An exhausted Hermione lay in bed.
This was the last day—today was finally the last day!
Hermione had always heard her mom say she packed her schedule way too full, never leaving herself a single moment to breathe.
But after seeing Tom's timetable, Hermione realized her own study load was nothing in comparison.
For the first time ever, Hermione desperately craved getting back into her own body.
She was utterly worn out. Right now, all she wanted was to curl up with one of Gilderoy Lockhart's signed books and gaze at his photos—the legendary Lockhart would give her the courage to keep going.
...
Morning, 4:30 a.m. The alarm went off right on schedule.
Hermione bolted upright in bed, staring blankly as the magical alarm clock zipped around the room, making an unbearable racket.
That jerk Tom—
Last week it was 5:30. Why'd you move it up another hour?
Hermione reached out to grab the clock, but it nimbly spun away from her hand.
Hermione: "?"
"Ding-ding-ding—"
Shut up already!
"Ding-ding-ding-ding—"
You bastard!
Hermione spotted a note beside it that read: "Please use the Levitation Charm on the alarm clock. If your charm isn't proficient enough, it won't stop."
Tom, you're going too far!
Hermione grabbed her wand, cast the Levitation Charm on the clock to pull it into her hand, and finally turned it off.
After rummaging around the room for ages, Hermione couldn't find any of the legendary Lockhart's books. She quickly flipped open the diary.
[Sorry, Hermione. I'm really sorry I couldn't win the championship at Mr. Lockhart's competition—I didn't even make the top three. I'm so sorry...
After all, the contestants were under 13, which meant I had to compete against third-years. My skills are still too weak right now. But I bought you two really pretty dresses and brought back some homemade flower cakes from Mrs. Thomas's place. They taste like a bite of spring.]
"Tom!"
Hermione's breathing quickened. She glared at the diary in her hand, then grabbed the Snoopy plushie by the bed and treated it like Tom's face, pounding it a couple of times.
You jerk!
...
Hogwarts.
Tom stood by the window, gazing out at the foggy sky.
From now on, Tom could finally say that line to people.
"Have you ever seen Hogwarts at 4:30 in the morning?"
Sipping his coffee, Tom's mind gradually cleared.
He had to admit, Hermione was a real studious kid. Tom had no idea how she'd managed to get on Professor Snape's good side and earn his personal tutoring—and those notes were so thorough.
"Tom, what are you smiling about?" Snape stormed in through the door, catching the grin on Tom's face. "If you're awake, get to the Potions lab now!"
"Professor Snape, seeing you first thing when I wake up makes me happy," Tom said sincerely.
"?" Snape narrowed his eyes. "Didn't I tell you not to try buttering me up? If there's even one mistake in your potion work today, you're sleeping with the Whomping Willow!"
Soon enough, in the Potions lab, Tom's hands moved like they had eyes of their own—precise to the gram.
"Why are you grabbing the ingredients with so much force? Don't you know potion materials are delicate? You're wasting them!" Snape's icy voice snapped at Tom.
...
"Tom! Three and a half stirs—I said it a million times. Do you not understand words?"
...
"I'd love to crack open your skull and see what kind of brain sludge is in there. Temperature control needs finesse—why don't you get it? Yours is a full 2 degrees Celsius higher than the book says!"
...
[You have successfully brewed a potion. Rating: Precise. Potions experience +50.]
"Tom, what are you smiling about? Keep going!"
No matter how harsh Snape's tone was or how cold he looked on the outside, deep down he was warm—at least toward Tom.
A Precise rating! A full 50 experience points!
Back when Tom practiced alone with his own materials, he'd be lucky to get an Average rating even if he poured his heart into it.
Half an hour later, a bottle of Mana Potion sat in front of Tom.
"Drink it."
Tom stared at the bottle, stunned for a moment.
"I said drink it. Don't you understand English?"
"Professor Snape, I'm just so touched." Tom cradled the bottle in both hands. "This is the first time I've brewed a potion of this quality. I think... the student thinks the teacher should drink it first."
Tom held out the potion with both hands. "Professor Snape, even though you're already at the top of your game in magic, this could still help you."
"Get out!!!" Snape grabbed Tom by the collar, lifting him off the ground. "Take your potion and get out! I don't want to see you again today!
Tom, you've crossed my line!" Snape tossed Tom out the door and slammed it shut.
After a long pause, Snape's voice came from inside: "Mixing it into milk won't change the Mana Potion's effects."
Tom dusted off his pants. "Thank you, Professor Snape. You're my favorite professor."
Silence from the room. Tom quietly pressed his ear to the door, heard nothing, and eventually took the bottle to the Great Hall, mixed it into some milk, and drank it down.
Fatigue vanished in an instant, a warm glow spread through his stomach, and Tom's emerald eyes grew even brighter and clearer.
"Hey, little Tom, up early again today?" Hagrid appeared out of nowhere beside Tom, clapping him on the shoulder. "Got some good news for you."
Hagrid hesitated, originally wanting Tom to guess, but seeing those flawless, innocent eyes, he changed his mind. "Kid, don't look at me like that—it reminds me of all the dumb stuff I did back in the day. Alright, Professor Sprout's back.
You can go ask her for a job, help out a bit, earn some Galleons to fill in those money gaps. Professor Sprout's real easy to talk to. Go on—she's in the greenhouses right now... Ah, but maybe going alone isn't the best. I'll come with you after breakfast."
Tom scooped a big drumstick into Hagrid's bowl—even if it was just a toothpick-sized snack for him.
"Thanks, Mr. Hagrid. You're my best friend."
Hagrid flashed his big white teeth in a grin brighter than anyone's. "Eat slow, no rush, little Tom."
After breakfast, Tom and Hagrid headed to the greenhouses.
The greenhouses sat behind the castle—the spot for future Herbology classes.
"Hey, Professor Pomona, long time no see. How was the holiday?"
Professor Pomona Sprout was a kind witch with wild gray-white curls, now looking a bit windswept. She wore a patched-up thick hat and was covered in dirt—because she was squatting down, tending to her beloved little plants.
"Mr. Hagrid, long time no see. France was wonderful, dear. I was sipping coffee by the Seine just yesterday. The Mona Lisa in the Louvre is a masterpiece—you should go sometime. Oh, heavens, kid, school's not even started yet."
Professor Sprout noticed Tom.
She walked over and looked him up and down. "Kid, I love your eyes—they remind me of a girl I once knew. Really pretty."
"Thank you for the compliment, Professor Sprout. Hi, I'm Tom."
Tom held out his small hand and shook hers.
Hagrid explained why Tom was there...
"Poor child. But things will get better—don't be shy, make yourself at home here. Tom, before we start work, maybe I should ask... how much do you know about these magical plants?"
Professor Sprout stepped aside, revealing the weedy patches in the greenhouse.
"Kid, do you know what this is?"
"Dittany, Professor.
It's used in potions and has great healing properties. Mixed with silver powder, it can treat werewolf bites." Tom had bought some before. "If you're using dittany in a Beautification Potion, mix in 30 drops of morning dew, heat for 20 seconds, stir clockwise two and a half times, then add the dittany, and after that..."
Tom rattled it off without thinking, like it was second nature.
"Good heavens, little Tom!" Professor Sprout covered her mouth. "You've already read the Herbology textbook?"
"Yes, Professor. I have all the herbs memorized."
Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly listening to them—even if Tom's hard work had nothing to do with him. "Professor Pomona, Tom's a good kid, right?"
"Of course, of course. Little Tom, come with me. Starting today, come over after you wake up—say, 2:00 p.m.? You can head to dinner at 5:00, and the rest of the time is yours. Pay's 3 Galleons a day."
That much?
Tom was surprised. "Professor Sprout, that's too generous."
"It's not, child. We've got less than a month until school starts. Without your help, I'd be working alone right up to the first day. This is what hard work deserves."
"Thank you, Professor." Tom bowed solemnly and got to work helping Professor Sprout.
[You successfully tended a herb. Rating: Average. Herbology +10.]
[You successfully tended a herb. Rating: Average. Herbology +10.]
[You successfully tended a herb. Rating: Average. Herbology +10.]
[You successfully tended...]
[Herbology Level 2.]
[Title gained: Little Herbologist.]
[Little Herbologist: 20% chance of double harvest when picking herbs. Planted herbs have 50% higher survival rate.]
Tom picked it up fast. By afternoon, he'd already earned 3 Galleons.
The rest of his time went to practicing Charms.
First-year charms weren't challenging him anymore, so he moved on to second-year ones and some extracurricular books.
Those extra books had spells that really caught his eye.
Like one to fill your body with a nice fragrance, or one to make green grass bloom with flowers...
At 10:30 p.m., Snape patrolled the school like a big, chubby bat. He spotted the library lights still on.
That stupid—idiotic Tom, with the brains of a troll!
Didn't he know he needed rest after a Mana Potion?
Snape smacked his lips and swirled his cloak.
Bat rush!
"Tom! You know what time it is. I told you— what book are you reading?"
Snape's breath caught.
"Advanced Potion Making, Professor Snape." Tom held up the old, yellowed book. The cover was worn, the words inside tough—even for Tom.
It was a second-hand book, scribbled full of the previous owner's notes.
On the inside back cover, in small letters:
[This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince.]
Snape's face paled a touch—though it was already vampire-pale.
The Half-Blood Prince.
A familiar name.