It was a day of unparalleled excitement for all third-year students, finally granted permission to visit the fabled Hogsmeade Village, a place whispered about by older classmates.
At the Hogwarts train station, Filch, ever vigilant, called out names from a lengthy list. He ensured each student boarded the train in perfect order; the list, of course, contained the names of young witches and wizards who had secured parental consent for the Hogsmeade trip. Those without the required signature were, naturally, denied passage.
Professor McGonagall, a picture of nervous energy, reminded the students of the necessary precautions for traveling to Hogsmeade. However, she had hardly finished her lecture when a commotion erupted near Filch. She turned to see the caretaker pointing a bony finger towards the train, shouting, "What do you think you're doing, you impudent little brats?!"
Following Filch's gaze, everyone spotted two figures attempting to sneak onto the train: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, self-proclaimed "right-hand men of the Dark Lord!"
Of course, Tom thought dryly, if Potter and Malfoy constituted his right-hand men, he was sorely lacking in useful appendages.
The immediate problem for Harry and Draco, however, was being caught red-handed.
"Blast it all, Scarface, run!" Malfoy cried.
With that melodramatic declaration, Malfoy shot off like a startled hare.
Harry merely stared after him, utterly bewildered. Idiot! They've already spotted you. What's the point in running now? You can't simply bolt from Hogwarts. Are you planning on ditching school altogether, like me?!
Realizing Harry wasn't following, Malfoy sheepishly scratched the back of his head, muttering, "Sorry, force of habit."
The two stood before Professor McGonagall, heads bowed, like naughty children caught stealing sweets. Yet, a closer inspection of their eyes revealed that while admitting guilt was one thing, true remorse was another entirely. Malfoy, head still lowered, cast a sideways glance at Filch. How could that old coot have such sharp eyes?
Unaware of Malfoy's silent disdain, Filch, had he known, might have retorted, "My eyes are my most prized possessions!" Years of service at Hogwarts had sharpened both his observational skills and his legs through countless nocturnal encounters with mischievous students. His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, and his legs as tireless as a donkey's! But alas, it was not night and so this "eagle-donkey" had to obediently serve as a beast of burden.
While Filch efficiently directed the young wizards onto the train, Professor McGonagall turned her attention to the two rule-breakers before her.
"Mr. Potter, you are aware that travel to Hogsmeade requires a signed permission slip. That is the rule," Professor McGonagall issued the stern warning to Harry, then looked at Malfoy, bewildered by his actions. "Mr. Malfoy, if I recall correctly, your mother provided you with the necessary authorization. Why did you not board the train with the other students?"
"Because Scarhead—Harry, isn't allowed to go either," Malfoy announced, matter-of-factly.
Harry, deeply moved by the gesture, exclaimed, "Malfoy, you truly are my brother!"
In truth, Malfoy had simply forgotten. Upon learning that Harry had failed to obtain his uncle's signature, Malfoy painstakingly devised a plan to sneak onto the train. Perhaps the mental exertion had been too great, for he momentarily forgot to queue properly, and impulsively leaped onto the train alongside Harry.
Catching sight of Harry's tear-filled eyes, Malfoy decided it best not to offer an explanation.
Observing their display of camaraderie, Professor McGonagall felt a pang of sympathy. But as the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, she couldn't condone such a flagrant disregard for the rules. Rules were rules. She refused to compromise.
Harry, defeated, cried out, "I've been crying for half an hour! Won't you reconsider?"
Just as Harry was about to abandon all hope of visiting Hogsmeade…
"Let Harry board the train." A familiar voice cut through the air.
All three turned. "Professor/Professor Tom Riddle?!"
Tom Riddle approached with deliberate steps, Nagini and Cassandra Volle flanking his sides.
"But, Professor Tom Riddle, that is against the rules," Professor McGonagall frowned slightly, striving to reason with him.
Hearing Professor McGonagall's objection, Tom Riddle waved a dismissive hand. The permission slip in Harry's grasp flew towards him. "Allow me to remedy that, shall I?" Tom Riddle said, signing his name, "Tom Marvolo Riddle," on the document.
Professor McGonagall's expression darkened. "You are not Mr. Potter's guardian, are you?"
At this, Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow. "And why not? I am his newly adopted brother!"
Tom Riddle had hardly intended it as a joke; after all, Harry had genuinely referred to him as "brother" before.
Harry, quick to seize an opportunity, shouted to Tom Riddle with a broad grin, "Brother!"
Malfoy, greatly annoyed by this turn of events, instantly offered to become Harry's second brother.
Fortunately, Cassandra Volle's pointed glare silenced him. Otherwise, every Death Eater at Hogwarts would undoubtedly have been vying to become Tom Riddle's adopted son.
Professor McGonagall was rendered speechless by Tom Riddle's audacious behavior and Harry's sheer shamelessness. She knew, of course, that they were merely play-acting, but she found herself at a loss for words.
Helplessly, she allowed Harry to board the train.
As she watched Tom Riddle and his entourage board the Hogwarts Express, Professor McGonagall resolved to have a serious discussion with Dumbledore about the consistent application of school rules.
Once aboard, they located an empty compartment.
Before they could settle in, Harry eagerly approached Tom Riddle. "So, when do I officially change my name to Harry Riddle?"
"..."
Cassandra Volle and the others, save for Tom Riddle, exchanged bemused glances. It seemed he truly wanted to adopt the name "Harry."
Unfortunately for Harry, Tom Riddle, feeling rather too young to adopt such an old "son," cruelly squashed his hopes. "That brief relationship only lasted for the past half-hour, I'm afraid."
Harry stared at him in despair.
Malfoy stepped forward comfortingly. "Scarface, if you truly desire such an old man as your kin, I could actually..."
"Get lost!" Harry snarled at him.