It wasn't until the sun began to sink below the horizon and the air grew chilly that the girl finally stirred from her slumber.
The cool evening breeze brushed against Daphne's face, bringing clarity to her sleepy mind. As soon as she remembered what had just happened, her eyes darted to the wet patch on Tom's robe—a painfully obvious stain that made her cheeks turn as red as the sunset overhead. She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her chest and disappear.
Tom, who had just exited the learning space, slowly opened his eyes. Pretending he had just woken up too, he stretched lazily and muttered, "Can't believe I slept for that long. Daphne, why didn't you wake me up? We wasted such a beautiful afternoon."
"Huh? I-I just woke up too. I guess I slept too well…" Daphne mumbled in a voice as soft as a mosquito's hum, all the while wishing she could whip out her wand and Evanesco away the incriminating evidence.
Tom didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. He casually brushed some dust off the back of his robe and said, "We'd better head back. It's getting cold—you don't want to catch a chill."
"Mhm."
Daphne clasped her hands behind her back and followed after him. As they walked, a quiet, breathless giggle escaped her lips, and her eyes curved into little crescent moons.
This—this was exactly why she enjoyed being around Tom so much.
She wasn't stupid. She'd realized it now. Tom hadn't really been asleep. No one wakes up from a nap with such sharp awareness, without even a single second of dazed blinking.
He had pretended to sleep—just to save her from the embarrassment.
He was like an adult trapped in a boy's body. Not in a try-hard, show-off kind of way, but in a calm, composed, always-in-control manner. He was thoughtful, subtle. Always taking care of her emotions without making it obvious.
For a girl like Daphne, who had left the comfort of her home and her mother's care to face the intimidating new world of Hogwarts alone, Tom gave her a rare and precious feeling of safety. It made her feel like she belonged.
Watching his tall figure walking ahead, Daphne suddenly felt like she ought to be the one doing something for him—not just receiving his kindness all the time.
But what?
She racked her brain in frustration.
Tom was good at everything. Every subject he touched, he mastered. Even that nosy Gryffindor girl was constantly green with envy. He didn't need her help with classes. And in daily life… she felt like she didn't even have the right.
Wait—a spark flashed in her mind.
Money!
Daphne's eyes lit up. She remembered how Tom had once "borrowed" thirty Galleons from a dormmate. Given his background, it was likely he was barely scraping by.
Maybe… just maybe… she could help from that angle. Discreetly ease his financial strain.
With a plan finally forming in her mind, Daphne beamed like a little sun. She quickened her steps to catch up with Tom, walking beside him, laughing and chatting cheerfully as they entered the castle.
As soon as she returned to her dorm, she pulled out a piece of parchment and began scribbling a letter to her mother. She added a few plausible excuses and requested—casually—five hundred Galleons.
That should be enough… for now.
Meanwhile, Tom was completely unaware that his little gesture of kindness had unknowingly made Daphne fall even harder for him. As far as he was concerned, he could enter his learning space from anywhere—it wasn't that big a deal.
He had no idea that he was about to receive his very first meal ticket.
Back in his dorm, the moment Tom walked through the door, the three roommates who had been messing around just a moment ago instantly fell silent. Tom gave them a brief glance but paid them no mind. He pulled out a Herbology textbook and began reading.
The trio had been behaving suspiciously well lately. Tom wasn't sure if they'd genuinely learned their lesson, or if they were just scheming something new.
…
Saturday arrived.
After sharing breakfast with Daphne and completing next week's homework with Hermione, Tom made his way to the eighth floor—searching for the Room of Requirement.
The learning space was powerful—almost like an alternate reality—but it still had its limits. Only Tom's spiritual self entered that space. Magic cast within didn't consume real magical energy, meaning there was no authentic physical feedback from practicing spells.
And in the magical world, winning a duel wasn't just about power level. It wasn't about who had the most magic or who had practiced the most spells. Real duels depended on reflexes, awareness, battlefield experience… and sometimes, just sheer luck.
Andros had been nagging him nonstop these past few days: train in the real world too, not just in your head. Let your body remember the feeling of casting. You need to move with instinct, not thought.
After weighing his options, Tom decided the Room of Requirement was the best solution.
Located on the same floor as the Headmaster's office—but in a different part of the castle—the eighth floor was quiet, with very few rooms. Its walls were lined with paintings, and Tom walked past each one carefully until he found what he was looking for: a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by a group of trolls.
Apparently, Barnabas had tried to teach them ballet. They were not interested. The trolls chased him with clubs, and the scene was both absurd and entertaining.
As Tom stared at it, Barnabas gradually grew more and more bruised. He kept shouting his well-meaning explanations, completely ignoring the futility of it all. What a fool.
Tom turned to face the smooth wall across from the tapestry. He focused his mind and began pacing.
"I need a room with mushrooms," he thought silently.
"I need a room with mushrooms."
"I need a room with mushrooms."
Three steps forward, three steps back, three times. The wall shimmered faintly—but no door appeared.
"Huh? Didn't work?" Disappointment flashed across Tom's face. He lowered his expectations.
"I need a room with RPGs."
Another three paces. The wall trembled again—but still, no result.
"I need a room with a hundred AKs."
This time, not even a flicker.
"This is what they call Room of Requirement?" he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Can't even fulfill basic needs."
With a sigh of resignation, Tom finally gave up on trying to acquire hot weapons for self-defense. Maybe his requests were just a bit too much… or maybe the Founders who created this room just weren't that advanced in magical engineering.
Inside the learning space, Andros looked utterly dumbfounded.
He'd been with Tom long enough to know exactly what kind of crazy requests the boy had just made.
"Alright, enough nonsense," Andros said sharply. "You're here to train—not build a military base."
"Fine, fine."
Tom shrugged and began pacing again.
This time, he focused his thoughts on a proper training ground.
Sure enough, after the third pass, a door appeared on the wall as if it had always been there.
Tom pushed it open. It made no sound at all, and as soon as he stepped inside, the torches on the walls flared to life, casting warm light across the vast interior.
The room was huge—nearly half the size of the Great Hall. Wide open and spacious, perfect for magical combat practice.
Spread across the floor were dozens of dummies in all shapes and materials—wood, straw, steel, and more.
Tom's eyes gleamed.
He had found his battlefield.