"Night-time stroll," Tom said calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Same as you."
He pulled Hermione to her feet. "Filch is coming. We should hide."
He let the panicked Gryffindors lead him, watching with detached amusement as they ran headlong into a dead-end corridor. The only exit was a locked door.
"We're trapped!" Ron wailed.
"Stand aside!" Hermione commanded, pointing her wand at the lock. "Alohomora!"
The lock clicked. They tumbled inside, slamming the door just as Filch's footsteps echoed outside. They were safe. Or so they thought.
A low growl rumbled through the room. They turned. They were not in a classroom. They were in a forbidden corridor, and blocking their path was a monstrous, three-headed dog that filled the entire space from floor to ceiling. Six malevolent eyes fixed on them, drool dripping from three sets of bared teeth.
It was Fluffy.
The beast lunged. Hermione screamed and fumbled with the jammed door. The others were frozen in terror.
But Tom moved forward.
"Stupefy!" A jet of red light struck the middle head, staggering the beast but only enraging it further.
"I knew being gentle wouldn't work," Tom muttered to himself.
Then, the corridor erupted in a storm of light and sound.
"Impacto!"
"Ventus!"
"Diffindo!"
Tom became a living turret, his wand a blur as he unleashed a relentless barrage of spells. They were spells the others had never even heard of, ancient and powerful hexes taught to him by Andros, amplified by his own prodigious talent. The sheer volume and force of the attack was overwhelming. The giant dog, bred for strength and resilience, had no defense against such a concentrated onslaught. It howled in pain, retreating until it was cowering at the far end of the corridor, its three heads tucked whimpering under its massive paws.
Tom stopped his assault. He turned to the stunned Gryffindors. "Is the door fixed yet?"
Hermione, snapping out of her trance, finally managed to unjam the lock. They scrambled out. Before leaving, Tom glanced back at the whimpering creature. He raised his wand one last time and cast a series of healing charms, mending the worst of the cuts and burns he had inflicted.
The beast let out a soft, confused whine.
Tom closed the door, and without another word to the others, vanished into the darkness.
Back in their dormitory, Harry lay awake, the image of Tom's calm, ruthless efficiency burned into his mind. They called him the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who defeated the Dark Lord. But compared to Tom Riddle, he felt like a helpless child.
Miles away, in his office, Dumbledore listened to the report from a portrait near the third-floor corridor. He stroked his long beard, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Formidable," he murmured to the empty room. "The young are truly formidable."
The next day, Tom endured the most useless class at Hogwarts: History of Magic. The droning of the ghost, Professor Binns, provided no new knowledge and thus, no Study Points. Tom simply entered his Learning Space and practiced new spells with Andros for the duration.
After class, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were waiting for him in the courtyard.
"Riddle," Harry began awkwardly, "thank you for last night."
"Think nothing of it," Tom said, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from the pile of snacks they'd brought as a peace offering. "I was saving myself as much as you." He then turned the tables. "So, what were you four doing out so late anyway?"
After some hesitation, Hermione recounted the entire story of Malfoy's dueling trick.
"How dishonorable," Tom said, shaking his head in feigned disgust. The simple statement instantly allied him with them. Harry and Ron began to furiously recount how they would get their revenge.
"Beating him up is a violation of the rules," Tom reminded them.
"You're just siding with your fellow Slytherin!" Ron accused.
"If Tom were siding with Malfoy, he would have left us locked in that room last night," Hermione snapped back, defending him.
"Of course I side with my house," Tom said smoothly, "just as you side with yours. But I despise cowardly tactics. Malfoy's actions were beneath a wizard of his standing." He paused, letting his words sink in. "If you want revenge, I support you. I'll even help you plan it. But violence is the lowest form of recourse. The only person who would be happy if you punched Malfoy is Professor Snape. He would finally have a legitimate reason to make your life miserable, Potter."
Harry's face paled. The logic was undeniable. "So what do you suggest?" he asked, still wary.
Tom smiled. "You don't attack the man. You attack his reputation. You spread the story. Not of your own rule-breaking, but of his."
"But that would get us in trouble too!" Ron protested.
"You're thinking like a Gryffindor, Weasley," Tom said, his tone patient and instructive. "Think like a Slytherin. You don't tell everyone you were out for a duel. You frame the narrative. You let it be known, through whispers and rumors, that Malfoy, of the great and powerful Malfoy family, challenged Potter to a wizard's duel… and then was too cowardly to show up. You make him a laughingstock among the pure-bloods who value honor above all else. You wound his pride. That is a wound that will fester far longer than any bruise."
He looked at them, his expression one of shared grievance. "I know what it's like. As a Muggle-born in Slytherin, I deal with their arrogance every day."
The Gryffindors stared at him, a newfound respect dawning in their eyes. They had been thinking of a fight. Tom was thinking of a war.