There's an old saying at Hogwarts: a student's journey isn't complete without a little nightti mischief.
Sure, on the surface, the school had set up an endless list of rules to keep students in line. But every upper-year student knew the truth—breaking the rules wasn't the real problem. Getting caught was.
Tom wasn't out wandering tonight because of so rebellious teenage impulse. No, he was here for sothing far more calculated: farming achievent points.
Ever since the system had issued that single mission about winning the House Cup, it hadn't given out any new tasks. But the achievent list? That had quietly expanded.
After studying it, Tom realized earning points wasn't nearly as hard as he'd expected—at least in the early stages.
Over the past few days, he'd simply been attending class, answering questions, earning house points, occasionally strolling around with Daphne, and boom—he already had 150 achievent points.
Among the categories was a "Nightti Castle Exploration" series of achievents. Just exploring the grounds at night could rack up points.
Tonight, Tom was here to stock up.
Andros was great at many things—but Dark Arts wasn't one of them. He avoided it completely and had no talent for it anyway.
Tom's goal was to quickly hit 1,000 achievent points, so he could summon another King of the Century—ideally, one with mastery over the Dark Arts.
…
Tom left the Slytherin common room just as he had in the day, walking at a calm, steady pace. The candle sconces lining the walls cast flickering light across the corridor, and as the flas danced, so too did the shadows, creating an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of light and dark.
Perfect for practicing his Disillusionnt Charm.
Now, the Disillusionnt Charm wasn't true invisibility—it worked more like a chaleon, altering how light reflected off the body so the caster blended into the environnt.
In a stable setting, the charm was easy to maintain. But in dynamic, ever-changing lighting like this corridor, it truly tested one's finesse.
The halls at night were unnervingly quiet. Occasionally, a flickering shadow would appear on the wall only to vanish just as quickly, like a ghost flitting through the corridors.
As ti passed, the frequency of those shadows lessened.
Tom was improving.
He had gained better control over the way his appearance adapted to the lighting fluctuations.
While spells didn't co with official levels, they were generally understood to fall into several tiers of mastery.
The first was "barely functional"—in other words, you could cast the spell, but it only worked sotis. That was entry-level.
With enough practice, a witch or wizard would hit the second tier: proficiency.
At this stage, the spell was easy to cast and succeeded nearly every ti. But mastery wasn't just about success—it was about control.
Take the Levitation Charm, for instance. So people could only make objects float stiffly up and down, while others could make them dance in mid-air like ballerinas. That's the difference practice makes.
Climbing further up the ladder led to nonverbal casting, which made spellwork faster and more discreet.
Even so, many witches and wizards still spoke aloud while casting—it helped with focus, channeling magical energy, and often amplified the spell's power.
And then ca the holy grail of magical finesse: wandless magic.
Here, Andros had the most authority. He was, after all, the greatest wandless caster ever recorded in magical history.
According to him, wandless magic wasn't really about spell proficiency. It was more about one's depth of magical understanding—and raw talent.
So might be able to duel with a Disarming Charm against an Avada Kedavra and still win—that's peak spell control.
But without a wand? They'd be helpless.
That's talent—or the lack of it.
Tom realized his strengths lay in control. Once he learned a spell, it didn't take him long to wield it with speed and confidence.
It reminded him a bit of Hermione. She learned tons of spells but only ever cast them functionally—their actual power was often underwhelming.
Tom was different, though. Thanks to inheriting Andros's magical affinity, his potential was wide open. Eventually, even the simplest spell would beco devastating in his hands—a basic charm turned Unforgivable.
…
Two hours passed. Tom had finally made it to the second floor.
He was slow because he'd been carefully unlocking doors one by one and lingering inside long enough to get that familiar notification chi from the system.
Twenty more achievent points—mission complete for tonight.
Feeling a bit hungry, Tom decided to hit the kitchens before heading back.
Though both were located in the dungeons, the Slytherin common room was in the southern wing of the castle, while the kitchens were directly beneath the Great Hall—still a bit of a trek.
He descended a spiral staircase and arrived in a wide underground chamber filled with barrels and lined with oil paintings.
Opposite one of the fruit still-life paintings stood a barrel larger than the rest, lying on its side.
That, he knew, was the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.
All you had to do was knock on the barrel in the right rhythm, and the door would open—if you were a Hufflepuff.
Anyone else would get a faceful of stinking vinegar as punishnt.
No wonder people said Hufflepuff had the best accommodations.
Only those who lived at school would understand just how amazing it was to have your dorm right next to the kitchens.
Actually—scratch that. This wasn't even a dining hall. It was the kitchen itself.
A fully staffed, 24-hour, made-to-order kitchen that welcod you at any hour, offering personalized service with a smile.
And location wasn't its only perk. From the Hufflepuff dorms, it was only a short walk upstairs to the Great Hall and classrooms.
Other houses had it rough: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were at the top of the tower, while Slytherin was tucked away in so damp dungeon corner.
If Hogwarts had a step counter, those three houses would definitely log a few thousand more steps than Hufflepuff each day.
After another round of low-key envy for the lucky badgers, Tom approached the fruit painting and scratched at the green pear in the fruit bowl.
The pear twitched like a ticklish child and let out a squeaky laugh. It wiggled and writhed until it twisted itself into a doorknob.
Tom: …
Okay, he had to admit—it was kind of adorable. Helga Hufflepuff clearly had a playful streak when designing her security chanisms.
Muttering to himself, Tom turned the doorknob.
Inside was a vast chamber, almost as large as the Great Hall, with towering ceilings and rows of gleaming copper pots and pans.
As Tom stepped in, a house-elf popped into view with a loud pop! and bowed deeply.
"Sir! I'm Hobbie. How may I serve you?"
"I'm Tom Riddle," he replied politely, then added, "I'm a bit hungry. Just looking for sothing to eat."
"Hobbie shall see to it right away!" the elf squeaked, dashing toward the stove with wild enthusiasm.
As Tom waited, the kitchen doors opened once more—
—and two identical red-haired heads poked inside, locking eyes with Tom in surprise.
…
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