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"Professor Snape, forgive me, but I haven't had the chance to explain your rules to Misha yet," Tom said, raising a hand.
He couldn't wait for Snape's temper to boil over before trying to explain. Once Snape saw red, he wouldn't listen to a damn word.
"Then you will explain it to them shortly," Snape sneered coldly. "A Muggle-born human, and a... piece of Dark Magic. Hmph. How fascinating."
"I expect the two of you to show a bit more intelligence than Tom."
Yeah, yeah, don't be like me. Tom sighed inwardly.
If Hogwarts suddenly ended up with four mega-geniuses running around, the school wouldn't survive. Counting Hermione, that made four.
While Tom was busy complaining in his head, Misha had already gone on the offensive.
"Professor Snape," she piped up, "what exactly is wrong with Tom?"
"He is foolish!" Snape snapped, his voice turning glacial. "He is an utterly foolish boy who shows zero reverence for those stronger than him, and hasn't the faintest idea how to run when faced with danger."
"His bleeding heart is laughable. If I were Tom, you—" Snape shifted his glare to the shadow, his tone biting. "If I were Tom, you wouldn't be standing here. I would have handed you over to the Ministry of Magic that very night."
"You need to understand just how much trouble your mere existence has caused. Do you have any idea how much Professor Dumbledore had to advocate for you at the Ministry? Or how much blame Tom took on your behalf? You should count yourself lucky they hold such high hopes for you."
"And you." Snape snapped his head back toward Misha. "A little witch. Without you tying him down, Tom wouldn't have nearly so many restrictions or weaknesses. Tom is an idiot. I sincerely hope you aren't just as foolish."
Snape had fired off the lecture like a machine gun.
Tom didn't say a word.
Son of a bitch!
You were the one who almost started throwing curses at the Ministry!
I was just a little pissed off, but you, you old bat, were already gripping your wand tight! Did you really think I didn't notice?!
If Dumbledore hadn't been there holding you back, you probably would've pulled your wand and gone to war with them right then and there! Snape, you massive tsundere.
"I don't think Tom is stupid at all!" Misha shot back, completely unintimidated.
Misha never let anyone badmouth Tom. She didn't care if he was Professor Snape or Professor Giant Bat. In her eyes, slandering Tom was completely unacceptable.
"Tom is very good to us!" Misha shouted.
"Yes, he is very good to you! So good that he completely disregards his own life for your sakes!" Snape leaned in close, pointing a long finger right at Misha's nose, practically spitting his words. "He nearly used magic that night. Do you have any idea what would have happened to him if he had?!"
"He would have been thrown into Azkaban! All because of a Jack the Ripper copycat! Because of a common criminal—and to protect the two of you!"
Snape roared, his voice carrying loud enough for anyone outside the door to hear clearly.
"I hate you," Misha retorted coldly. "You just keep insulting and yelling at Tom. I hate you."
Dead silence instantly swept through the office.
Snape froze for a long moment before letting out a dark, mocking laugh. "You hate me? Then get out. Leave my office right now. I have no need for a student like you!"
"Fine! Who'd want to be your student anyway?! I'm leaving!"
Suddenly, a knock echoed from the office door.
"Enter!" Snape barked.
Professor Sprout pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Severus, you've gone a bit too far with your words," she chided gently.
Professor Sprout wrapped her arms around the miserable-looking Misha. The poor girl was on the verge of tears. "Oh, sweet child. This professor is quite dreadful, isn't he? It's alright, I'll take you with me. You can stay with me, and I'll take wonderful care of you."
Looking up, Professor Sprout addressed Tom. "Tom, I'm taking this child with me."
"Thank you for the trouble, Professor Sprout." Tom gently patted Misha's head. "Professor Sprout is a very kind lady. Make sure you behave and stay happy with her."
Misha nodded vigorously, showing she understood.
Watching one of them leave, Snape's expression didn't change in the slightest. He simply shifted his gaze back to the shadow.
"And you? Are you not leaving as well?"
"I'm staying," Isabelle replied coldly. "I know you have a deep understanding of Dark Magic."
"I am merely the Potions Master. I only teach Potions."
The shadow scoffed. "Bullshit. I'm highly sensitive to Dark Magic. The darkness in your eyes is the clear mark of someone who has studied it for a very long time!"
"You wish to learn Dark Magic?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
Isabelle didn't answer immediately. Her eyes drifted backward, instinctively glancing at Tom.
If I can master Dark Magic, Tom won't have to stand in front of me next time. I'll be the one protecting him! That was exactly what she was thinking.
"Very well. I will teach you," Snape agreed, clasping his hands behind his back. "On the condition that you master Potions first. I will not coddle you like Professor Pomona does. You will eat only when you have met my expectations."
Standing behind them, Tom let out a long yawn.
What were these two whispering about? How did they suddenly form an alliance out of nowhere?
"Tom. It has been quite some time since you practiced your Occlumency and Sectumsempra, hasn't it?" Suddenly changing the subject, Snape's piercing gaze locked onto Tom.
Me? Tom pointed at himself.
They're already at Level 8. Isn't that enough? Does he seriously want me to grind them to Level 10?
"Get yourself to the training room. Now. I expect to see progress in your magic by the time I come down there."
Sigh. Professor Snape is back to his torturous ways. But honestly, the timing was perfect. Tom had a new idea brewing in his mind. He needed to test it out. If he could pull it off, his strength would jump to a whole new level.
---
The Weasley Household.
This was Hermione's first time stepping foot inside a proper, pure-blood wizarding home.
In Ron's house, there were no Muggles—only wizards. It felt incredibly different from Hogwarts.
"Hermione, dear, come right in! Have a seat, please!" Molly said affectionately, pulling Hermione toward a chair.
Molly Weasley, Ron's mother. The father's name was Arthur. This couple had given birth to six sons and one daughter. When Hermione first heard that statistic, her jaw had practically hit the floor.
That's so many kids! It even made Hermione briefly panic about whether she would end up having—
"Mrs. Weasley, thank you so much for taking me in," Hermione said politely.
"Oh, don't be silly! You're Ron's friend; we're more than happy to have you here," Molly beamed warmly. "Hermione, have you eaten yet? We were just about to have dinner. Would you like to join us?"
"Thank you, but I've already eaten."
Hermione turned her head slightly, glancing up at the staircase down the hall. She wasn't sure if she was just imagining things, but it felt like someone had just been watching her from up there.
Weird. Did I just imagine that?