"Hermione, what's wrong?"
Hermione snapped back to reality. Faced with Mrs. Weasley's concern, she shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I just... I need to use the restroom."
After making a hasty exit, Hermione locked herself in the bathroom and finally tore open Tom's letter.
[To my crybaby darling Hermione,
Hello there. It's me, your tall, handsome, dashing, and devastatingly brilliant genius friend, Tom Riddle.
I hope you're having a blast at the Weasleys'. Try not to cause them too much trouble, alright?
Everything is going great here at Hogwarts. I accidentally did something super impressive today. But don't worry about me—I'm perfectly healthy and absolutely thriving. I hope you're having fun over there.
Have you met Ron's little sister yet? She must be a really cute kid, right?
Yours sincerely,
Tom Riddle.]
In Hermione's eyes, the letter automatically translated itself.
Darling Hermione: Blah blah blah... I did something awesome, praise me... blah blah blah.
Hermione let out a long sigh and folded the letter.
Fawkes was still perched outside the window, meticulously preening his fiery feathers with his beak, clearly waiting for her reply.
But Hermione hesitated.
How exactly was she supposed to respond to this?
Praise him?
No, no, absolutely not. Knowing Tom, if she actually complimented him, his ego would inflate to the size of a hot air balloon.
She honestly couldn't stand that smug look he always got.
Hermione curled her lip.
But... Tom had just defeated Voldemort. He definitely deserved some recognition for that, right?
Hermione started writing.
[Dear darling Tom—]
Suddenly, her face flushed bright red. She aggressively crumpled the parchment into a ball and tossed it into the bin.
What am I writing?!!!
It's all Tom's fault for always using those stupid, easily misunderstood nicknames.
I have to scold him!
[Dear Arrogant Tom,
I hope you realize that—]
Hermione felt like she was back in her element, ready to nitpick every single one of Tom's flaws.
After writing a paragraph detailing his chronic arrogance, she paused to think of his next flaw.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes...
Half an hour went by, and Hermione was still sitting there, quill hovering over the paper, desperately trying to think of another genuine flaw.
Why doesn't this guy have any actual flaws?!
Furthermore, Tom hadn't really messed up or failed at anything recently, meaning Hermione had absolutely zero ammunition to mock him with.
Damn it.
Defeated, Hermione slumped her shoulders. She had no choice but to actually praise him.
She had tried her absolute hardest to think of something bad to say, but she just couldn't.
After handing the finished letter to Fawkes, Hermione stood by the window, watching the magnificent bird soar away into the night sky.
I wonder if Tom got hurt.
But... since Tom managed to beat Voldemort, does that mean we can go back to school now?
---
Hogwarts.
Professor Sprout was keeping watch beside Tom's hospital bed.
She was fully prepared to stay up all night to watch over this boy. Whatever happened, she was going to ensure Tom was safe.
Tom felt incredibly awkward about the whole situation. He had repeatedly asked Professor Sprout to go back to her quarters and get some sleep, but she stubbornly refused every time.
The stalemate was only broken when a white-bearded old man walked into the ward.
Professor Dumbledore gently dismissed Professor Sprout and took the chair beside Tom's bed.
He picked up an apple from the bedside table, smoothly peeled it, and handed it to Tom.
Neither of them spoke for a while. The only sound echoing in the quiet hospital wing was the crunch of Tom chewing his apple.
Only after Tom had finished the entire apple did Dumbledore finally break the silence.
"Tom, I imagine tonight's events must have left quite a shadow on your heart."
Tom shook his head. "Not really. If anyone's traumatized, it should be You-Know-Who. I completely thrashed him with the Sword in the Stone—uh, I mean, the Sword of Gryffindor. Plus, I told him I was Merlin. The guy is probably hiding under a rock crying right now. I doubt he'll have the guts to show his face around here anytime soon."
Dumbledore: "..."
He's... probably right.
Dumbledore studied Tom's face closely, searching for even a flicker of fear or lingering anxiety. Unfortunately, there was none. Tom looked entirely relaxed and utterly unfazed.
"Professor, does school start right after the Christmas holidays end? The other students are going to be so disappointed. Their break essentially got cut short. It probably ruined all their plans."
Dumbledore tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the armrest of his chair. He nodded slowly. "I've been pondering that exact issue myself. Should we resume classes, or should we not? Honestly, I'm leaning toward granting an extended holiday."
"A holiday?"
"Yes. By the time classes officially resume, you will all be starting your second year."
Dumbledore looked up at the ceiling. "We've had quite a few incidents here at Hogwarts. For instance... we are currently missing a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Furthermore, many of the staff and students simply need time to rest. The person most affected by You-Know-Who's return is you. After all, you're the one lying in a hospital bed right now."
Tom: "...Professor, you know perfectly well there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I could literally get up and walk out right now."
"Hmm... apologies, but I am not entirely clear on your medical status. Since Professor Sprout insisted you need rest, then rest you shall." As he spoke, a sly twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eyes.
It wasn't every day he had an excuse to force Tom to stay put. He certainly wasn't going to pass it up.
"Tom, do you believe Hogwarts should grant an extended holiday?" Dumbledore suddenly asked, his tone turning philosophical. "Or rather, if I did give you all a long break, how would you choose to spend it?
Traveling? Studying? Or perhaps something else?"
Tom shook his head, looking genuinely uncertain. "If it were me... I'd probably just relax."
"And your definition of 'relaxing' would be...?"
"Continuing my independent research into magic, potions, and all that good stuff, obviously! Knowledge brings me joy! I'm going to study magic for the rest of my life!"
Dumbledore shook his head with an amused sigh.
He had almost forgotten he was talking to Tom Riddle.
This boy's sole source of entertainment was learning. To him, absolutely nothing was more enjoyable than acquiring new magical knowledge.
Hermione was exactly the same way—although her obsession was starting to border on fanaticism.
In Hermione's case, it seemed her greatest joy wasn't the magic itself, but the prospect of eventually surpassing Tom.
"Hmm... truly a difficult choice. I was very tempted to give you all a holiday, but knowing you'll just use the free time to exhaust yourself even further by studying... I suddenly find myself reconsidering."
Tom: "?"
"Professor, are you purposely targeting me right now?"
Dumbledore nodded calmly. "Yes, young man. I am."
What kind of Headmaster says that straight to a student's face?!
I am your student, Professor Dumbledore!
"Perhaps... let me think." Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "During the holidays, you could do something far more interesting. For example... Ah, that's right! Are you familiar with a man—a former Hogwarts student—named Gilderoy Lockhart?"
"I know him," Tom nodded. "Lockhart, the fraud."
I actually had the displeasure of participating in his dueling tournament. Even won a medal.
"Oh, you're already aware of his true nature? Then perhaps I should find another arrangement."
Tom suddenly realized what was happening and sat straight up in bed. "Professor, are you planning to send me away somewhere?"
"Indeed I am. I absolutely cannot allow you to spend an extended holiday burying yourself in textbooks. Your current grasp of magical theory is more than sufficient, my boy. I want you to experience the actual joys of the wizarding world, rather than spending every waking moment studying it.
You must understand, magic is a bottomless well. You could study for a lifetime and still find new spells waiting for you. But there are far more delightful things in this world to experience.
Ah, that reminds me. I believe you and young Draco had a bit of a falling out, yes? And conveniently, you have never experienced life inside a traditional pure-blood wizarding family."
Tom: "...? Professor, you want me to go live with the Malfoys?! No, no, no, that would be a huge imposition on them. Honestly, I'd rather live with Professor Snape for the rest of my life. Or Professor Sprout!"
"I'm glad to see you're so enthusiastic about the idea." Dumbledore completely ignored Tom's protests, nodding to himself. "I will inform the Malfoys of the arrangement."
He's a Death Eater, Professor!
Tom screamed internally.
But he couldn't say it out loud. He didn't have any concrete proof.
"Professor, aren't you and Mr. Lucius Malfoy on pretty bad terms? Didn't Lucius try to get you fired from the Headmaster position multiple times—"
"Oh?" Dumbledore played dumb flawlessly. "Did that happen? I believe you must be mistaken, my boy. Rest assured, I will handle all the arrangements. The letter has already been sent. He will be here to pick you up tomorrow.
Misha and Isabelle will remain safely here at Hogwarts while you are away. By the time you return, they will be ready to start as first-year students. I promise you, Tom, Misha and Isabelle will not face any danger whatsoever."
Tom: "Professor, when exactly did you notify the Malfoys?! When did you write that letter?!"
"About two hours ago."
"Then what the hell were you pretending to 'think about' just now?! Professor Dumbledore, you are so fake! You literally walked in here with the plan already finalized!"
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, I truly was grappling with a difficult decision when I came in. I may be an old man, but there are still choices that give me pause."
"What were you 'grappling' with?!"
"Deciding what to have for a midnight snack."
Tom: "..."
Are you actually treating me like a joke right now?
"Furthermore, Hogwarts will officially reopen in one month. However, there is no need for you to attend classes. The current curriculum holds little value for you anyway. You might as well spend that time living with the Malfoys."
"No! I don't want to! Professor, please take my feelings into consideration here!"
Knock, knock, knock.
A sharp rapping came from the door. After Dumbledore called out permission, a middle-aged man with striking blonde hair pushed the door open.
The man looked slightly older than his years, and his expression was exceedingly sour.
Upon spotting Tom, the man's scowl deepened. "Professor Dumbledore, you seriously expect me to take this child into my home? You are well aware I already have one insufferable idiot to deal with."
Dumbledore offered Lucius a warm smile. "I'm sure you'll grow quite fond of him. He's a very well-behaved boy, and Severus's own personal protégé. Whether it's Potions, Herbology, or Charms, his grades are unequivocally at the very top of his class."
"But surely he requires schooling next term."
Dumbledore waved a hand dismissively. "Standard classes are no longer necessary for him. I much prefer he gain some practical exposure to the daily life of a wizarding family, to truly understand the differences between the Muggle and magical worlds."
"Hmph." Lucius cast a cold glance at Tom. "Your name is Tom Riddle, I believe? In two weeks, I will send Draco to collect you."
With that, he tapped his walking stick on the floor, turned on his heel, and strode out of the room.
Right before he left, Lucius shot one final, piercing look at Tom. His cold eyes locked onto the boy for a long moment before he finally disappeared around the corner.
"Professor, what if something happens to me while I'm at the Malfoys'?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "It won't. Out of respect for both myself and Severus, they won't dare harm you. If anything were to happen, Severus would personally march into their manor breathing fire."
"Okay, but what if something happens to the Malfoys?"
"That is even less likely. You-Know-Who has fled. As you yourself pointed out, he will not risk showing his face again anytime soon. This period of peace should give you plenty of time to enjoy a proper wizarding lifestyle."
Dumbledore patted Tom gently on the head. "My boy, you always overthink things. You seem to live every single day as if it were your last. That is no way to live."
Dumbledore suddenly felt like Tom was finally acting like a normal child.
Most kids worried about every little thing, while Tom had always been brimming with unshakable confidence.
Now... it seems even he gets nervous when forced out of his comfort zone. He gets anxious around strangers, too.
Given how intimidating Lucius can be, it's perfectly understandable—
Tom abruptly spoke, shattering Dumbledore's train of thought.
"I didn't mean You-Know-Who. I meant... um... Professor, what if I accidentally do something at the Malfoy Manor that makes them—cough."
"Have you lost your mind?" Dumbledore's mouth twitched involuntarily.
He certainly hadn't sent Tom to the Malfoys' to cause chaos!
"For instance, say there was a certain house-elf who helped me out quite a bit in the past. If I accidentally arranged for him to get his freedom, do you think Mr. Lucius would murder me?"
"He would certainly try to beat you within an inch of your life."
Tom nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Exactly what I was thinking. But... what if they can't beat me?"
Dumbledore fell dead silent. He slowly removed his hand from Tom's head and looked down at the boy with profound exhaustion. "It is time for you to sleep, Tom. I hope you have pleasant dreams tonight."
Dumbledore didn't say another word to Tom. He turned around, marched straight out of the hospital wing, and headed directly for his office.
BANG!
Dumbledore violently threw his office door open and slammed it shut behind him.
Sitting in a corner, half-asleep, the Sorting Hat snapped awake at the sight of the usually composed Headmaster completely losing his temper. It blinked rapidly, instantly on high alert.
It watched as Dumbledore marched straight toward it!
Dumbledore grabbed the hat roughly by its pointed tip!
"Explain yourself! Why was Tom able to pull the Sword of Gryffindor out of you?!
Did you sort him into the wrong House?!"
"I absolutely did not make a mistake, Professor! Are you suggesting he belongs in Gryffindor? Because I firmly stand by my decision: Ravenclaw is the perfect fit for Tom."
"No!" Dumbledore shouted, utterly exasperated. "He should be in Slytherin!
Or better yet—Azkaban! Azkaban would suit him perfectly!"