— — — — — —
Although people outside Hogwarts—and even those inside—liked to call Dumbledore a "senile old man," the truth was that his appearance was never actually messy or deranged.
On the contrary, he dressed with great care and excellent taste.
For the Welcoming Feast, the end-of-term banquet, or any important announcement, Dumbledore usually wore dark robes and a pointed hat. During ordinary school days, he preferred long robes in purple or silver, made of silk-like fabric embroidered with elegant, expensive patterns.
One thing that never changed was how he kept his hair and long beard: flowing, neat, and slightly fluffy in that iconic way of his.
But right now…
Dumbledore's eyes were sunken, dark circles heavy beneath them. His skin looked dull and lifeless. He'd clearly lost weight. Even his treasured white beard was a mess, with several sections hopelessly tangled.
He leaned against the back of his chair with his eyes closed, as if he'd fallen asleep.
It wasn't just Snape who noticed—students and professors alike could tell immediately.
You'd have to be an idiot to miss how exhausted he looked.
Everyone began to whisper about what on earth Dumbledore had been up to over the holidays to end up like this. What kind of trouble had left him so drained?
Their first instinct was, of course, to blame Grindelwald.
It was clear that being a Dark Lord had its downsides—you never knew when some catastrophe would be dumped on your head, whether you deserved it or not.
It would be funny as hell if they knew the true culprits behind Dumbledore's current state were actually Nicolas and Newt, his old friends—or rather, the two thousand Inferi they gave him to purify.
Purification was never simple. Reversing the dark energy animating those corpses and restoring them to a natural state was basically altering their very nature. One or two would be manageable. But two thousand?
It had squeezed Dumbledore dry. Even the Elder Wand was twitching like it had PTSD.
And even then, they were only halfway done. The talk between Nicolas and Dumbledore before yesterday's funeral had been Nicolas nagging him to work faster.
With Tom's guidance, Nicolas had just succeeded in creating two new alchemical life-forms and was riding a wave of excitement. He had countless ideas waiting for materials to bring them to life. Right now he was even more impatient than Tom.
And Newt? Well, Newt just vanished. Even when Dumbledore sent him messages through the Codex, the old man was smart enough not to answer.
"..."
Tom shot Dumbledore a sympathetic look and made a mental note to buy him some honey-flavored sweets to help him recover. Snape, on the other hand, looked far more serious. His quiet muttering was easily picked up by the sharp-eared boy beside him.
"Dumbledore… you aren't going to collapse before Voldemort returns, are you…"
Tom almost choked on his own laughter. He stared at his Head of House with a bizarre expression, then patted Snape's shoulder and said in a mock-solemn tone, "Professor, the headmaster is gravely ill. You must carry the burden."
Snape understood the meaning—and gave Tom a speechless look.
"Who said I want to be headmaster?"
His only wish, his only motivation to keep going, was to see Voldemort die... painfully. Everything else was irrelevant.
"No, no," Tom shook his head quietly. "You still don't get it. Only if you become headmaster can Dumbledore finally be free of all this day-to-day nonsense. Then he could focus completely on dealing with the two Dark Lords."
Snape froze.
Come to think of it… that actually made sense.
Running the school took up most of Dumbledore's energy—especially with Harry Potter around. Oh, and the future third Dark Lord Tom Riddle.
If he became Headmaster = Dumbledore could relax = Voldemort would die faster.
There was even a little bonus — he could make Harry's life hell.
A tiny spark of ambition flared in Snape's chest, and he didn't even notice when Tom slipped away. By the time he came back to himself, most of the students had returned, and he hurried back to his seat.
As he passed Lupin, he paused to deliver an ominous reminder: "Remus, don't forget to come to me tomorrow for your potion."
Lupin, who had been happily chatting with Flitwick, simply smiled warmly. "Thanks for the reminder, Severus. I won't forget."
"Hmph."
---
The Welcoming Feast started and ended without incident.
Aside from Filch adding two more items to the list of things banned from the school. (Not that any student paid attention) They just drifted off to their common rooms in small groups—some to cram unfinished homework, others to review for classes.
Tom's ideas were often morally questionable, but at least they helped Hogwarts students a lot. They weren't running around clueless anymore. They actually remembered to study now.
---
Hermione messaged Tom as soon as she returned to her dorm.
Normally, this witch would spend every spare moment revising before exams, even if she was already confident in everything.
But this time she hadn't seen Tom in almost a month. Video calls didn't count. So Miss Know-It-All actually took a bold step and asked Tom to go moon-gazing with her that night.
Once the castle had gone quiet and she was sure her roommates were asleep, Hermione cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself. And the two met at the front doors.
The little witch happily wrapped her arms around his and the two headed toward the Forbidden Forest. They planned to set up a small nest for the night in unicorn territory.
Sigh~ Tom wouldn't really be getting any proper rest this week. His schedule was already booked: tomorrow was Ginny, and after exams, Penelope…
"Uooo~"
Sensing Tom's presence, three unicorns came galloping from afar, circling excitedly around him. Tom stroked each one in turn. When he finally reached the youngest, he lifted it slightly… and its neck jiggled in a full ring of baby fat, which made Hermione break into quiet laughter.
Tom couldn't help laughing either. "What happened to you, Nova? How did you get so chubby?"
He could feel it. The unicorn had put on at least thirty pounds. There was extra padding everywhere.
The older two whinnied and nudged his shoulder, explaining in their own way. The little one was heading into its adolescent phase, and for the past month it had been doing nothing but eating… or on its way to eat.
"Alright then. We'll deal with the diet once you settle down."
Tom realized every creature he raised was a glutton. He didn't even count the pandas anymore. The unicorns ate nonstop, and Usaki… well, Muggle news had run multiple segments about mysterious meteorite thefts. At this point it was practically an unsolved national mystery.
...
After playing with the unicorns for a bit, the cold finally drove them inside the tent. Tom got Hermione tucked in early. They curled up under the blankets for warmth, talking until the conversation eventually drifted toward Graves.
Hermione… didn't really approve of Tom's way of doing things. She phrased it gently, but he could still hear the disapproval.
And their worldviews clashed again.
Hermione felt he was too reckless. Any direct conflict risked injury or worse.
She also disliked relying on force to solve problems. If everyone acted on strength alone, society would fall apart.
But in the end, her views came from her background.
She grew up in a middle-class household, attended private schools in wealthy neighborhoods, surrounded by kids of similar status.
Families like hers were the most comfortable group in society. They had material security, plenty of savings to cushion risks, and none of the cutthroat competition faced by top-tier elites.
They never saw poverty at the bottom nor the brutality of the top. Naturally, they preferred a system that worked best for people in their position.
Thankfully, Hermione's temperament had softened a lot. With Tom, she wasn't the bossy little cat she once was. She had mellowed. If this had been when they first met—or if she still had her canon personality—she wouldn't be expressing concerns gently. She'd be lecturing him already.
Tom didn't argue back. He just smiled, gave a vague reply, and smoothly steered the conversation toward Hermione's favorite topic: studying.
Not because he was scared or annoyed, but because arguing was pointless.
The only way Hermione would understand his perspective—or how the world really worked—was through experience.
She needed to live more, see more. The ivory tower was full of ideals. After graduation, reality would do the teaching.
Look at Bones. In many ways she and Hermione shared similar traits, but Bones had learned to bend without breaking. She held to her principles without making others uncomfortable.
---
The next morning, Tom and Hermione slept until eight-thirty. They skipped breakfast in the Great Hall and had a house-elf bring food instead. After eating, they rushed to Transfiguration.
"Mr. Riddle, the Headmaster said he'd like you to come to his office at noon. He wants to invite you to lunch."
McGonagall didn't scold him for slipping into class right at the bell. She simply murmured the message.
Tom blinked. He had no idea what the old man was planning, but he nodded and took his seat as class began.
.
.
.