"Professor, please wait a moment, we'll wake Tom up right now!"
"No need, let him rest. I'll wait here until he wakes up."
Through a hazy fog of sleep, Tom heard a familiar voice—it sounded like Professor Dumbledore.
At first, Tom thought he was hallucinating, but the dormitory felt far too quiet. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up in bed.
Tom suddenly felt like a monkey on display at the zoo.
Terry, Sue, and Dumbledore were all standing there, staring at him.
He had just woken up, so his hair was a mess. Tom swept his long bangs back with one hand. "Good morning, Professor."
"Good morning, Tom. I'm quite pleased to see you finally looking like a proper student. I honestly expected that by this time, you would already be in Professor Severus's office."
Tom scratched his head. "Normally, yes..."
But yesterday had completely drained him. The non-stop, intense practice had left him feeling suffocated, resulting in him sleeping straight through until eight o'clock—an absolute luxury for Tom.
Dumbledore pulled an envelope from his pocket. "You cunning little fellow. This is what you earned."
Is this... Professor McGonagall's approval?
Tom felt a surge of joy. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore! If I ever get the chance, I promise to take excellent care of Fawkes!"
"No need to be so polite..." Dumbledore hadn't expected Tom to still be scheming for Fawkes. He coughed awkwardly. "Professor Minerva was quite shocked this morning. She's never seen so many professors simultaneously fight for a special privilege for a single first-year student. Congratulations, you may attend the Yule Ball."
Tom solemnly reached out with both hands to take the envelope from Dumbledore.
But just as his fingers brushed the paper, Dumbledore pulled his hand back.
Tom: "?"
"Tom, do you hate cunning old men?"
Damn, he really holds a grudge!
"Professor, please speak your mind."
"I thought about it last night, and I decided that perhaps you require a tiny bit of punishment, my boy." Dumbledore held the envelope lightly between his fingertips, speaking unhurriedly. "I do not do meaningless things, Tom. If you are willing to accompany Hermione to Hogsmeade Village, this letter is yours. Do not worry, Rubeus will escort you both and instruct you on what needs to be done.
This is your punishment for what you did to me yesterday."
Hogsmeade Village!!!
Tom didn't react much, but the other two boys in the dorm dropped their jaws in sheer disbelief.
Who at Hogwarts hadn't heard of that name?
That was Hogsmeade Village—the only entirely all-wizarding settlement in Britain! Hogwarts students could visit the village on weekends, but only third-years and above had that privilege.
First-years like them could only watch enviously as the older students took their little girlfriends out on dates.
How was this a punishment?! This was clearly a massive reward!
The two boys shot Tom absolute death-glares of pure envy. What other first-year in history had ever received treatment like this?!
"Professor, I can hardly refuse," Tom replied.
"Indeed. Therefore, once you return, I shall personally hand this envelope to you. Now, Hermione and Rubeus are already waiting for you. Oh, and do bring your Firebolt. It seems you haven't so much as sat on that broom since you received it."
With that, Dumbledore vanished on the spot, leaving behind only the faint scent of his cologne.
"TOM!" Sue and Terry simultaneously lunged onto Tom's bed, each pinning down one of his arms. "Take me! I'm begging you, take me with you!"
"I want to go to Hogsmeade too! Why do you get all the special treatment?! Damn it!"
"Tom, I swear I'd look just as good in a dress as Hermione! If you sneak me in as your date, no one will notice! Even if I get detention, I want to go to the ball!"
Pinned by their hands, with their burning, desperate eyes practically pressing into his face, Tom struggled slightly. Seeing how completely unhinged they were, he coughed twice. "You guys can wait. Eventually, I can help you out."
Really?!
The two gasped in unison: "With Hogsmeade or the Yule Ball?!"
"Hogsmeade," Tom said smoothly. "In two years, I can forge a signature for you, and then you can go visit Hogsmeade. I'll happily wait in the dorm for you to return."
Two years?!
Who the hell can wait two years?!
Sue was a smart kid, and he instantly realized what Tom meant—going to Hogsmeade required two things: being a third-year, and having a guardian's signature.
"Terry, tickle him! Tom is trying to be our dad!"
"Tom isn't ticklish! Hurry, grab the magical camera and take a picture of him! I'm going to draw a turtle on his forehead and give the photo to Hermione!"
Seeing that the two were actually about to throw hands, Tom had to show a fraction of his true strength, effortlessly pinning both of them to the bed. If Sue and Terry hadn't begged for mercy so quickly, Tom would have tied them up.
"You really are a monster, Tom." Sue rolled his stiff shoulders. "I've never seen anyone with such high magical proficiency who also has this kind of brute strength. Do you have giant blood in you or something?"
"I just figured it might come in handy one day. Besides, exercising is good for you. You should try it sometime, since you guys clearly have nothing better to do all day."
Tom brushed his hair, changed his clothes, and grabbed his Firebolt before leaving the dormitory—all under the intensely envious gazes of his roommates.
At the school gates, Tom spotted the two of them: Hagrid and Hermione.
Hermione had her cheeks puffed out and her arms crossed, looking decidedly annoyed.
"Good morning, Mr. Hagrid."
"Good morning, little Tom."
"Good morning, Hermione."
"Hmph!"
She turned her head away, refusing to look at him.
Noticing the tension, Hagrid immediately grew concerned.
"Tom, Hermione, I need to explain your task for this trip to Hogsmeade," Hagrid said, his tone turning serious. "First of all, you must stay with me at all times. As you know, visiting Hogsmeade requires being a third-year and having a guardian's permission slip, neither of which you have.
Therefore, you are not going as tourists. You are accompanying me on an official errand. You absolutely cannot wander off on your own, or I will be the one punished. Do you understand?"
"We understand, sir," Tom and Hermione chorused in unison.
"Good, good. Then let's be off."
Hagrid didn't have a flying broom; his mode of transportation was a massive motorcycle.
The motorcycle had a sidecar, but Hagrid simply hopped onto the main seat himself. "Tom, make sure you stick close behind me. I'll slow down so you can keep up. Don't let Hermione fall off your broom."
Hermione: "?"
Isn't there literally an empty seat right next to him?!
"Mr. Hagrid, shouldn't I ride with you?" Hermione asked frantically.
"With me?" Hagrid chuckled, patting the sidecar. "This bike can't safely hold two people. You might not be able to tell, but this seat is actually broken. Besides, compared to riding with an old man like me, I'm sure you'd much rather ride with Tom, right? I won't get in your way."
"Who would want to ride with a guy like him?!" Hermione pouted, her face flushing slightly red.
But Hagrid was already pulling away, hovering in the air as he waited for the two of them.
"Get on the broom, Hermione." Tom stepped aside to give her the front seat.
He even gestured politely like a true gentleman, inviting her to take the lead.
"Me?" Hermione pointed at herself. "You want me to steer the broom? Tom, I've barely started learning how to fly! And this is a Firebolt! We're going to crash and die!"
"Then let's die together."
"Don't say such morbid things!" Hermione shoved Tom forward. "You steer. I'll sit in the back. And I hope you actually showered last night."
Hermione seemed to have cooled off a bit. Once they both mounted the broom, she grabbed the very edge of Tom's robes, deliberately keeping some distance between them.
"Hey, my friend, you really should hold on tighter. Don't sit so far back. See that over there?" Tom pointed up at the sun.
"What about it?"
"We are currently flying gloriously toward the sun. Whatever happens, you absolutely must cherish this opportunity."
Hermione scoffed. "Who wants to fly with you anyway?"
Despite her words, her grip on his robes tightened significantly—though not in the way Tom had intended.
"Are you sure you're secure? This is a Firebolt. Its acceleration is much faster than Hagrid's flying motorcycle."
"It's fine! Just go!" Hermione grumbled quietly.
Seeing Tom try to turn his head, she reached out and shoved his face forward so he couldn't look back at her.
Hermione didn't know why, but her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs.
Maybe it's because I stayed up too late last night.
Yeah... and the weather is strangely hot today. Even though it's December, I just feel so hot for some reason. Why else would my ears and face be burning like this...
"3... 2... 1... Are you really ready?" Tom asked again after the countdown.
"Stop talking and just fly!"
Tom brought his legs up, and the Firebolt shot into the sky like a rocket, blowing past Hagrid in the blink of an eye.
"OH MY GODDDDD!" Hermione's piercing shriek echoed right in Tom's ear. "Slow down! Slow down! We aren't even supposed to be flying right now! Professor Dumbledore finally gave us a special privilege, and you're going to get us punished!!!"
But the rushing wind was too loud, drowning out most of her words.
All Tom heard was a series of muffled screams.
"What? Not fast enough?" Tom gripped the handle with both hands. "Then hold on tight!"
With a sudden, violent burst of acceleration, Hermione instinctively threw her arms forward, wrapping them tightly around Tom's waist.