Hermione looked up—and the moment she saw who was approaching, the smile on her face faded noticeably.
"Oh look, if it isn't our resident Savior who likes sneaking around at night."
Her voice carried a sharp edge of irritation.
"I honestly thought you two weren't planning to talk to me anymore."
Hermione was still genuinely upset about Harry and Ron dragging her into breaking school rules the night before. Did they not care about Gryffindor losing points? Points she had worked so hard to earn?
Hearing her tone, Harry and Ron exchanged a helpless look. If they had any other choice, they wouldn't have come to ask the Gryffindor version of a Ravenclaw genius for help—but she was literally the only one they knew who had finished Professor Sprout's Herbology homework.
With Ron stubbornly stiffening his neck—acting like he'd rather die than admit defeat—Harry had no choice but to speak up.
"So, uh… about the Herbology assignment. Professor Sprout said it's due this class. Did you finish it?"
"Homework?"
Hermione raised a brow, thinking for a moment, then nodded in realization.
"Oh, you mean the eight-inch essay on the medical uses of asphodel? Didn't that take, like, twenty minutes after class? Don't tell me you haven't started yet!"
At that, Harry and Ron lower their heads in perfect synchronization.
Hermione didn't need social skills to understand what that meant.
"You two…"
"We're working on it!"
Harry cut her off quickly before she could launch into a full lecture. They were already short on time; if she scolded them now, they would definitely miss the deadline.
"It's just—we ran into some problems. We were hoping we could look at your homework. For reference. Only for reference!"
"…Fine."
Looking at the two boys in front of her, Hermione sighed. They were two of her only real friends. And if they didn't turn in their work, Gryffindor would lose points—her points.
She grabbed a roll of parchment and handed it over.
"Here. But only this once."
"Thank you!"
Harry took it like it was a treasure.
"If you really want to thank me, then stop losing points for the house!"
Hermione turned her head away, trying to sound annoyed. But Tom and Ariana could tell from her stiff tone and slightly red ears that she didn't mean it the way it sounded.
The other first-years—especially Ron, who was painfully sensitive inside—heard only condescension.
If they didn't still need her essay to survive Professor Sprout's class, they probably would've argued right then and there.
Sensing Ron's mood, Harry pulled him along with a quick thank-you, and they were about to leave—
—when Tom suddenly called out:
[Hold up!]
The two boys froze and turned around, confused.
A… cat in wizard robes?
Ron blinked. And then—
"Wait. I've heard about you!"
Seeing the strange yet somehow fitting sight, Ron's memory clicked.
"You're that Hufflepuff kid who made Snape give points in Potions?! People said you were some kind of wizard-cat—uh, I mean, a cat-wizard. I didn't believe it, but wow, the rumors are real!"
Tom didn't expect the news to spread this fast. They had barely left class, and Gryffindor already knew?
Snape must really have a stellar reputation across Hogwarts.
Tom nodded—no point denying it. Snape could be the rich grump who handed out money (or points), and Tom didn't care about fame anyway.
"Whoa, that's awesome! How'd you do it? Fred and George said it was literally impossible!"
Ron leaned in, excitement instantly outweighing his earlier annoyance at Hermione. Even Harry turned to listen—especially after being unfairly targeted by Snape last class.
[Well… I guess you could call it talent.]
Tom looked innocent. He knew the real reason, of course, but he definitely wasn't going to say it.
"There had to be something else," Ron insisted.
"George told me some kids in the past were pretty good at Potions, but Snape never gives points to other houses. Ever. He's totally biased toward Slytherin. Honestly, the headmaster should fire a teacher that unfair."
Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to defend Snape—but when she remembered his behavior last lesson, she swallowed her words.
Biased, huh…
Tom glanced at Harry, and a wicked idea hit him.
[Do you guys want to experience what it feels like to be Snape's "favorite"?]
"(‧_‧?)" ×4
All four Gryffindors stared.
[Come find me before next Potions class. I promise you'll see a very different side of Snape.]
Tom's tail flicked mischievously.
Clearly, he was planning to recreate a classic fan-fic moment.
Of course, he wasn't going to let Harry "enjoy" this alone.
If they were truly good buddies, Ron should definitely suffer—uh, share—this special treatment with him.
[But that's for later. As for right now…]
Tom looked at the panicked duo, then at the rapidly slipping clock, then smiled slyly.
[Do you think you still have time to finish your homework?]
"!"
One glance at the time—and they both went pale.
[I can help you, you know～]
To Harry and Ron, Tom suddenly looked like he was surrounded by an ominous red glow—horns, bat wings, the whole demonic package. They recoiled in alarm.
"Wow, Tom, you can stretch your arms and shapeshift? You look just like a demon from a storybook! But why'd you turn into that?"
[I'm extorting them, obviously!]
Hannah interrupted at the worst moment.
Tom snapped back to normal, rubbing her head with an exasperated sigh.
With the tension broken, Harry and Ron relaxed a little.
Tom shook his head and flipped up his whiteboard.
[Homework-writing service: one silver coin. Guaranteed delivery before class. Full refund if late.]
Yes—that was his real plan.
The translation business wasn't open yet, so he needed a side job. Pocket money didn't earn itself.
Harry and Ron exchanged a look. Considering the consequences of unfinished homework…
"…Deal!"
They said it together. Then Harry added:
"And, uh… could you do two more?"
Their roommates, Neville and Seamus, were also hopelessly behind.
[Easy～]
Tom nodded, accepted the silver coin, then pulled out four quills and four sheets of parchment.
Left paw, right paw, tail, and one held between his toes.
In front of four stunned Gryffindors, Tom controlled all four quills at once—writing four different essays in four different handwriting styles.
[All done~]
Less than half an hour later, he handed the parchment to Harry.
[Now we still have thirty minutes to get to the greenhouse. Plenty of time.]
Harry looked at the four essays—each written in a different font, each with different content, each clear and well-structured.
At that moment, he truly understood:
Sometimes, the gap between people is even bigger than the gap between a person and a dog.
…Well, Tom wasn't a person anyway. So that made sense.
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