"Side quest: Establish your authority! Completed."
"Reward: Armor Charm."
"Prepare to receive your reward."
Moments later, Tom's mind was filled with knowledge about the Armor Charm, as if he had long mastered the spell.
No matter how many times it happened, acquiring spells or knowledge through quest rewards always felt incredible.
The Armor Charm was a lifesaver for wizards, the best defensive spell in combat. Had he known this spell earlier, he wouldn't have been hit by the Leg-Locking Curse.
With it, he could emerge unscathed in similar battles in the future.
However, more intriguing than acquiring the Armor Charm was another unexpected discovery.
He was a Parselmouth.
He had the rare ability of Slytherin's descendants.
This likely meant he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, one of the school's four founders!
This signified that he was more suited for the Slytherin title than anyone else!
Draco, on the spot, declared that Tom was a true Slytherin, more suitable than himself to join the "Slytherin Brotherhood," even suggesting, "You should be the president!"
Tom wasn't particularly interested in this so-called brotherhood.
A bunch of arrogant heirs. If all the young wizards there were like Draco or Adrian, then it wouldn't be as valuable as his own Hero group.
Still, he agreed to check out the brotherhood.
Foolish they may be, but they were easy to control, weren't they?
Moreover, since Draco brought him news about his identity, Tom, in a good mood, spared them from further punishment.
After the conflict, only poor Adrian ended up with a burnt hand, and too afraid to complain, he swore he had burnt himself, thus earning his release from Tom.
Now, Tom sat on a sofa in the center of the Slytherin common room, with Crabbe and Goyle standing behind him, Draco at his left, and Pansy at his right, pouring him tea.
Tom didn't touch the tea, still contemplating his own questions.
I'm a Parselmouth, a descendant of Slytherin, no doubt.
But I grew up in an orphanage, my parents were Muggles, how could this be?
"Draco, your family history is ancient, right?"
"Yes, though not as grand and ancient as Slytherin, the Malfoy family is among the few pure-blood families in the wizarding world…"
"So, you must know many secrets of the wizarding world, right?" Tom cut off Draco's boasting.
"Uh, I do know some, what do you want to know?"
"You know I come from an orphanage, and I know nothing of my parents or family."
Having interacted with Harry and others recently, Tom realized that most in the wizarding world didn't care about one's background, judging based on personal liking. The emphasis on bloodline was almost exclusively a Slytherin trait.
He had proven his noble lineage, and for those daring to question him, he found a better way to establish authority—by defeating them.
Thus, he had no intention of hiding his origins.
"I want you to help me investigate the descendants of Slytherin, to find out who my ancestors are."
"Also, the name Tom Riddle, have you heard of it?"
Draco shook his head, "No, sounds like a Muggle's name."
"Check that name for me too."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know," Tom said, "But I feel he's related to me."
"Alright, I understand, I'll look into it."
…
On the third weekend, Professor McGonagall approached Murphy, "Professor Darkholm, is your puzzle ready?"
Murphy knew she referred to the trap behind the trapdoor. After a thought, he asked, "Is the Sorcerer's Stone still planned to be placed in the school?"
Professor McGonagall nodded, "There's no safer place."
Meaning Dumbledore decided to test Harry, and perhaps, to trap Voldemort.
But while you, sir, are the director, you're not the sole scriptwriter. How the story unfolds might not go as you wish.
"I'm ready," Murphy said.
"Please come with me."
At the end of the fourth-floor corridor, where Filch had been taken away, McGonagall led Murphy through the trapdoor, using a spell mid-air to slow their fall.
After a long descent, they landed. Where Professor Sprout's Devil's Snare should have been, there was only a dark, damp stone corridor, ending just ahead.
"This corridor, up to the next room, you can set any trap or puzzle you wish," Professor McGonagall said.
Murphy didn't bother with suggestions like "Why not just block the path?"
It was just a stage for the headmaster, after all, and pressing further would just embarrass Professor McGonagall.
"Do you need to leave?" she asked.
"No need."
Murphy waved his wand, setting up two rows of eight niches above head height along the corridor. Then, eight ravens flew out from behind him, perching in the niches, each in a different posture.
He then stepped back, installing a keypad with numbers 0 to 9 on the wall.
Above the keypad, he inscribed: "C(12,7) + 2log(5)10 + log(5)0.25 =".
This was high school mathematics, but hardly anyone at Hogwarts could solve it.
Professor Quirrell, better brush up on math.
"Professor McGonagall, I've set up my puzzle."
"So soon?" She was puzzled, looking at the ravens and the equation. C(12,7), log? What does it mean?
"Professor Darkholm, what's the purpose of this trap?" she finally asked.
Murphy didn't explain, simply removed his left glove and tossed it down the corridor.
A flash of lightning from one of the niches struck the glove before it hit the ground, incinerating it instantly.
Eight Lightning Ravens, each capable of striking two to three times. If the math problem isn't solved and the answer used as the password to press the keypad in sequence, the twenty or so lightning strikes would be quite a challenge for intruders.
Professor McGonagall was startled.
"Isn't this too dangerous?"
The lightning looked deadly, potentially lethal, and the trap gave no warning. In the dark corridor, who would notice a few black ravens, let alone expect them to shoot lightning?
"The more dangerous it is for the enemy, the safer it is for us, isn't it?"
In the original story, Voldemort was very secretive about his origins. After rising to power, his followers would hardly call him Tom Riddle, and among the good guys, only Dumbledore and Slughorn, who taught Tom, knew his secret. Thus, the name was rarely known, especially in this era—as evidenced by its presence on the Special Contributions Award.
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