Tom has lost his mind.
That was Hermione's only thought as the Acromantula lunged, mouth gaping wide. The stench of rotting meat rolled out, followed by a jet of thick black venom.
She watched Tom flick his wand—no incantation, no swish, nothing—and the venom simply veered upward, splattering harmlessly against the cave ceiling.
Silent casting.
Hermione's eyes went huge.
"Levitation Charm is pretty amazing once you master it," Tom said casually, like they were chatting in the library. "You can do stuff like this. Real pros would've already flung the spiders into the air, but I'm still working on that part."
"Never mind the theory!" Hermione jabbed a finger at the charging beasts. "They're coming!"
Incendio. Flaming Flames.
Tom thrust his wand forward.
BOOM—!
A roaring column of fire exploded from the tip, thick and white-hot, punching straight through the three Acromantulas like they were tissue paper. The flames kept burning until nothing was left—not even ash.
Hermione's jaw dropped. She stared at Tom like he'd grown a second head.
"When exactly did you start learning magic? You're an Auror, aren't you? No first-year—no, not even a seventh-year—could do that!"
Tom blinked at his own wand, equally stunned.
That spell… hadn't been his.
The fire had been denser, hotter, far beyond what he could manage right now.
He sniffed the air. A faint scent of liquorice lingered—the smell that clung to anyone who spent hours elbow-deep in potion ingredients.
Professor Snape?
Snape must have been standing right behind him, invisible, finishing the job.
Honestly, Professor. You could've just said hello. It's not like you're shy.
Tom rolled his eyes.
Hermione's already seen you, hiding is pointless.
"Come on," he said, grabbing her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. "I was trying to invite you to school, but I never got a reply. When I finally went to your house I realised something was wrong."
"Wait!" Hermione dug her heels in. "I read somewhere that Acromantulas are bred by wizards to guard important treasures. Maybe inside the cave—"
Tom flicked her forehead. "Curiosity killed the cat, Hermione. You're already lucky to be alive. Let's not push it."
Her curiosity really was worse than a cat's.
They'd barely escaped with their lives and she still wanted to go deeper.
Tom tugged her along and they hurried out of the cave.
(They'd already gained enough. The venom they'd scraped off the spiders would sell for at least 150 Galleons. Whatever treasure was inside could stay for the invisible professor lurking nearby.)
They didn't see another troll the whole way out of the forest.
Hermione pulled the pink down jacket tighter around herself and puffed out a cloud of white breath. She stared at the little ponytail swinging at the back of Tom's head.
"Tom… how did you even know I was here?"
"Tracking potion. Drop in one of your hairs and you can see glowing footprints."
"I really need to spend more time in the library. So… where are we sleeping tonight?"
There was no way they could walk home. Hermione didn't even know where "here" was—she'd fallen asleep in the car and woken up in the middle of nowhere.
"How about the Leaky Cauldron? We can catch the Hogwarts Express first thing tomorrow. You got all your stuff?"
Hermione lifted her little suitcase in answer.
Tom glanced back toward the cave. It was spotless now, the boulder back in place, not a sound inside.
Professor Snape really wants us to walk to the Leaky Cauldron?
"Professor Snape? You there?"
No answer.
"Professor Dumbledore? Any chance you could Apparate us to the Leaky Cauldron…?"
A warm chuckle came from the shadows. Dumbledore stepped out, eyes twinkling.
"Young man, how did you know I was here?" He laughed softly. "Tom, that was incredibly reckless. If you hadn't been lucky, both of you would be Acromantula supper right now.
But—" Dumbledore's tone softened, "rushing off to help a friend… you're a good boy, Tom. Both of you, take my hands. I'll take you home. The Leaky Cauldron isn't suitable for children tonight."
Apparition.
The world spun. Hermione's stomach lurched.
When everything stopped, they were standing on the front step of her own house.
"Miss Granger, you should go inside. Your parents will be worried. Tom, you…"
"I don't have parents," Tom shrugged. "If I go back to the orphanage now, Misha will just worry more. Leaky Cauldron is fine. I'll catch the train in the morning."
Dumbledore sighed but didn't argue. He whisked Tom straight to the pub.
The landlord's eyes widened at the sight of Dumbledore. "Merlin's beard! What an honour! I knew today felt lucky—my goddess smiled at me this morning. Albus, my friend, the Leaky Cauldron is always yours!"
Dumbledore's name opened doors everywhere—except when facing Voldemort or the Malfoys.
Once Tom was settled, Dumbledore left.
He reappeared moments later back in the forest beside Snape.
"I had no idea this place even existed," Dumbledore said quietly. "So many trolls and Acromantulas hidden away. Did you find anything, Severus?"
Snape shook his head. "Nothing. Not a trace. If we hadn't followed Tom we never would have found it."
He paused, then added, "Your suspicions about the boy should be settled now, Albus."
"Suspicions?" Dumbledore smiled. "I never suspected Tom."
"You did. The moment you heard the name Tom Riddle, we all did. The coincidence is too perfect.
But if he really were… the Dark Lord… Granger would never have left that cave alive tonight. We were all too slow."
Dumbledore nodded. Same name, terrifying talent at eleven—it was impossible not to wonder. They had all kept a quiet watch on the boy.
Yet Snape's certainty tonight…
"Severus, you never once thought Tom could be him?"
"Impossible," Snape said flatly. "But after tonight the Dark Lord may turn his eyes on Tom. In his mind, this boy might be more dangerous than Potter ever was."
He spat the name "Potter" like it tasted bad.
"Enough," Dumbledore said gently. "We have our own duties. Tomorrow every student must walk through those doors safely. Hogwarts must remain the safest place in the wizarding world."
"You're right." Snape turned, black robes flaring like wings.
"You're not coming back with me?"
"I need to buy some ingredients in Diagon Alley."
Dumbledore watched the tall figure disappear into the night, the corner of his mouth curving upward.
Diagon Alley?
The Leaky Cauldron is in Diagon Alley.
It seems Severus really does like Tom Riddle.
---
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Inside the Leaky Cauldron, the little house-elf was banging his head against the wall.
"Dobby didn't want to hurt you! Dobby only wanted— Dobby can't say!"
Tom sipped his lemon water and watched the elf keep smashing his skull against the bricks.
"Calm down, we're not mad at you." Finally Tom reached out and caught Dobby before he could do more damage.
"Did you take Hermione into the forest?"
"Dobby didn't!"
Tom pressed his lips together. "Then you intercepted our letters, right? Mine and hers."
Dobby's huge green eyes filled with tears. "Dobby just didn't want you to go to school! You can't go! Someone— Dobby is a bad elf! Dobby betrayed his master!"
He tried to headbutt the wall again. Tom held him gently but firmly.
Master? Lucius Malfoy?
Tom let out a long sigh.
So Lucius wanted to mess with Hermione? Why? If he was going after someone it should've been Harry. And Hermione hadn't done anything major… unless—
Wait. The Lockhart competition.
Draco had entered too. And Tom (as Hermione) had absolutely crushed him.
Tom rubbed his temples. This was getting complicated.
But it didn't feel like Lucius's style. Dobby had only blocked the letters—he hadn't stopped Hermione from leaving the house at all.
"Dobby, I need you to do something for me."
"Dobby can't help! Dobby is bad! Dobby only ruins things…"
Tom patted the elf's head softly.
He was very good at talking to kids.
"Listen, little guy. Everyone makes mistakes. The scary part isn't messing up—it's not trying to fix it afterward.
I grew up in an orphanage. When I was little I wasn't very likable. I thought I was better than everyone because I was a wizard and they weren't. One day a boy named Lawrence put a dead rat in my pillow. I got so angry I beat him up. That was the worst mistake I ever made."
Dobby stopped crying and listened, ears perked.
"All the other kids saw me hit him. They got scared. I had no friends. Everyone stayed away. Once people dislike you, it's really hard to make them like you again.
So I swallowed my pride. From then on I was just Tom. I was nice to everyone because I wanted friends. I wanted them to know Tom wasn't mean. Hey, are you still listening?"
"Dobby is listening."
Tom spent a long time telling the story—how he changed at the orphanage, sold flowers with the kids, used his last few coins to buy them pastries, and finally made a best friend named Misha.
(Of course he was making half of it up. In reality the orphanage kids had always liked him—except Lawrence.)
"So, Dobby," Tom finished, taking a sip of lemon tea, "making a mistake isn't the end of the world. The important thing is trying to make it right. You almost got Hermione killed tonight. That means you need to make it up to her. That's what a real man does. Understand?"
After a long silence Dobby lifted his head. Those big green eyes met Tom's.
"What does Tom want Dobby to do?"
"Good. You and I both have green eyes—that means you're going to grow up to be a real man too. There's only one thing I want: if Hermione ever gets into danger again, tell me. Don't try to handle it alone. Just come find me. Okay?"
"Dobby… Dobby will…"
The little elf nodded, stopped trying to hurt himself, and bowed his head respectfully in front of Tom.