The Greenhouse.
Professor Sprout always seemed to be refreshing her location there at every possible time slot.
She loved messing around with those little flowers and plants—whether or not they'd be used in tomorrow's lesson.
"Tom! Darling, I haven't seen you in a whole week and three hours!
I'm so glad you're all better now. Colds these days are just awful, aren't they?"
"Professor Sprout, I've missed you too. Hey, you look even prettier today than last week. I actually made some new progress this week—could I trouble you to try out this potion for me? It'll help your skin get even smoother and more delicate, and it'll shrink your pores."
Professor Sprout's eyes lit up instantly. "Oh, child, of course I'd love to be your potion guinea pig! I'm always happy to help you kids with your potion experiments!"
Tom handed her the potion and then helped tidy up some weeds in the greenhouse.
Once the timing felt right, Tom finally spoke up. "Professor, there's actually something I'd like to ask you… well, more like I need your permission."
"No problem at all, little Tom. Just say the word."
Tom nodded toward Hermione. "Hermione and I really want to go to the Christmas Ball. You know how it is—the ball's only for third years and up. We're just first-years, so we're not supposed to be allowed.
But… we're so curious! I heard that as long as all the professors agree, it's okay."
"Of course you can go! I'm really looking forward to seeing you there. Hang on, let me write you a quick note. Professor Dumbledore will understand my reasoning—and yours."
Less than half an hour later, Tom had a letter in his hand.
Hermione had been watching the whole thing with her mouth open in shock.
…Is this really happening?
No, she'd used Tom's body before, but interacting with Professor Sprout never felt like this.
"Tom, does Professor Sprout know about… us? You know… the thing."
"Huh? No idea. Why are you asking?"
"It just feels like I'm getting way worse treatment," Hermione muttered, sounding a little down. "She's always nice to me, but not… this happy. I thought you were her son or something."
Tom laughed. "That's harsh. Ask Ron sometime—he'll tell you what it's like to be a mom's son. Mothers aren't that excited about their own kids."
"So how do you… I mean, how do you make people like you this much?"
Tom actually thought about it seriously for a second. "It's pretty simple, really. When you meet a lady, tell her she's beautiful. When you meet a guy, tell him he's capable. Just compliment whatever they're good at. Of course, you have to start off by leaving a good impression first.
No one in the world turns down a compliment about themselves. You think Snape looks like he hates it? Deep down, he's secretly pleased."
Hermione mulled that over for a while, then asked, "Okay, but what if someone doesn't have any good qualities? Like Malfoy."
Objectively speaking, Draco Malfoy wasn't ugly. He was actually pretty handsome.
That shiny blond hair, that flawless face—he was already breaking hearts left and right even at his age.
By his peak, he'd have no trouble finding dance partners at the Christmas Ball.
He really was quite good-looking… it was just that Hermione had such a bad impression of him that she'd already slapped a big negative label on him.
"Tell him he's cute," Tom answered without missing a beat. "Cute is a universal word. Works on boys and girls, no awkwardness at all."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully, then decided to put it into practice right away. "Tom, you're so cute."
"Thanks for the compliment. It's your honor to dance with such a cute guy like me at the Christmas Ball. Hope you cherish the opportunity."
Hermione: "??"
What the—? He's not following the script! Shouldn't he have gotten what I meant?
"I mean…" Hermione started, but then she caught the teasing glint in Tom's eyes.
This jerk totally knew. He was just messing with me!
…
After Professor Sprout agreed, Professor Flitwick was an easy yes too.
This was Tom Riddle, after all.
The most outstanding genius in the first-year class!
Flitwick was the Head of Ravenclaw, and he had no hesitation agreeing to his star pupil's request.
He even asked if Tom was feeling tired from classes lately, if his cold was really gone, and if he wanted to skip the next lesson…
The special treatment was practically being spoon-fed to him, but Tom wasn't the type to take handouts. He turned it down flat.
He declared righteously that he loved Professor Flitwick's classes the most and wouldn't miss a single one!
Out of the four House Heads, they'd now gotten three approvals.
Hermione stared at the envelopes in her hand, hardly believing it. She quickly snapped out of it and tucked them into her bag. "So, do we go to Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall first?"
"McGonagall. If we can't convince her, even if Dumbledore says yes, it won't matter.
But whether we can get McGonagall on board… that's up to you."
Hermione huffed. "Tch. I don't even want to go to some dumb ball anyway. It'd waste two whole weeks learning how to dance. I'm not as smart as you—I need time to study actual stuff."
"Dancing is knowledge too."
"Not interested—" Hermione dragged the word out, but her feet kept moving just as fast.
Hogwarts' strictest mountain, the longest river—Minerva McGonagall.
A woman who didn't tolerate even a speck of sand in her eye. She was in her office now, pushing up her glasses. "Granger? Riddle? What brings you two little ones to see me?"
"Professor McGonagall, I… we want to go to the Christmas Ball. I know it's against the rules, but… please, Professor McGonagall!"
…What is this?
Tom discreetly wiped a bead of sweat from his brow behind her.
But it was so Hermione. If she ever stopped being this straightforward, she'd have to change her name to Hermione Riddle.
As expected, Professor McGonagall refused.
"No. Hogwarts has never made an exception, and it won't start now. The Christmas Ball is absolutely off-limits for first-years!
Your main job right now should be…" She'd been about to say they should focus on practicing magic, but then she looked at the two in front of her and rubbed her temples. These two weren't like the other students.
In her class alone, Tom and Hermione were already lapping everyone else by a whole Diagon Alley.
Maybe they just wanted a little break?
Maybe the ball could…
No!
Rules were rules. They weren't going to change just because two hardworking kids asked.
"In short, I'm not agreeing to this. Hermione, Tom, you may go."
…
After leaving McGonagall's office, Hermione stood by the window. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and she stayed quiet.
Tom patted her shoulder. "It's fine. We'll get another chance in third year."
Honestly, Tom's original plan was just to tease Hermione a little. He'd already seen plenty of her funny reactions today.
As for the ball… he hadn't really cared to begin with. He'd only wanted to mess with her.
And since Hermione didn't seem into it either, maybe it was better not to push…
Tom suddenly froze.
The sunlight outside the window was soft, quietly scattering across Hermione's face like flower petals.
Her big brown eyes dimmed in an instant.
Tom really loved Hermione's eyes—they were so big. Whether she was crying or laughing, they always made him happy.
Of course, if she was crying, it had better be because of him. If it was anyone else, he'd have a problem.
"Do you want to go to the ball?" Tom asked softly.
"No…" Hermione answered just as quietly.
She lifted her head, brushing her bangs back behind her ears and forcing a smile. "I'm actually relieved Professor McGonagall said no.
I was dreading having to go with you. That would've been awful!
When I'm in third year, the most handsome wizard will come up and ask me to dance. He'll wait for my answer.
Anyway, I've got to go. My dormmates are waiting for me to bring them stuff. This is all your fault—you should come with me to the Great Hall!"
"Okay."
Tom walked her all the way to the dorm entrance and made sure she got inside safely. Before she went in, Hermione waved at him. "Get some rest early. Your face looks worse than Snape's.
If a troll stood next to you, you'd be the troll."
With that, she didn't wait for a reply and ducked into the dormitory.
Her two roommates seemed to have nothing better to do. Even after Hermione came back, they were still messing around.
"Hermione, wanna play Exploding Snap with us?" Lavender waved at her.
"Today… nah, maybe next time. I'm kinda tired."
Hermione flopped onto her bed.
Lavender and Parvati exchanged a look. One shrugged, the other nudged her nose toward Hermione like, should we ask what's wrong?
The other shook her head—no need to pry. But they did put away the cards. After all, there was a sad little girl in the dorm.
…
"Tom, what are you doing here?" Dumbledore had that kind smile on his face as always. He stood next to Tom. "You don't look well. Maybe you should rest."
"That's not important." Tom shook his head. "Professor, do you think a real gentleman should try to grant a friend's little wish?"
"Perhaps—if the wish is positive and won't hurt anyone around them. I think it would make her very happy."
"I see. Professor Dumbledore, are you free right now? I'd like to ask for your help."