Hermione had been hunting for a complete signed set of Lockhart's books for weeks. She genuinely adored Mr. Lockhart.
But she couldn't find them anywhere.
Tom had obviously won the championship, yet the books were missing from her house and from Professor Snape's quarters where Tom had been staying.
Hermione drew angry little circles on her calendar.
According to their seven-day body-swap pattern, they would both be in their own bodies for the Sorting Ceremony on the first day of term. The swap wouldn't happen until the third day.
"Knock knock knock—"
An owl rapped sharply on the window. Hermione opened it and let the bird inside.
It was the letter she had sent to Hogwarts—to Tom.
She had felt like a lion on display at the zoo when she went to Diagon Alley to post it. Everywhere she turned, eyes followed her—Hermione Granger, champion of Mr. Lockhart's competition.
She was sick of those stares. All she wanted right now was to punch Tom right in the face!
She had already sacrificed so much. Why did he have to steal her only bit of happiness?
She tore open the envelope. The first name she saw on the reply made her blink.
Professor Dumbledore?
Tom had already left Hogwarts and was back at St. Redelia Orphanage?
The day she finally got to beat Tom up had arrived!
At least before term started, she was going to give him a proper thrashing!
But the moment she moved to leave, a thought stopped her cold.
Could she actually beat him?
Could she really take on Tom—the same Tom who had just won the Lockhart Competition? With those rock-hard muscles of his… probably not.
Maybe… she should just ask him where he'd hidden everything. What if she had simply missed them? Tom wouldn't even enjoy Lockhart's books anyway. He didn't like the man.
"Hermione! Your friends are here!"
Hermione quickly packed her things and hurried downstairs. "Coming."
Those two annoying brats again.
"Granger, you look cool today too! Want to hang out sometime?"
Hermione raised a hand, cutting them off. "Sorry, I'm busy today. School starts soon. Don't you two have homework? Why are you always so free?"
Her face was stormy, eyes flashing with clear hostility.
The boys exchanged a glance. Hot-tempered Hermione again today.
They had noticed she seemed to have two completely different personalities—one fiery and short-tempered, the other surprisingly gentle.
One of them liked the fiery version… the other preferred the gentle one.
"Granger, we finished our homework ages ago."
"Then let's get a head start on next year's material!" Hermione slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched toward Diagon Alley.
Once in the car, she reached the Leaky Cauldron.
The place was always packed and buzzing.
In the crowd, Hermione spotted a pair of red-haired brothers. They started to wave when they saw her, but she had seen enough of that reaction—everyone knew the champion.
Before heading into Diagon Alley, Hermione needed an owl. She had been realizing more and more how useful they were. An owl would let her contact Tom anytime.
Tom was such a cheapskate. He had Galleons—why hadn't he bought one? Maybe he was still mad because she had hidden the ones she earned…
Fair enough. Those were her hard-earned Galleons!
Eeylops Owl Emporium sat on the north side of Diagon Alley. Owls, food, supplies—everything you needed.
Hermione chose a beautiful white Snowy Owl.
It was about two feet tall. When it spread its wings, they were wider than her small head.
She named her new pet Mirra.
She had originally wanted to call it Tom—just to keep that annoying little devil as her pet—but then she realized she would have to live with Mirra for years. Naming the owl after Tom would mean taking out all her anger on the poor bird.
Hermione carried the cage. Not far away stood a blond boy.
His hair was slicked back, and his eyes held clear disdain as he looked at her.
"Draco, what are you still staring at? It's time to go."
The boy heard his father's call and nodded. "Yes, Father."
Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born girl who had only touched magic for less than two months.
And in those two months she had won the championship.
Cheating! She must have cheated!
Young Master Malfoy was certain—because he had cheated himself.
Even with cheating, he still couldn't beat "Hermione Granger" in casting speed or skill.
"You've been staring at that girl," Lucius Malfoy said, eyes forward, speaking to his son.
"She's Hermione Granger."
Hermione…
The name rang a bell for Lucius. He had been seeing it a lot lately.
Where…?
Ah, the newspaper at Flourish and Blotts. Her photo and name splashed across the front.
He remembered now.
"Don't bother me with such trifles!" Lucius said sternly, each word clipped. "You know what you should be doing right now—and what I expect you to do!"
"Yes, Father. But I was thinking… perhaps… do you think Hermione at Hogwarts might get in our way?"
Lucius frowned.
Some time later they returned home.
"Dobby."
A small creature tumbled and crawled to the Malfoys.
The house-elf was barely four feet tall, a head shorter than eleven-year-old Draco. His tennis-ball-sized green eyes avoided looking directly at them, and his large bat-like ears drooped.
Dobby's clothes were ragged and unpatched, hanging open. He would probably freeze to death in winter.
House-elves were slaves to wizards—even they believed it.
"Master, Dobby is here."
Lucius looked down at the kneeling elf and spoke casually.
…
London.
Hermione was feeding Mirra with her fingers.
She had originally wanted to name the owl "Tom," but was glad she hadn't. Mirra was far better behaved than Tom—she listened, didn't run around, and would never lie to her.
Once Mirra was full, she gave two happy little hoots and Hermione stopped feeding her.
She sat at the table and began writing a letter to Tom.
Hermione tapped her head, thinking and revising the words several times.
"Wrong!" She grabbed her hair and ruffled the ends in frustration.
What am I even thinking!
Why am I using so many polite words for a liar who stole my body!
She crumpled the paper and tossed it in the bin, then started over.
But… what if that bastard Tom wasn't there again and Misha ended up reading it?
That little angel Misha would be so sad…
I'm not doing this for Tom. I'm doing it for Misha. Yes!
Hermione rewrote the letter, her face twisted in a grimace, completely unaware that a small house-elf had slipped into her room.
Of course house-elves were invisible, so even when she wasn't writing she wouldn't have noticed him.
…
A whole day had passed since Hermione sent the letter.
No reply.
Even Misha would have answered if she saw it, but there was nothing.
And Mirra hadn't flown back either.
Could Tom already be back at Hogwarts?
The thought had barely formed before Hermione shook her head frantically.
No, he had only just left. There was no way he was back so soon.
Maybe he was just busy… but even if he was busy, he would still make time to reply.
Tom might be annoying, but he was never careless about things like this.
Could something have happened to Tom?
Hermione was a woman of action. She immediately grabbed her things and headed out.
Worried she might not make it back in time, she packed everything she needed for school.
On the train she gave her address, found a window seat, and clutched her suitcase tightly.
As the car picked up speed and the buildings blurred past, Hermione felt a surge of nervousness. In a daze she glimpsed someone on the roadside, head wrapped in thick layers of cloth, stammering as they bought something from a vendor.
She looked away and thought about the journey ahead.
In a way, this would be her first time actually meeting Tom.
She had known him for a while now, but they had never met face to face.
Hermione held a book, planning to read, but for some reason she felt drowsy. Her eyelids grew heavy.
She yawned, leaned against the window, and fell asleep.
Two days later.
Mrs. Granger had never seen such a handsome boy.
Perhaps "handsome" wasn't quite the right word, but those jade-green eyes had captured her attention for a moment.
"Hermione—" Mrs. Granger stroked her chin. "Hermione hasn't been feeling well lately. She's had a fever for three days and has been holed up in her room…"
Fever? Hermione?
"Ma'am, is Hermione very ill?"
"Perhaps. I keep hearing her coughing. Young man, listen…"
Tom pricked up his ears, but the house was completely quiet.
He suddenly sensed traces of magical activity in the Granger house. After weeks at Hogwarts surrounded by magic, he could tell.
"Ma'am, may I go up and check on her?"
"Ah?" Mrs. Granger's expression shifted. This felt inappropriate.
"I'm Hermione's friend—from the same school." Tom smiled and pulled out his wand, waving it gently in front of her. "Don't worry. Hermione and I are very close. These are the letters we've been exchanging."
Mrs. Granger saw the letters in his hand and her relaxed face tightened at once.
Good-looking. Male. Hogwarts…
She instinctively covered her mouth. "Excuse me… what's your name?"
"Tom. Tom Riddle. Nice to meet you."
"Ah, hello. Please come in. I'll get you some tea."
Tom smiled. "No need to trouble yourself. I mainly came to find Hermione so we can go to school together."
He was supposed to board the train tomorrow, but the two letters he had sent had gone unanswered. That worried him.
He had realized something might be wrong and hurried over.
Upstairs, Tom stood in front of the door.
The place felt familiar yet strangely new.
Familiar because he had lived here for a long time—he knew every inch of Hermione's room and even where Mrs. Granger hid her secret stash.
New because… this was the first time he had stood here as Tom.
He raised his hand and knocked.
From inside came a low, weak cough.
Tom frowned and flicked his wand.
"Unlocking Charm!"
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was empty.
Hermione had taken everything she could carry—including the Snoopy doll from the bedside table.
In its place, a house-elf stood in the middle of the floor.
The moment the elf saw Tom, it vanished under an invisibility spell.
Dobby?
Why would Dobby be after Hermione? She isn't Harry.
The ones who went after her… were the Malfoys?