An angry pure-blood heiress was a dangerous creature , and Tom Riddle, for all his cleverness, knew better than to test the durability of his skin against Daphne Greengrass's bite.
So, he did what any sensible Slytherin would do in his position , he pulled out the ultimate shield.
"Astoria!" he barked, scooping the younger Greengrass sister off the ground and holding her up like a living barrier. "Quick, hold your sister back! She's reminding me of last year's Fluffy!"
The room burst into gasps and laughter as Daphne froze, momentarily confused.
Fluffy? What woman was that supposed to be?!
Then her memory clicked , and her eye twitched violently.
That wasn't a woman. That was the three-headed dog from the forbidden corridor.
"Grr, TOM! I SWEAR I'M GOING TO BITE YOU!"
Her twin fangs gleamed like little diamonds as she lunged for his shoulder.
"Sister!" Astoria squeaked, caught between the two of them like a helpless little sandwich. "Everyone's watching! Don't make Tom look bad!"
She buried her face in Daphne's chest, rubbing her head against her like a kitten trying to calm its mother. Daphne's fury faltered instantly , the infamous Greengrass sisterly affection gene taking full control.
Her arms, which had been ready to strangle someone, began gently patting Astoria's hair instead.
But what Daphne didn't notice was the gleam of victory flashing in Astoria's eyes.
Tom caught it. And smirked.
"Good job, Astoria," he said quietly. "Calm her down for me, and next weekend I'll take you to Hogsmeade. Just the two of us."
He gave her a conspiratorial wink , and the moment Daphne loosened her grip, he vanished faster than a disillusioned pixie.
Running away wasn't cowardice , it was strategy.
You didn't reason with an angry Slytherin girl; you let her cool off, then came back later with chocolates and apologies.
The trick worked best, of course, when you were the favorite.
If you weren't… it usually ended in hexes and heartbreak.
Behind him, Astoria was giggling into her sister's arms. "See, sister? Everyone's looking. Don't make a scene."
"Ugh, Astoria, you're impossible," Daphne muttered, exasperated, her cheeks flushed red.
Still, she couldn't resist when the little one nuzzled closer, her soft silver hair brushing against Daphne's chin. She sighed and began stroking it absentmindedly, her temper slowly fading away.
She didn't even notice the small, smug smile curling on Astoria's lips.
A trip to Hogsmeade with Tom Riddle? That sounded far too fun to give up.
…
The next morning, the chill air of the Hogwarts grounds shimmered with frost. Tom arrived early , but not early enough.
A crowd had already gathered.
Students milled excitedly across the grass, eyes locked on the massive form of Megatron, his enchanted dragon construct. Professors McGonagall and Rouse were trying their best to maintain order, while Professors Sprout and Flitwick were already surrounded by students begging for dueling lessons.
Even Professor Snape had made an appearance , though whether to supervise or glare was anyone's guess.
The upcoming Underage Wizard Duel Championship had sent the whole school into a frenzy.
Everyone wanted to practice, to train, to prove themselves before the visitors from Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo arrived in a few months.
No one wanted Hogwarts to look weak.
Tom could already imagine the professors' thoughts , if any student embarrassed Hogwarts in front of the foreign schools, even the usually gentle Sprout and Flitwick would show what "professorial discipline" really meant.
Once he handed Megatron over to McGonagall for inspection, Tom quietly slipped away.
He had far more important plans for his weekend.
After all, there was someone far more dangerous than Daphne waiting for him , an old dark wizard who'd been locked away for decades.
And if Tom missed their meeting again, he had a feeling that Gellert Grindelwald would personally haunt him through his dreams.
…
Snow fell like whispers as he reappeared atop a lonely mountain.
From his vantage point, he could see it , the black monolith that pierced the horizon like a dagger: Nurmengard.
It stood solemn and eternal, carved into a cliff of dark stone and ice. Its windows were few and narrow , not to let light in, but to keep it trapped.
Once, this fortress had been a temple , the headquarters of the Saints. Later, it became a prison, a monument to fear.
For decades, it had been the home and tomb of one man.
Tom's breath misted in the air as he studied the distant spire. "I really have to walk all the way up there?"
Inside his mind, Grindelwald's voice chuckled , a low, echoing sound of amusement.
"You can if you wish. In fact, with your power now, you could break through the defenses. Barely, perhaps , but possible."
Tom frowned. "And what happens if I try?"
"Then," Grindelwald said, his tone turning wickedly smooth, "you'll understand what it means to challenge a fortress designed by me."
Tom sighed, adjusting his coat against the biting wind. "Wonderful. A field trip with built-in humiliation."
He took one last look at the looming tower before beginning the long, snow-laden climb toward the fortress of the forgotten king of dark wizards.
And though the cold gnawed at him, his eyes burned with the quiet fire of ambition , the kind that even time and fear could not extinguish.
Because today, Tom Riddle wasn't just visiting a prisoner.
He was walking into the shadow of his future self.