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[Hogwarts] Ch 76: No Lies, Just Riddle
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 17:39:45 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Ever since Quirrell came back to teaching, the students' suffering resumed.
He clearly hadn't learned a thing from Snape—still the same old routine: read the textbook, memorize it, write a reflection on it.
Absolutely nothing had changed.
Actually… one thing had.
Quirrell's stench had somehow gotten worse, so much so that people were starting to wonder if he was a garlic spirit in disguise. And to make things even more unbearable, he wouldn't allow anyone to open the windows during class.
So not only were students learning nothing, they had to endure a biological attack. Who wouldn't pass out under those conditions?
It didn't take long before the library's entire collection of books on blocking your sense of smell were all checked out. The waiting list stretched until next year.
But for Tom, Quirrell's return was a blessing in disguise.
Quirrell started calling on Tom to answer questions and help collect assignments. Each time, he'd throw in a point or two for good measure. It didn't seem like much per class, but it added up fast.
With two DADA classes a week, by December, Slytherin had completely made up for its early-semester losses. They even overtook Ravenclaw by twenty points.
Just in the past few weeks, Tom had racked up over 80 points—all courtesy of Quirrell.
At this rate, he was basically carrying all seven years of Slytherin on his back.
Dumbledore, while rarely seen in person, still kept a close eye on the school's affairs. When he checked the point records using his Headmaster privileges, he went quiet.
Since when did Tom Riddle get so buddy-buddy with Quirrell?
One professor giving over 80 points to a single house in a month? If there wasn't something fishy going on, he'd eat his own wand—even under the Imperius Curse, he wouldn't buy it.
After mulling it over, Dumbledore summoned Snape and shared what he'd found.
Snape had been in a good mood. Everything was going smoothly—Slytherin was back on top, Quirrell wasn't making any trouble… it was almost peaceful.
Then Dumbledore dropped the bomb.
Snape's face instantly darkened.
So all of Slytherin's recent points… came from Quirrell?
What the hell is Tom Riddle up to?
"I'll go talk to him," Snape said grimly before storming out of the office.
...
At the time, Tom was casually teaching Daphne. When someone said Snape was looking for him, he was completely baffled.
He had just stepped into the office and hadn't even sat down before Snape got straight to the point:
"Riddle. What's going on between you and Quirrell?"
"He's given you 80 points in a month. What are you—his long-lost son?"
"Professor," Tom said, clearly not amused. "I see your sarcasm has leveled up again. That was a particularly low blow."
"If Quirrell were my dad, I'd have started learning the Unforgivable Curses early."
"Don't try to joke your way out of this," Snape said coldly. "What's really going on? Why's Quirrell giving you so many points?"
Tom calmly sat across from him, looking entirely sincere. "Honestly? It's pretty simple. I found out he tried to kill Harry during the Quidditch match, and that he's after the Philosopher's Stone. So I've been blackmailing him."
"He agreed to give me points. Oh, and he also gives me 100 Galleons a month."
"Once he gets the Stone, he promised to split the Elixir of Life and any gold it makes with me, fifty-fifty."
A massive cluster of question marks seemed to explode in Snape's brain.
Was he always this damn honest?!
Wait— hell no!
Snape's entire demeanor changed. His presence turned icy, his hawk-like eyes narrowing dangerously.
"How do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"
Tom explained again—how he'd pieced it together after talking to Hagrid.
Snape slowly relaxed, leaning back in his chair.
Then he laughed. A bitter, exasperated kind of laugh.
Turns out people really do laugh when they're speechless.
Haha, Dumbledore, just look at the people you trust.
A bunch of first-years managed to get top secret information out of Hagrid, and you're surprised there's a leak?
"So… do you want the Stone?" Snape suddenly asked.
"Sure I do," Tom said honestly. "But I can't beat Dumbledore."
Snape didn't even look at him. He just pointed to the door. "Out."
Tom stood, waved lazily, and was halfway out the door when Snape's voice came again:
"Stay away from Quirrell. Don't meet him alone. And know when to stop, Riddle."
"Got it, Professor," Tom said casually, closing the door behind him.
...
That night, Snape went straight to Dumbledore and told him everything.
After hearing the full story, even Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh.
He was certain now—Tom wasn't interested in the Stone. If he were, he wouldn't have spilled everything so bluntly.
Snape, of course, seized the chance to mock Dumbledore.
"This is the helper you picked? That half-giant's only real talent is being loyal to you."
"He's caused more messes than I can count. And you always have to clean them up. If you keep letting him run wild, one day he's going to land you in a real disaster."
"Potter didn't even ask anything and he still blabbed! I'm starting to suspect he's been brewing Veritaserum just to drink it like water!"
If Tom were in the room, he'd probably shout that Snape must be a damn prophet.
Because Hagrid's problems were just getting started.
The magical creature attacks, the illegal breeding of Blast-Ended Skrewts… Any one of those things would've sent someone else straight to Azkaban. But Hagrid was still hopping around Hogwarts like nothing ever happened—and he even got promoted to Professor.
"Snape, this isn't about loyalty," Dumbledore said calmly. "Hagrid trusts me, just like I trust you. We're friends, not master and subordinate."
Snape chuckled dryly. 'So this is what a White Dark Lord from Gryffindor looks like, huh?'
He had to hand it to Dumbledore—he could spin the coldest hard truth into something that sounded touching and heartfelt. For a simple-minded guy like Hagrid, that was way more effective than anything Voldemort ever pulled.
"So, what now?" Snape asked. "Even the students know about the Philosopher's Stone. Aren't you worried Quirrell might actually succeed?"
"I believe my precautions are enough to stop him," Dumbledore said, "but… some rules may need to be revised. We don't want any students getting caught in the crossfire. I'll take care of it."
Snape seemed to realize something.
Maybe Dumbledore wanted Harry to dig deeper into the secrets. What was he really planning?
"Dumbledore," Snape asked suddenly, "can the Philosopher's Stone make someone stronger?"
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Severus?"
He thought he knew everything about Snape. But this question caught him off guard.
Snape continued, "Nicolas Flamel gave you the Stone. That means you can do whatever you want with it. If it can be used to boost your power, wouldn't that give you an edge against the Dark Lord?"
"Hm…" Dumbledore paused. "Truthfully, the Stone's energy is almost depleted. Even at full strength, though, it wouldn't have made much difference."
"Otherwise, Nicolas wouldn't still be at his current magical level."
"I see." Snape let out a disappointed sigh.
He wasn't feeling sorry for Dumbledore—but for Tom.
He already knew Dumbledore wouldn't rely on an external object to enhance his own power. He asked the question to see whether the Stone could help Tom instead.
The idea of raising a new Dark Lord had been stuck in his head for a while now, and with Tom's growing talent, he was becoming more and more convinced.
Losing a potential shortcut like the Philosopher's Stone was a real letdown—and suddenly, he had no more interest in continuing the conversation.
But Dumbledore wasn't quite done.
He gave a sheepish smile and said, "Severus, about all those points Slytherin's been getting..."
"We can't take them back," Snape said flatly, face hardening. "If you do, Quirrell will notice something's off and realize Riddle told you everything."
"But it's unfair to the other Houses," Dumbledore tried to reason. "Even without those points, Slytherin has a good shot at winning the Cup."
Snape didn't budge. "All for the greater good, Dumbledore. You know the saying—sacrifice the small for the big picture."
Dumbledore sighed. He couldn't argue with that.
Snape did have a point. It wasn't worth blowing their cover and tipping off Quirrell just for a few House points. Better to treat it as a quiet reward for Tom—who, despite having the chance, hadn't let temptation override his principles.
Seeing that Dumbledore wasn't going to argue further, Snape finally allowed himself a small smile before turning to leave the office.
— — —
Mid-December arrived quickly.
One morning, Hogwarts woke up to a snow-covered wonderland. It was the first snowfall of the winter, and the castle grounds sparkled under a thick, dazzling white blanket.
Excited students rushed outside during their free time to wage epic snowball battles.
The Weasley twins, of course, got in trouble—not for joining in the snowball fight, but for enchanting their snowballs to chase Quirrell around the courtyard. The enchanted snowballs ended up smacking him right in the back of his turban.
Tom nearly choked from laughter when he saw it.
'These two are fearless,' he thought. 'They're literally pelting Voldemort in the face. No wonder one of them ends up dead and the other badly hurt in the future. Knowing how petty Voldemort is, this might be the reason.'
"Tom, snowball fights are getting boring. Let's build a snowman instead!"
Daphne's soft voice chimed in from behind him. She was bundled up in a fluffy white winter coat and pants, topped with a cozy matching hat. Two fuzzy pom-poms dangled from the sides like little snowballs.
Honestly, she already looked like a snowman herself.
"Let's call Hermione too," Tom suggested with a grin. "Then we can see whose snowman turns out better."
Daphne agreed instantly and nudged him to hurry up.
Her relationship with Hermione had gotten better lately. They weren't clashing constantly like they had at the start of term, but they still bickered and competed—just... friendlier now. Arguing had somehow become their way of bonding.
Tom jogged back into the castle, grumbling in his head about how inconvenient magical communication was. You still had to physically go find someone. He really needed to figure out a better system. He'd been studying alchemy for a while now—maybe it was time to invent something.
...
He didn't need to go all the way to the tower to find Hermione. If she wasn't with him, there was only one other place she'd be—yep, the library.
Sure enough, he found her buried in a book and wordlessly dragged her out.
At first, Hermione protested—snowmen? Really? She had studying to do.
But Tom hit her with the classic line: work-life balance. Take a break, refresh your brain, and you'll study better.
That convinced her.
And once they got outside and saw the sparkling white landscape, even Hermione couldn't hide her excitement.
They each started building their own snowman while Tom played judge. Worried about their hands getting too cold, he thoughtfully cast a warming charm over them so they could play without freezing. The only downside was the snow melted faster in their hands.
Suddenly, the air split with a whoosh behind him.
Tom didn't even turn around—he flicked his wand up, and the speeding snowball shot right back where it came from, even faster.
Two yelps rang out a moment later.
"Tom! That's cheating!" Fred groaned, holding his head. "You can't use magic in a snowball fight!"
Tom finally turned around, seeing the Weasley twins rubbing their heads and looking very offended.
He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you two use magic on Quirrell earlier? I was standing right there, remember?"
"And anyway—what kind of wizard snowball fight doesn't involve magic?"
The twins exchanged glances, then grinned wickedly.
"Alright, Riddle," George said. "Don't blame us for being unfair—how about a full-blown magical snowball fight?"
The ground around them erupted—over a hundred snowballs floated into the air, spinning menacingly. It was such a dramatic scene that a crowd of students started gathering to watch.
Hermione and Daphne stepped forward, ready to help.
But Tom held up a hand. "Stay back. Watch how I handle this."
He tapped his wand to the ground.
The deep snow shuddered—then surged upward.
Before the stunned twins could react, a towering ten-meter snow golem began to form. It loomed over them, casting a long shadow across the courtyard.
The snowman casually scooped up a massive snowball—bigger than either twin—and hurled it.
George and Fred's faces turned pale.
The enchanted snowballs they'd raised looked like pebbles in comparison.
With a shriek, the twins split and ran in opposite directions, but the snow golem kept hurling massive snowballs after them.
Fred was the first to get shot. The snow exploded on impact, slipping down his collar and making him yelp and dance around in the cold.
From the front steps of the castle, Professor McGonagall watched it all unfold.
Instead of scolding them, she smiled.
'If Tom had shown that level of Transfiguration skill in class,' she thought, I'd have awarded him ten points on the spot.
Up in the tallest tower, Dumbledore stood by the window, watching the snowman lumber around.
He nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Nice."
.
.
.
