"You jerk! Shameless! Disgusting! Creep! Pig! Why didn't Merlin just—"
"I'm freezing! Haven't you noticed you're still wrapped in my coat? And who was the one using it as a blanket last night? Pfft!"
Tom cut Hermione off without mercy.
"..."
She really hadn't noticed. No wonder she'd slept so cozily.
"It stinks! Here, take it back."
"Stay put in the pub. Wait for me to get back." Tom threw on his cotton jacket and hurried out the door, but he paused and turned. "Don't leave—no matter what. Don't make a sound, even if you spot me. We have no idea what kind of nasty tricks Voldemort's got up his sleeve. Whatever happens, stay hidden. Even if I'm dueling him right outside and I drop dead—you still don't come out!"
"Yeah, yeah... If you actually die, I'll drag Misha to your grave for a visit. Everyone'll probably throw a party when a jerk like you kicks the bucket!" Hermione huffed, arms crossed. But deep down, she knew Tom wouldn't die.
He was that good. He'd walked away unscathed from Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. No way he'd go down here.
Impossible.
...
It was almost Christmas, and now afternoon—Hermione had slept straight through the morning.
Hogsmeade was buzzing with adult wizards, so Tom targeted the married ones or those with kids.
He'd read it once in some old magic book:
What's the best way to attract the opposite sex?
Not by leveling yourself up or having killer looks—Tom had great looks, and it hadn't exactly flooded him with admirers.
Straight to the point: the best way was the potion he'd just brewed!
Forget opposite sex—this stuff would work on trolls!
Same-sex trolls too!
But Tom wasn't about to sell it to shady dark wizards. He was looking for...
There!
"Hey, big brother—you look freshly married." Tom zeroed in on a wizard in his early twenties with blond hair that screamed pure-blood vibes. Definitely not short on cash.
Wedding ring on his finger, no deformities yet—Tom figured the guy was a newlywed.
The blond wizard blinked, finally noticing the kid gazing up at him all pitiful.
"Yeah, Merlin bless—I've got a beautiful, gentle wife. She treats me great, loves me a ton, and I love her right back.
What's up, kid?"
Tom pulled out his potion. "I'm a Hogwarts student. Christmas is coming, and I wanna buy something nice for my girlfriend, but... it's tough earning galleons at our age.
Lucky for me, I'm aces in Potions. Interested in this?"
The blond's face shifted when he spotted the vial. "Maybe I oughta owl Professor Snape. How can you sell stuff like this?!"
"I wouldn't stop you, sir. Go ahead—write to him, or march straight to Hogwarts and tell him in person. But I'm not a bad wizard. I just need the money, and I won't sell to creeps with ulterior motives." Tom amped up the puppy eyes. "You could buy these, then report me. I'd take the detention."
The blond stared him down coldly.
He couldn't figure this kid out.
Anyone else would've bolted the second Snape's name dropped. But not him.
And his vibe was sincere—not like some evil little snake, or those Slytherin types...
"How much?"
"Ten galleons a bottle. Or... if possible, sir, could I trade all these for some ingredients?" Tom handed over a list.
"Grasshoppers, leeches, fluxweed, knotgrass, powdered bicorn horn, and shreds of Boomslang skin?"
The blond went quiet for a long beat.
Not your everyday ingredients.
Unicorn horn wasn't used in dark potions. Which part of this kid's story was true?
The girlfriend gift? Or the ingredients?
"I can get them for you." The young man sighed. "But on one condition—I am telling Snape. Once your detention's over, you can keep dating your girlfriend."
"Thanks!"
Fair's fair.
Deep down, the blond—a former Gryffindor—thought the kid seemed genuine, but he wasn't about to let a student stray down a dark path.
"Your name?"
"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. Got a nickname too—the Half-Blood Prince."
The blond waved him over. "Follow me."
Tom trailed behind, wand gripped tight under his robes.
Those ingredients? For Polyjuice Potion.
If he'd thought of it, Voldemort probably had too.
If this guy was fake? One Sectumsempra would take his head clean off.
Lucky for everyone, he was legit—and really did have a gorgeous wife.
After some expert flattery, Tom scored the goods and watched the guy seal a letter for an owl to Hogwarts.
"Thanks again." Tom bowed and left, tossing in extra compliments for both husband and wife on his way out.
It left the blond totally baffled.
Something felt off.
Like every move he'd made was playing right into this kid's hands.
Especially how happy the boy looked when he wrote that letter to Snape.
"I need to head to Hogwarts."
"Didn't the owl already send it?" His wife looked puzzled at the extra step.
"I wanna dig into who this kid really is. I'll be back tonight—quick trip. Wait for me, Alice." He kissed his new bride and headed out.
...
"I'm back!" Tom burst through the door. Hermione was crouched by the cauldron, warming her hands over the flames.
"Took you long enough!" she grumbled, lips pursed.
It hadn't been that long, but being alone in the room had felt kinda lonely. No one to talk to—just the crackle of the fire.
"Hmm, the guy insisted on reporting me to Snape for detention. Held things up a bit."
"That's bad, right?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"Nah, not really. I gave your name—Hermione Granger. Thanks, Hermione—you're the best friend ever. I'll visit you during detention."
"???"
Hermione leaped up and pounded his chest with her fists, but when he didn't even flinch, she just stewed in silent fury.
"Hermione, got anyone you really hate?" Tom asked casually while portioning out ingredients.
Duh—of course she did.
"You! Top of the list!"
Brewing Polyjuice is tricky stuff—advanced potion that normally takes a full month for perfection.
But clever Tom always found shortcuts. With a few tiny tweaks, his version was ready in two hours. Not as potent as the real deal, but good enough.
Two hours later...
"Drink this. One vial lasts five hours. I made four—plenty to get us through tonight." Tom handed her a bottle. "Hair's already in. Once you transform, no weird noises, okay?"
Hermione took it. "Now?"
"Yeah."
...
Hogwarts.
Professor Snape was soaking up the afternoon sun.
He couldn't figure out why that little punk Tom hadn't shown yet!
Skipping daily practice for some fun?
Idiot!
Bang bang bang—
His peace shattered.
The knock wasn't Tom's style—that brat always did one long, three short, like some flashy announcement. Snape's verdict: show-off.
He ignored it at first, but after a full minute, he yanked the door open.
"Professor Snape—long time no see. Glad you're still in perfect health."
"Thorne? If memory serves, you graduated three years ago?"
"Yes, sir." The blond bowed. "I'm an Auror now—thanks in part to your guidance."
Snape waved it off impatiently. "Nothing to do with me."
"Professor, take a look at this. A kid sold it to me in Hogsmeade during my honeymoon."
Snape glanced at the vial and sneered. "If I find out who—"
He froze mid-sentence.
That familiar brewing technique...
Every master Potions brewer had their signature style—Snape included. Tom too.
Advanced potions could be ID'd by method, color, scent, even bottling.
"Where's the brat who sold you this?!" Snape's eyes turned icy.
Thorne answered, "Kid with jade-green eyes. Didn't even flinch when I said I'd report him. Said his name was Hermione Granger. Nickname: the Half-Blood Prince."
"Alone?" Snape's voice was pure frost. "Just him? You sure Hagrid wasn't around?"
"Yes, sir. Definitely alone. No sign of Hagrid."