashed the coins away and was about to return to his book when something unexpected happened: Zabini struck up a conversation.

Rosier and Nott even joined in.

That was new.

Up till now, things had always been one-sided. Tom gave orders, they followed. Casual conversation wasn't really a thing.

Still, if they wanted to play nice, Tom didn't mind. Whether they meant it or not, he went along with it naturally.

Zabini started talking about the problems he'd run into while brewing the potion, and Tom actually offered helpful solutions. What caught him off guard, though, was the flicker of admiration in Zabini's eyes.

Rosier and Nott looked a little... envious.

Thanks to Tom's recognition, Zabini's status in the dorm had quietly climbed above the other two.

That's how hierarchy works. The person at the top gets to decide who rises. If he favors someone, that person naturally gains the upper hand.

The next morning, Zabini trailed after Tom like a loyal sidekick. Nott and Rosier, not wanting to fall behind, quickly followed.

The sight of all three sticking to Tom like glue earned a lot of curious looks from the younger Slytherins.

Eventually, Daphne had to shoot them a sharp glare to send them scattering.

After helping Daphne with her homework, Tom headed to the library to continue recording books into his study space. When he arrived, he spotted Hermione already there, waving him over.

As soon as he sat down, the little witch leaned in and whispered excitedly, "I totally forgot to ask you yesterday—how did you suddenly appear in front of me that night? You were invisible! Was it some kind of spell?"

"Disillusionment Charm," Tom whispered back, careful not to alert Madam Pince. "It bends light around you—classic stealth magic."

"Where did you learn that?"

"There's a book called Advanced Practical Spells on the farthest shelf. Also, it's in the fifth-year curriculum."

Hermione was gone before he even finished speaking, dashing off to grab the book and burying herself in it with intense focus.

After a while, Tom nudged her gently with his elbow. Hermione looked up, frowning.

"So... did Harry and Ron agree to the plan I came up with yesterday?" he asked casually.

Her expression turned wary. "Tom, I still don't understand what you're really after. There's definitely something fishy going on."

"Why would you say that?" Tom said with a mock-wounded look. "I only suggested that plan for your sake—because we're friends. Doesn't matter what houses we're in, that doesn't change anything between us."

He played the friendship card.

A few sweet words later, Hermione's cheeks were flushed pink. She gave him a playful glare and lightly punched his shoulder.

"You're such a bad influence," she muttered.

"Careful—words have power." Tom gently took her soft hand in his, then let go.

Hermione sighed in defeat. "When I was leaving earlier, I saw Harry and Ron heading toward the twins. Ron looked way too excited... so yeah, I think they're going with your plan."

— — —

Gryffindor Common Room

A crowd of Gryffindor students had surrounded Harry and Ron, hanging on their every word. To make sure everyone could hear him, Ron climbed up onto a couch and started shouting.

"Draco Malfoy challenged Harry Potter to a duel because he was embarrassed!

"Harry totally outflew him during flying class!"

"Harry was incredible! I mean—well, Oliver Wood could probably tell you more—but because Malfoy felt humiliated, he came crawling back, asking for a duel. Loads of people saw it, right?"

Several boys nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Thursday. He came over with those two meatheads. You talked for a bit, then he stormed off."

"Exactly!" Ron said, fired up. "So here's the best part: he never showed up! Harry and I waited half an hour and guess who showed up instead? Filch. And his freaky cat!"

He nudged Harry, who hadn't said much yet.

Putting on a serious face, Harry joined him on the couch. "Ron told me wizard duels are sacred. Especially for pure-bloods like Malfoy. It's all about family honor."

"I wouldn't have agreed to sneak out otherwise... but this was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight issuing a formal challenge. And he didn't even show."

"That's just... just..."

Harry trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Thankfully, the twins were there to save the day.

"Utter disgrace!" Fred bellowed.

"A shame on pure-blood honor!" George added.

"Proof that their golden age is long gone!" they said in perfect unison.

The room erupted with cheers and laughter.

.

.

.