"Wha, what did you just say?"
Harry's voice cracked. "Tom Riddle… is Voldemort?!"
"Shh! For Merlin's sake, keep your voice down!"
The sheer panic in Hagrid's tone made even the trees tremble. He stumbled backward, landing heavily on the grass with a thud.
Ron's freckles had gone pale. He pressed his hands together as if praying. "Mate… please… don't say that name again in front of me."
Harry swallowed. "Right. My bad." He took a shaky breath. "But… then that award , his Special Services to the School , what was it for? And you mentioned someone named Aragog?"
Hagrid exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping. "Aragog's a spider. One o' mine. I raised 'im meself. The, er, the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named said Aragog was the monster from the Chamber. Told the Headmaster, Armando Dippet. Got me expelled."
His voice broke. "If it weren't for Dumbledore, I'd've had nowhere to go. He gave me this job as groundskeeper. I owe him everything."
He glanced down at his massive hands, the shovel still trembling slightly between his fingers.
"Merlin knows," he muttered. "When young Tom found that dragon egg last year , Norbert , I remembered the old days, clear as daylight. I was terrified. Thought history was repeatin' itself. But that Tom , your Tom , he ain't like the other one."
Hagrid's eyes softened, his tone almost wistful. "He helped me hatch the little dragon. Didn't even flinch. Still… I can't help it, Harry. Every time I see him, I remember the other one. And I get scared."
,
Harry and Ron left the hut in stunned silence, their thoughts a tangled storm.
Today, they'd stumbled into something monumental , a truth buried under half a century of fear.
From that moment on, every time they saw Tom in the corridors, they couldn't help but see the shadow of the Dark Lord hovering behind him.
Ron, especially, couldn't shake the thought. He'd nudge Harry and whisper, "He's too calm. Too polite. That's suspicious, mate."
Harry didn't answer, but the unease in his gut said enough.
Still, what could they possibly do? Tell Dumbledore? 'Excuse me, sir, we think Riddle might be evil because he's got the same name as Voldemort?'
Yeah, that'd go well.
Meanwhile, Tom himself was blissfully unaware of their paranoia.
He was far too preoccupied , with Daphne's request.
A slimming potion.
Fast, effective, safe, and effortless.
A nearly impossible combination.
But he'd promised. And when Tom Riddle promised, he delivered , even if it meant bending a few natural laws in the process.
,
Friday, after Potions class, Tom deliberately lingered until the room emptied.
Snape ignored him, as always, sweeping out with his cloak billowing like storm clouds.
Tom darted forward, slipping through the office door just before it closed.
"Professor Snape, ah, Severus Snape, "
The professor turned, already scowling. But before he could unleash his usual venom, Tom dumped a pile of glittering items onto his desk.
"Before you say anything," Tom said quickly, "I brought something from France. You might find these useful."
Snape's glare faltered as his eyes fell upon the materials: a screech owl's feather, fragments of a unicorn's silver horn, and a pinch of phoenix ash from a completed rebirth.
The insult died in his throat. He raised a single hand , a flash of wandless magic , and all the ingredients vanished into storage.
"…All right, Riddle," he muttered, forcing composure. "What do you want this time?"
Tom smiled like a fox that had just cornered a snake. "It's simple, Professor. I'm trying to brew a metabolic acceleration potion , something that burns fat quickly, cleanly, and safely."
Snape stared at him. Then blinked. Then sighed.
"A diet potion," he said flatly. "You want me, a master of the Dark Arts and advanced alchemy, to help you brew a glorified weight-loss elixir?"
Tom's expression was perfectly innocent. "It's for a friend."
Snape closed his eyes. "…Of course it is."
Still, genius recognized genius. And despite his disdain, he couldn't resist the challenge.
Within minutes, he was scrawling formulas across parchment, explaining possible reagent combinations and reaction stages. Even Tom, who usually picked things up instantly, found himself scribbling notes to keep up.
When they finished, Tom's mind was already buzzing with possibilities.
"Riddle," Snape said finally, his voice tightening with curiosity. "That potion you gave me last term , the one that enhanced magical focus , do you have any more?"
Tom smirked. "Oh, Professor, I wish I could. But the supply's run dry. Rune Serpents haven't laid eggs in months, and without their enzyme fluid, I can't produce it."
Snape's brow twitched. "Rune Serpent eggs. Really."
"Yes, really," Tom said smoothly.
"Riddle," Snape growled, "your potion didn't contain anything from a Rune Serpent. You could've said it used dragon blood, basilisk bile, or even sphinx marrow, and I'd have nodded. But this?"
Tom blinked. "Wait, you could taste that?"
Snape's glare sharpened.
"Merlin's beard," Tom muttered, half in awe, half in terror. "You've got better taste buds than a bloodhound."
"Get. Out."
Tom bolted.
,
In the Room of Requirement, the cauldron's glow filled the chamber as he prepared his first test batch.
The ingredients bubbled, shimmered, then settled into a clear, blue-tinted potion.
Tom stared at it thoughtfully. "Looks good," he murmured. "Probably won't kill anyone."
He'd need test subjects.
Fortunately, Hogwarts had no shortage of them , the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory, for instance, was practically next to the kitchens.
Living beside the source of every sweet and pastry? A nutritional nightmare.
As he poured the potion into vials, Tom's stomach growled. He wiped the drool from his mouth, capped the bottles, and muttered, "All this talk of food's making me hungrier than my test subjects."
He turned toward the Great Hall for dinner , only to be ambushed.
A flash of red hair darted from the shadows, yanking him by the sleeve.
"Finally," Ginny Weasley hissed, dragging him into a corner. "You said you had a task for me, remember? It's been a week, and you've barely said a word! What is it?"
Tom blinked, then smacked his forehead. "Right. That."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"I need you to get something for me. From Fred and George."
Ginny frowned. "And what would that be?"
"The Marauder's Map."
Her eyes widened, curiosity flaring.
"What for?"
Tom smiled, that same infuriatingly calm smile that hid far too many secrets.
"Let's just say," he murmured, "I have… unfinished business with Hogwarts' ghosts."
And for a moment, Ginny could've sworn that smile looked a little too much like the one from her nightmares , the one that had belonged to another Tom Riddle.