On a desolate island, inside the ramshackle hut known as "The Socket Spirit and Lanlock's Abode," Lanlock confronted the disheveled figure within.
"The fairies I sent—you dealt with them?" Lanlock pressed, eager for news. "Tell me you brought back the centaur."
But Tom Riddle remained unresponsive, lost in a bizarre spectacle. He was guzzling Butterbeer, tears streaming down his face, muttering incoherently, "He's not human! Really not human!!!"
Lanlock, momentarily forgetting the centaur, could only gape. "Are you… crying?"
"Bullshit!" Tom Riddle roared, hurling the empty Butterbeer bottle at Lanlock. Like a frustrated husband taking it out on his wife, he thought, "It's a side effect of the potion I drank!"
Lanlock frowned, dodging the projectile. "What kind of potion causes… this? That's truly bizarre."
Tom Riddle simply sneered. "Hmph!"
"Whatever, I don't care." Lanlock waved it off, then asked the question that weighed on him most. "Where's the centaur? You came back alive, so you succeeded, right?"
"No… I almost had him!" Tom Riddle narrowed his eyes. "I ran into that fellow, we fought tooth and nail, matched in skill, but… I was outmaneuvered. He managed to rescue the centaur! I had no choice; too many enemies. Had to retreat."
Does he think I believe this drivel?
Lanlock refrained from calling Tom Riddle a liar. "So, almost caught him. Just be more careful next time."
Tom Riddle sensed his boasting had cornered him, then scoffed. Why should I explain myself to this short-stack?
He glared at Lanlock. "I'm not going back! You go capture him this time!"
"Heh… Very well, I shall go!" Lanlock agreed instantly, unflinching.
Tom Riddle looked genuinely surprised, then… a sinister grin spread across his face. I'll just top off that potion, then…
"Alright, plan it yourself." Tom Riddle set down a new bottle and stood up. "I have matters to attend to elsewhere."
"I'll catch the centaur," Lanlock repeated, watching Tom Riddle's retreating back. Does this bald idiot think I don't know he's trying to set me up?
He said he'd catch the centaur, but never specified Hogwarts! There were plenty of centaurs in Greece. The Forbidden Forest might be closer, but it was infinitely more dangerous. If Tom Riddle went, I'd push him toward Hogwarts. But if I'm going…
...
In Tom's office on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, Cassandra sat by the window, poring over a book titled The Magical Rune Table, an ancient text detailing the meanings and pronunciations of long-forgotten runes.
Beside it lay Advanced Transfiguration. The book, well-worn, was neatly kept, filled with Tom's own annotations and insights from his school days.
The advantage of using Tom's old textbook was the abundance of practical, useful information, enough to surprise even the professors. The disadvantage was Tom's lazy disregard for "basic" knowledge, making some passages incomprehensible without his guidance.
Of course, the book's original owner was always nearby, so Cassandra wasn't too worried. Besides, her current Transfiguration textbook for fifth-year students should have been Intermediate Transfiguration, but she had already mastered it and moved on to this advanced text.
At this moment, however, the Magical Rune Table proved far more daunting. "So much…" she muttered, turning to Tom, who was calmly sipping tea. "Tom, do I really have to memorize all of it?"
Tom looked up. "No, it's not required. But it would be best, of course. It's quite simple, and exceedingly useful."
Ancient runes weren't just a language; they were a conduit for magic, used to create enchanted items or cast specific spells of great power.
Cassandra frowned. "Quite simple… You're lying, Tom."
"How can you say that?" Tom chuckled, though it was quite simple for him. Knowing his apprentice's limitations, he wouldn't impose his own standards. And his slow-witted apprentice was showing impressive progress. Tom was confident that Cassandra could hold her own against Snape after graduation.
Cassandra could tell Tom wasn't lying, which only made her more frustrated. How can anyone possibly keep up with such a monster?
She decided that Potter's and Malfoy's "brute force" plan for advancement was doomed from the start. "I might as well have just stuck with the Love Potion…"
Changing the subject, Cassandra asked, "By the way, Tom, what were your O.W.L. results like?"
"Results? O. Outstanding."
"How many subjects?"
"All of them."
"..."
Perfect scores across the board. Showoff.
Unconvinced but hopeful, Cassandra asked, "So, Tom, if I also get perfect scores in every subject, do I get a reward?"
"A reward? Of course." Tom perked up. "How about I get you a pet?"
Since the last incident, Tom understood it was best not to let Cassandra name her own reward. The idiot apprentice would inevitably say something outrageous.
"..."
Damn it! He beat me to it!
Cassandra pouted. "Fine. So, what are you getting me?"
"I know how much you treasure your pets, right?" Tom knew that Cassandra, despite her claims, secretly cared for them.
Knowing Tom's obsession with "cute" pets, Cassandra doubted he would give her a basilisk or a bobblehead. She'd have to keep them as pets, and Tom would drag them out whenever he felt the need to show off.
I want to say that you can be my pet if all else fails, she thought, but knew better than to invite a smack on the head.
"I'll go to the Forbidden Forest and get you a unicorn."
"Of course, you're giving me something you don't want."
"..."
How did this idiot apprentice develop such a sharp tongue?
Tom's lips twitched. What did she mean, "something he didn't want"?
It was true he didn't particularly care for unicorns. Their power came from their blood's healing properties and inherent aversion to dark magic; their combat strength was fairly weak. More than that, unicorns just didn't suit him!
What kind of Dark Lord rides a unicorn?!
The thought of himself, a Dark Lord, riding one of those sacred creatures made Tom want to burst out laughing.
"Idiot, a unicorn as a pet? Other wizards wouldn't even dream of it... So, do you want one or not?"
"Yes! But I want to choose it myself!" Cassandra answered immediately. Despite her earlier complaint, she knew how precious unicorns were. Moreover, she knew that they needed to earn a unicorn's trust, and Tom's offer suggested he had a way to guarantee one's approval.
"Very well, I'll personally take you to catch one." Tom spoke as casually as if they were going to pick up a stray dog.
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