— — — — — —
The rest of the afternoon passed with casual conversation. Monsieur Delacour discussed international wizarding affairs and recent ministry cases, while Apolline Delacour focused more on Tom's personal life.
When she found out Tom was a Muggle-born orphan, the room fell silent.
The three women all looked like they'd been punched in the chest—especially Fleur, whose wide eyes quickly filled with tears.
Up until now, she'd assumed Tom came from a prestigious magical family. With his power, skill, and confidence, how could she not?
But the truth hit harder than expected.
A boy from the Muggle world with no family, stepping into magic alone… and in just half a year, achieving this level of strength? How much pain must he have gone through?
Tears rolled down Fleur's cheeks like broken pearls. She wanted to throw herself into his arms—but someone beat her to it.
Gabrielle had already latched onto Tom, sniffling into his chest. "Big brother," she mumbled, "I'll be your family from now on."
Tom couldn't help but laugh. How had this turned into some tragic drama in their heads?
Honestly, he was fine. He'd always liked being on his own.
Okay, maybe he wanted a family, but he adapted to being a loner. So that's his life path now.
And in fact, he was the best among all the orphans. Not pathetic.
Orphans lived a miserable life—one that most people couldn't even begin to imagine. And even the normal words might hurt them...
---
With Christmas break over, the whistle of the Hogwarts Express echoed across the platform. The scarlet train pulled out from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, heading north toward the Scottish Highlands.
One of the compartment doors slid open, and a familiar head popped in. Seeing only Daphne inside, Hermione rushed in without hesitation.
"Daphne, have you seen Tom?"
"Nope," Daphne said, cheeks puffed in frustration. "He promised yesterday he'd make the train today. I checked every single compartment. Not even a glimpse."
"Don't you have that two-way mirror? Try contacting him!" Hermione's voice edged toward panic.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Obviously I already tried. A bunch of times. He's not answering."
"You don't think something happened to him…?" Hermione murmured, growing more anxious.
Daphne, surprisingly, was the calmer one now. "Relax. Tom's way stronger than both of us. If anyone's fine, it's him."
Hermione could only nod, looking worried but helpless.
The rest of the trip passed in silence. The two girls barely spoke, occasionally muttering a few words before falling quiet again.
Daphne kept checking the mirror, but there was still no response—until just before the train arrived.
Suddenly, the mirror flickered—and connected.
Daphne jumped out of her seat. "Tom! Where are you?"
Hermione crowded in beside her as Tom's face appeared in the mirror.
"I'm on the Knight Bus," he said calmly. "Ran into a bit of trouble, but it's all sorted now. I'll be a little late getting to school. I'll explain later."
"Okay, okay!" Daphne nodded quickly, then ended the call herself. She and Hermione exchanged a relieved smile.
As long as Tom was safe, that was enough. Whatever had happened, they could find out once they were back at Hogwarts.
The two girls hopped off the train and joined the crowd heading toward the carriages. Snow fell in thick, fluffy flakes, slowing the Thestral-pulled vehicles and leaving deep tracks in the path behind them.
The cold was brutal. Students jumped down, rubbing their hands and racing for the warmth of the castle. The carriages had no heating charms—everyone was shivering.
Luckily, inside Hogwarts, the fires roared in the hearths. As soon as they stepped in, a wave of comforting warmth hit them.
There was no grand welcome ceremony. The Great Hall was already filled with delicious food, and students wasted no time digging in.
At the Slytherin table, someone quickly noticed something strange.
"Wait… Tom's not here?"
Parkinson and a few others turned to Daphne, who usually knew where Tom was.
She just shrugged. "No idea. He told me he'd show up later."
At the head table, Dumbledore smiled warmly at the cheerful chaos of the feast. This was his favorite time of the year—seeing students enjoying food and laughter was more magical than any spell.
But then… his gaze sharpened.
Normally, he wouldn't pay attention to every missing student. But with Tom—or Harry—he kept a special eye out.
He turned to Snape, raising an eyebrow.
Snape, who was already scanning the crowd, noticed Dumbledore's look and gave a subtle shake of his head. His expression darkened slightly.
He had no clue where Riddle was. Maybe that 'Christmas gift threat' had scared him off for good?
Squeak—
As the plates gradually emptied and the feast neared its end, the heavy oak doors creaked open.
All heads turned.
"..." xN
Tom Riddle stepped into the hall, snow swirling around him, as if he'd walked straight out of a blizzard.
Tom hurried over and plopped down beside Daphne, not even caring that what was left looked like cold scraps. He was starving—he just wanted to eat.
But the moment his butt hit the bench, all the food vanished. The golden plates were sparkling clean again, like nothing had ever been served.
Pfft—!
Someone couldn't help but laugh. Then more and more Slytherins joined in, unable to hold back their chuckles.
Normally, no one would dare laugh at Tom. But this? This was too good to resist.
Especially with the way Tom's expression kept changing—it was just too funny.
Even Dumbledore, up at the staff table, cracked a smile.
"All right, everyone," he said with a chuckle, "that's the end of our lovely feast. Off you go—head back to your common rooms and enjoy a warm fire. And don't forget—classes start tomorrow!"
Then he added, "Mr. Riddle, would you mind staying behind for a moment? I have a few things I'd like to ask you."
As the students and staff began trickling out of the hall, Tom made his way up to the head table and followed Dumbledore into a small side room. Snape, being his Head of House, came along too.
Tom silently opened his study space and summoned Grindelwald.
Dumbledore looked at Tom.
Tom looked back at Dumbledore.
Grindelwald? Of course, he looked at Dumbledore.
In the study space, Grindelwald had a complicated expression. The corners of his mouth twitched upward awkwardly—he wasn't even sure what he was feeling. Everything was a mess.
In the end, all those jumbled emotions came out in a single sentence.
"…Albus, you've gotten old."
Andros, watching from the side, was completely lost.
Wait… weren't these two supposed to be enemies? Why did this feel like a soap opera? Like the main couple who met the right spouse at the wrong time, only to cross paths again decades later?
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said gently, a faint smile on his lips, "I heard from Hagrid that you weren't seen in the carriage. Which means… you didn't take the Hogwarts Express?"
"Would you mind telling me what happened? Maybe I can help."
Tom gave a helpless shrug. "Honestly, Professor, today's been a complete mess. The train to London was delayed, and by the time I got to King's Cross, it was already past noon."
"Then how did you get to school?" Snape asked sharply.
"I read about the Knight Bus in a book and gave it a shot," Tom replied. "Didn't expect it to actually show up—but it did. The fare was kinda steep, though. Stan Shunpike charged me two Galleons."
"I see," Dumbledore nodded, smiling. "If something like this ever happens again, you could always call on Fawkes for help. You still have one of his tail feathers, don't you? Just ignite it, and he'll sense your call."
What the—?!
Snape's sharp gaze zeroed in on Tom, full of disbelief.
A phoenix tail feather?
Seriously?
How many years have I begged that old man—and that damn bird—for just one feather? Nothing! Not a single one! And this kid, who's only just arrived, already has a tail feather?
Doesn't anyone care about seniority anymore?!
Tom, of course, completely ignored Snape's red-tinged glare. He smiled at Dumbledore and nodded. "Got it. Next time, I'll call Fawkes."
"Wrong," Dumbledore corrected gently. "Next time, try not to be late. No matter what, the Hogwarts Express is the safest and most comfortable way to travel."
"Understood, Professor. I'll be more careful next time."
Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. This Tom Riddle seemed much more obedient. Of course, if he knew what Tom had been up to over the holidays, he probably wouldn't be smiling like that.
Just counting the wizard poachers—not to mention a dragon—Tom had killed over thirty people this past break. Voldemort, even in his entire school life, didn't rack up that kind of body count.
"Alright, Mr. Riddle. You must be tired after your rough journey. Go get some rest."
"Wait—let's chat a bit longer!"
Grindelwald frantically signaled from the space, but Tom ignored him and walked out of the office.
"The phoenix feather—what the hell?!" Snape demanded the moment Tom left, sounding like a heartbroken girl who just found out her longtime crush gave another girl a promise ring.
Dumbledore sighed and shrugged. "That's between Fawkes and Mr. Riddle. I had nothing to do with it."
"Fawkes personally delivered his Christmas gift to Mr. Riddle. He included one of his tail feathers and a vial of phoenix tears. That's not unreasonable, is it?"
"Huh???"
Snape's breathing turned ragged.
.
.
.