A week before exams, classes had been suspended, and the school entered full-on revision mode.

Even Tom had to study.

The exams weren't just about practical magic — there were a lot of written papers as well.

It was like a high schooler being forced to solve primary school problems: having the right answer wasn't enough, you also had to follow the exact steps and thought process demanded by the teacher.

This gave Tom a bit of a headache. He'd never cared much for such things, so he ended up turning to Hermione for help.

For once, Hermione became Tom's teacher. The little witch was in high spirits, seizing the chance to drag Tom into lessons every day and indulging her fantasy of being a strict instructor.

But why suffer alone? Tom also roped Daphne into this scheme. The result: two students wearing invisible masks of torment all week. Daphne had gotten angry with Tom more times in this single week than in the entire term combined.

The atmosphere inside the castle grew increasingly tense. Several students had already succumbed to hysteria and were sent to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey had to pour an entire bottle of Calming Draught down their throats before they could settle down.

Most of these unfortunate souls were fifth- and seventh-years, facing the OWLs and NEWTs — the two most important exams of their Hogwarts lives. Students from other years were under less pressure, but even so, the library was packed, and in the corridors you could see students speed-walking while muttering incantations under their breath.

On the last day before exams, Tom received a reply from Newt.

The old man's joy practically leapt from the parchment — he was thrilled that Tom had tamed a unicorn and equally delighted by his discoveries. He invited Tom to come to New York for an in-depth discussion, offering to cover his airfare if needed.

Tom thought about it but didn't reply immediately. He wasn't sure if he'd have the time, or even if it was necessary. Best to wait until the third trial was complete — he could decide once he knew what came next.

Tucking the letter away, Tom finished his breakfast in a few quick bites and returned to revising.

The next day, the exams began.

First-year exams weren't especially difficult, but the answers were extremely long-winded — and utterly pointless.

Tom hadn't had to write this much by hand in ages; normally, he'd just use magic to guide his quill. By the end of one paper, his hand was sore.

The practical portion was much easier. Professor McGonagall's test involved transforming a mouse into a snuffbox — a tricky bit of living-to-non-living transformation, but still the easiest category of the lot. Harder was giving life to an inanimate object, and hardest of all was transforming one living creature into another.

Tom completed the task without trouble. McGonagall's face stayed stern, but just before he left, he caught the corners of her lips twitch upward.

Professor Flitwick's exam was even simpler — make a pear tap-dance its way across a desk.

Tom went above and beyond, using cherries as a basketball. The pear dribbled them while singing and dancing, finishing with a dramatic slam and a stylish shoulder bump.

Flitwick's eyebrows practically flew off his face with delight.

"That's marvelous! What's that move called, Mr. Riddle?"

"Oh, it's from a Muggle sport called basketball. Lots of people can play it — but being able to play and sing and dance? That's rare."

"A brilliant charm! I think I can announce your score right now."

…

In Potions, Snape chose the most difficult brew they'd learned in first year — the Forgetfulness Potion. Neville looked like he'd already drunk some; aside from the name, he couldn't remember a thing about it.

Under Snape's cold gaze, Neville trembled as he threw in ingredients at random.

Snape sneered — if Neville managed to brew a proper Forgetfulness Potion, he'd eat a Flobberworm raw. Satisfied that Neville would fail spectacularly, Snape moved on to intimidating Harry instead.

Tom finished half an hour early. Without even glancing at him, Snape pointed silently at the door, dismissing him.

Finally, when the last History of Magic paper was handed in, the students erupted in cheers. They had an entire week of freedom before the results came out, followed by the final feast and then two and a half months of glorious summer.

Tom, Hermione, and Daphne joined the stream of students leaving the castle, stepping into the warm sunshine. They hurried to a prime spot by the Black Lake. Tom conjured a picnic blanket, and with a wave, summoned the celebratory lunch Parra had prepared.

"I think I messed up the answer to that one about the wizard in 1675 who conjured a buffalo to scare Muggles…"

"Lee Besgard."

"Damn. I did get it wrong."

Tom let that hang, ignoring Hermione's fretting. Her personality had softened over time, but she still cared too much about grades. Honestly — who checks answers after the exam? That's just self-inflicted misery.

Daphne ignored her too, staring curiously at the giant squid whose tentacles reached all the way to the shore.

"Tom, do you think those tentacles are edible?" Daphne asked suddenly.

"Uh… no idea. We could try someday — have Zabini and Rosier taste-test first. If they survive, we'll eat."

"Great idea. I heard squid tentacles can regrow. If they're tasty, we'd have an infinite food supply."

Hermione, still half-stuck in exam mode, was utterly defeated by the two food-obsessed Slytherins. Half-laughing, half-exasperated, she sipped her soup — and just like that, she'd been distracted.

Tom and Daphne exchanged a knowing grin. Their teamwork in steering Hermione away from overthinking was flawless.

They spent the afternoon basking in the sun. Around four, they headed back toward the castle. A lone owl cut across the brilliant blue sky, swooping into the headmaster's office. Tom smiled faintly, then glanced toward Hagrid's hut, where Harry and Ron were sneaking inside.

Back in the Slytherin common room, celebrations were in full swing.

Everyone was certain Slytherin would win the House Cup again this year — practically guaranteed. At 500 points, their lead was unassailable no matter what Gryffindor or Ravenclaw managed.

A seventh consecutive victory — an unprecedented feat in Hogwarts history. The seventh-years, fresh from their NEWTs, wore beaming smiles; they'd had a perfect school career, top results every year.

When Tom and Daphne entered, many students offered them snacks in welcome.

Truth be told, plenty of Slytherins still disliked Tom — blood prejudice wasn't erased by a few heroic feats. But none dared show it openly.

That was Slytherin cunning: despise someone if you must, but don't pick a fight you can't win.

Simple-minded types like Malfoy were the exception, not the rule.

Tom accepted the goodwill, taking a few sweets and nibbles, while listening to upper-years trade juicy gossip — like which girl was in her "transfer period" again.