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Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
The day before Christmas Eve.
Hermione dragged herself out of bed at the crack of dawn.
She wasn't normally an early bird, but a conversation with Sue Li the night before had left her a nervous wreck.
She'd had a nightmare.
In the dream, she and Tom were at the Yule Ball. The music abruptly died. Everyone stopped dancing. The entire Great Hall turned to stare at them.
Even with her usually flawless execution, she completely choked. She tripped, face-planting spectacularly onto the ballroom floor in a crumpled, humiliating heap.
The collective stares of the student body sliced into her like knives.
Hermione had woken up in a cold sweat.
She knew she couldn't just leave things to chance. She had to put in the work—not tomorrow, but right now!
If Tom was a lost cause on the dance floor, she'd just have to carry them both.
Hermione slowly raised her head, a fierce determination burning in her eyes.
All I have to do is become a master of dance. Simple. Even if Tom had two left feet, she would use her sheer skill to lead him, making him the most dashing boy on the dance floor.
They would have a glorious night!
---
St. Lucia's Orphanage
With Christmas just around the corner, the orphanage was wrapped in a comforting, festive warmth.
The dark nights the children usually feared didn't seem quite so terrifying anymore. Even the horrific Jack the Ripper seemed to have halted his gruesome work for the holidays.
Misha let out a soft sigh, keeping her distance from the other kids.
She had isolated herself ever since she started seeing the strange shadow.
She felt completely out of place here. She was different. She was special.
But being special didn't make Misha happy. It just made her a little lonely.
Not overwhelmingly lonely—just a faint bitterness, like dropping half a cube of rock sugar into a cup of strong black tea.
Misha hated herself, and she hated the shadow.
She stared at the ground. The winter sun was bright, casting her silhouette in a long, dark stretch across the floor. Suddenly, the shadow snapped back toward her feet.
Its mouth twisted into a smirk. "Why is the great and mighty Misha hiding in a corner? If you can't find anyone to play with, you know you always have me."
"Drop dead, you creep," Misha muttered.
The shadow peeled itself off the ground, leaning closely over Misha's shoulder where no one else could see. "Look at them, Misha. Look at how stupid and filthy they are. You're always so nice to them, but why hasn't a single one noticed how much you've changed lately?
"They're all worthless, Misha. Everyone except you. And me. We're friends. The best of friends."
"Stop talking," Misha sighed.
"Am I wrong? Sheen is a young witch just like you, but she hasn't noticed a thing. She's denser than a Muggle."
"I said enough."
"And what about Tom Riddle?" the shadow relentlessly pressed on. "You adore Tom, don't you? You even secretly call yourself 'Misha Riddle.' You desperately want to be his sister. But what about him?
"He's been at Hogwarts all this time, and how much effort has he made to come see you?
"You sit here and wait for him every single weekend. Just like you're waiting for him this Christmas!
"You keep hoping that one Saturday morning, he'll just magically appear, sweep you into a massive hug, and bring you some sweet pastries.
"But he HAS. NEVER. COME. BACK!
"Not for a single weekend! He even had the time to go to Hogsmeade to play around with Hermione, but he couldn't spare a second to come back and keep you company!"
"I said, THAT'S ENOUGH!" Misha snapped, her voice trembling with fury as she glared viciously at the shadow.
The shadow placed a dark, formless hand on her shoulder. "Misha, I've told you. I am the only one who truly understands you. We are friends. No, we're closer than friends. Not even family shares our bond."
Misha shook her head violently. She refused to be friends with something like this.
Tom had to be busy. If he couldn't make it this weekend, there was always next weekend. Once next weekend rolled around, he'd definitely have time.
Christmas was almost here. Tom would get nearly a month off for the holidays. He would come back then.
Things were absolutely not the way the shadow twisted them.
Misha clenched her small hands tightly against her chest.
That day would come. Tom wasn't the kind of person to forget his old family just because he made new friends.
He absolutely wasn't!
She opened a book on her lap. On the title page, written in her own neat handwriting, was her name: Misha Riddle.
Misha had always viewed Tom as her older brother. It didn't matter that they shared no blood; in her eyes, he was family.
She would never let anyone badmouth him!
The shadow let out a mocking chuckle behind her before slowly melting back into the floor, returning to its place at her feet.
Misha pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the heavy, uneven thud of her own heartbeat.
What if... what if Tom really doesn't come back for Christmas? What will I do then?
Meanwhile, the shadow lay flat against the ground, perfectly mimicking Misha's shape.
But within that pool of darkness, hidden from the world, the entity curled itself into a tight ball.
Being Misha's shadow, it knew exactly how pitiful the little girl was.
It hugged its knees, the mocking smile fading entirely from its face.
The truth was, it envied Misha. At least she was human. The shadow had literally no one in the world to talk to besides her.
---
Hogwarts
From a distance, Hermione spotted Tom taking a leisurely, carefree stroll down the corridor.
Target acquired!
Little Hermione broke into a dead sprint!
Ten meters left!
Some random background student suddenly stepped out from a side corridor, nearly causing a massive pile-up.
But Contestant Hermione was highly agile! With a practiced sidestep, she dodged the poor extra without losing any momentum.
Contestant Hermione sticks the landing!
She leaped high into the air, throwing her arms tightly around Tom's neck in a flying tackle.
To any passing observer, the scene looked incredibly dramatic—like a devoted husband, after months of painful separation, finally throwing himself at his beloved wife in a desperate embrace...
But clearly, Tom wasn't feeling the romance. He frantically patted the vice-like arms crushing his chest. "Let go. Let go! I can't breathe!"
"Never!"
"If you don't let go, you're going to strangle me to death! And stop using my body to do things that cause massive misunderstandings! Cough, cough..."
Hermione's face flushed red, and she finally released her chokehold.
"A flying tackle first thing in the morning? What are you, a golden retriever?" Tom grumbled, trying to smooth down the wild bushy curls that her violent affection had completely ruined. "The last time I saw someone this aggressive, it was Hagrid's dog Fang welcoming him back from a long trip."
"You're the dog!" Hermione huffed, puffing out her cheeks. Her eyes darted to the paper bag tucked under Tom's arm. "What's that?"
"Oh, this? The Hogwarts kitchens are experimenting with new recipes. Fish Mint pasties. They're surprisingly good."
Hermione's hands were lightning fast. She snatched the bag away. "Let me try!"
She took a bite, chewed twice, and immediately started aggressively spitting it out. "Pleh! Pleh! What is this vile garbage?! Are you trying to poison me?!"
"Tch, just because you have no palate doesn't mean others can't appreciate fine dining," Tom shot back, snatching the pasty out of her hands. Unbothered by her bite mark, he happily continued munching on it.
Absolute delicacy!
---