#424

The rule had been very clear.

No swearing in front of first-years.

Immediate fine. Automatically deducted. No arguments.

Which was unfortunate for Hogwarts, because Tom Riddle existed.

Y/N sat comfortably at the back of the Great Hall during lunch duty, watching in mild amusement as the enchanted notice board above the staff table updated yet again:

Professor T. Riddle — 5 Galleons — language (muttered, Agressively)

Tom stared at the board.

Then, very quietly, very deliberately, he muttered, “For—”

The board flashed.

Additional fine — 2 Galleons — Attempted Swearing.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose.

Y/N hid her smile behind her teacup.

It only got worse during flying lessons.

Harry Potter still entirely too pleased with himself hovered a bit too close to the Defence pitch, loudly correcting students while Tom’s first-years struggled through shield charms.

“Perhaps if your instructions were clearer,” Harry called over smugly, “they wouldn’t look so confused.”

Tom’s eye twitched.

A first-year gasped softly.

Tom inhaled.

Exhaled.

“…Merlin’s—”

The fine bell chimed.

Tom didn’t even look at the board this time.

He simply reached into his pocket, slapped a handful of galleons onto the nearest desk, and turned slowly toward Harry.

“I’ve paid,” he said flatly.

Without breaking eye contact, Tom leaned forward, voice low, sharp, and entirely unapologetic.

“Now get your bloody broomstick the hell away from my classroom before I hex it into firewood.”

The board flashed violently overhead.

Professor T Riddle — 10 Galleons — Excessive Profanity

Tom didn’t even flinch.

The fine bell rang again.

Harry opened his mouth.

Tom flicked his wand.

Harry’s broom jolted sideways, dumping him unceremoniously into a stack of hay bales with a very undignified oof.

The first-years stared.

Tom straightened his cuffs calmly.

“Class dismissed,” he said smoothly.

Y/N burst out laughing.

Tom turned toward her, already scowling. “Love, don't tell me you saw that.”

She walked up to him, still grinning. “You just jinxed him in front of children.”

“I paid first,” Tom replied smugly. “That makes it legal.”

She slipped her hand into his. “You’re going to bankrupt yourself.”

He leaned down slightly, murmuring, “Worth it.”

The board flashed one final time:

Professor T. Riddle — 1 Galleon — Smug tone

Tom sighed.