"Tom, you're kinda scary right now," Hermione said, shrinking back a little.
"Quit whining like a little kid!" Tom yanked her closer by the arm. "Open your mouth."
He shoved a vial of potion into her hand and took a deep breath, pulling out his wand.
"Good—smile. Keep smiling… No, I didn't say smile, I said show me your teeth."
"What are you doing?!" Hermione's eyes widened in alarm. "You're not about to cast a spell on me, are you?"
"Relax, it's fine." Tom locked eyes with her. "This is a spell I've been working on for over a month. Don't you want those front teeth of yours fixed?"
Front teeth?
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She had these huge, rabbit-like front teeth that she absolutely hated. They were ugly—hideous, even. Kids made fun of her all the time for them. The irony? Both her parents were dentists, yet here she was with the most embarrassing overbite imaginable.
So that potion he just made her drink…
Hermione waved her hands frantically as Tom started chanting the incantation. "Wait! I'm not mentally ready for this! It can't be as simple as drinking a potion and waving a wand, right? Shouldn't there be… I don't know, some kind of preparation?"
Tom smirked. "Want me to get you a glass of firewhisky to calm your nerves? Or maybe some super-sour lemon tea—no sugar, double lemon?"
He shook his head. "Just relax, Hermione. It'll be over in a second. Here we go—watch the wand!"
Before she could protest again, he flicked his wand sharply.
A flash of purple-green light burst from the tip. Hermione felt a weird tingling sensation in her mouth.
"Hey, open wider. I'm adjusting… perfect. Tonsils look healthy, no spinach stuck in your teeth either. Nice."
"Tom!" Hermione's face flushed bright red. She'd never had a boy her age stare into her mouth like this before.
After a few more seconds, Tom lowered his wand. "Done."
"Done?"
He picked up a hand mirror from the table and passed it to her.
Hermione took it and stared at her reflection—really stared—for what felt like the first time in forever.
She'd changed. Her clothes weren't just thrown together anymore; she'd started copying outfits from fashion magazines. Her skin was smoother thanks to all the care she'd been putting into it lately. Her bushy hair was actually manageable now, shiny and healthy, and she'd even started wearing little accessories. That brown ribbon was her favorite.
She almost didn't recognize herself.
Is this… really me?
For the first time, Hermione wondered if she might actually be kind of pretty.
"Let me hold that for you," Tom said, taking the mirror and angling it so she could see better.
She couldn't stop staring at her teeth. They were perfectly straight now—no buck-toothed nightmare, just a normal, even smile.
"Tom…"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
He snapped his fingers with a grin. "You're welcome. We're kind of stuck together anyway, right? And someday I might need to borrow your body to go on a date with Cho Chang—or hang out with other kids. The prettier you are, the happier I am."
Hermione's smile vanished instantly. Her eye twitched. "What did you just say?"
A date?
Using her body?
So Cho Chang really had hugged Tom?
"Tom, you absolute jerk!"
"Thanks for the compliment. Oh, and this week's homework is all yours, Miss Granger."
"You are the worst!"
"I'll take that as another compliment. Come on, we gotta go—Hagrid's waiting to show me how the rainbow-scaled giant chicken is hatching."
"Wait, I have class right now—"
"Eh, I've skipped plenty. One or two more won't hurt."
With that, Tom grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door.
"Hey! Just because you skip class doesn't mean I will! And hang on—which one of us is actually skipping? Whose body are we using right now?!"
…
Hagrid's hut always smelled like a strange mix of magical creatures.
Tom took a deep sniff—he could pick out at least five different ones.
"Hagrid, I'm here! Brought a friend too."
Hagrid's face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when he saw them. "Tom! Welcome—and Hermione… you look a bit different today."
Hermione flashed a huge, confident grin, showing off her new teeth.
"Your teeth look amazing now, lass. I'm happy for ya… Tom, this your doing?"
"Piece of cake," Tom said proudly, soaking up the praise.
"Don't just stand out here," Hagrid said, stepping aside to let them in. "Come on in. It's hatching time. I've got a feeling your rainbow-scaled giant chicken will be out any day now. You'll need a name for it before then."
On the table sat the massive egg, twitching and wriggling. Fine cracks spiderwebbed across the shell, and something inside was clearly pecking its way out.
"So, Tom," Hermione whispered, leaning close so she wouldn't disturb it, "got a name yet?"
"Dog."
"Dog?" Hermione tilted her head, confused.
Then it clicked. "You want to name this chicken Dog?"
"Cute, right?"
"You're such a—" She lowered her voice to a hiss only he could hear. "—jerk."
Tom just grinned. "Hey, didn't you name your owl something? What'd you call it?"
Hermione had never told Tom her owl's name. That owl was hers, not something to share with that jerk.
But… he wasn't being a total jerk today. He'd fixed her teeth. Maybe it was okay.
"Mirolla."
"Huh. I figured you'd name it Tom or Riddle or something dramatic. No wonder it never came when I called it. Guess I'll name the chicken Hermione then.
Hermione Riddle."
Hermione's face went red with fury.
Hagrid, meanwhile, was watching them bicker with pure delight.
Ah, to be young and full of energy.
But then he spoke up, completely unaware of the landmine he was stepping on: "Hermione Riddle… sounds like you two got married."
Because when witches got married, they usually took their husband's last name.
"Who'd ever marry a creep like him?!" Hermione snapped.
"I thought I was a jerk?" Tom teased.
"Jerks are better than you! Jerks just steal money or hurt people, but you—"
Hermione's face went scarlet. She clamped her mouth shut, folded her arms on the table, and rested her chin on them, sulking silently.
Did I say something wrong?
Hagrid wisely stayed quiet too. The three of them sat side by side—Tom in the middle, Hermione refusing to speak, Hagrid wanting to but knowing better after his last blunder.
Then Hermione suddenly lit up. "It's coming out!"
A tiny beak broke through the shell, followed by a little head.
The newly hatched rainbow-scaled giant chicken was adorable—its head no bigger than Tom's thumb, eyes still squeezed shut, downy feathers fluffy and sparse.
"Can I hold it?" Hermione asked softly.
Tom nodded. "Sure, but be careful."
"I won't hurt it!"
"It's not the chicken you need to worry about," Tom said. "Even this tiny, it can give you a nasty peck."
Hermione didn't care. She gently scooped the little chick into her palms, glowing with a mix of childlike wonder and maternal pride—she'd helped care for that egg for weeks, after all.
The moment she saw it, all her exhaustion melted away.
"Once Sonia grows up," she whispered dreamily, "she'll be big enough to carry letters… maybe even let me fly on her. I just named her Sonia."
"It'll get that big?" Hermione asked, eyes wide.
"Of course," Hagrid chimed in proudly. "Adult rainbow-scaled giant chickens are about the size of a griffin. By the time you two are in second year, it'll probably be big enough for Tom to ride. Full grown? Three to five years. Then both of you could ride together, no problem."
Hermione's eyes sparkled at the thought.
"Hagrid!"
A new voice at the door made Hermione instinctively hide the chick behind her hands.
Harry and Ron stood panting in the doorway. They froze when they saw who was inside.
"Tom… Hermione? What are you doing here?"
"Hey, Harry. Long time no see." Tom waved casually. "You two look like you're in a hurry. I've got class anyway—catch you later."
"Later," Harry replied awkwardly.
"Be safe out there," Hagrid called.
"B-bye," Ron managed between breaths—he'd clearly sprinted the whole way.
Only Hermione stubbornly turned her head away, refusing to say anything.
"Hey, Hermione," Hagrid said gently, patting her shoulder. "You should say goodbye to Tom. You'll regret it later if you don't. Friends are the most precious thing in the world."
"We're not friends," she muttered under her breath. Then, quieter, "Fine… bye."
…
After leaving Hagrid's hut, Tom slipped back into Snape's hidden chamber—the one tucked away inside the Potions classroom.
He'd been spending nearly all his free time here lately, practicing one specific spell.
Snape had given him a strict deadline: master it in one week. No extensions.
Today was the day Snape would test him.
The door creaked open behind him. Snape stepped in.
Their eyes met for only a second.
Snape raised his wand instantly.
"Legilimens!"
Tom closed his eyes tight.
When he opened them again, they were deep and dark—like bottomless pits.
Exactly like Snape's.