Andros suddenly speaking up made Tom jump a little. He shot back mentally, annoyed, "Do you even have a Galleon, Andros?"
"She’s only eleven. What does she even know about liking someone?"
Tom didn’t mention himself in that sentence, of course—but the idea of falling in love with an eleven-year-old? Yeah, no thanks. Ridiculous.
Though... raising one for a few years didn’t sound entirely out of the question.
"Back in my day, people got married and had kids by thirteen or fourteen. Some even younger." Andros sounded completely unfazed.
Tom snorted. "Really? And how about you, Mr. In-My-Day?"
That hit the mark. Andros went dead silent, clearly a bit wounded.
Truth was, Andros had been a magic-obsessed battle junkie in his time. Women were just distractions from his pursuit of magical power.
Even when he died, he was still very much single.
His immense magical talent had died with him—what a waste. If he’d passed it on, he probably would’ve founded a legendary magical family.
To be fair, the magical world’s obsession with bloodlines wasn’t totally baseless. Powerful wizards did often leave behind magical knowledge and talents that could be inherited. It gave pure-blood families a leg up in terms of legacy and power.
Look at the Gaunts—or the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Their ancestors were seriously formidable.
Tom smirked to himself as Andros sulked and even shut off the studying space in embarrassment. He turned his attention back to Daphne, who was still firing off questions like a curious little puppy.
Meanwhile, he also took the chance to casually steer the conversation and fish for info.
The poor girl didn’t stand a chance against someone like him. Before long, she’d practically laid out the entire Greengrass family history on a silver platter.
For example: her mother was the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Her grandmother? Also the head of the Department of Magical Transportation. Great-grandmother? Same gig.
Apparently, the Greengrass family had a tradition of marrying in, and for the last three hundred years, they’d only had daughters.
And when Daphne pouted about only getting 200 Galleons of pocket money per term... Tom’s heart skipped a beat.
Marrying in? Pfft, not a problem.
Hogwarts had three terms per year. That meant Daphne’s annual allowance was 600 Galleons. That was almost as much as Dumbledore had given him to last seven years.
She wasn’t just a rich girl—she was a soft, adorable little rich girl.
What was there not to like?
Without even realizing it, Tom found himself warming up to her.
After some time, the compartment door slid open again. A smiling woman peeked in.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
"Yes, please!" Daphne practically bounced to her feet and skipped over to the trolley like an excited child.
Calling it "choosing" was generous—she basically bought one of everything, varying the amounts, and completely cleaned out all the Chocolate Frogs.
The total came to two Galleons and thirteen Sickles—more than the Weasley family spent on an entire year of pocket money.
Suddenly, Tom understood why she complained about her 200 Galleons not being enough. At this rate, she’d blow through it in a month.
As Daphne paid, Tom took the chance to observe the trolley witch carefully.
According to rumors, she’d been working on the Hogwarts Express since its maiden voyage in 1830. That would make her at least 180 years old.
Even by wizarding standards, that was pushing it.
Tom wasn’t content to just look with his own eyes—he called Andros out of his sulk to help investigate. But even with two pairs of eyes, they couldn’t find any signs that she was anything more than a long-lived, ordinary witch.
In the end, Tom let it go.
Back in the compartment, Daphne cheerfully laid out the mountain of sweets she’d bought and insisted on sharing everything with Tom.
He didn’t even hesitate to accept. If he didn’t have the shamelessness to eat a little soft-funded candy, he could forget about ever eating soft-funded meals.
As they ate and chatted, the conversation turned to the Sorting.
"My whole family’s been in Slytherin," Daphne said with a shy smile. "So I’ll probably end up there too. But I think the other Houses are fine too. My mum won’t be mad—as long as I don’t get put in Gryffindor."
Tom raised a brow. "What’s with the Gryffindor hate?"
"Mum says they’re the source of all problems." Daphne wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Wherever there’s a Gryffindor, there’s chaos. You never know what kind of trouble they’ll stir up."
Tom thought about that. Honestly? Fair point. That sounded exactly
"Um... Tom?" Daphne’s voice dropped a bit, and she looked nervous. "You don’t want to be in Gryffindor, do you?"
She must’ve thought he was offended and instantly regretted her earlier comment.
"No worries." Tom chuckled. "I’m hoping for Ravenclaw, maybe Hufflepuff. Somewhere quiet. Good for studying."
"You love learning that much? You’ll definitely make it into Ravenclaw." Daphne beamed at him, completely sincere.
Just then, a loud shriek echoed from outside their compartment. Neither of them paid it much mind—they were finishing up their lunch and ready for a little nap.
But soon after, someone knocked at the door.
Before either of them could answer, the door slid open.
"Have either of you seen a toad—wait, Tom Riddle?! What are you doing here?!"
A bushy-haired girl with large front teeth and a very expressive face stood frozen in the doorway. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost.
Behind her, a chubby boy stood trembling.
Daphne was already frowning at the girl’s rudeness, but now her entire face scrunched in irritation when she realized the girl knew Tom.
Tom, for his part, was as calm as ever. He looked up casually and said, "Miss Granger. If you’re allowed to ride the Hogwarts Express, why wouldn’t I be here?"
"N-no! That’s not what I meant!" Hermione Granger stumbled over her words, flustered. "I just meant—this is great!"
And just like that, Daphne’s expression went completely dark. She suddenly had the awful feeling that her new favorite toy might be about to get stolen.