Next came Defense Against the Dark Arts, taught by Professor Galatea Merrythought.
This was one class I’d been particularly interested in attending.
Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn’t simply one subject to me.
It encompassed defensive magic, counter-curses, combat magic, dark creatures, dark curses, magical dueling, and even certain aspects of dark magic itself.
In other words, it covered practically everything I wanted to learn.
And fortunately, it was also something I was exceptionally talented at.
Professor Merrythought began the lesson with the fundamentals, explaining basic defensive principles and asking questions to determine how much we already knew.
I raised my hand almost immediately.
Then again.
And again.
Eventually, I realised I was answering practically every question she asked.
I wasn’t even doing it deliberately anymore.
The answers simply came naturally.
I’d already spent a considerable amount of time studying magic in my previous life, and now I had an enhanced intellect, eidetic memory, Tom Riddle’s innate magical talent, and an enormous amount of curiosity driving me forward.
First-year theory simply wasn’t particularly challenging anymore.
Professor Merrythought seemed increasingly impressed.
“Very good, Mr.
Riddle.
Five points to Slytherin.” Another five points.
I smiled politely and returned my attention to the lesson.
Inside, however, I was becoming increasingly bored.
The problem wasn’t Professor Merrythought.
She was clearly an experienced witch and an excellent teacher.
The problem was simply that the material was too basic for me.
I’d already reached the point where I could confidently say I’d mastered practically everything covered by the first-year curriculum in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
And I’d only been at Hogwarts for roughly a week.
That was actually getting ridiculous.
During my free time, I’d already started borrowing books from older students and asking them about the material they were learning.
Whenever I discovered something interesting, I’d find a book about it in the library and begin studying it myself.
First year?
Finished.
I was already moving into second-year material.
And even that was beginning to feel less intimidating than I’d expected.
I wasn’t arrogant enough to assume that I could immediately defeat experienced adult wizards.
Knowledge wasn’t the same thing as experience, and magical combat involved far more than simply knowing spells.
There was reaction speed, magical control, stamina, adaptability, battlefield awareness, and countless other factors.
Still, my rate of growth was absurd.
I had only been studying seriously for a short period, yet I was already far beyond where an ordinary first-year should have been.
And Defense Against the Dark Arts was probably the subject I enjoyed the most.
There was something incredibly satisfying about learning how magic could be used in combat.
I wasn’t simply learning spells.
I was learning how to fight.
How to defend myself.
How to dismantle another wizard’s defenses.
How curses interacted with shields.
How counter-curses worked.
How to recognize magical attacks before they were completed.
And eventually, how to create my own techniques.
That last part interested me the most.
The standard Hogwarts curriculum taught students established spells.
It didn’t teach them to question why those spells worked or how they could be modified.
I wanted to go further.
I wanted to understand the underlying principles well enough to eventually create magic of my own.
After all, if I wanted to surpass Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and eventually every other powerful wizard who had ever existed, simply memorizing their spells wouldn’t be enough.
I needed to create something they didn’t know.
I needed to develop magic that belonged exclusively to me.
I glanced toward Professor Merrythought as she continued explaining the lesson.
She had no idea that the seemingly polite Slytherin first-year sitting in front of her was already studying material several years above his assigned level.
And honestly?
I was beginning to wonder how long I could keep pretending that the first-year curriculum was challenging.
At this rate, I’d probably finish the second-year material soon as well.
Then third year.
Then fourth.
Eventually, I’d have to start studying the advanced material that even Hogwarts students weren’t normally expected to understand until their final years.
That was when things would become interesting.
For now, though, I continued raising my hand whenever Professor Merrythought asked a question, earning Slytherin more house points while maintaining my carefully constructed image.
To everyone else, I was simply an exceptionally talented first-year.
But internally, I was already thinking about what came next.
Because I wasn’t satisfied with being ahead of my classmates.
I wanted to be ahead of everyone.
And I had a very long way to go.