Hogwarts, the Great Hall. Minerva McGonagall was presiding over the annual Sorting Ceremony, and Harry and Malfoy watched from their seats, amusement dancing in their eyes.
"Finally, it's our turn to sit back and watch them squirm," Harry said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "So, how many did you manage to fool this year, Malfoy?" He wondered if the blond Slytherin had lived up to Hogwarts tradition. Even though they hadn't managed to fool anyone last year due to Tom's intervention, that hadn't stopped them in previous years.
"About a dozen, give or take. You?" Malfoy responded.
"A bit better. Maybe thirty or so." It was fair to say that Malfoy's "convincing" skills were somewhat lacking compared to Harry's.
During the Sorting Ceremony, Tom paid little attention to the general rabble, instead focusing on the young wizards he already had "plans" for.
Minerva McGonagall consulted the list in her hand. "Ginny Weasley!"
Ginny rushed forward excitedly and sat down, and Minerva McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head.
From the faculty table, Severus Snape stared, almost wistfully, at Ginny's long red hair.
Shortly after, the Sorting Hat bellowed, "Gryffindor!"
This was hardly a surprise, as no Weasley had ever strayed from the Gryffindor path.
...
"Luna Lovegood."
A girl wearing what appeared to be carrot earrings stepped forward, looking slightly dazed. Minerva McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head. This time, the Hat wasted no time.
"Ravenclaw!"
Enthusiastic applause erupted from the Ravenclaw table. Tom watched Luna as she walked to her seat, lost in thought.
...
Then, Minerva McGonagall called out a name that immediately caught the attention of all the professors.
"Rolfe Scamander."
A sunny-looking boy walked up shyly.
"Scamander? As in, Newt Scamander? The Scamander?" the older wizards were quick to recognize the name. Rolfe shrunk under the whispers, lowering his head and avoiding eye contact.
"Newt's grandson?" From the teachers' table, Albus Dumbledore looked at Rolfe with interest. "He certainly has his grandfather's eyes."
But Tom, standing nearby, wasn't paying attention to such trivialities. He was far more interested in Newt himself than Newt's grandson. And as Newt Scamander's grandson, his house placement was all but guaranteed.
"Hufflepuff!"
As the Sorting Hat's pronouncement faded, the Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers.
"Yay! We got Newt's... grandson!"
Watching the jubilant badgers beside him, Malfoy leaned close to Harry and whispered, "Tch, he'll be one of our Death Eaters sooner or later."
Harry simply nodded silently, considering how to best manipulate young Rolfe. Did Malfoy think he didn't care?
Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of his new housemates, Rolfe sat down at the edge of the table, but he was soon swarmed by well-wishers.
The Sorting Ceremony concluded quickly, as there were very few "difficult" cases this year. After the new students were assigned their houses, Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat.
"Another school year begins. Before we commence the feast, I have a few words to say." Albus Dumbledore gestured to the faculty table. "First, let us welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Clap clap clap…
Amidst the applause, the flamboyantly dressed Gilderoy Lockhart stood up, a smug look plastered across his face. "I am Gilderoy Lockhart, internationally renowned author, Order of Merlin, Third Class, honorary member of the League Against the Dark Arts, and five-time winner of Wizarding Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award… Of course, in all modesty, I hardly feel the need to mention these accolades. After all, I don't often use my smile to ward off dangerous werewolves."
Lockhart was undoubtedly handsome, and in his stories, he was impossibly powerful. But with Tom in the room, who truly cared about this insignificant pebble? Tom embodied every young wizard's fantasy: powerful, handsome, elegant… with special effects shamelessly overdone.
Seeing that the students offered only perfunctory clapping, Lockhart felt a twinge of embarrassment. This must be an illusion!
After mentally reassuring himself, Lockhart spoke again, "Ahem… Surely you must have some questions for me? I am more than happy to satisfy your curiosity today; there's no need to queue."
A Ravenclaw student raised his hand. Lockhart nodded in satisfaction. "Please, speak."
"Aren't you afraid of death? Why would you dare to become our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"
"…"
The position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts was cursed; no one had ever held the post for more than a year. As for who had cast the curse…
Lockhart cautiously glanced at Tom, who was enjoying the steak Nagini was feeding him.
"I cast the curse. Do you take issue with that?" Tom glanced at Lockhart impatiently, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Uh… Professor Tom wouldn't…" Sweat beaded on Lockhart's forehead. He had only been trying to enhance his image as a professor; he hadn't truly thought anything of it.
Albus Dumbledore remained silent, discreetly eating his lemon drops. After all, he had tricked Lockhart into accepting the position, but he had been left with little choice. Besides this idiot, no one else was willing to take on the cursed role.
To Lockhart's unspoken question, Tom poured cold water on his ambitions. "You wish! If you survive this year, I'll intensify the curse next year."
"…"
Lockhart's legs went weak, and he sank back into his chair, an expression of utter despair on his face.
Albus Dumbledore sighed helplessly. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, but the curse was bound to Tom, and it couldn't be broken without killing him entirely.
Seeing Lockhart's distress, Albus Dumbledore swiftly changed the subject. "And now, let us give a round of applause to Ravenclaw's student-teacher ensemble for the new school year!"
Filius Flitwick, dressed in a tailcoat, stepped down from the teachers' table. All the Ravenclaw students stood. Filius Flitwick waved his wand, and the Ravenclaw table transformed into a tiered stand, upon which the young eagles stood neatly, some holding various instruments. Beside the stand was a piano, played by Ravenclaw's prefect, Penelope Clearwater. As Filius Flitwick began to conduct, the young eagles began their choral performance.
When the performance ended and the beautiful music faded, Albus Dumbledore stood up again. "Now, let us enjoy the feast!"
Looking at the various delicacies that had suddenly appeared on the table, the young wizards began to devour their food.
At the teachers' table, those around him ate happily, but Lockhart had completely lost his appetite. Damn it! I came here and haven't gained anything, and now they're telling me 'you only have a year to live'—who could possibly be happy about that?
Frustrated, Lockhart stirred his coffee irritably. But then, a thought struck him.
"The Dark Lord wants to kill me?" Lockhart's eyes suddenly lit up. Then I'll just join the Death Eaters!