Harry's jaw dropped at the reveal of the Slytherin's new seeker. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. What was he doing on the team? He never once mentioned that he'd tried out, let alone made it. He shot a glare his way, feeling his annoyance prickle when the git had the audacity to smirk.

"You!" he burst out.

"Articulate as always," Tom said smoothly. Flint sniggered like it was something clever. He was always doing that. They weren't even in the same year but Flint was always trying to get close to Tom and act like they were friends because Tom was relatively popular among the students-despite how he despised it. It never worked; Tom only willingly associated with Harry. Technically that included Hermione and Ron too, though he and Ron often clashed.

"Riddle a word," Harry ground out. He only called Tom by his surname if he was upset, which is what he was right now. "Now."

Tom followed him over to the side of the pitch, infuriatingly calm. "You wished to speak to me?"

Harry wished, not for the first time, that he were taller so he could at least look Tom in the eye. It was difficult to effectively glare at someone when he was only up to Tom's chest. "When were you going to tell me you tried out for quidditch?"

"You found out just now, didn't you?" Tom quirked an eyebrow. He waved a hand dismissively. "You would have found out at the match, anyway."

Harry shut his eyes. "That doesn't answer my question!"

"Which was?" Tom said in a tone that told Harry he knew what he was referring to.

"This!" Harry flung a hand in the air. "Why did you try out for quidditch? You don't even like quidditch!"

Tom was similar to Hermione in that aspect. He knew how to play-because of Harry-and who the top teams were in britain-also because of Harry-but to the shock of most around him, mainly Ron, given how much he'd reacted when he was told, he didn't particularly care for it. He preferred, as he'd said, to do something productive instead of moseying around on a broomstick like a fool.

"No," he agreed. "It's an incredible waste of time.

Harry wanted to rip his hair out. "Then why did you try out?"

Tom shrugged, his smile was smug and not at all pleasant. "Why, you gave me the idea."

"Me?" Harry was gobsmacked. "What'd I do?"

Tom pretended to pick at a fingernail. "You told me I wouldn't be any good at it."

"I still can't believe it," Ron said one afternoon at lunch.

"You can't believe what?" Hermione had her nose in a book and asked the question without looking up.

"That Riddle still doesn't like quidditch!" Ron exclaimed.

"I don't like quidditch either," Hermione said mildly.

Harry gave Ron a warning look so he wouldn't say anything stupid.

"Still," Ron said a moment later when he decided not to start a fight with Hermione today. "Can't you at least get him to play one on one with you? If anyone could, it's you."

Harry snorted. "I wouldn't even try."

"Try what?" Tom came to sit by Harry as he usually did at meals. He disliked virtually all of his own housemates so he sat with the three of them, even with the outright disapproval of everyone else.

"It's nothing," Harry waved a hand around. "Ron was asking me why we don't play one on one."

Tom sat his belongings down, looking as though he was actually considering the idea. "You've never asked."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because you've never wanted to play, remember? You probably wouldn't be that good anyway. Oh don't look at me like that," he retorted when Tom looked offended. "You're more book smart than athletic."

"That wasn't a challenge," Harry said exasperatedly.

Tom was pleased by his reaction, of course. His life goal was to torment Harry to no end. "Nevertheless, you didn't specify so how was I to know? Although clearly your judgement is off as I've successfully been made seeker."

"From your 'talent'," Harry was sure to use air quotes, "Or did you force Flint to accept you."

His expression told Harry all he needed to know.

"Tom! You can't just do that," Harry argued.

"Harry," Tom was speaking as though he were a small child, "if I were you, I would be grateful. It was either me or the Malfoy spawn. Now unless you would rather deal with him for the rest of your school days, I think the world you're looking for is thank you."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. He would prefer Tom over Malfoy, even if his entire reasoning for joining was ridiculous. Then suddenly, a thought came to mind and he exclaimed, "Hang on!"

Tom, with a dead stare, grasped his broomstick.

Harry didn't even give it any acknowledgement.

"What happened to Higgs?" He asked, referring to the former Slytherin seeker. He had a bad feeling, especially when Tom shrugged. "Riddle, I swear-"

"Relax, would you?" Tom was seemingly bored of the conversation. "He's not dead, if that's what you were thinking. He was simply...relieved of his position."

Harry glared.

"Oh, come now. It's hardly my fault. May I remind you again that I saved you from having to endure Malfoy on the team? His father bought the team new brooms to bribe Flint to let his son on. Merlin knows he wouldn't have been able to get on without his father's help."

Harry had to agree. Not that he'd verbally say it. Not to Riddle.

"Harry!" Oliver hollered. "Enough talk!"

"Yeah, Harry," Fred joined in for the fun of it. "Don't go telling Riddle our plays."

"That would just be terrible," George agreed.

Oliver looked like he was on the verge of a conniption fit thanks to Fred and George. "Did you-"

"Not all of them," Tom said.

"Harry!"

Harry sighed. Oliver would be worked up for the rest of the day now. He shoved Tom, though it wasn't enough to make the older boy move. "Why'd you do that?"

"I felt like it," Tom said simply.