"Child, Platform 9¾ is right over here."
"Professor, are we taking the train to school?" Tom hadn't expected the Hogwarts Express to run during the holidays.
Dumbledore shook his head with a gentle laugh. "Of course not. It's holiday time—most of the staff are still on break. The platform only opens for the start and end of term. I just wanted you to see it early."
After showing Tom the platform, Dumbledore led him straight to Hogwarts.
The towering spires looked even more imposing up close. A massive willow in the grounds swayed its long, whip-like branches. "That's the Whomping Willow," Dumbledore warned. "Stay well clear."
They stopped outside a dimly lit door. Dumbledore knocked.
A moment later the door creaked open and a bat-like man peered out.
His face was sallow and lined, shoulder-length black hair hanging limp, expression sour enough to curdle milk.
"Severus, this is Tom Riddle—our newest first-year."
"Tom, meet Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master."
Snape's dark, bottomless eyes narrowed. "Albus, why are you bringing a first-year to me?"
Those black eyes raked over Tom and then locked on his vivid jade-green gaze.
Snape's scowl deepened.
"Severus, I was hoping you might let the boy stay with you until term starts. He'll move into his own dormitory once everyone arrives. Would that be a problem?"
"Absolutely!" Snape snapped. "I'm busy every single day. I have no interest in sharing quarters with some… some Muggle-born brat!
He'll get in my way. The mere sight of him irritates me! Don't you have spare rooms, Albus? Put him with you!"
Dumbledore smiled calmly. "The boy is very interested in Potions, Severus. I'm getting on in years; I can't keep up with a child anymore. And he won't disturb you—will you, Tom?"
Tom nodded at once. "Professor Snape, I promise I won't bother you. Every day I'll—"
"It's Professor Snape!"
"Yes, Professor Snape." Tom swallowed. The man's aura was no joke. "I swear I'll only be in the room when I'm sleeping. The rest of the time I'll be in the library."
Snape stared at those jade-green eyes for a long beat. "Your name is Tom Riddle?"
"Yes, sir."
"Be back before eleven. Miss curfew and you sleep outside."
With a dramatic swirl of black robes, Snape turned and vanished into the room, leaving the heavy door half-open.
"Go on, Tom."
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."
Tom knocked politely twice before stepping inside.
Snape's quarters were gloriously chaotic—books sprawled across the floor, shelves crammed with potion ingredients.
"Touch any of my books or ingredients and I swear I'll hurl you clear out of England."
"I'll be careful."
Tom set his things down, then headed straight for the library.
Finally—unrestricted magic practice.
The moment he stepped inside and saw the endless shelves, he realised sixteen-hour days weren't going to cut it anymore.
Time was too short.
Sixteen hours might not even be my limit… Let's find out exactly where it is.
The empty library echoed with Tom's quiet incantations for the rest of the day.
…
London.
Hermione was irritated.
Two annoying brats had shown up today. She still couldn't figure out how Tom had managed to become friends with them.
His taste was terrible!
If it were her, she'd never have given them the time of day.
People who didn't care about anyone else's feelings? Talking to them felt like pulling teeth.
In the afternoon she received a letter—from Tom Riddle.
The one she herself had mailed days ago using his body.
Why had it taken nearly a week?
In the evening another letter arrived. Sender: still Tom Riddle. Postmarked yesterday.
When she asked the postman why this one came so fast, he said it was express delivery—obviously quicker.
She tore it open. Only a few short lines.
Tom had received his Hogwarts acceptance letter.
She'd expected it, yet it still felt strangely sudden.
Maybe… I should go find Tom and sort out this whole body-swap mess.
Also… those two hundred pounds had better come back. That was my hard-earned money!
Hermione's efficiency kicked in immediately. She set her alarm for the crack of dawn.
Next morning she climbed out of bed, pulled on one of the plaid overshirts Tom had bought, stuffed a few books into a suitcase, and left.
By the time she reached St. Redelia Orphanage it was already noon.
She stepped through the familiar gates and saw a gaggle of kids clutching bowls, laughing and chasing one another toward the dining hall.
Everyone looked happy.
Everyone except Misha.
The storage-room door stood wide open. Empty.
Tom must be tutoring Sean right now.
Hermione walked farther in.
"Who are you?"
The vaguely familiar kid tilted his head.
"I'm Hermione Granger. I wrote to Tom before."
At the sound of Tom's name, Misha's head snapped up. She sprinted over on tiny legs.
"Do you know where Tom went?"
"Tom's not here?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up.
"He went to Hogwarts—to school. I wanted to talk to him but I don't know where Hogwarts is…" Misha's voice wobbled, her big angel eyes filling with tears.
Hermione froze.
She looked at the glistening tears, swallowed, and said gently, "Tom just went to school. Hogwarts has holidays—Christmas, Easter, summer. He'll come back."
Misha counted on her fingers, calculating how long until the first break.
"I… I brought some things for you all." Hermione set the suitcase down. "Tom told me you didn't have many books. I brought some from home that might be good for you right now."
She opened the case. Dictionaries, gardening guides, The Count of Monte Cristo, Hamlet, a calendar…
"You lot…" Hermione started to say something stern, caught the bright smiles on their faces, and swallowed it. "Read whenever you have time. It'll help."
"Thank you, Hermione!" Misha beamed, clutching the calendar and already circling the holidays.
Hermione gave her a small smile, left the suitcase, and turned to go.
No point staying if Tom wasn't here.
"Hermione, it's lunch time—stay and eat with us!" Misha grabbed her sleeve. "Are you and Tom really close? When I look at you… it feels like I'm looking at him."
Hermione's heart skipped. She recovered quickly. "Not really. He just owes me money."
"How much? I—I'm Tom's best friend. I can help him pay."
Hermione hadn't expected that. She paused, ruffled Misha's hair. "No need. Tom's a big boy now. He'll pay me back when he can. I'm not in a hurry."
As long as she got to Hogwarts, they'd see each other again.
She just hoped the stupid body-swap nonsense was over.
The kids refused to let her leave without eating, so Hermione stayed for lunch before heading out.
Instead of going straight home, she stopped at Diagon Alley and mailed two letters to Hogwarts.
One to Tom. One to Professor Dumbledore.
Only then did she finally go home.
Sitting at her desk, staring at the impossibly detailed notes crammed into every margin of her textbooks, she found herself thinking of Tom's face again.
"Get a grip, Hermione!"
She slapped her cheeks. "Stop thinking about him! Focus! You need to study harder. The others aren't Muggles—their parents are witches and wizards. They've been doing magic since they were babies!"
She'd only started learning magic at eleven. Before McGonagall appeared on her doorstep, she hadn't believed magic was real.
…
Hogwarts.
Tom stood by the library window, gazing at the emerald grounds.
In the distance he could just make out a small giant—well, not quite giant-sized, maybe three metres tall.
Rubeus Hagrid.
Tom remembered the name.
Far away, Hagrid seemed to sense the stare and glanced toward the library, but by the time he looked, Tom had already slipped back into the shadows.
Back at his table, the tiredness had vanished from Tom's eyes.
Magic. Keep going.
Evening.
"Reparo!"
> [Spell Cast. Rating: Normal. Repairing Charm +10]
> [Close-Quarters Combat LV.1: 224/300]
> [Language Mastery LV.1: 200/300]
> [Animal Affinity LV.1: 110/300]
> [Levitation Charm LV.2: 322/1000]
> [Incendio LV.2: 310/1000]
> [Softening Charm LV.2: 300/1000]
> …
With the final spell, every first-year charm Tom knew had reached LV.2.
LV.1 let him cast successfully.
LV.2 made the difference visible—he could now levitate eight five-inch-thick books at once without breaking a sweat.
A spark of satisfaction flared in his chest.
Among first-years, his proficiency was probably already top-tier.
But it still wasn't enough.
His target had never been "best in first year."
His target was Voldemort.
That noseless freak who shared his name… maybe he'd been vaguely handsome once, but now? Definitely a freak.
Until Voldemort was dealt with, Tom wasn't stopping.
He checked the time—almost eleven—and hurried out of the library, arms full of books.
He did not want a lecture from Snape.
But the moment he stepped into the room, Snape's eyes flicked over.
"Riddle, you were five minutes from missing curfew. Next time come back earlier.
Actually—no. There had better not be a next time."
Tom offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Professor Snape. I was worried you hadn't eaten, so I brought something on the way back."
Snape's words cut off. He stared—first at those jade-green eyes, then at the easy smile on Tom's face.
He gave a curt snort and turned back to his cauldron.
A long moment later he muttered, "What did you bring?"
"Pizza, sir."
"It's Professor Snape! And if there's a next time I'll throw you out myself!" Snape jabbed a finger at the nearest shelf. "And stop trying to butter me up!"
"Understood, Professor. I'll just put it on the table—out of your way?"
Snape didn't answer.
Tom set the box down, crawled into bed with his unfinished Potions book, and didn't even notice when he fell asleep.
Next morning.
5:30 a.m.
Tom woke.
The room was empty—no sign of Snape.
The pizza box was gone.
---