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"Not already gone?" Tom pointed toward the noisy floor below. "Look, Hagrid's chasing him right now."
"Both of you—get to my quarters and stay there until I return!" Snape jabbed a finger right at Tom's nose. "And next time, don't be so reckless, do you hear me?!
That little fireworks show you just put on might as well have been you standing on You-Know-Who's face and laughing at him. If I were him, I'd have killed you on the spot!
You had better options. You had safer ways!"
With that, Snape stormed out, his cloak whipping up a gust of wind behind him.
"Tom, Professor Snape seems… off," the shadow tugged Tom's sleeve.
He felt different from the one she'd met earlier that day—rushed, almost frantic. He was still scolding Tom, but underneath the yelling there was real worry.
Why?
Did that mean… Professor Snape actually cared about Tom a lot?
Then why did he always act so sour, like Tom had murdered his father or something?
The shadow decided Snape was officially the hardest person in the castle to figure out.
"So where are we going now? Professor Snape's quarters?"
Tom thought for a second, then shook his head. "No. We're going somewhere else first."
Snape's rooms were safe, but before they hid there, they needed to check in with the actual master of Hogwarts.
Headmaster's office.
The old man was already smiling, as if he'd been expecting them.
"Tom, Isabelle, my two young friends. What brings you to see this old man tonight?"
"I missed you, Professor Dumbledore," Tom said without a hint of shame. "Professor, we ran into something pretty scary tonight."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose with amusement. "Oh? You mean the part where you were dragged into You-Know-Who's dream and decided to impersonate me?"
He stroked his beard. "Tom, how exactly did you learn about those old matters? No one at school should know that name."
He was talking about Voldemort's real name.
Long ago, Dumbledore had noticed something strange.
Why did Tom keep disguising himself instead of facing Voldemort as himself?
Now he understood: Tom had known the truth all along.
Tom Riddle.
The odds of two people sharing that exact name were tiny.
"Professor Dumbledore, do you remember that day?" Tom cleared his throat. "Maybe you've forgotten, but I haven't. I was still at the orphanage wondering what to eat for breakfast when an owl landed right outside my door.
I was shocked at first… but later I was even more shocked."
Tom's lips curved into a small smile. "Because I found out exactly when the Hogwarts letter was sent and who sent it.
Every other student's letter came at the normal time, delivered by Professor McGonagall. Mine came from you, Headmaster.
I always thought I was just an ordinary kid—no special talent, no rich family. So why would the Headmaster personally deliver my letter? Once I got to school I kept looking for the reason.
Finally I noticed it: almost every professor looked shocked when they heard my name.
Some of the ghost professors even panicked. And you know me, Professor—I like reading."
Tom stopped there. He didn't need to say more.
(Of course, that was just the polite version for Dumbledore.
The real story?
Tom had known Voldemort's real name from the second he realized this was the Harry Potter world. He'd been on high alert ever since.
He'd hidden it perfectly… until now.)
"Tom," Dumbledore interrupted gently, "you pieced all that together from tiny clues. You really are a clever one. But how much do you actually know about You-Know-Who's past?"
"Enough to know he came from an orphanage too.
Can't help it—we orphanage kids all think the same way. Don't worry, Professor. I won't turn out like him."
(Killing a few hundred people and calling yourself the Dark Lord?
If I ever become a Dark Lord, I'm conquering the whole damn world.)
"Mmm… I believe you," Dumbledore nodded. "About his past—you're right. He did grow up in an orphanage, and when he was your age he was a lot like you.
Brilliant. Driven. Worked harder than anyone. The most gifted young wizard the school had ever seen.
Of course, at your age he was nowhere near as strong as you are now. Your future will far surpass his.
And I see kindness in you, Tom. The kind that stays even after you learned you share a name with the Dark Lord. That's very precious."
"Uh, Professor, you don't have to say all those nice things. Honestly, I'm more curious—why aren't you out chasing him right now?"
Dumbledore stroked his long beard. "I have a more important job, Tom. Have you forgotten what You-Know-Who really wants?
I must guard the Sorcerer's Stone. It cannot fall into his hands."
"Tom, this task is vital. If one day I'm no longer here, I hope you'll continue it. The future of our world belongs to you young ones—especially the capable ones like you."
"I know, Professor. With great power comes great… power!"
Dumbledore: "?"
"Uh, I mean—with great power comes great responsibility."
Meanwhile…
Gryffindor Tower.
Harry Potter poked his head out the window when a huge firework exploded outside.
"Who's being this flashy? Setting off fireworks inside the castle? Snape's gonna hang them upside down in detention for a month."
He muttered to himself.
If it were him…
Harry knew he wouldn't have the guts.
Wait… was that Tom again?
For some reason, every time he thought of Tom, a bunch of scenes flashed through his mind.
Like Halloween, when Hermione gave Tom a gift.
Or the time he saw Hermione riding behind Tom on the Firebolt, arms tight around his waist, laughing like she'd never been happier.
Damn it!
Why couldn't that be me next to her?!
At least Tom was still at school while Hermione was safe at Ron's house.
Wonder how things are over there.
Harry really wanted to leave Hogwarts and go find her.
But he knew You-Know-Who had already broken into the castle—and his target was Harry himself.
No mystery why.
He was the Boy Who Lived. The one in the prophecy who would kill Voldemort.
Even the Chosen One had problems, though.
He still wasn't strong enough to save anyone.
And right now he was being super pathetic.
No one would guess the future savior of the wizarding world was currently daydreaming about spending time with classmate Hermione Granger.
"Bad news!"
The dormitory door burst open.
Harry saw Ron—red hair flying, face pale, freckles standing out like never before.
"Ron? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Hermione—"
"That doesn't matter, Harry!" Ron shouted. "You-Know-Who—he took Hermione!"
"What?!"
Harry's mouth fell open in disbelief.
"He's back, Harry. He's really strong. Mum fought with everything she had, but she couldn't stop him. He's the greatest Dark Lord there ever was. We have to save Hermione—right now! Only we can do it!"
Harry grabbed Ron's shoulder, but Ron twisted away smoothly, like he'd been expecting it.
"Harry, he wants the Sorcerer's Stone. He said if we don't hand it over, he'll kill Hermione! He'll tear her apart!"
"Slow down and tell me exactly what happened!"
"I don't know how to explain! The castle is full of his spies. He told me to find you and say he needs the Stone. If you tell Dumbledore, he'll kill her. We have to get the Stone now—only the Stone can save her!"
Harry hesitated. "But if You-Know-Who gets the Stone, he'll come back to full power. The whole wizarding world will—"
"Is the whole wizarding world more important than Hermione?!" Ron snapped, cutting him off.
"She's the girl you like!
For Hermione—for her—you have to do this! Dumbledore's the strongest wizard alive. We'll rescue her first, then figure out how to fight You-Know-Who together, okay?
If we don't hand over the Stone in the next hour, you know what'll happen!
For the rest of your years at Hogwarts you'll never see her again. No Hermione sitting next to you in class.
No Christmas presents from her.
You won't even get to see her wedding—whether it's to you or anyone else!"
That finally got through.
Harry's face went white.
"But… but I don't even know how to get the Stone. It's hidden in the—"
"I know!" Ron interrupted roughly. "It's in the Mirror of Erised! Only you can take it out—you're the Chosen One! Let's go—follow me!"
Harry followed in a daze.
They reached the third-floor corridor.
The three-headed dog was fast asleep and didn't notice the two boys sneaking past.
Down the stairs, deeper into the chamber.
The room was eerily quiet. Too quiet.
No traps. No defenses.
It didn't feel like a place guarding the most powerful magical object in the world.
Harry reached out to tap Ron's shoulder again, but Ron suddenly sped up.
"Harry, what are you waiting for? Run!"
"Who are you?"
Harry stopped dead. "That's twice now. You won't let me touch you. First time I thought it was nothing, but not anymore.
Tell me—who are you? You're not Ron. Ron doesn't act like this when he's scared."
"Who am I?" Ron snarled. "What kind of stupid question is that? Of course I'm Ron. Who else would I be? And right now you should be worried about Hermione!"
"Hermione's fine."
"She was taken by the Dark Lord!"
"I just realized something. Why did Tom set off such a huge firework? He knew it was against the rules, but he still did it. And I didn't hear Professor Snape yelling at him. That means Snape has something even more important to deal with, right?"
Ron fell silent. He stared at Harry Potter like he was looking at a stranger.
"I didn't expect you to stay this calm."
"I wasn't calm at first. You're the one who slipped up—Voldemort. Or should I say… Professor Quirrell!"
The skin on Ron's face began to ripple. Flesh peeled away, bones cracked and shifted. In seconds he became Quirrell.
Quirrell turned slowly, the face on the back of his head staring straight at Harry.
"Harry Potter! At last we meet. How many times has it been now? I order you—bring me the Sorcerer's Stone. Now. Immediately!"
Voldemort's voice left no room for argument.
"No matter what you say, I won't do it."
"Did I give you permission to refuse?! You have no right to refuse, Harry Potter!"
Harry shook his head again. "I won't. I already told you. And anyway… we've got a score to settle, don't we?
You're the one who killed my mum and dad."
Harry's eyes burned red. The lightning scar on his forehead flared hot.
"Voldemort!"
He raised his wand like an angry child ready to bite.
A burst of fierce light shot from the tip.
"Expelliarmus!"
"You're too weak." Voldemort flicked his wand like swatting a fly, batting Harry's spell aside. "If you won't fetch the Stone willingly, I'll have to make you. My methods might be… painful. Painful enough that you may not survive them.
Harry Potter, you know I've waited ten long years for this day.
Back then you were just a baby. I couldn't kill you—your mother loved you too much.
But today… I hope another mother steps forward to protect you."
Green mist rose from Voldemort's body. His wand crackled with deadly power.
He raised it high. The stone floor of the chamber began to shake.
"Since you refuse to hand over the Stone nicely, I'll just have to torture you first and take it myself."
The tip of the wand pointed straight at Harry.
Voldemort roared:
"Sectumsempra!"
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