Thanks to Miss Granger, Tom had the fortune of confirming the nature of this world several years earlier than he should have.
Ever since the math competition in third grade, Tom had run into Hermione multiple times at various academic contests for elementary students.
Tom participated for the prize money and school rewards. Hermione, on the other hand, was there purely out of interest.
Miss Granger's idea of fun… was studying.
But interest could never outweigh Tom's desperation for survival, so in more than a dozen showdowns, Tom walked away as the winner most of the time.
The one time he did lose was during a sports meet. The teacher assigned to him by the school was utterly clumsy, and in the three-legged race, the poor coordination ended up dragging Tom down.
Hermione had originally thought that once she left for Hogwarts, her rivalry with Tom would finally come to an end. She even felt a bit of regret about it.
And yet—lo and behold—she bumped into Tom again on the train. They were going to be classmates? At the same school?
After a brief moment of shock, Hermione lit up with excitement.
That meant she still had the chance to defeat Tom and prove herself!
She immediately forgot why she had even come to this compartment in the first place. Ignoring Daphne's stare entirely, she plopped herself down right next to Tom and started chattering away at full speed.
"Riddle, over the summer I finished Modern Magical Theory, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Notable Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, and most of the extra reading materials. What about you?"
"Oh! I almost forgot—I've already mastered a few basic spells too. Which House do you want to be in? I want to go to Gryffindor. I've heard it's the best!"
Tom closed his eyes. It felt like a hundred birds were chirping around his head.
At last, a brief pause appeared in her endless monologue. Tom seized the moment, pointing toward the chubby boy standing frozen at the door, looking like he was about to cry.
"Granger, aren't you forgetting your friend?"
"And for the record, we don't have any toads in here. You might want to check the other compartments."
Hermione turned around and finally snapped back to reality. She gave the pudgy boy an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Longbottom. I got a little too excited and forgot about your toad."
"N-n-no problem," Neville Longbottom stammered.
"Well then, we'll talk more later. Just don't fall too far behind—otherwise, if I win, it won't be satisfying."
With that fierce remark, Hermione whisked Neville away to continue searching for his missing toad.
As soon as she left, Daphne huffed in indignation. "Tom, who is that girl? She's so rude!"
From the moment Hermione had entered, she hadn't even acknowledged Daphne's presence—didn't greet her, didn't glance her way. And the way she spoke, as if she were naturally superior—Daphne was fuming.
"A friend I met during competitions," Tom replied with a small smile. He also noticed Daphne had started calling him by his first name.
"Daphne, that's just how she is—fiercely competitive. But she doesn't mean any harm. You'll get used to her."
"I don't want to get used to someone so impolite." Lady Daphne's temper flared. "No wonder she wants to go to Gryffindor. My mum calls them a bunch of thick-headed lions—and she looks the part."
Tom's lips twitched, but he didn't argue with Daphne's opinion.
To be honest, first-year Hermione—no, actually, Hermione for most of her school years—wasn't exactly likable.
From roommates to upperclassmen like Ginny and Luna, Hermione had managed to get into spats with almost everyone.
Harry and Ron were probably the only exceptions, and that was because they had gentle personalities and the memory of goldfish. After a quarrel, they'd make up like nothing ever happened.
Without them, Hermione probably wouldn't have had any genuine friends at all.
Not wanting to let Daphne stew in irritation, Tom casually changed the subject.
The rest of the ride passed without incident. At some point, Daphne had dozed off. When Hermione came back, Tom just gave her a silencing gesture. Hermione, for once, got the message and quietly left again.
As the sky outside darkened and the train began to slow, Tom knew they were finally approaching their destination. He gently woke the sleeping Daphne.
She blinked, dazed and confused, her expression adorable in a half-asleep kind of way. Then, remembering where she was, she sat up in a rush.
"Tom, are we there?"
"Yeah. The train's slowing down."
"Oh no, we've got to get our robes on!"
Daphne scrambled to her feet. As she moved, she noticed the corner of her mouth felt wet. One swipe of her hand—and her face flushed bright red.
She'd drooled.
Did Tom see that? How embarrassing!
Does he think I sleep like a pig?
Tom, blissfully unaware of the mental spiral Daphne had launched into, just noticed that the once-chatty girl had suddenly gone very quiet.
…
With a low whistle from the train's engine, they finally arrived.
Following the crowd out of the train, they heard Hagrid's booming voice calling the first-years to line up. The giant gamekeeper then led them to a fleet of small boats waiting at the edge of the lake.
Tom and Daphne climbed into one of the boats, accompanied by two other new students.
Tom took a quick headcount—this year's intake seemed to be about eighty or ninety students. Less than a hundred. So Hogwarts wasn't as underpopulated as he'd feared.
Seven year groups combined would total somewhere around six hundred students.
As they passed a cliff face, Hagrid called for all the students to duck. In reality, he was the only one who needed to do so.
It was said that this route was the same one taken by the Four Founders when they first arrived at Hogwarts. Every batch of new students would take this path, honoring tradition.
After an unknown amount of time, the boats finally docked. One by one, the students disembarked and followed Hagrid up a flight of stone steps until they stood before a pair of massive oak doors.
Hagrid raised his huge fist and knocked three times.
The doors creaked open to reveal a tall witch clad in emerald-green robes. Her expression was stern.
The noisy first-years fell into stunned silence. No one even dared to breathe, as if they were mice who'd just spotted a cat.
"First-year students, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced, gesturing to the wide-eyed group of children.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here," Professor McGonagall replied with a nod.
She pulled the doors wide open and led the nervous young witches and wizards into the warm, brightly lit entrance hall.