Tom didn't even lift his head. "Don't mind her—she just can't stand the world being too peaceful."
"Hmph."
Daphne puffed her cheeks out in mock anger. Her little sister, and now Tom, both ganging up to tease her—it was too much!
Hmph! So infuriating.
But the sulky pout lasted only a heartbeat before her carefree nature returned. "Tom, tomorrow's the weekend! I've already thought of a way to deal with Megatron. Let me try it again, please?"
"Tomorrow…" Tom paused mid-bite. "Tomorrow won't work. I'm going to Hogsmeade, and I don't know when I'll be back."
"Hogsmeade?" Daphne tilted her head, puzzled. "But only third-years can go there. And tomorrow isn't even an open weekend."
"That's because I've got important business." Tom sipped his onion-cod soup calmly. "Ah—but you reminded me. I forgot to ask Dumbledore for permission."
Sneaking out was always an option, but the rules were the rules. And this wasn't just a casual outing—he was planning to meet Aberforth Dumbledore. If Albus inevitably learned of it, better to inform him than appear disrespectful. No need to stir suspicion over something so small.
"Fawkes," Tom murmured softly.
A few seconds later, fire bloomed in midair, twisting into the shape of a phoenix. Fawkes landed neatly on Tom's shoulder, feathers shimmering like molten gold.
Several professors witnessing the scene twitched at the corner of their eyes.
Dumbledore's phoenix, answering Tom's call so easily—just one word and it came flying—who was truly its master?
"Take this note to Dumbledore. Tell him I'm waiting for his reply."
Tom scrawled a message with a few quick strokes of magic, slid the parchment into Fawkes's talons, and the phoenix affectionately brushed its beak against his cheek before soaring toward the tower.
Headmaster's Office
Albus Dumbledore stared blankly at Fawkes's suddenly empty perch. Apparition? Within Hogwarts? Impossible.
Before he could reason it out, Fawkes swept in through the window and dropped a note onto his desk.
Dumbledore: …
Well. That explained everything.
So this was how students operated now? The headmaster's office was a mere eight floors above the Great Hall—yet rather than climb the stairs, Tom had sent a phoenix messenger. What laziness!
Shaking his head at this "decline of the age," Dumbledore unfolded the parchment.
As expected, Tom shifted the responsibility onto Newt Scamander—claiming he needed to meet Aberforth to ask about poachers' movements. The Hog's Head wasn't precisely a den of Dark dealings, but it was a favored haunt for shady characters. Few knew the gruff barkeep was the headmaster's brother, and Aberforth had gleaned plenty of intelligence because of it.
And Newt did, indeed, have ties with Aberforth. Tom had already confirmed it with Newt through WhatsApp.
Fawkes gave an impatient cry, snapping Dumbledore from his thoughts.
His little brother was waiting for a reply—couldn't the old man hurry it up?
"Fawkes, you—" Dumbledore sighed, torn between laughter and exasperation. Was this his phoenix… or Tom's?
Still, he penned a short note: Tell Mr. Riddle he may go to Hogsmeade, but he must not leave the village or the school grounds. Otherwise, no further permissions will be granted.
Just as Tom had shown courtesy, so too would Dumbledore. There was no need to be petty over such a minor matter.
This Tom was both similar and very different from the Voldemort he remembered. His greatest virtue, in Albus's eyes, was knowing restraint. Voldemort had never been this… wild—brawling with professors in public, for instance—but even so, Dumbledore found a strange reassurance in Tom's balance of boldness and control.
Soon, Fawkes returned to Tom with the signed permission.
Daphne's eyes sparkled with envy. Not because she wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but because she wished she could go with Tom. If the two of them ended up in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop together… wouldn't that count as… dating?
She had heard plenty of whispered rumors and juicy gossip about that tea shop from older girls.
Just wait until third year, she told herself. Then she could walk Hogsmeade with Tom too.
Astoria, meanwhile, was gazing dreamily at Fawkes as the phoenix preened its feathers. Noticing her longing look, Tom promptly handed the bird over.
"Fawkes, grooming yourself is awkward. Let Astoria help."
A phoenix's pride was legendary, and even a sweet little girl usually wouldn't be worthy of its attention. But for Tom's sake, Fawkes grudgingly allowed it.
Astoria lit up with delight, carefully hugging the phoenix and smoothing its radiant feathers.
"Tom."
Daphne suddenly leaned closer, her voice hushed. Her warm breath brushed against his cheek.
"Hm?" Tom turned his head slightly, puzzled by her secretive tone.
"I want to hear a story tonight," she whispered, her words half request, half pout.
"Tonight?" Tom hesitated. "You don't expect me to sneak into the girls' dormitory, do you?"
"We can go to the little world," Daphne replied at once, finally revealing her true plan. Not just a bedtime story—she wanted Tom as her personal pillow too. Even at her age, she'd already grasped the rule: why not have both?
And Tom rarely refused Daphne's requests.
"Fine then. Put your roommates under a Stunner and sneak out. We'll meet in the common room at midnight."
"(≧▽≦) Okayyy~"
Their voices were so quiet that even Astoria didn't hear. Only later, when she realized her sister had slipped out for story-time, did Astoria learn the truth—her sister had snuck away!