"So… you're a ghost?!"
Early the next morning, a barely-awake Tom was dragged into the Great Hall by Hannah. Hermione and Arianna—who had somehow arrived even earlier—were already seated at Hufflepuff's table, waiting for them.
Thanks to the house-elves delivering breakfast straight to Hufflepuff students' dorm rooms, there were only a handful of Hufflepuffs actually eating in the Hall. Even though Hermione and Arianna—two Gryffindors—looked a bit out of place sitting there, the lack of people meant something good: no eavesdroppers. And that was probably why Arianna chose this spot in the first place.
After discussing things with Dumbledore last night, Arianna had finally decided to tell her friends the truth.
Which led to… this scene.
Hannah had nearly screamed when she found out.
If Hermione hadn't warned her last night that Arianna was hiding some sort of secret, Hannah would've absolutely lost control.
She'd expected something like a curse—something that made Arianna unable to touch things. Like a fairy-tale king cursed never to hold anything solid again.
What she never expected was this.
Arianna was a ghost wizard—and their classmate?!
Merlin's mismatched socks, that was even more shocking than having a cat enrolled as a student.
At least a cat was still a living creature.
Ghosts weren't living. They were… echoes. Faint imitations of who they had been in life—unchanging, unable to grow.
Could something like that even learn magic?
But then Hannah glanced at Arianna—solid, normal-looking, not the slightest hint of a ghostly outline—and she relaxed.
If Hogwarts could produce an oddball ghost like Peeves, then one more unusual "ghost wizard" didn't seem impossible.
"But… this is a really big secret, isn't it? Are you sure it's okay to tell us?"
Hermione looked genuinely concerned.
This wasn't the kind of thing you shared with random first-years.
"Don't worry~! I already talked to my bro—cough, to Headmaster Dumbledore last night. He said it's fine!"
Arianna puffed up with confidence, pounding her chest as if this were no big deal.
After talking with Tom last night, she'd gone straight to Dumbledore. Without his approval, she'd never have confessed anything.
"Of course, you two are special," she added. "You're my friends. But you have to promise not to tell anyone until the Headmaster and the Ministry agree on what to do with my situation."
"Don't worry! I'm nothing like Ron—I don't blab."
Hermione swore instantly.
Hannah also raised her hand like she was taking a sacred oath.
"And me too! I won't say a word!"
"But… are you really sure there won't be a problem?" Hannah suddenly frowned.
"You have Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall this morning, right? Since you can't touch anything… what are you going to do when she asks everyone to practice?"
Yesterday was only Herbology and History of Magic—safe classes.
But Transfiguration? That required holding a wand.
Tom perked up the moment the question left Hannah's mouth.
Finally—his moment to shine?!
He spun around dramatically. His wizard robes transformed into a crisp Muggle-style suit.
He tugged at his tie like some stage performer preparing for a grand reveal.
Just as he was about to pull out a chalkboard and lecture—
Arianna cut him off.
"It's fine! Professor McGonagall already knows. She said she'd cover for me."
"And I'll help you too!" Hermione immediately added.
"Mm! Thank you, Hermione!"
"Of course—what are friends for?"
"And me!" Hannah chimed in. "If any class is with Gryffindor, I'll help cover too!"
As the three girls bonded over promises and emotional support, Tom stood there frozen mid-pose, the very picture of a man left hanging.
Seriously? You're making me look like an idiot here!
Thankfully, Arianna noticed his extremely awkward posture and stepped in.
"Tom, weren't you about to say something?"
Finally, attention returned to him. Tom rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers, and turned his suit back into wizard robes.
[Did you forget what I told you yesterday? I said I'd fix this problem for you!]
"Huh? Really?"
Arianna stared at him, stunned.
She'd thought he was just comforting her. By all known magical theory, ghosts couldn't touch real objects. Even she—special as she was—still couldn't interact with anything physical.
Peeves didn't count. Peeves was… Peeves.
[Please. Do you even know who I am? I'm TOM.]
None of them understood what that meant, but the confidence was unmistakable.
Tom pulled out a pair of gloves he'd prepared the night before and handed them to her.
[Try them. Then you'll see whether I'm lying.]
Arianna reached out with trembling fingers—
and froze the moment she felt the cloth.
It was the first real object she'd been able to touch since becoming a ghost.
Her breath caught.
[Go on. Put them on.]
She nodded hard, slipped them on carefully, eyes closed as she savored the sensation.
Tom picked up a piece of bread and placed it in her hand.
Her eyes flew open.
"I—I can feel it! The air, the softness of the bread… even the warmth!"
Pure joy lit up her face as she turned the bread over in her gloved hands.
[Of course you can. I made them.]
Tom lifted his chin proudly—
then lowered it again with a sigh.
[But… these gloves are still magical tools. Their effects rely on stored magic. When the magic runs out, they'll weaken. You'll still be able to pick up light things—matches, feathers. Wands will work, but it'll be harder.
And because I didn't have better materials, I had to use parchment for the internal core. Its magic capacity is low. Maybe two or three hours, tops.]
He paused.
[Later, when I find better materials, I'll make you a stronger pair.]
If any trained alchemist had heard this speech, they would've fainted.
Letting a ghost touch physical matter?
Using parchment to store magic?
Maintaining partial functionality even with depleted magic?
This wasn't a magical tool—this was a concept-level artifact, something even Merlin would struggle to craft.
Unfortunately, the only witnesses were three clueless first-years, who nodded politely without understanding a single terrifying implication.
"That's okay. Two to three hours is enough. If I save it, I'll make it through class."
Arianna smiled, trying to comfort him.
[No, that's not what I meant.] Tom waved hurriedly.
[When it runs out, you can recharge it. Ask a professor—if your magic reserves are enough, you can even recharge it yourself.]
Convenience was the whole point of his design.
[But still—better to ask a professor, just in case.]
...
As Tom kept explaining, Hermione's mind drifted.
Better materials…
Her thoughts jumped to Hagrid's hut—the piles of magical creature materials everywhere.
Maybe Tom's "better materials" were right there in the stacks.
But then she thought of Harry and Ron.
And her face tightened.
She was still angry about them breaking rules.
Very angry.
But then she looked at Arianna—so happy, so careful, so hopeful with her new gloves.
Hermione sighed.
Fine… I'll talk to Harry later. Maybe we can take Tom to see Hagrid next time.
Compared to school rules, helping a friend who trusted her with a secret mattered more.
[Alright, it's about time. Let's head to class.]
Tom glanced at the clock.
[And Arianna—if you think of any improvements for the gloves, tell me. I'll consider them when I update the design.]
"Okay!"
Arianna grinned, squeezing her gloved fists with excitement.
In the morning light, she looked just like any ordinary first-year eager for class—no hint of the truth beneath.
They gathered their things and left the Hall, parting ways in the slowly filling corridors as they headed toward their respective classrooms.