Granger House.
5:30 a.m.
The alarm clock on the nightstand blared like a foghorn.
A small hand wormed its way out from under the covers and, muscle-memory guiding it, slapped toward the top of the clock.
Incredibly, the alarm dodged—leaping up and hovering in mid-air, still screeching away. Tom had put a tiny Levitation Charm on it.
Hermione threw off the blankets, reached up, caught the clock, and shut it off.
One second. Two seconds. Three…
"Ah!" She stared at her hands.
"I'm back! I'm finally back! My Patch!" She rummaged around the nightstand, found her Snoopy plushie, and hugged it tight.
She'd missed this so much!
Hermione climbed out of bed, then winced with a little yelp.
Her legs were sore and wobbly. Shoulders, back, arms—everything ached.
Gritting her teeth, she shuffled to the mirror and saw she was wearing a loose, silky white nightgown.
Not her usual fitted one, but comfy.
That jerk!
He used my body to take a shower!
Hermione's teeth itched with anger.
The usually messy room was now spotless. It took her forever to find her spellbooks in the nightstand drawer.
Good, at least the books were still there.
…
Downstairs, Mrs. Granger had breakfast ready.
Normally by now, Hermione would already be up and out for her morning exercise, but today there wasn't a peep.
Mrs. Granger was starting to regret leaving her alone for that week-long trip with her husband.
Ever since they got back, Hermione had changed.
The girl who hated exercise was suddenly up at dawn working out. The one who didn't care about fashion was dressing like a little model—cool and put-together—and keeping everything tidy.
Most shocking of all: Hermione had made a friend. Unbelievable!
Two days ago, she'd handed her parents tickets to an amusement park. "A friend gave them to me," she'd said. "You two should go out and have fun—don't stay cooped up all the time."
Mrs. Granger never thought she'd hear those words from her daughter.
"Ah—!!!"
A shrill scream echoed from upstairs.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Mrs. Granger called.
"N-nothing!" came the stammered reply.
Jerk!
Jerk!!
Total jerk!!!
Hermione stared in horror at her ruined textbooks—every single page covered in dense notes.
Not just a few pages. Every. Single. One.
From cover to cover.
Notes on Wingardium Leviosa…
Notes on Incendio…
Softening Charm, Severing Charm, Unlocking Charm…
No matter which page she flipped to, there was Tom's handwriting.
She opened the wardrobe to change out of the nightgown and froze.
When did I get all these new clothes?
Where are my old ones?
Tom, you absolute jerk!
She grabbed something at random and threw it on, then spotted a note tucked under The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 on the nightstand.
July 16: 100 squats, 100 push-ups, 10 pull-ups (✓)
July 17: 1 hour 30 min jog, 120 squats, 120 push-ups, 12 pull-ups (✓)
July 18…
All the way up to July 22.
Today was July 23—the day they'd swapped back.
Hermione was breathing hard just reading the list.
Still… the results were obvious. Her body felt lighter, stronger.
…
St. Lydia's Orphanage.
Tom was thrilled—little Tom was back, and there was over two hundred pounds stuffed under his pillow.
Hermione was amazing. She'd earned that much in just a week.
As he stepped out of the storage room, an owl circled overhead, spotted him, and swooped down to land right in front of him.
It carried a letter in its beak—a crisp white envelope sealed with red wax.
In the center of the seal was a large "H," surrounded by four animals: snake, badger, lion, and eagle.
The Hogwarts acceptance letter!
Tom's heart raced with excitement as he tore it open.
[Dear Mr. Riddle,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. I will be visiting in person tomorrow to await your reply.
Yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore]
Professor Dumbledore?
In Tom's memory, the letter was supposed to come from Professor McGonagall—the cat-animagus lady.
And Dumbledore coming in person?
Does he know about the swap with Hermione?
"Misha." Tom spotted the familiar little figure as the orphanage kids filed into the dining hall.
But something was off. Usually they'd all run over excitedly when they saw him. Today… nothing.
Lawrence was gone too—probably adopted.
"T-Tom?" Misha murmured when she saw him, but she didn't sit next to him like always.
Tom: "?"
What on earth did Hermione do to them?
He picked up his tray and slid in beside her.
"Tom, are you… not busy today?" Misha sounded down, pouting a little. "These past few days whenever I wanted to play, you were always busy. Even evenings you were off tutoring Miss Sean. It's been four days, ten hours, and twelve minutes since we last talked."
"Because I wanted to take you out for dessert," Tom answered smoothly.
"I don't want any dessert."
"What about those custard puffs from Shibell's? They've got chocolate cake too—I remember that's your favorite."
Misha paused, focusing on her food, but her eyes lit up.
"Remember last week… uh, I mean, when we were out selling flowers and that girl your age was eating donuts?"
Misha: "…"
"If you're gonna ignore me, I'll just have to go eat them alone." Tom sighed dramatically. "Man, even Misha doesn't want to hang out with me anymore. Breaks my heart. And in a few days I'll be leaving for good."
Misha froze mid-bite and stared at him. "Leaving? Where? To the Michelson house?"
Tom shook his head and pulled out the Hogwarts envelope. "School. Hogwarts. I'll only get to visit on holidays from now on."
Misha's mouth fell open. She took the envelope gently, staring at the writing over and over.
"Oh my gosh… Tom! Congratulations!"
Tom smiled and tucked the letter away. "So—who's coming for treats now?"
"Me! Me!"
The day flew by. Tom skipped tutoring Sean and spent it wandering around with Misha instead.
Soon enough, it was the next day.
Dawn was barely breaking when Tom's internal clock woke him.
Someone had been waiting for him a while already.
Professor Dumbledore was a kind-looking old man. Even with snow-white hair and beard, he stood straight and tall.
He'd done a lot of mental prep before sending that owl.
"Good morning, Mr. Riddle."
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." Tom replied politely. "I've already made my decision."
He didn't need to ask—Dumbledore could see the answer in the boy's eyes.
"You're going to be an outstanding wizard one day, my boy.
I once knew another child your age with a very similar name…
During his time at Hogwarts he earned quite a reputation. I hope one day you'll reach the same heights."
Tom smiled. "Professor, I do have one request."
"Hmm?"
"Could I start at Hogwarts early? You know I can't practice magic openly here at the orphanage—it'd draw too much attention.
I don't want the other kids seeing me mess up spells. So… if the school allows it, could I arrive ahead of time?"
The first-year books weren't cutting it anymore.
Sixteen hours a day of study had basically burned them into his brain. He needed more advanced material.
Getting to Hogwarts early was perfect.
"Hmm… well, that's not exactly regulation," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard with a troubled look. "Before starting classes you need to be Sorted, and only then can we assign dormitories.
But you do have a point. Let me think."
He ran through the staff in his mind.
Female professors—no.
That left himself, Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick, Mr. Filch, and Hagrid.
Flitwick was on vacation in Argentina.
Filch had his cat—he'd never agree to share space with a kid.
Hagrid, though?
Hagrid's personality might actually be perfect for this boy.
Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth, Tom beat him to it: "Professor, I'm really interested in Potions. If I have questions, would it be okay to ask the professor who teaches it? I mean, I wouldn't want to disturb their holiday…"
"Oh, my boy, of course that's fine. Since you're keen on Potions… hmm. I'll have a word with the Potions Master in advance. But first, we should get you sorted out with supplies. You haven't been to Diagon Alley yet, have you?"
A wand!
Tom's heart leaped.
His very own wand—at last.
Hermione had somehow earned him over two hundred pounds. At roughly five pounds to a Galleon, that was about forty Galleons.
It wasn't enough.
The bare minimum for school supplies was around 106 Galleons. But since Dumbledore hadn't mentioned money, Tom didn't bring it up. He just quietly noted how many he'd owe and planned to pay the professor back later.
"You're quite special, Tom," Dumbledore said suddenly. "I've met many eleven-year-olds. Most of them gape in disbelief when they see me. Some Muggle-born children—whose parents are non-magical—have even more colorful reactions. Even after I appear, they still refuse to believe magic is real.
But you… you act as if you always knew it existed."
Tom smiled. "Of course, Professor."
"You'll go far." Dumbledore put an arm around his shoulders. "Shall we go? Do you need to say goodbye to your little friends? They're still asleep."
Tom shook his head. "No need. They'd cry if they saw me leave. I'll visit on a future holiday."
They left St. Lydia's Orphanage together and headed to Diagon Alley to buy supplies.
Even being as frugal as possible, Tom still spent exactly 106 Galleons.
His wand was a bit unusual—he tried for over half an hour before finding the right one.
Yew wood with a thunderbird tail feather core.
The wandmaker was surprised anyone had chosen it.
Yew is extremely picky—only the most gifted, top-tier wizards can wield it properly. Thunderbird tail feather is powerful but notoriously difficult to master.
"Tom, shall we head straight back to Hogwarts now that we're done shopping?" Dumbledore asked.