Andros's sudden interjection startled Tom. He immediately shot back in his mind, annoyed,
"Andros, do you even have a Galleon?"
"She's only eleven. Does she even know what 'liking someone' means?"
Tom didn't say it out loud, but the idea of him falling for an eleven-year-old girl was ridiculous.
Although… raising one for a few years first didn't seem entirely out of the question.
"What's the big deal?" Andros said indifferently. "In my era, plenty of people were married and had children at thirteen or fourteen. Even younger wasn't unheard of."
"Oh?" Tom countered calmly. "And what about you, Mr. Andros?"
A direct hit—silence, followed by emotional damage.
Back in the day, Andros had been a pure battle maniac and a magic fanatic. Women would only slow down his magical progress. Not just at thirteen or fourteen—he was a lifelong single dog right up until his death.
Such incredible magical talent, never passed down. Otherwise, he would likely have founded another powerful family.
In truth, the wizarding world's obsession with bloodlines wasn't entirely without reason. Powerful wizards often left behind fragments of their strength and accumulated magical knowledge. Compared to half-bloods, this made it easier for families to endure.
The Gaunt family, for instance—or the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Every one of them had glorious ancestors.
…
Seeing Andros so easily KO'd—so much so that he voluntarily shut himself into silence—Tom chuckled inwardly and continued responding to Daphne's endless questions.
While chatting, Tom subtly probed for information.
A simple, innocent girl like Daphne was no match for layered questioning. In just a few moves, she had practically spilled everything she knew about the Greengrass family.
For example: her mother was the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Her grandmother had been the Head of the same department. Her great-grandmother as well…
Oh, and by the way—the Greengrass family tradition was uxorilocal marriage (men married into the family). And for the past three hundred years, every child born into the family had been female.
When Daphne complained that her allowance was "only" two hundred Galleons per term, Tom's heart skipped a beat.
Marrying into the family didn't sound like much of a problem at all.
There were three terms in a Hogwarts year. Daphne got six hundred Galleons a year—almost as much as Dumbledore had given Tom for seven years.
A rich girl. A soft, cute little rich girl.
Wasn't that… fragrant?
Unconsciously, Tom's attitude toward Daphne became noticeably gentler. The smile on the girl's face never faded.
Around twelve-thirty, the compartment door opened again. A kindly smiling witch looked inside.
"Children, would you like to buy some food?"
"Of course!" Daphne hopped down from her seat excitedly and ran over to the trolley like a curious little kitten.
She didn't so much choose as sweep. She bought a bit of nearly everything—some more, some less—and almost cleared out the entire stock of Chocolate Frogs.
The total came to two Galleons and thirteen Sickles—about the same as the Weasley family's allowance for an entire school year.
Tom suddenly understood why Daphne complained that two hundred Galleons wasn't enough. With her spending speed, that really wouldn't last a full term—probably not even a month.
While Daphne was paying, Tom discreetly observed the trolley witch.
According to rumor, this witch had been hired by the Ministry back in 1830, when the Hogwarts Express first began running. That meant she was at least 180 years old.
Even among wizards, that counted as exceptional longevity.
Tom didn't just observe himself—he also dragged the sulking Andros out to look. But until the witch pushed her trolley away, neither of them noticed anything unusual.
Tom concluded she probably just had a long-lived constitution and stopped thinking about it.
Daphne generously piled all the food onto the table and shared it with Tom.
Tom accepted without hesitation. If you couldn't even accept this much, what kind of future soft-rice eater were you?
They ate and chatted, eventually drifting to the topic of House sorting.
"My whole family's in Slytherin," Daphne said shyly. "If nothing unexpected happens, I'll probably be sorted there too. Of course, the other Houses aren't bad either—Mum wouldn't be angry. Just… as long as it's not Gryffindor."
"Why do you hate Gryffindor so much?" Tom asked curiously.
"Mum says Gryffindor is the source of all trouble," Daphne said without hiding her dislike.
"Anywhere there are Gryffindors, things never stay peaceful. You never know what kind of mess they'll cause."
Tom thought about it and felt Mrs. Greengrass's assessment was painfully accurate.
"Um… Riddle," Daphne asked hesitantly, "do you want to go to Gryffindor?"
Seeing Tom silent, she worried she'd offended him by speaking badly of Gryffindor and secretly cursed her own thoughtlessness.
"No," Tom smiled. "I hope I'll go to Ravenclaw. Or Hufflepuff would be fine too—somewhere good for studying quietly."
"You love studying so much—you'll definitely be sorted into Ravenclaw," Daphne said confidently.
Just then, a scream echoed from outside the compartment. Neither Tom nor Daphne paid it much attention and were preparing to take a short nap.
But not long after, someone knocked on the door.
Without waiting for a response, the door was pushed open.
"Have you seen a toad—Ri-Riddle?! Why are you here?!"
The girl who burst in had bushy brown hair. Her cute face was somewhat undermined by a pair of prominent front teeth.
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Tom and screamed as if she'd seen a ghost, startling the chubby boy behind her into trembling.
Daphne, already frowning at the intruder's rudeness, saw that she actually knew Tom—and her pretty face scrunched up immediately.
Tom, however, calmly looked up.
"Miss Granger, if you can be on the Hogwarts Express, why wouldn't I be?"
"N-no, that's not what I meant!" Hermione Granger stammered.
"I—I just meant… this is great!"
At that, Daphne's expression darkened completely.
For some reason, she suddenly felt like a beloved toy was about to be snatched away.
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