After using the Turbo Mode once, Tom was already scheming for a second and third time.
But the problem was—he couldn’t afford it.
Since awakening the system over a month ago, Tom had been grinding hard every day, and all he had to show for it were a few hundred credits.
It wasn’t for lack of effort—he studied nonstop. He used the study space for at least three hours a day, sometimes six or seven.
The first hour each day was free, but after that, every additional hour cost six credits. As for Turbo Mode? It cost 100 credits for 10 minutes, and each extra minute would cost him 10 more.
Thanks to his dedication, he’d already earned some credits by fully learning new spells—that’s how he’d saved up the current +300. As for Achievement Points? Those were creeping up toward a hundred, but they were painfully slow to earn.
Still, seeing that tidy number of Achievement Points gave him ideas again.
Should he recruit another teacher?
To recall each tier of teacher had a different cost:
→A-rank: Highly skilled – 10 points.
→S-rank: Once-in-a-generation talent – 100 points.
→SS-rank: Best in a century – 1,000 points.
→SSS-rank: Legendary beyond time – 5,000 points.
One hundred Achievement Points would get him an S-rank to serve as a personal tutor. Andros, the SS-rank, was great and all, but he was out of touch with the modern magical world.
Andros’s spells were powerful—no doubt about that—but they were also ridiculously old-school. They required in-depth magical theory, fluency in ancient runes, Cretan, Mycenaean, and even dialects from Ionia—the same ancient tongue used to write the Iliad and the Odyssey. Yep, those were magical languages too.
So far, the only spells Tom had picked up from Andros were the Patronus Charm, the Shockwave Spell he used on Zabini and his gang, and two newly acquired spells.
Everything else he’d learned came from books—basic spells that were actually accessible. As for the advanced stuff? Totally out of reach for now.
The Restricted Section might have what he needed, but let’s be real: with his name and house...
He wasn’t about to wander into the Restricted Section and set off all of Dumbledore’s alarms.
Now that he thought about it, he realized Andros was the reason he’d been sorted into Slytherin. That one line from the Sorting Hat stuck out: "With a purer, older magic than even Salazar himself."
It had to be thanks to Andros’s magical trait that he got. His raw magical purity probably outclassed everyone in Slytherin—maybe even Salazar Slytherin himself.
Still, Tom decided against summoning another teacher. There might only be one rank between "Once-in-a-generation" and "Best in a century," but the gap in actual ability? Massive.
He figured it was better to keep saving up until he had enough to summon another "Century’s King." A thousand points was the target.
As for anything above that, like a "Legendary beyond time"? Way out of reach for now. He’d think about that once he unlocked more ways to earn Achievement Points.
Damn system started him off at such a high level that his expectations got ruined.
Tom wasn’t sure when he fell asleep—but he sure knew how he woke up.
Loud, annoying laughter echoed through the dorm.
Zabini and his two stooges were up earlier than him. Their giggling and chatting had Tom wide awake in minutes.
Irritated beyond belief, he got up, smacked each of them with his belt, and kicked them out of the dorm.
Finally, peace and quiet.
Then he went back to sleep for a bit more.
Meanwhile, the three expelled roommates stood outside, seething with anger. They were just about to curse Tom out loud when the door to the next dorm opened.
A dizzy Draco Malfoy stepped out, blinking at the trio with confusion.
"What are you lot doing out here?"
Zabini choked back the insult that was already halfway out of his mouth. The other two quickly swallowed theirs as well.
It wasn’t that they were ashamed—okay, maybe they were—but they definitely didn’t want Malfoy to find out they’d been beaten and thrown out by a Mudblood.
That kind of thing would fuel gossip for weeks.
Especially coming from Malfoy. They’d noticed it at the welcome feast yesterday—Malfoy acted even more arrogant than they did, probably because he had two massive goons flanking him everywhere he went.
"Nothing much," Rosier said smoothly, brain working fast. "First day of school, you know? We were too excited to sleep, figured we’d take a walk."
Malfoy, still half-asleep, muttered something about how lame that was and wandered off to wash up.
"I swear he’s even more annoying than Riddle," Zabini muttered, glaring at Malfoy’s back. He was itching to give him a whipping too, just like Tom had done to them.
Seriously—Malfoy acted all high and mighty around them. They were all purebloods from the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Where did he get off acting superior?
From that two-faced dad of his?
Nott spat on the ground. "They’re both jerks. One thing at a time. Let’s deal with Riddle first."
The other two nodded.
Maybe getting beaten up together had bonded them, because within one night, the three had developed some solid villainous camaraderie.
They found a quiet corner in the common room and started plotting.
"We could ambush him," Nott suggested. "Wait around a corner or hide in a classroom. Hit him from behind—easy win."
"No good," Rosier immediately shot it down. "The second we use magic directly, we’re done for. Didn’t you see how skilled he was yesterday? Transfiguration, attack spells—he’s smoother than most of us, like he’s the real pureblood."
"And if we mess up? We’ll get whipped again. I guarantee it."
"We could use magical items," Zabini said darkly. "My family has a cursed object. Touch it by accident, and bam—hexed."
"Are you crazy?!" Nott flinched. "This is Hogwarts! Dumbledore’s turf!"
"If he finds out, Riddle’ll be fine, but you will definitely be expelled!"
Zabini went quiet. Slytherins didn’t exactly love Dumbledore—there was a mix of fear, resentment, and quiet rebellion. Most of it came from their parents’ attitudes.
The last thing they wanted was to draw the headmaster’s attention with something reckless and end up hurting themselves in the process.
Actually, considering Dumbledore’s rumored favoritism toward Muggle-borns and half-bloods, the way things would likely play out... they’d be the only ones punished.
"...Maybe we should tell Professor Snape," Rosier muttered as he rubbed his sore arm. "My parents were classmates with him—maybe even... ’colleagues.’ He’ll definitely back me up."
Zabini frowned. "Tattling to a teacher? That’s so embarrassing. What if he tells my mum..."
Rosier was unfazed. "Not a problem. My parents are in Azkaban. What’s he gonna do—send a letter there? Ask the Dementors to play mailman?"
Zabini and Nott: "..."