Watching Tom eat so contentedly, Daphne's lips twitched with barely contained pain. With trembling hands, she opened the lunchbox she had prepared in advance,
An entire box of green salad.
Tom's eyelid twitched at the sight.
"Daphne," he said dryly, "you don't have to torture yourself like this. That stuff's for rabbits, not people. I could eat a single sentence that has more meat in it than your lunch."
Daphne pouted.
It wasn't that she'd suddenly turned health-conscious , the Greengrass family had always eaten well. It was just that Parra, was too talented a cook.
This holiday, Daphne had completely lost control , delicious meals every day, and in less than a month, she'd gained weight. Only a few days ago, when she saw herself in the mirror, did she finally realize the truth. That very evening, she had begun her crusade for weight loss.
Tom didn't think she looked fat at all. She'd merely gone from too thin to normal.
But girls had their own logic: It doesn't matter what you think , it matters what I think.
And what Daphne thought was that she had to get back to her previous weight.
She had once used a strengthening potion that, as a side effect, improved her physique and slimmed her figure. But it hadn't been long since her last dose, and taking it again would be risky.
Now she could only rely on willpower , and greens.
"Just one more month," she muttered to herself, forcing a smile. "I can do this…"
But her voice trailed off halfway, her resolve leaking out like air from a punctured balloon.
With a small cry of frustration, Daphne tossed her lunchbox aside and latched onto Tom's arm.
"Tom, you're so smart , can't you invent a weight-loss potion or something?" she said in a pleading tone, looking up at him with wide, glimmering eyes.
Astoria, who had always been small and delicate, didn't pay much attention , her body never changed much no matter how she ate. But Hermione, sitting beside them, froze mid-bite.
She'd been worrying about her own figure too. After all, studying required brainpower , and brainpower required sweets. Lots of sweets.
Tom sighed, considering it seriously. "Hmm… all right. Give me some time to research it first."
The truth was, the wizarding world did have potions marketed as weight-loss aids , but most were worthless. Some only provided temporary transformation, tricking customers with illusions.
From an academic standpoint, weight-loss potions had little significance, and thus little prestige. No one gained scholarly credit or acclaim from brewing them.
But this was Daphne, and from the day they met, Tom had never once refused her a request.
"You're amazing, Tom!" she cheered, beaming as she swiftly packed away the cursed salad and reached instead for the savory beef pastries on the table, devouring them with visible joy.
In Daphne's mind, Tom was omnipotent. If he said he'd do something, success was guaranteed.
And since a potion was on its way, there was no reason to suffer anymore.
Eat!
,
By six o'clock, the train rolled smoothly into Hogsmeade Station. The air was cold and sharp, the platform dusted with snow. Students poured out, and the carriages drawn by Thestrals awaited to carry them to the castle gates.
As Tom climbed out, he casually plucked a few Thestral tail hairs, quick and deft , the creature didn't even notice.
According to legend, the Elder Wand had been made from elder wood and a Thestral tail hair. Even Ollivander himself had never managed to craft a functional wand with those two materials again.
Tom wasn't trying to make weapons. He just loved research. A few rare materials here and there could make for entertaining experiments on dull nights.
At Hogwarts, snow was falling thickly. The cold bit at their faces, and everyone shivered as they hurried from the carriages to the steps of the castle.
They tread carefully up the slick stairs, warm breath turning to mist in the icy air.
Inside the grand entryway, Filch was already barking at students, forcing several to scrub their muddy boots clean before stepping further into the castle.
As Tom entered the main corridor, something caught his eye.
On the staircase landing ahead, Malfoy and Harry Potter stood nose-to-nose, faces flushed red, arguing heatedly.
"Ugh, that's disgusting."
Daphne had spotted it too. She folded her arms, visibly shuddering.
To spare the little witch's eyes from the "trauma," Tom sighed and stepped forward. "All right, that's enough. If you two want to perform a drama, do it somewhere else before Professor McGonagall drags you both out by the ears."
"Drama?" Malfoy turned first, confused. Harry blinked as well.
Tom waved dismissively. "Never mind. What's the argument this time?"
"It's his fault!" Malfoy said instantly, pointing at Harry. "Potter said the Heir of Slytherin's hiding in a hole somewhere, too scared to show his face! Called all Slytherins cowards!"
"I did not!" Harry snapped back. "I said you're a coward! You only act tough when your two bodyguards are around!"
"And what, I'm wrong?" Malfoy sneered. "The so-called Heir's plot was crushed by Tom. He's probably trembling somewhere under his blanket right now."
Standing near the Great Hall doors, Ginny Weasley froze at those words, her body going rigid.
Tom noticed. With a subtle motion of his hand, both boys were suddenly shoved several feet apart by invisible force.
"Enough," he said evenly. "Don't make me deal with you two on the first day back. Whoever the Heir was , it's none of your concern.
"And Harry," his tone hardened slightly, "from the way you talk, it sounds like you want another attack to happen. Do you?"
Harry's eyes widened. "No! Of course not!"
"Then keep quiet about things that don't concern you," Tom said flatly, before walking past them into the Great Hall.
As he passed Ginny, a faint voice brushed her ear , soft as a whisper, but clear as crystal.
"Nice outfit. It suits you."
Ginny's heart leapt. A radiant smile spread across her face, sweeping away every trace of anxiety. Forgetting Harry's words entirely, she skipped happily back toward the hall.
As for Harry and Malfoy , they locked eyes for a few seconds, both flushed, both indignant, then turned away with identical scoffs and stormed to their respective tables.
Inside the Great Hall, a thousand floating candles bathed the space in warm light, making it glow like midday. Students chatted excitedly, waiting for the start-of-term feast.
At the teachers' table, something unusual was happening.
Professor Rouse stood beside Dumbledore, gesturing animatedly while explaining something with a parchment covered in scribbles.
Dumbledore nodded along with interest, while the other four Heads of House listened intently , all except Snape, who sat motionless, his expression unreadable.
But even from afar, Tom could see it , the faint tension in their postures.
Whatever Rouse was saying, it was important.
And judging by the way Dumbledore's eyes twinkled… it was also dangerous.
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