"Hermione, look at this." Cho Chang pinched a bright red flower. "A red morning glory. You hardly ever see them around school."
"Yeah, it's gorgeous. You should wear it in your hair, Senior—it'd look perfect on you."
"Huh?" Cho's cheeks flushed pink. "No way, it'd suit you better. Here, let me put it on for you."
"That'd get us misunderstood in five seconds flat. Tomorrow the whole school would be whispering 'Cho-senpai gave someone a red flower.' You really want to see all the boys crying their eyes out?"
Living as Hermione was basically vacation mode for Tom.
Super relaxed.
He even had spare energy to skip a couple of classes and tag along with Harry's little adventures—definitely not because he just felt like skipping.
Those dry lectures were boring anyway.
The only reason he hadn't ditched History of Magic was because it was compulsory and would tank his end-of-year marks.
---
Peaceful days rolled on.
A lot happened at Hogwarts in that time.
For example… Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup!
Tom's Ravenclaw housemates had all cheered him on to try out, convinced his talent would guarantee another championship.
But Tom turned them down flat.
Quidditch practice ate way too much time, and he only had half his days as "Tom" anyway—the other half he had to live as "Hermione."
Whenever anyone brought up Quidditch, Tom just hit them with the classic "no time, no money for a broom" excuse.
The story even reached Professor Snape's ears.
Tom straightened his robes and stepped out of the lab.
"Malfoy, you've gone too far!"
"Harry, don't!" By the time Hermione shouted it was already too late.
Harry had already launched himself at Malfoy.
Malfoy calmly flicked his wand. "Levicorpus!"
"Harry!"
Ron tackled Harry to the ground, dodging the spell.
But the curse was now flying straight toward Tom, who had just walked out of the Potions lab.
In Tom's eyes the spell moved in slow motion—painfully, insultingly slow.
These past few days he'd been training Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape. He could've dispelled it without even saying the counter-curse.
Ah, whatever. Life's too dull sometimes. Might as well add some spice.
Besides, he still hadn't settled accounts with the Malfoy family for what happened before term started.
Because of them, Tom had been forced to go rescue Hermione and nearly got eaten by a whole cave full of Acromantulas!
Tom wasn't petty… but he did believe in punishing kids who messed up.
"Tom!" By the time Hermione snapped out of it, it was too late.
On pure instinct she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Tom, ready to shield his back with her own.
But Tom spun smoothly, tucking her safely behind him instead.
"Bang!"
Tom blinked once. His feet were now dangling in mid-air.
"Malfoy!!!" Hermione's fury was off the charts. "You've crossed the line!"
She whipped out her wand and pointed it straight at him.
"What are you doing, have you lost your mind?" Tom flicked his wrist. "Expelliarmus!"
Hermione's wand clattered to the floor.
"The professor's about to show up. You want a detention? I'm not sitting in there with you."
He was swapping bodies again tomorrow—he planned to enjoy his "vacation," not waste it in detention.
Malfoy also panicked at the word "professor." "I wasn't—"
"Ha! So you're Tom Riddle? The so-called strongest first-year? And you still got hung up by Malfoy's Levicorpus." That came from Vincent Crabbe, Malfoy's chubby little sidekick. "Mudblood's a mudblood, same as Granger!"
"Beg me nicely and maybe I'll let you down."
Tom yawned, completely unfazed by the taunt. "Or you could just leave me hanging. Let me guess—right about now, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick are all rushing over.
Wonder what they'll do when they see me like this?"
Malfoy's stomach dropped.
He'd finally beaten the guy once, but he couldn't even enjoy it—everyone knew how much Professor Snape favoured Tom.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Want to cancel it?
Tom didn't even move his mouth. He just raised one hand.
Finite Incantatem!
I just finited your finite!
When Professor Snape gets here I'm hitting the floor and crying. Let's see how you handle that!
What? Malfoy's in Slytherin?
So what? Snape's the man who could be my godfather!
"Damn it, why isn't it working?" Malfoy waved his wand twice, convinced it was broken.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Finite!
Tom's casting speed was way faster than Malfoy's.
"Finite Incantatem!"
Useless!
"What on earth are you three doing!!!"
Finally—the professor had arrived.
But it wasn't Snape. It was McGonagall.
"Riddle, and you, Malfoy. I expect an explanation."
"Professor McGonagall, Malfoy used Levicorpus on Tom!" Hermione blurted. "Please, help get him down."
Before McGonagall could move, an icy chill swept through the corridor. Everyone shivered.
Not just one or two people—everyone.
Snape's voice cut through the air from down the hall. "Malfoy. Who gave you permission to use that spell? Tell me! Who! Gave! You! Permission!"
"Finite Incantatem!"
Snape's dead-fish eyes finally showed emotion. He was furious.
"Tom, tell me what happened." In his panic Snape even forgot to use Tom's surname in front of others.
"I don't know, Professor," Tom answered pitifully. "I'd just walked out of the Potions lab when Malfoy suddenly started calling me a mudblood and hung me up while I wasn't looking.
I spent all day brewing potions—I didn't have any energy left to fight back. My head's spinning and my ears are ringing. I just want to go back and sleep."
"Malfoy!" Snape's glare hit the three Slytherins so hard they all flinched.
"Professor Snape, please let me explain—"
"Who taught you to call your classmates 'mudblood'? And who taught you to use such cheap, underhanded magic? Tonight you three will report to detention. For the next month, none of you are attending any classes."
Malfoy gasped. "A whole month?
Professor Snape, we'll fail every subject!"
"Are grades important? Right now your grades are all E's in my eyes. Even a troll would listen better than you lot in Potions!
Now. Immediately. Get to detention. You—come with me!"
The last sentence was for Tom.
As Tom walked away with Professor Snape, he quietly turned his head and flashed Malfoy's group the brightest, sunniest smile imaginable.
On purpose?
The answer flashed through Malfoy's mind.
Tom Riddle did it on purpose. Had he used silent casting to cancel the Finite earlier just so Snape would see this exact scene?
How could he!
Too much. Way too much!
"Malfoy… are we really doing detention?"
"Let's go find Professor Dumbledore. It's just a small thing—he won't make it a whole month." Malfoy sighed heavily.
---
Meanwhile.
Tom followed Snape into the office.
The moment the door closed, Snape sat down, pulled a vial from the drawer and shoved it at him. "Why are you so stupid? The lab is full of potions—couldn't you have brewed yourself a Pepperup or a Strengthening Solution?
Tom, I may have overestimated your intelligence. You really are no different from a troll!"
Even while scolding, Snape still ordered Tom to drink the magic-power potion.
"Professor, I just noticed you haven't been looking well lately, so I wanted to brew you some Cheering Potions—I found the recipe in a book. They say it keeps people happy.
If you're happy, I'll be happy too."
Snape: "…"
For the first time, he was completely speechless in front of Tom.
"Get lost. Next time someone raises a hand, you raise yours back, understand? Don't make me think teaching you Defense was a mistake!"
"Understood, Professor." Tom bowed, walked to the door, then turned back just before leaving. "Professor… it would be so nice if you really were my godfather. Then no one would dare call me a mudblood anymore."
He didn't wait for a reply. The door clicked shut.
---
Dinner was late that evening. Professor Snape arrived in the Great Hall much later than usual, and he was limping noticeably, as if his leg was injured.
Hermione was distracted.
She still didn't understand why she'd thrown herself at Tom like that.
Had she… actually started thinking of that bastard as a friend?
Wait—where was Tom?
She glanced toward the Ravenclaw table but didn't see him.
"Troll! There's a troll! It's already on the first-floor corridor!" Professor Quirrell staggered into the hall and collapsed.
A troll?
Hermione shot to her feet.
First-floor corridor—at this hour Tom should still be in the Potions lab!
He couldn't even cast a simple Finite earlier. His magic must be completely drained.
If he ran into a troll right now, Tom would…
No!
She stood up, but Harry grabbed her arm. "Hermione, what are you doing?"
"Tom! Tom's definitely still in the Potions lab—the troll will kill him!"
"You can tell the professors! Let them handle it. We can't fight a troll!"
No!
Back then, Tom could have just told the professors and let them save him.
But if he had, she would probably be dead right now.
"Harry, you and Ron go back. I—I'm going to find Tom."
"Then I'm coming with you. We're friends, right? Friends stick together."
"You're right…" Hermione couldn't argue. She let the two boys follow.
The students were already being herded out by house. No one noticed the three of them slipping away.
"Hermione, slow down—you'll alert the troll!"
"No I won't!" Hermione's voice rang with steel. "We'll hear the troll long before it hears us. But how did that thing even get into the school?!"
"I suspect Snape," Harry said after a long silence. "Didn't you notice? When Snape showed up earlier his leg was hurt. That has to be connected to the troll.
And during the Quidditch match he tried something on me too. It's definitely Snape!"
Snape?
Hermione didn't think so. She believed what Tom said—Snape might have a permanent scowl, but he was probably a good person… at least to Tom.
Unless Tom was a bad guy too.
But if Tom were bad, he never would've shown up to save her that day!
"Gruuuuh—!"
The three of them heard the troll's heavy, ground-shaking breathing.
A massive troll lumbered out of the Potions lab and into view, dragging an enormous club that matched its size.
Where was the troll's target? Where was Tom?
Hermione's mind went blank.
---