"Easy, child, easy—alright, I was only joking. Though I have no idea why you keep thinking about Azkaban. The people locked up in there are dangerous, nasty pieces of work. They'd never put a sweet, well-behaved boy like you in that place.
Still… this is a tough one. Slytherin would turn you into an outstanding wizard, no question. But Gryffindor might suit your spirit better.
Then again, that would waste your incredible talent—I mean that terrifying study speed of yours. Hufflepuff? Doesn't quite fit either."
The Sorting Hat's brim twisted in concentration, as if it were wrestling with the hardest decision of its long life.
"Alright, little Tom. I hope your future is bright as the sun!
Hogwarts will be proud to have you!
—RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table exploded with cheers. Every student was on their feet welcoming the new boy.
The Hat had spent a full twelve minutes on him.
"Merlin's beard! Twelve minutes! Tom, you're going to succeed at everything you ever try!"
"Before you, the longest was Hermione—she lasted four whole minutes. We all thought she'd end up with us in Ravenclaw. Hey, Tom, did you hear?" The older Ravenclaw was practically vibrating with excitement. "Lockhart held that competition in Flourish and Blotts a couple weeks ago. Hermione Granger won! She was brilliant!"
Thanks for the compliment, Tom thought, smiling politely.
"So, Tom, what's your favourite food? Are your family all wizards too?"
Tom had every advantage: he was good-looking, gentle, and genuinely kind. The other first-years were lining up to talk to him.
Not everyone was so lucky.
Hermione was losing her mind.
"Miss Granger, could I please have your autograph?"
Another stranger.
Psychos!
I'm not the genius magic prodigy! The actual genius magic prodigy is over there happily demolishing roast goose!
After turning the girl down, Hermione poked at her food and glanced sideways at Harry and Ron.
Harry took two bites, then started muttering. "Hey, why do you think that professor was so late? The Sorting Ceremony is supposed to be a big deal, right? Look—that one. Why's he staring like he wants to murder someone?"
They followed his gaze. Snape was glaring at Tom like he'd personally robbed Gringotts.
Ron slurped his tea. "You're imagining things, Harry."
"No I'm not. Look—half the professors are watching him."
Now that Harry pointed it out, they saw it too. Not just Snape—Sprout, Dumbledore, even the ghosts.
"What was that Azkaban thing the Hat said?" Harry asked. "Ron, you know?"
"Prison for the really bad ones. Murderers, dark wizards. If Azkaban wants you, Aurors and Dementors come knocking. Scary as hell."
Harry: "You've seen it?"
Ron shrugged. "Nah."
Hermione, who had been quiet the whole time, suddenly spoke up. "If someone… um… stole a few hundred pounds from someone else… and… and helped a girl shower… would they get sent to Azkaban?"
"Blimey, Hermione, what kind of criminals have you been reading about?"
She huffed.
She thought Tom deserved Azkaban!
Dangerous, evil, criminal!
Watching Tom finish his plate of roast goose and laugh with the girl beside him only made her mood worse.
Dangerous evil criminal—yep, that was Tom.
Dinner ended. Students headed to their common rooms with the new passwords. Tonight they could sleep; tomorrow classes began for real.
Ravenclaw's password was "Milk Tea and Cola Candy."
Tom set his trunk down, then immediately stood back up.
"Hey, Tom, curfew's at eleven-thirty. You can't come back after or you'll get detention."
"I know, thanks." Tom flashed a bright, sunny smile that looked completely wrong on a boy named Riddle. "Just going for a quick walk. New place, gotta learn the layout, right?"
He was lying.
Out of all the first-years, Tom knew Hogwarts better than anyone. Add in the weeks he'd spent living with Snape and even most upper-years couldn't match him.
"Oh, and anyone want a midnight snack? I can bring something back."
"Jasmine milk tea for me! Thanks, Tom!"
"I'm good—dinner was plenty."
Tom gave an OK sign and slipped out.
---
"Hagrid, didn't you eat enough at dinner?"
In the Great Hall, Tom sat beside the half-giant, watching him demolish another plate.
"Was worried I'd scare the little ones if I ate too much." Hagrid grinned, showing teeth still flecked with meat. "Little Tom, what are you doing back here? Still hungry?"
"Nope. Just wanted some fresh air. Sitting in the dorm gets boring. Hey, where's Professor Sprout?"
Hagrid scratched his beard, eyes twinkling. "This late? Probably resting… wait, no—her first Herbology class is tomorrow. You could check the greenhouses."
"Thanks, Hagrid." Tom turned to leave, but Hagrid grabbed his shoulder.
"Little Tom, remember—back before curfew or it's detention!"
"I know. Thanks again."
Sure enough, Sprout was still in the greenhouse, fussing over tomorrow's lesson plans.
What a dedicated teacher—still working at this hour.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up and broke into a warm smile. "Little Tom! So glad to see you safe. Albus told me about that nasty business a few days ago. I'm relieved you're alright.
Sweetheart, what brings you to the greenhouse so late?"
"Professor, your first class is tomorrow. If anything goes wrong with the materials the students will be disappointed. I thought I'd come see if you needed help."
"Good boy, good boy. Nothing urgent here, but… maybe you should check on Professor Snape. He looked dreadful at dinner—didn't eat a thing."
"Professor Snape? What's wrong?"
"Not sure. He'd been looking better lately—I thought he'd finally started brewing something for himself. Then today those dark circles were back." She tapped the corner of her eye. "Snape's always been like that. Probably seems scary to you kids."
"Oh." Tom rolled up his sleeves and started helping.
Tomorrow's lesson was mostly identification, but Tom had already sorted every single plant during the holidays.
(Who did you think organised all these pots?)
He knew Sprout wouldn't mind if he skipped class, but he had no intention of doing so.
When the professor's shoulders finally started to sag with tiredness, Tom finished up and left the greenhouse.
Snape's quarters were empty.
Only one place left—the Potions dungeon.
Sure enough, the second Tom reached the door he smelled the thick, bitter scent of a sleeping draught.
He knocked softly. "Professor Snape? Are you in there?"
No answer.
Tom pushed the door open carefully. No Snape—just a cauldron bubbling over low flames. Sleeping potion.
Professor Snape has insomnia?
"Tom. What are you doing here?" The cold voice came from behind him. "You should know you're not supposed to be wandering around at this hour!"
It was Snape.
"Or perhaps you're feeling smug about your little solo rescue mission and came to beg Dumbledore for extra points?" Snape's lip curled in mockery. "If I were Dumbledore I'd dock Ravenclaw a hundred points!"
Professor, why are you suddenly so chatty today?
Tom sat down on the nearest stool. "Professor Snape, I came to find you."
"Planning to skip my first Potions class? I warn you, Tom—if you miss even one of my lessons I will expel you on the spot!"
Snape still looked terrifying, eyes sharp enough to make a first-year cry.
"Professor. The potion."
Snape startled, rushed forward, and gave the cauldron two and a half precise clockwise stirs before ladling it out. "Why are you just standing there? Can't you do it yourself?
Tom, I feel like I wasted all those days teaching you in this lab!
Now get back to your dormitory. I don't want to see you!"
Before the Hat had said "Ravenclaw," Snape had been certain Tom would be in Slytherin.
Absolutely certain.
"Wait!" Snape called as Tom reached the door. "What did you leave in the lab?"
"Pizza, Professor."
"Take your rubbish and go! This potion is ruined—ruined by your stupidity and ignorance! Throw it out!" Snape hurled the freshly bottled sleeping draught at him.
"Tell me the effects of a sleeping draught."
Tom caught the bottle smoothly. "Taken before bed, it improves sleep quality. Long-term use increases total magical reserves. Can be mixed with milk and jasmine for better taste without affecting potency."
"Excellent, Tom! You're so clever! Get out!" Snape ground the words through clenched teeth.
"Professor, should I have got it wrong so you could correct me?"
Snape opened his mouth to roar, then saw those innocent jade-green eyes and just waved him away.
Tom took two steps, then spun back around.
"Tom!"
"Professor Snape, I'm already past curfew. I'll get detention."
Snape took a deep breath. "So? What do you want me to do about it? Is it my fault you're late? How lucky—I'll see you in detention tomorrow. Good night, Tom."
"Professor, you can't just let me die out here!" Tom's voice cracked like he was about to cry.
"I am Head of Slytherin, not Ravenclaw. Take it up with Filius. And if you disturb me again, don't blame me for what happens!"
"Severus—Tom?" A surprised voice cut in.
Minerva McGonagall stepped through the door and stopped short at the sight of a furious Snape and a helpless-looking Tom.
"Tom, what are you doing here at this hour… child, curfew has already passed."
Oh no. McGonagall!
The strictest professor in Hogwarts. The one who respected the rules more than anyone.
He was done for.
Tom's heart sank.