Thanks to this Miss Granger, Tom had been able to confirm the nature of this world several years earlier than expected.
Ever since that math competition back then, Tom had run into Hermione at various academic contests for primary schoolers.
He was there for the prize money and school rewards. Hermione? She was there purely out of interest.
Her interest was studying.
But no matter how passionate she was, there was no way passion alone could beat Tom’s desperation to survive. So out of the dozen or so times they’d competed, Tom had won almost every single time.
The one time he lost was at a school sports event—three-legged race. His teammate, an absolute idiot who couldn’t coordinate his legs and dragged him down the whole time.
Hermione had assumed their little rivalry would end once she went off to Hogwarts.
After a moment of shock, she was absolutely buzzing with excitement.
This meant she still had a chance to beat him.
Right then and there, Hermione completely forgot why she’d come to this compartment in the first place. She didn’t even notice Daphne’s expression darken.
"Riddle, I already finished Modern Magical Theory, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Magical Events of the Twentieth Century, and most of our supplementary reading over the summer! What about you?"
"Oh! And I’ve already learned some basic spells. Which House do you want to be in? I’m aiming for Gryffindor—I heard it’s the best!"
Tom closed his eyes. It felt like a hundred birds were all chirping at once next to his ear.
When she finally paused to breathe, he took the chance to point at the chubby boy still standing awkwardly in the doorway, on the verge of tears.
"Granger, didn’t you come here with your friend?"
"And for the record—we haven’t seen any toads. Maybe try another compartment."
Hermione turned around and blinked in surprise. She gave the boy an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, Longbottom. I got a bit excited and forgot."
"N-no problem," Neville stammered.
"We’ll talk later, Riddle. Don’t fall too far behind—or it won’t be satisfying when I beat you!"
With that totally-not-threatening declaration, Hermione whisked Neville away on her quest to find his lost toad.
The moment the door slid shut, Daphne scowled. "Tom, who was that? She was so rude!"
From the moment Hermione walked in, she hadn’t even looked at Daphne, let alone greeted her. Then there was that arrogant, know-it-all tone... Yeah, Daphne was seriously annoyed.
"A friend from competitions," Tom said with a chuckle. "That’s just how Granger is. She’s competitive, but there’s no malice in it. You’ll get used to her."
"I don’t want to get used to someone with no manners," Daphne huffed. "No wonder she wants to be in Gryffindor. She’s totally one of those brainless, Mum warned me about."
Tom raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Honestly? Daphne wasn’t wrong.
First-year Hermione—or actually, Hermione most of the time—wasn’t exactly easy to get along with.
If Tom remembered right, she managed to clash with nearly everyone at some point—roommates, Ginny, Luna... even Harry and Ron. Those two only forgave her because they were too laid-back to hold grudges. Otherwise? She probably wouldn’t have made any close friends at all.
Not wanting Daphne to dwell on it, Tom casually changed the subject.
Later on, Hermione came back for another chat—but by then, Daphne had fallen asleep. Tom quietly gestured for silence, and Hermione resentfully left again.
As the sky darkened and the train started to slow, Tom knew they were getting close. He gently nudged Daphne awake.
She blinked sleepily, her eyes full of confusion before she realized where she was.
"Tom... are we there yet?"
"Yeah, the train’s slowing down."
"Oh—then we’d better get our robes on!"
She scrambled to her feet, only to feel something wet at the corner of her mouth. She wiped it—and her face turned bright red.
Oh no. Did Tom see? That’s so embarrassing!
Does he think I sleep in a weird position? What if he thinks I’m gross?!
Unaware of the minor crisis going on inside Daphne’s head, Tom just found it curious how chatty she’d been before her nap, only to suddenly turn all shy and quiet now.
With a loud whistle, the train finally came to a halt.
The students poured out, where Hagrid’s booming voice called for all first-years to gather in line.
They were taking the boats across the lake to get to Hogwarts.
Tom and Daphne ended up on the same boat with two other kids. Tom did a quick headcount—this year’s incoming class looked to be around eighty to ninety students. Maybe just under a hundred.
That meant the school wasn’t as empty as he’d assumed.
If you added up all seven years, Hogwarts probably had around six hundred students altogether.
(Author’s note: This is during Voldemort’s dark reign—birth rates among wizarding families are really low. But in other years, student numbers will increase. The upper limit of the school population is around 1,000.)
As they approached a rocky cliff, Hagrid called out for everyone to duck—but really, it was only necessary for him.
Legend had it that this path was the same one the four founders of Hogwarts took when they first arrived, which was why every new class of first-years had to take it too. A tradition of sorts.
Eventually, the boats reached the dock. The students climbed out and followed Hagrid up a flight of stone steps until they stood before a massive oak door.
Hagrid knocked three times with his giant fist.
The door opened with a creak, revealing a tall witch in emerald-green robes. Her expression was stern.
The students instantly went quiet, like mice facing a very large cat.
"First-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, gesturing to the cluster of tiny witches and wizards.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take it from here."
McGonagall gave a small nod, then pulled the doors open wider, leading the first-years into a warm and brightly lit entrance hall.