Gryffindor prided itself on loyalty. So while watching Fred and George Weasley get chased all over the grounds by a giant enchanted snowman was undeniably hilarious, Tom Riddle was still a Slytherin—how could the lions possibly just stand by and watch one of their own be "bullied"?
"George! Fred! I'm coming!"
The first to jump in was their best mate, Lee Jordan. He gathered all his strength and conjured a massive snowball, nearly as large as the one thrown by Tom's snowman. Then, with a flick of his wand, he launched it using a Levitation Charm—only for the snowman to lazily smack it into powder with one gigantic paw.
Fred, who had just crawled out of a snow pile, burst into laughter. "Lee, you idiot! Use Multicorpus Eiectus, not a floaty charm!"
"Oh! Right!" Lee suddenly realized.
The other Gryffindors quickly joined in the action. Some hurled enchanted snowballs at the giant snowman, while others, inspired by Tom, tried to transfigure their own mini snowmen. But none of theirs came close in size or intimidation.
In no time, the Hogwarts grounds turned into a battlefield: snowballs flying through the air, animated snowmen chasing after laughing students.
Slytherins weren't about to sit back and watch their top dog get overwhelmed. They raised their wands and joined the fray, backing Tom without hesitation.
It didn't take long before the impromptu snowball fight turned into a full-blown duel between Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws quickly retreated to safer distances, worried about catching a stray snowball. Once safely out of range, they made themselves comfortable and began spectating with relish.
A few of them even clicked their tongues regretfully, lamenting that they hadn't brought any snacks. A snowball war with front-row seats? It deserved popcorn.
Eventually, even Hermione and Daphne abandoned their snowmen and jumped into the action, each fighting for her own House.
Slytherin had fewer people, but with Tom's towering snowman, they held the line.
Gryffindors couldn't take down the snow giant—but they could tank it.
Then, just as the tide was turning, Tom conjured another colossal snowman.
Immediately, the Gryffindors raised their wands in surrender and magically waved a flag in the air.
"We're done. We're done."
How were they supposed to win when one guy's spellwork outmatched their entire group combined?
Off to the side, the younger students from all Houses stared at the older years with a peculiar mix of awe and judgment.
"Look at that first-year," one whispered. "And you lot can't even manage a proper Silencing Charm..."
The accused upperclassmen all turned away, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with their underclassmen.
…
The "war" came to a peaceful end as the sun dipped below the horizon. Tired but exhilarated, the little witches and wizards trudged back to the castle, ready to eat dinner and then enjoy a long, warm soak in the baths.
Back in the Great Hall, Tom had just started eating when a slip of parchment slid in front of him.
"What's this?" he asked, glancing at the short list of names.
"That's the sign-up sheet for staying over the Christmas break," explained a fifth-year male prefect leaning over from the other side of the table. "If you're planning to stay, just write your name down."
"Oh, I won't need it. I'm going home for the holidays," Tom replied, casually handing the parchment over to Daphne. She barely looked at it before tossing it toward Bletchley.
"Tom," Daphne leaned in with hopeful eyes, "do you have any plans for the break? Want to come over to my house? We've got two English Short-Tail cats who can do backflips."
Tom blinked.
"…What?"
There was something about the way she said it that felt very off.
"I'm sorry, Daphne," he said gently, though he truly did feel bad turning her down. "I've got a lot going on this break. I just won't have the time."
The Greengrass manor was in Yorkshire—hardly a quick trip.
"Oh…" Her little face visibly deflated.
"I swear I'll visit during the summer, though," Tom promised. "And I'll finally meet that supposedly 'cuter-than-you' little sister you keep bragging about."
That perked her right back up.
Three weeks for Christmas was nice, but two whole months of summer? Plenty of time for Tom to stay at her house for six weeks and still have time for a getaway together.
Actually... she decided it was more cost-effective.
Daphne was smiling again. Tom finally relaxed.
As he continued eating, his mind shifted back to business.
This was the final week of classes before the Christmas holiday, and for once, he wasn't lying—he really was swamped.
In the Muggle world, this Christmas was going to be huge. A certain someone was preparing to gift the Western world a "present" so massive that it would practically redefine the meaning of "freedom and democracy."
Tom didn't need to be rich beyond imagination. He just wanted enough money to be financially free in the Muggle world.
Magic was wondrous, sure. But when it came to lifestyle comforts and the variety of hobbies, Muggles had wizards beat by a mile.
Besides, he didn't even own a house yet. What was he going to do—marry into the Greengrass family and live off his in-laws?
Meanwhile, in the magical world, he'd already used up all of his latest batch of Strengthening Potion. He'd need more ingredients. Luckily, he'd prepared a Polyjuice Potion for more discreet travel during the break.
Big thanks to Professor Snape for the "donated" ingredients.
…
Late that night, Tom found himself once again roaming the school corridors for what must've been the hundredth time this semester.
He was heading out—again—to stock up from the Forbidden Forest. This time, he wasn't going to linger around the edges. He was going deep.
He had his eyes on something special.
Acromantula venom.
That stuff was pure magical gold—liquid treasure. Even if he didn't use it personally, it would fetch a huge price on the market.
This time, Tom didn't bother with the secret passageways. He strolled straight out the main entrance, casual as you please.
By now, he'd memorized the castle's patrol patterns. Filch and Mrs. Norris mostly stuck to the upper floors—especially the area near Gryffindor Tower. After all, those reckless lions were the most likely to sneak out after hours.
Ravenclaws preferred to study quietly in their common room. Hufflepuffs might wander, but usually only made a beeline for the kitchens.
Slytherin dorms were too far off the main path to bother with. Which meant the central building was often left completely unwatched.
Tonight, after a day of snowfall, the sky was especially clear. Moonlight bathed the castle in silver, and Tom shivered as the cold hit. He cast a Warming Charm over himself before continuing, sighing in relief.
The Scottish Highlands were much colder than London. Back home, even in winter, temperatures rarely dipped below zero. But here, it was already -10°C and dropping.
Just as he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Tom suddenly paused.
He sniffed the air.
Something smelled... amazing.
Meat broth? And roasted meat?!
The rich, savory aroma slammed into his senses like a truck.
His eyes narrowed.
"Who the hell is out here making food this delicious in the middle of the night?"
That had to be illegal. It was practically criminal to drop food bombs like that this late.
His first instinct was to glare toward Hagrid's hut.
But nope. No chimney smoke, and the lights were off.
He sniffed again.
The smell… it was coming from the forest?
Tom's expression shifted to one of disbelief.
What the hell kind of creature cooks gourmet food in the Forbidden Forest at night?
Someone's out here having a midnight picnic?
Poetic, really.
Intrigued, Tom pressed forward into the Forbidden Forest, curious to see which eccentric soul had chosen to fire up a grill in subzero weather. The aroma only grew stronger the deeper he went, and now wisps of smoke curled visibly above a dip in the landscape. After climbing over a small ridge, Tom finally spotted the culprits.
Three bundled-up figures were bustling around a makeshift campsite. They'd arranged stones and firewood to prop up a bubbling pot and a roasting rack. The pot was simmering with broth, while the grill sizzled with meat and—of all things—long baguettes. None of them noticed Tom sneaking up behind them.
That is, until a calm voice cut through the night.
"Well, well... someone's certainly making the most of their evening. Beef and onion stew, roast lamb, and sausages? Very ambitious. Who knew winter camping could smell this good."
The reaction was instant.
The three figures shrieked like they'd been struck by lightning. One toppled flat on her back, another dropped into a panicked crouch with her arms over her head, and the third slipped and nearly went headfirst into the boiling pot. Tom reacted swiftly, extending an invisible force to pull the girl away from the stew in a rather dramatic, mid-air flip.
That pot smelled too good to spill.
Now safe and steady, the wrapped-up girl finally got a good look at him.
"Riddle?!"
The one crouched on the ground, still shielding her head, blinked, then looked up with visible relief. Then she scowled. "Bloody hell, Riddle, don't sneak up on people like that! I thought we were about to get caught!"
She pulled the girl from the ground. "Eleanor, it's fine. He's in our year."
Tom now recognized them. The one he'd saved was Hannah Abbott, the fiercely independent Hufflepuff. The grumpy one was Susan Bones, also in his year. The last girl, the one he didn't immediately recognize, looked younger.
...Second year, probably. Name escaping him.
"Hi. I'm Eleanor Ashworth, Hufflepuff, second year."
Introductions were exchanged around the fire.
"Tom Riddle. First year, Slytherin."
With that out of the way, Tom turned to Hannah. "Okay, what gives? You've got a perfectly good dining hall not ten minutes from here. What on earth possessed you to haul all this into the forest and start cooking like fugitives? Did someone in the kitchen offend you?"
Tom actually had a bit of a rapport with Hannah. They shared History of Magic, and he'd borrowed her notes more than once.
"You're the one who's been offended!" Hannah and Susan rolled their eyes in perfect unison.
Hannah huffed. "The house-elves' food is... fine, I guess. But it's always the same. I've been eating those same roast potatoes and shepherd's pie for months now. I needed something different."
"But we obviously can't cook in the dorms, not with Filch and Mrs. Norris prowling around. That cat's nose could sniff out a breadcrumb from three floors away. So yeah, Forbidden Forest it is."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying your cooking is better than the house-elves'?"
"Obviously." Hannah puffed up with pride. "I love cooking."
Tom leaned in, skeptical. "Prove it."
Before anyone could protest, he grabbed a bowl and ladled himself a generous helping of the stew. No hesitation. He took a sip.
"Mmm. Alright, I'll give it to you—this is good. The sweetness of the onions, the richness from the butter, the beef is fall-apart tender… this is practically wizarding comfort food at its finest."
"Oi!" Hannah sputtered. "I haven't even tasted it yet!"
The other two rushed to grab their own bowls before Tom devoured the whole pot.
Well, now that dinner was happening, might as well do it right. Tom transfigured a large stone into a sturdy round table and neatly set the stew, bread, and grilled meats across the surface.
He tore off a chunk of bread, dunked it into the broth, and took a bite. The crust had been crisped from the fire, but once soaked in soup, it turned gloriously soft and flavorful. A bite of lamb followed. It was divine.
Hannah wasn't exaggerating—her cooking was leagues ahead of the house-elves. Hogwarts meals were passable, sure, but they lacked spark. This stew, on the other hand, had character. Warm, satisfying, slightly wild.
"Herbs," Hannah said, catching his curious expression. "I add herbs. A lot of magical ones can be used as culinary spices. You'd be surprised."
"You mean... this taste... is from potion ingredients?"
"Sort of. I even used tambour mushrooms."
Tom's eyes widened.
Tambour mushrooms—named for their tough, drum-like caps that gave off a tapping sound when struck. They were better known for potion work than cooking.
But here? They were the secret ingredient. "Did not see that coming," he admitted, impressed.
Tom gave her a dramatic thumbs-up. "Hannah Abbott, I, Tom Riddle, officially crown you Hogwarts' Supreme Little Chef."
Hannah blushed furiously, waving him off. "It's not all me. Susan helped too! That pasta she made last week—I'm still dreaming about it."
Tom's head turned immediately. Puppy-eyed stare activated.
Susan looked alarmed. "Don't look at me like that. We didn't bring the ingredients tonight."
Tom tried again. "Next time you plan a feast, let me know. I can get ingredients. I'm tight with the kitchen elves."
The girls exchanged looks.
Claiming to be "tight with the kitchen elves" in front of Hufflepuffs was a bold move—almost suspicious. But the way Tom demolished his share of the food told them all they needed to know.
His appetite was deadly serious.
And really, foodies stick together. By the end of the meal, Tom had earned a new label.
Glutton.
But a welcome one.
"I doubt we'll get another chance this term," Susan said with a sheepish laugh. "Holidays are right around the corner, and if I keep eating like this, I'll need an invisibility cloak just to fit through the common room door."
"By the way," she asked, "what brings you to the Forbidden Forest tonight?"
Tom didn't lie. "Collecting ingredients. Diagon Alley shops don't always have what I need—and what they do have isn't as fresh. Forest-grown herbs have better potency. So I figured I'd come do some foraging myself."
"Careful, though," Hannah warned. "It's not just magical herbs out here. You know there are dangerous creatures too, right? Don't go too deep. Just stick to the edge, alright?"
Tom smiled. "Don't worry. I've got it under control."