The one who had called Tom's name was none other than Cho's close friend—Marietta Edgecombe.
Marietta wore a mischievous smile as she pointed toward Cho, who stood near the Ravenclaw stage. "Cho and I have been practicing the Disarming Charm for a while now, but we keep messing it up. She thought of you, the genius, but was too shy to ask for your help. As her friend, I had no choice but to come over on her behalf."
Tom's eyes slid toward Cho. For a moment their gazes met, and she quickly looked away, flustered.
Too shy? Not exactly. She hadn't intended to trouble Tom at all. It was Marietta's idea to meddle and "create an opportunity." But to say Cho had no thoughts of her own wasn't true either—if she had really wanted to stop her friend, she could have.
"So it's just that?" Tom chuckled. "Alright then." He followed Marietta over to where Cho stood.
"Thank you, Tom," Cho murmured, embarrassed.
Tom shrugged. "What's the trouble? No one wants to partner with me anyway. I'd rather help you than sit around bored."
Daphne was busy watching over Astoria to keep her safe. Hermione, on the other hand, was on a winning streak—she'd beaten girls from second year all the way up to fourth. Gryffindor's pride was starting to look grim.
"Just… don't think I'm stupid," Cho whispered.
"Never," Tom replied with a small wave of his hand. "We don't have much time. Let's start."
Cho nodded, stepping apart from Marietta. The two began their duel, restricting themselves to Disarming Charms.
Tom observed carefully.
Cho's posture was strong—her figure athletic, with the toned power of a Quidditch player. Her long legs gave her the kind of presence that radiated agility and grace.
Wait. Tom blinked. His focus had drifted. He snapped his mind back to the actual spellwork.
It didn't take long for him to spot the problem.
"Stop for a moment," he called.
"Did you notice something?" Cho returned Marietta's wand and walked over.
"Your incantation is fine. Rhythm, tone—all standard. You've even succeeded a few times, which means your intent and emotion are there. What you're missing is momentum."
Tom lifted his wand. "At the start, you're swinging too hard, which turns the final motion into a circular flourish. It should be clean, decisive—one sharp flick, like this."
Marietta found herself volunteered as the test subject. With a neat swish, her wand once again flew from her hand.
"Remember—one swing, one flick. Be bold with the final motion, as if you're yanking your opponent's wand straight from their grip."
"I see!" Cho listened intently, immediately trying again on Marietta, whose patience was wearing thin.
Honestly, I've become a training dummy for this girl. Cho, you'd better pay me back someday.
Sure enough, with Tom's corrections, Cho's success rate soared. But then a new problem cropped up—the spell kept veering off-course. Even when she locked her eyes on Marietta, the red beam would skim past, grazing dangerously close.
"Still a posture issue," Tom said, shaking his head. "You're flicking with just your forearm. The proper way is to drive the motion from the upper arm—big arm leads, little arm follows."
"Honestly, Riddle," Marietta broke in suddenly, "this is too slow. Why not just correct Cho's movements directly?"
Cho shot her friend a quick glare but didn't refuse. "Would you… mind, Tom?"
"It's quicker that way," Tom agreed. He practiced what he preached—hands-on teaching worked best.
He stepped closer, gently taking Cho's arm. "Cast the spell. I'll guide your hand."
Her skin flushed pink beneath his touch, heat blooming all the way to her ears. Dizzy, she nearly forgot to speak until Tom's quiet prompt brought her back.
"Expelliarmus!"
Under Tom's close guidance, Cho quickly grasped the fluid strength of the swing and the decisive snap of the wrist. The motion felt smooth, natural. And with the right key, progress came fast—by the time Professor Rouse announced the end of class, she had the spell down solid.
"Excellent work, everyone. Our next public Dueling Lesson will be after Halloween. I expect to see real improvement. Dismissed!"
The students filed out in groups. Cho lingered just long enough to thank Tom again before Marietta whisked her away, both girls chattering in hushed tones.
That night, many Hogwarts students found themselves too restless to sleep.
Cho was certainly one of them—the lingering sensation of Tom's hand guiding hers still tingled through her arm.
Malfoy, too, tossed and turned. He had humiliated Weasley thoroughly, which left him smug, but the aborted duel with Harry left a sour taste. Worst of all, the Parseltongue incident gnawed at him.
He was a pure-blood Slytherin, scion of an ancient family whose ancestors had all graduated from this very House. Yet he wasn't a Parselmouth. Potter was. Potter could command the serpent Malfoy himself had conjured.
Even snakes bow to him?
Malfoy clenched his fists in the dark. Next time, I won't make that mistake again.
Meanwhile, high in Gryffindor Tower, Harry lay awake, staring at the canopy above his bed.
Parseltongue. Fred had said it was the mark of a powerful Dark wizard. Almost every Parselmouth in Britain had come from Slytherin.
And the Sorting Hat—hadn't it once told him he belonged there? Was he really a natural-born Dark wizard?
…No. That couldn't be right. There were good Slytherins, too. Tom Riddle, for one, wasn't so bad.
But still, in duel after duel, he couldn't ignore the truth. Slytherins were stronger. Even Malfoy could trample him and Ron with ease.
Did I really choose the wrong House?
As these doubts gnawed at Harry, Tom slept soundly, unbothered by any of it.
Daphne had once again crept into his bed, curling into him like a living pillow. She was soft and warm, her hair carrying the faint scent of bath soap.
Tom inhaled deeply, sinking into comfort.
Only one word could describe the feeling:
Bliss.
- - - -
T/N:
Please donate powerstones. Re-uploading the whole novel was such a tiring job.