The sight of Cassandra unleashing her full power sent a gaggle of novice wizards, barely capable of casting a simple Protego (Shield Charm), scurrying from the dueling arena, whining, "What a mismatch!"
Left inside were Harry and Malfoy, those close-combat mages who, in their own minds, deserved to be burned at the stake. But alas, neither had mastered "Luminescence" yet, turning them into pale imitations of true melee mages. Knowing they were no match for Cassandra, a wizard elevated to her current level by a formidable mentor, they decided to cut their losses and beat a hasty retreat.
"Cassandra, if you weren't the professor's pet, you wouldn't be a prefect today!" Malfoy spat.
"Yeah, we were just letting you win! Don't think we couldn't take you!" Harry added.
But their words were mere bluster as their feet moved like lightning.
"Hey, boss, aren't we going to stop her?" Crabbe mumbled.
"Boss, didn't you want to be prefect?" Goyle added.
Unfortunately, Crabbe and Goyle, whose brains were smaller than their biceps, failed to grasp that Harry and Malfoy were trying to save face.
"Kick her in the shins!...I'll curse you into next week!" Malfoy cursed.
Unable to bear the sight of his cronies turning into blithering idiots, he could only grumble as he hauled them both back out of the dueling arena.
It was pure agony for Malfoy, enduring Cassandra's gaze—the one that made you feel like a maggot—not once, but twice in one day, all for these simpletons.
Cassandra merely watched Malfoy's hasty exit, her expression unreadable, "..."
Since they were under the professor's protection, she decided against embarrassing them further.
She was now the only person remaining in the dueling arena.
This meant she was the first-year prefect!
"Whoosh!"
Except for a few slow-witted students, the remaining young wizards, terrified of ending up on the receiving end of an Avada Kedavra (Killing Curse), immediately raised their hands and cheered.
Under Tom's unreasonable protection, not a single upperclassman dared object to Cassandra's appointment. What could they do? Sacrifice their lives for a worthless prefect position?
Though they remained silent, more than a few of them were already planning to write letters—one to their parents, and another directly to the Ministry of Magic, accusing Tom! After all, everyone here could be mediocre, or even brilliant, but no one was allowed to be too brilliant!
...
Ministry of Magic.
Fudge sat in his office, frowning at the documents in his hands. He was not a frontrunner for the next Minister of Magic, and he was desperate to change that.
I need ideas! Any ideas!
Click.
Just then, an Auror pushed open the door and entered. "Minister Fudge," he announced, "we've received numerous letters from Hogwarts students claiming a professor used an Unforgivable Curse... but they haven't specified which one."
Fudge was ecstatic. This was a golden opportunity!
"I don't care which professor it is! Even Dumbledore will be invited for tea today! Assemble the others, we're going to Hogwarts to make an arrest!"
…
Early morning, Hogwarts Great Hall.
The young wizards sat in groups, eating breakfast and gossiping.
"Did you hear? This new Professor Tom used one of the Unforgivable Curses yesterday!"
"I knew it! Someone that handsome can't possibly be a good person! Poor Flora, she's completely smitten with him!"
"Wait, how do you know Professor Tom used an Unforgivable Curse?"
"Oh, my great-aunt's grandson is a fifth year Slytherin."
Listening to the chatter around her, Hermione grew increasingly worried, absentmindedly poking at her fragrant German sausage, her appetite gone.
"What's wrong?" Penelope Clearwater asked, concerned.
"What if Professor Tom... gets thrown into Azkaban?" Hermione asked, annoyed. Although Tom had jokingly mentioned being sorted into Azkaban, Hermione had dismissed it.
After all, who gets sorted into prison? No one would believe such a thing without seeing it themselves.
"Well… if what they're saying is true, it very well could happen." Penelope frowned. It was rare to have such a handsome professor. Even just looking at him during class was a pleasure.
As they spoke, the surrounding witches began to stir with excitement.
"Professor, you look wonderful."
"The weather is so nice today. May I invite you for afternoon tea?"
"Professor, I don't understand something about this spell..."
The handsome, aloof young professor held undeniable appeal for these young witches experiencing their first stirrings of love.
Hermione and Penelope Clearwater followed their gaze, spotting Tom standing at the entrance to the Great Hall, presumably arriving for breakfast.
He was immediately besieged by witches, and if Nagini hadn't been there, he probably would have been torn to pieces.
With practiced ease, Tom placated the crowd, then strode into a corner, casually naming a few dishes. Suddenly, food appeared on the table before him.
He ate a little to fill his stomach, then began cutting steak for Nagini.
Seeing Tom arrive, Hermione Granger stood up, determined to question him about the rumors, to prevent him from being thrown into Azkaban.
But just then…
Bang!
The Great Hall doors were kicked open, and Fudge led a group of people inside.
"Ahem…"
Fudge glanced around, coughed twice to draw everyone's attention, and announced, "We received reports that someone here used an Unforgivable Curse."
He had personally led the arrest to cultivate a "hands-on" image and boost his chances of becoming the next Minister of Magic.
Seeing the commotion, Hermione panicked.
But the Slytherin students who had reported Tom were ecstatic.
"That's him!" one shouted.
"Minister! That's the one!" cried another.
"Heh heh heh... you can't escape today! Serves you right for being so arrogant!" someone cackled.
Fudge maintained his serious and imposing demeanor, peering in the direction they indicated. Sure enough, he spotted a man in the corner of the Great Hall feeding a large python.
He strode arrogantly toward Tom. "For the Minister of Magic to personally come and arrest you, you really are something..."
"..."
Hearing these words, Tom calmly looked up, "Are you looking for me?"
Seeing this face, Fudge froze, momentarily stunned.
Large beads of sweat began to trickle down his forehead.
Tom continued, "What is the matter?"
Hearing this, Fudge instantly plastered a bitter smile on his face. "Nothing (choking back tears), nothing at all (forced smile), Mr. Riddle, we were just passing by. Please, enjoy your meal."
With that, Fudge turned and fled toward the door.
The Aurors from the Ministry of Magic recognized Tom and, realizing exactly who he was, quickly followed their Minister, fearing that a moment's hesitation would mean certain death.
"Hey? Minister Fudge, where are you going? Arrest him!"
"..."
---
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