Hermione finished breakfast at the orphanage using Tom's body.
It finally sank in. Just like in those magical fairytales, she had actually transmigrated.
The owner of this body was named Tom Riddle. He was exactly her age—eleven years old.
There were seven kids in the orphanage in total. Besides herself and Misha, there were five others, all around her age or slightly older. They all seemed somewhat terrified of her, except for one boy named Perkin Lawrence, who constantly acted like he owned the place.
Misha whispered to Hermione that Lawrence had recently caught the eye of a wealthy family. He was due to be adopted soon, which explained why he was acting so unbearably arrogant lately.
After breakfast, Misha picked up her basket. Sitting overnight had not been kind to the hibiscus flowers; a few leaves had turned a sickly yellow, and the petals drooped lifelessly against the stems.
"Tom, I found a really good spot last night. A lot of couples go walking there. I bet we can sell way more flowers today," Misha said, pulling a few of the saddest-looking stems from the basket and forcing a smile.
"Those aren't going to sell," Hermione said, instantly shutting Misha's idea down. "No one is going to spend a single pound on these ruined things. They aren't worth the price."
She continued, her tone ruthless. "Besides, your planting methods are completely wrong. Looking at the shape of these leaves, you clearly haven't been watering them properly. The stems have been trampled. You haven't taken care of these flowers at all!"
The younger kids froze. A few of the littler ones teared up, biting their lips as they glared at Hermione.
"You should have—"
"That's enough, Riddle!" one of the kids snapped, glaring daggers at her. "You shouldn't say things like that! At least not to Misha!"
Perkin Lawrence let out a cold snort. "Riddle is right. Hoping to save up enough money for winter by selling this garbage is like praying to Santa Claus for a stack of cash. You'd be better off buying a few books and learning modern British history before September. Then you could go be a tutor for the Middle family. You might actually afford a winter coat that way."
"Lawrence, haven't you read modern history books? Why don't you go do it?"
A brief flash of humiliation crossed Lawrence's face, but he quickly masked it. He had gone to the Middle family to interview for the tutor position. But the person they were looking for... it wasn't a normal tutoring gig. That guy Sean was terrifying, like a man possessed. Lawrence had barely answered a few questions before he turned tail and ran, utterly humiliated.
But right now, Lawrence just puffed out his chest and kept his haughty attitude. "Me? I'm already leaving this dump! I've got a life of morning bacon, evening steaks, and lovely afternoon teas waiting for me. Why would I bother doing that kind of work?"
He smirked, throwing his hands up. "Too bad the family didn't want you, Riddle. A real shame. But then again, you're a violent thug. Who'd ever want you?"
Hermione felt a flare of genuine anger. She raised an eyebrow, her hands slowly balling into fists at her sides.
Seeing this, Lawrence didn't back down; he stepped closer. "What, Riddle? You gonna hit me?"
Tom had hit him once before. The old ladies running the orphanage had been furious and threatened to throw Tom out on the street if he ever laid a hand on another child again. Lawrence wanted nothing more than to see this guy get kicked to the curb.
Lawrence had always been deeply jealous of Tom. Tom had a sharp nose, a great build, and even though they all ate the same meager rations, Tom's constant working out gave him broad shoulders. He didn't look scrawny and pathetic like the rest of them.
Tom always handled everything with an effortless calm, like a mature adult. His vivid, jade-green eyes were piercing, and whenever he smiled, people naturally liked him. Lawrence was convinced everyone was secretly jealous of Tom—except for Misha.
That stupid little mudbug treated Tom like her own flesh-and-blood brother. Lawrence thought they were both pathetic.
He stared provocatively at Hermione, practically begging her to take a swing.
"Tom... let it go." Misha tugged her sleeve. "I mean, don't waste your time on him. You know he's leaving in a couple of days. We'll never have to see him again."
Hermione took two deep breaths and ignored the obnoxious boy.
"That Middle family he just mentioned," Hermione asked. "Where do they live?"
"The Middles...? Tom, you want to be a tutor? But you don't know anything about modern history..."
Hermione repeated the words modern history in her head.
Modern history? Please. She knew the complete history of Hogwarts inside and out. (Well, the first-year textbook version, anyway).
"Cut. The. Crap," Hermione enunciated every word sharply. "Take me there!"
---
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
> [Spell Cast. Rating: Poor. Levitation Charm +1]
> [Spell Cast. Rating: Poor. Levitation Charm +1]
> [Spell Cast. Rating: Poor. Levitation Charm +1]
> [Levitation Charm (Novice): 99/100]
Tom lay flat on his back on the bed, his messy, frizzy curls spread out around him. A wave of utter exhaustion washed over his currently pale, delicate face.
Ninety-nine times. He had cast that spell ninety-nine times!
And every single time, the rating was "Poor."
Tom knew it was because he hadn't quite grasped the secret technique yet. He could make the feather float, but that was it—it just floated. The textbook said a perfect Levitation Charm could lift massive objects into the air, like boulders... or a delicious, pan-seared steak.
Tom was still a long way from that level.
He let out a long breath, chugging a glass of saltwater to fight off the fatigue.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
> [Spell Cast. Rating: Poor. Levitation Charm +1]
> [Levitation Charm LV.1: 0/300]
> [Title Unlocked: Spellcasting Novice]
> [Equipping this title makes magic flow more smoothly. Casting speed +20%]
Finally. Level 1.
Tom breathed a sigh of relief. After grinding for so long, his stomach was starting to loudly demand food.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the phone downstairs rang.
"Hello, Granger residence... Mom?"
Less than two minutes later, Tom hung up the phone.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger had landed from their flight and were off to enjoy their beach vacation—a trip Tom had originally been invited on but managed to get out of. They called to say their plans changed and they wouldn't be home tonight. They told "Hermione" there was cash in the drawer and to order some takeout.
Before heading out, Tom spent some serious time wrangling his chaotic hair into something manageable. He opened the closet to change into Hermione's best...
Why are all this kid's clothes so incredibly frumpy?
Tom couldn't help but facepalm.
Alright, I'm buying some decent clothes while I'm out. Since he was stuck in this body, he was going to live well. At the very least, he wasn't going to walk around looking like a village peasant.
There was plenty of cash in the drawer. The Grangers were both dentists and pulled in a very comfortable income. Even in the Muggle world, they were solidly upper-middle class. (Muggles being ordinary people without magic).
Tom called the Grangers back to mention he wanted to buy some new clothes. The couple sounded absolutely thrilled on the other end of the line. They told him not to hold back, spend whatever he wanted, and even told him exactly where the "secret stash" of money was kept in their master bedroom.
Two hours later...
Tom had changed into a highly fashionable outfit. Hermione's hair was too long and too wild for a soft, quiet-girl aesthetic. She needed something with a bit more edge.
Or rather, he needed something with more edge.
He threw on an oversized dark-brown plaid overshirt, paired with a trendy skort. He added some flair to his hair with a stylish purple hairpin, and finished the look with a pair of brown leather boots. He looked like a cool, mature mini-adult.
Badass.
For dinner, Tom picked a nice restaurant and ordered a bacon appetizer and a well-done steak.
"Granger?"
"Is that... Hermione Granger? Oh my god, I don't believe my eyes!"
"Granger, why aren't you dressing like a little mudbug anymore? When did you change your clothes? Little mudbug, what middle school are you going to? Oh wait, I didn't see your name on the advancement list. Are you just going to drop out and inherit your parents' dentistry practice?"
Tom, who had been peacefully enjoying his dinner, blinked as three kids suddenly popped up at his table. It took him a second to process.
Hermione's old classmates, I guess?
"Granger, why aren't you talking? Did your two big mudbug parents not come with you?"
The kid running his mouth was a squarish, chubby boy. He kept tossing around the word "mudbug" like it was the ultimate insult.
The two kids flanked beside him had clearly intended to join in on the bullying, but they were currently too busy staring at Tom.
Granger looks... really cool!
They had never realized she could look this cool at school. She was always dressed in frumpy, outdated clothes and had a sharp, aggressive personality that made everyone uncomfortable.
"Do you guys want to sit down and eat?" Tom asked smoothly. "I can have the waiter bring out some more food."
"???"
The two sidekicks exchanged a bewildered look.
Something was very different about Granger. Wasn't she supposed to yell at Tonks, throw an insult back, and cause a huge scene right about now?
"What do you want to drink? No alcohol, obviously, you aren't old enough. Sparkling water or milk is fine," Tom asked, his expression completely unfazed.
"...Tonks, I don't think you should say stuff like that to Granger," one of the sidekicks muttered.
"Y-yeah, Tonks. I've told you before, it's really mean to talk to people like that..."
"You two—!" The chubby boy, Tonks, turned red with embarrassment and fury. Seeing his own lackeys instantly switch sides to suck up to Tom made his blood boil.
Tom treated them all with the same polite indifference, flashing a charming smile. "What about you two? Tonks, are you eating? I also ordered a couple of pastries and fruit tarts."
"I'm not eating!" Tonks scowled. "She's just trying to make you pay the bill, you idiots! Anyone who hangs out with a dirty mudbug ends up just as disgusting as her!"
Tom casually raised a hand. Tonks, assuming he was about to get slapped, flinched hard and squeezed his eyes shut, ducking to the side.
"Excuse me, sir?" Tom signaled a passing waiter. "Could I get two glasses of milk and two more orders of pan-seared steak, please? And here's a tip for your trouble."
The two sidekicks practically got stars in their eyes.
"Tonks, you should probably get going. Aren't your parents waiting for you to come home for dinner?"
"Yeah, yeah. We're just going to eat here with Granger. We won't be coming to your house tonight..."
Tonks looked utterly betrayed. "Today is my birthday! You promised you were coming to my party!"
"Um... Granger, do you want to come?" one of them asked.
"I'm busy. No time," Tom replied breezily.
Tonks got the message. Furious and humiliated, he stormed out of the restaurant, shoving the glass door open so hard the wind chimes above it clattered aggressively.
"Granger, you should have dressed like this a long time ago... I mean, if you looked like this, nobody in class would have ever made fun of you! They would've respected you! Yeah, totally respected you!"
"You look so much classier now. Like an adult."
If this had been the old Hermione, the moment Tonks had opened his mouth, she would have flown into a rage and verbally eviscerated him. But today... they couldn't believe how calm and gentle she was being.
And she was actually buying them steak!
Tom just smiled and didn't reply. His large brown eyes curved upward into a pleasant squint, leaving the two boys completely mesmerized.
"Check, please," Tom called out. After finishing his meal and paying the bill, he left the restaurant.
He had to get back to the house. He had more grinding to do.
But as Tom approached the Granger residence, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
An owl was perched perfectly still on top of the mailbox... waiting for him.