On the surface Hogwarts looked calm and peaceful, but underneath everyone was nursing their own little schemes.
Professor Snape strode down the corridor. Students caught sight of him and instinctively stepped aside—some even took full detours. The ones doing the most dramatic dodging were, of course, Gryffindors.
Snape had zero interest in these idiots. Honestly, he wished one or two would be stupid enough to pick a fight so he could dock points.
No special reason. He was simply… irritated.
And when Severus Snape was irritated, the best way to vent was to find a foolish Gryffindor and dock their House a mountain of points!
As for why he was irritated…
Everyone knew—well, not everyone knew.
Anyway, a certain black-robed Dark Lord had reappeared.
Ten years ago that man had committed unforgivable crimes and died.
Now he was back.
His real name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Not the likable Ravenclaw Riddle, but the former Slytherin prefect, the most terrifying Dark wizard of all time—Voldemort!
Snape was worried that the noseless, brainless, eyeless Voldemort would sneak into the school and… eliminate Tom!
So he wanted to teach the boy some defensive magic.
For example, Sectumsempra.
Of course, it definitely wasn't because he'd taken a liking to Tom, or because he admired the talented young man.
He simply felt Hogwarts couldn't afford to lose such a genius. If the boy died young, it would be a tremendous loss to the school.
Asking… Snape didn't want to ask first—tsundere tendencies and all.
That foolish Tom—he was always scheming, wasn't he? Why didn't he come find him?
Truly arrogant. Truly stupid!
"Professor Snape, hello. The sunlight today is truly splendid." Snape's deep eyes lifted.
Hermione stood in front of him, smiling brightly.
"Perhaps, but seeing you has rather ruined the weather for me."
Hermione hit a wall.
Fine, fine~
"Then I won't disturb you, Professor. It's getting cold—please stay warm." Hermione gave a solemn little bow and walked past him.
"Tom!"
Hermione's body stiffened. She turned back.
"You foolish idiot… stop appearing in front of me!"
In the past, whenever he acted like this, Tom would immediately know he was angry and come find him that very night…
Tonight he would think of another way to teach the boy Sectumsempra.
But obviously Hermione didn't understand any of that. She simply thought Professor Snape was in an especially bad mood today.
Better leave. Better leave fast.
She hadn't gone far when she remembered Tom and Professor McGonagall.
What exactly had those two been up to?
Hermione was a little curious.
…
6:45 p.m.
Tom's habit: no matter who he was meeting, he always arrived fifteen minutes early.
For Professor Snape it was thirty minutes—or even an hour.
"Gr-Granger… y-you… came." Professor Quirrell's stutter showed no improvement; it was still the same halting mess.
The ragged turban on his head looked even thicker than before.
"V-very… glad… to… see… you." Quirrell smiled, trying hard to speak faster. "B-before… we… start… Occlumency… p-perhaps… you… should… understand… the… spell… first."
Professor Quirrell was surprisingly patient. He explained Legilimency and Occlumency in simple, easy-to-understand terms—even a troll could have followed.
The white cat hidden in Tom's bag nodded. She saw nothing suspicious.
He really seemed to want to teach Occlumency.
Perhaps… the child was just being overly sensitive…
But Tom knew better. As a veteran Occlumens, he could tell Quirrell was holding back the good stuff.
The kind of good stuff he'd only figured out after enduring countless "idiot" and "troll" insults from Snape.
Half an hour later, Quirrell set the book down. "D-did… I… explain… clearly?"
"P-perhaps… the… whole… process… is… complicated… but… we… can… try… first." Quirrell was genuinely trying his hardest to speak faster!
Tom and McGonagall both perked up.
Following McGonagall's instructions, Tom lowered his mental defenses to roughly LV.1 Occlumency level.
At that level even McGonagall could break through easily, so for Quirrell it should have been child's play.
Except…
Tom had miscalculated for the first time.
Quirrell really did seem to only want to teach him Occlumency.
"Y-yes… j-just… like… that…" Quirrell was so excited he was practically dancing. "Gr-Granger… you… are… a… very… clever… young… witch."
"L-let's… continue."
…
"T-too… cluttered… your… thoughts… aren't… pure… enough."
…
"Excellent… n-next… time… we… continue."
Roughly two hours passed. England was already in winter; night fell fast. In the blink of an eye the school was quiet… well, mostly quiet.
Young couples were strolling, cuddling on benches in the most annoying way possible.
Someone muttered darkly in their heart: Why don't you go sit under the Whomping Willow!
It was already past nine. Professor Quirrell finally let Tom go and told him to rest early.
After saying goodbye, Tom left the room. McGonagall poked her head out of the bag.
"Child, you were being too sensitive. That sort of thing won't happen."
"Maybe… I'm sorry for wasting your whole day, Professor McGonagall."
The white cat smiled softly. "It's no trouble at all, child. I'm glad you're so vigilant. Sweet dreams tonight."
"Goodnight, Professor McGonagall."
"Goodnight."
Tom waved as they parted ways.
…
A few peaceful days passed.
Someone couldn't take it anymore.
In the afternoon, Tom was enjoying a luxurious beauty nap when an annoying owl decided to interrupt his rest.
"Lavender, your owl is bothering us again! Go see what your dear mother sent you!"
On the other side of the room, a girl with golden curls sat up, hair even bushier than Hermione's.
"Her—mi—one—"
"Damn it, this is your Mira, sent by your best friend Tom Riddle! Want me to read it out loud for you?!"
"Never mind, thank you, Lavender. You're my best friend." Tom rolled out of bed, gave her a quick hug, and nimbly took the letter from Mira.
Let me see what little Hermione wrote this time.
[Stupid jerk:
I'M! GOING! CRAZY!
Has Professor Snape lost his mind? Why does he keep picking on me every single day? And he actually docked Ravenclaw points because of me! Yesterday I got detention and spent an hour polishing vases in his office!
What did you do?! Save me! I can't keep going like this—I'm going to lose it!
The moment you read this, come to the girls' bathroom on the first floor of Gryffindor Tower. I'm begging you—hurry!
Your sincere, Tom "Little Crazy" Riddle.]
Snape docked my points?
What a niche complaint. Did Hermione do something again?
But why the girls' bathroom?
People are going to think I'm a pervert.
Tom changed clothes and hurried out.
"Going on a date with Tom?" Lavender yawned. "Bring me back a lemon tea on your way—without the lemon."
"Sure, delivery fee one Galleon." Tom rubbed his fingers and held out his hand.
"Oh my god, Hermione, how can you be so stingy! That's too expensive. How about I kiss you instead—that can be the fee?"
Tom dodged quickly. "You pervert!"
…
When Tom finally found Hermione, the little "Tom Riddle" was squatting on the ground, hugging his knees.
He was on the verge of crying little pearls.
Oh, and there were already tear tracks on his cheeks. He had clearly cried already.
Tom couldn't hold back a laugh. He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, trying to share a little body warmth with the wounded child.
"Why are you like this too…" Hermione sniffled, voice trembling. "A bunch of girls came by earlier and did the same thing—hugged me."
"Huh?" Tom tensed. "Who?"
"I don't know them. All girls. Someone even gave me two pieces of candy and invited me to go relax with them. I waited for you instead." As she spoke, the little pearls started falling faster.
"…" Tom tried very hard not to laugh. "Alright, first tell me what happened. Professor Snape is such a gentle person—he wouldn't treat you like this for no reason."
Thirty minutes later.
Hermione gave Tom the full play-by-play of the past few days.
From morning to night, from Potions class to evening Potions practice…
Hermione held out her hands pitifully. "Look, I even got calluses."
From polishing vases in the office.
This was the first time Tom had seen Hermione this heartbroken. The stubborn little girl had finally been defeated by Snape…
"Maybe… hm, I have an idea. Starting tomorrow, you ask for sick leave. Say you have a really, really bad cold."
"Wouldn't I have to go to the infirmary then?"
Tom rested his chin on his hand, thinking. "You don't go. Let Snape guess what you're thinking. Turn the tables—make him guess your thoughts."
Hermione didn't quite understand, but she still nodded obediently.
"Tom, I'm starting to think you really are a jerk. How do you get along with Professor Snape so well?"
After comforting Hermione for a while, the two parted ways.
Back in the dormitory, Hermione really did come down with a cold that night—no acting required.
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