"Why are you still following me? Tom, you're like a little shadow!"
Of course, the one saying it wasn't Hermione—it was Tom himself, currently wearing her body.
"Hmph. I just wanted to see what certain someone was doing, pacing back and forth outside the classroom without going in. You do know you have class today, right?"
Have class? Then I can't skip? Tom very much wanted to say that out loud.
"I just wanted some fresh air. If I go in now I'll have to sit through Binns' lecture again. That feels awful." Tom leaned on the railing, half his body hanging over the edge.
His long hair swayed gently in the breeze. A few passing students stopped in their tracks.
"You need to go inside!" Hermione grabbed his shoulders. "I'll sit through class with you, so no! Skipping! Allowed!
Professor Binns welcomes every student who walks into his classroom, even if they're not technically supposed to be there."
Tom sighed. "Give me two more minutes. I need to think."
"Riddle, this is hardly gentlemanly behavior."
A third voice cut in, breaking up their little standoff.
Both Tom and Hermione turned, surprised to see the last person they expected—Draco Malfoy, blond hair slicked back without a single strand out of place, radiating that unearned confidence only he could pull off.
His face always carried that smug little smirk, even though deep down he was a total coward.
Not just a coward—his skills were mediocre at best. At least compared to the two of them.
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Hermione frowned. "This has nothing to do with you."
"Riddle, I simply thought it was unfair to pressure a girl like that."
Huh?
Tom blinked.
Malfoy was… defending him? Wait, defending "Hermione"?
Sure enough, Hermione took two steps forward, closing the distance between them.
Malfoy suddenly remembered something and hastily backed away.
"Riddle, you should watch your conduct. This is a school."
"I thought you didn't realize this was a school." Hermione gave a cold snort. "Since you do know, then please leave! Don't disturb the two of us!"
Tom coughed and sidestepped a little. "Malfoy, Tom's always like this—pushing people around. He's already agreed to go to class with me now. I appreciate you speaking up for me, but whatever you do, don't go against Tom, or Professor Snape will throw you straight into detention."
Hermione: "???"
She pointed at herself in disbelief. "Me? Pushing people around?"
"Harry! Ron!" Tom spotted two convenient passers-by and waved them over. "So glad to see you two! Come help me!"
Suddenly Hermione was outnumbered.
They were scared of "Tom Riddle," but for the sake of "Hermione Granger"…
After all, to Harry and Ron, Hermione was their best friend, while Tom was just… a regular friend.
Malfoy looked conflicted.
He had seen Hermione in action last night. The way she'd handled herself had left him strangely shaken. He'd never seen anyone their age wield magic with that kind of precision.
Ever since then, he kept catching himself watching the mudblood—starting from last night.
In his dreams he'd even seen Hermione… and himself.
He couldn't remember the exact details, only that he'd woken up feeling strangely empty. Then he looked at his two idiot lackeys and suddenly found them unbearably stupid.
"Riddle, we should sort this out. Come with us!" Harry reached out and grabbed Hermione's arm.
"Me? Harry, you…" Hermione stammered. "No, I was just… talking to Tom—Hermione—about something private."
Ron shrugged. "Riddle, you're way too clingy with Hermione. No girl likes someone hovering that close, even if you are the top first-year genius."
Seeing the two boys step forward, Malfoy added, "Exactly, Riddle. I admit I'm not as strong as you, and Professor Snape is on your side, but… this time you're in the wrong!"
Hermione didn't have Tom's effortless composure in front of a crowd. She waved her hands frantically. "I—I didn't! Hey, you can't treat me like this! Harry, let go… Ron, what are you doing? Stop pulling me!"
"Alright, let's not bother Hermione anymore. Come on over here."
"You'd better get to class and not skip!!!" Hermione shouted over her shoulder as they dragged her away.
Skip? This is a perfectly legitimate skip.
Today's class was the utterly boring Rapid Incantation Correspondence Course.
Going would be a complete waste of time and energy for Tom.
Unless he felt like showing off.
At his current level, his silent-casting speed was already on par with most seventh-years.
"Gr-Granger… m-miss…" Tom was just about to make his escape when he heard the stuttering voice.
He turned around. It was Professor Quirrell.
"Professor Quirrell, hello." Tom flashed a bright smile, but his breathing hitched for half a second.
He could feel it—a gaze watching him. From the back of Quirrell's head.
"Professor Quirrell, have you ever been to Japan?"
Quirrell suddenly tensed, stuttering even worse. "N-no, n-no, Gr-Granger… m-miss… wh-what do you… m-mean?"
"My parents are Muggles. Before I got my Hogwarts letter—before Professor McGonagall appeared on my doorstep—I never believed magic was real. We used to travel a lot. Japan, for example.
In the streets, restaurants, buses, trains… I always felt these strange stares. People looking me up and down, rude and invasive. I hated it.
Professor Quirrell, do you ever feel that kind of gaze?"
The moment Tom finished speaking, the invisible stare from Voldemort vanished instantly.
"Gr-Granger… m-miss… p-perhaps… you're… j-just… n-nervous. Oh, r-right… l-last week… you… h-had a q-question, d-didn't you?"
Tom thought for a second and nodded.
During class Quirrell had mentioned "Legilimency."
He'd called it a filthy, terrifying Dark Art that could steal memories and emotions.
Curious little cat Hermione had immediately raised her hand and asked what to do if you ever encountered such a horrible spell.
Quirrell had answered with one word.
Occlumency.
"Gr-Granger… I-I don't know if… you… have time… right now… p-perhaps… I-I could… g-guide you… in Occlumency."
Guide who? Me?
If I told you my actual teacher is Professor Snape, how would you react?
"I'm actually…" Tom suddenly had an idea. "Professor Quirrell, how exactly would you guide me? Occlumency seems like advanced Dark Arts defense material. I'm only a first-year. It might be a bit difficult for me."
"N-no problem… I-I'll… stay… within your limits… and… use Legilimency on you. P-practice… is the best teacher."
He wants to help me practice Occlumency?
Yeah, right. More like he wants to Legilimency my memories.
"Of course," Tom smiled. "But could you give me some time? Are you free this afternoon at seven?"
"Y-yes… I am."
After saying goodbye to Quirrell, Tom hurried away.
…
"Professor McGonagall!"
Tom knocked and entered the office, then immediately covered his mouth in exaggerated surprise. "Oh my goodness, Professor, you look absolutely stunning today! You seem to be in a wonderful mood too. Did something nice happen recently?
When I was little, the big sister next door was just as pretty as you. I really liked her."
Professor McGonagall couldn't hold it in—she laughed. "Hermione, every so often you turn into the sweetest talker. Go on, what do you want me to teach you this time?"
"Professor, you make me sound so calculating. I'm genuinely complimenting you from the bottom of my heart.
By the way, Professor, did the Beautification Potion I brought you last time work? Does your skin feel smoother? More delicate?"
"Of course it did, child. I'm very grateful." McGonagall's smile grew even warmer. "I'm delighted by your effort. You seem to be the hardest-working student in first year—if only you wouldn't break school rules quite so often.
Still, child, don't be upset. Everyone breaks rules now and then. Punishment doesn't mean I dislike you. I simply want you to remember the lesson."
Tom jumped in smoothly. "I understand, Professor. Making mistakes isn't scary. What's scary is… not learning from them, right?"
"Child, you're very clever."
Tom grinned. "But you guessed right about one thing—I do have a small favor to ask."
"Hm?" McGonagall was in a good mood. "Go on, child."
"Use Legilimency on me!"
The quill in McGonagall's hand froze mid-stroke. She stared at the girl in front of her, stunned.
What on earth was this child saying?
"Professor, please don't misunderstand!"
Tom quickly explained everything about Quirrell, adding his own "objective observations."
Like how he sometimes felt watched when Quirrell was around.
Like how they'd just encountered the Dark Lord last night, and today Quirrell had suddenly approached him.
Like why a Defense professor would offer to teach a first-year Occlumency…
After Tom's rapid-fire explanation, McGonagall finally understood.
Tom suspected Quirrell was Voldemort.
"I want to test the strength of my Occlumency. I've learned a tiny bit—just a tiny bit—but you know I don't trust Professor Quirrell, and I definitely don't want him seeing my memories.
Besides, no girl likes having her private thoughts peeked at."
McGonagall was quiet for a long moment, then let out a soft sigh.
"Very well, child. Sit down. We'll begin."
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