Tom gave a faint smile. "I just thought, Headmaster, that you seem to have aged quite a bit over the holidays."
Snape let out a cold snort, casting a glance—half hidden, half accusing—towards Dumbledore.
How could he not look worn out? Dumbledore had sent him all across the European continent, chasing after every possible trace of Voldemort. Out of the entire holiday, Snape had barely managed five days at home.
Dumbledore, however, kept his eyes forward as though he hadn't noticed Snape's silent rebuke.
Above them, Usagi was already beginning to display the majesty of a true sky-sovereign. The massive currents of air swirled together, forming a storm's eye. A tornado, stretching from earth to heavens, roared into existence, trapping the Phoenix at its center.
The whirlwind only grew more violent, expanding outward. Just as Dumbledore prepared to intervene and put an end to this little "game," the storm abruptly stopped spreading. The tornado's rotation slowed, spun a few seconds longer, then vanished altogether.
The result?
"Who won?!" cried one of the younger wizards who had been knocked into the back row, hopping up and down to see.
"It's Usagi! The phoenix can't get up!" another student shouted with excitement.
Fawkes lay on the ground, feathers in disarray, unable to rise. Usagi swooped down from the sky in triumph, lashing his tail at Fawkes several times before proudly perching on Tom's shoulder, claiming his sovereignty.
"Arrooo!"
"All right, all right, I get it—you're amazing," Tom said with a laugh, stroking the little creature before walking over to scoop up Fawkes, gently smoothing his ruffled feathers.
The truth was, if Fawkes hadn't underestimated him, Usagi never would have won. But Fawkes had only been toying with the hatchling at first, while Usagi had been building up his Dragon Dance for more than ten minutes. In the end, their strength was even—perhaps even tipping in Usagi's favor.
Fawkes let out a weak cry. He wasn't exhausted; he was mortified. He, Dumbledore's loyal phoenix, had actually lost? How humiliating.
Others couldn't see it, but Fawkes knew very well—Usagi was still just a baby.
He had lost to a hatchling?!
Seizing the moment, Tom spoke in a firm, teacherly voice: "This counts as a first meeting through battle. From now on, it's fine to play, but you must never take it too far. Understand?"
Usagi, ever obedient, chirped in acknowledgment. Fawkes, reluctant and sulky, nevertheless rubbed his head against Tom in acquiescence.
The boy nodded in satisfaction. "Good. That's how it should be. Don't fight over it—you're both my wings."
Dumbledore's lips parted slightly.
Wait a moment… wasn't that his bird?
But Fawkes hadn't even glanced at him. Seeing that his phoenix clearly had no intention of acknowledging its rightful master, Dumbledore refrained from embarrassing himself further. He simply raised a hand toward the younger wizards.
"Children, the duel was splendid, but it's time to return. The Welcoming Feast is still not over."
The students reluctantly shuffled back toward the castle.
"We should head inside as well," Dumbledore said to Snape and the others. "Quickly now—we mustn't delay the term."
…
When they returned to the Great Hall, Dumbledore was rather speechless to find that most of the students had abandoned their meals mid-bite just to run outside and watch the commotion. He could only sigh and allow them a bit of extra time to finish.
But many barely touched their food before their eyes drifted toward the Slytherin table. More specifically—to the little creature coiled like a scarf around Tom Riddle's neck.
Envy filled their gazes, sharp and sour, as though each had downed a goblet of freshly squeezed lemon juice.
A pet that was stylish, powerful, and devastating in battle—why didn't they have one?
Lockhart's eyes, meanwhile, had turned positively scarlet. He thought this magical beast suited his image perfectly. If he could acquire one of his own, he was sure he'd make the front page of the Daily Prophet every single day.
By the time the usual end of the feast drew near, the remaining food on the golden plates had finally disappeared.
Dumbledore rose, delivering his well-worn welcome speech and listing a handful of new school prohibitions—most of them courtesy of Filch.
The young witches and wizards listened with half an ear, restless and distracted. The ceremony ended in a ragged chorus of the school song.
It wasn't until Tom rose from his seat that the Slytherins dared to stand as well, forming into disciplined lines behind him as they followed him out toward the dormitories.
The professors exchanged glances, each with their own unspoken thoughts.
This Slytherin lot… had been remarkably well-trained.
Professor McGonagall, in particular, couldn't help but feel a touch of envy. Gryffindors were far too unruly—wild, independent, and unwilling to listen to anyone. Even Percy Weasley, their most promising prefect, couldn't truly control them. Especially not with Fred and George undermining him at every turn.
Why didn't her house have someone like Riddle—a student capable of commanding such order?
"Severus, you must share your methods with me sometime," McGonagall said, her tone suddenly uncharacteristically warm. "Tell me how you've been guiding Riddle—and how he manages to make even the older students so… quiet."
Snape: "???"
Had he taught Riddle anything?
Wasn't this boy simply a natural menace—born with darkness in his blood? Hadn't he, within a single month, already bested every prefect in the house and set his sights on Snape's own position?
"Don't be so secretive, Severus," McGonagall chided. "If Gryffindors would just behave a little better, you'd have fewer headaches yourself, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, yes…" Snape replied tonelessly. "But I think Riddle's… methods may not be suitable for Gryffindor. At the very least—you'd need to find a student of equal brilliance first."
McGonagall fell silent. The other two Heads, who had been listening closely, also fell into silence.
Each of them felt a twinge in their hearts.
If such a student existed, would they really be here begging Severus Snape for advice?
They had always assumed Riddle was merely an extraordinarily talented boy. But that wide-reaching shield charm earlier—protecting more than a thousand people at once—had forced them to confront the truth.
Until now, Riddle had been hiding his true strength. Or perhaps he had simply never had the chance to display it.
A school-wide protection spell of that scale… among all Hogwarts, only the Heads of Houses, and Dumbledore himself, might even come close.
Snape noticed the wounded looks on their faces, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
Exquisite.
At last, for once, it wasn't he being tormented by Riddle. Instead, he could use Riddle's terrifying prowess to torment them.
Tonight, he decided, called for a celebratory drink—or two.
…
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin common room.
The first-years, exhausted after a long day, thought they could finally rest once they were shown their dormitories.
But no sooner had the rooms been assigned than the seventh-year prefects ordered them to stay.
"What I told you earlier—that was the school's rules. Now…" the prefect's voice dropped low and stern, "it's time I explained the rules of Slytherin."
"Remember this: the House's rules always outweigh the school's rules. If anyone dares doubt it… well, they're welcome to try breaking them."
---