Due to severe weather, the last flying lesson before the Christmas holiday for the first-years was suddenly canceled.
Tom and Daisy curled up by the fireplace in the common room, reading.
The second-years had also returned, as their outdoor Herbology class was also canceled.
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Ron brought out a wizard's chess set, and Hermione accepted his challenge.
Dean and Seamus took out a deck of poker. After failing to invite both Parvati and Lavender, Seamus went to Ginny and asked, “Want to join us? This is a popular game in the Muggle world. I can teach you.”
Daisy's eyes sparkled with hope, but Tom noticed Harry slipping out of the common room alone.
“I think I'll go for a walk. Maybe next time,” Tom said.
He quietly followed Harry.
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Harry headed toward the library, intending to find Justin from Hufflepuff and explain that he hadn't been commanding the snake to attack him.
But as Harry passed the bookshelves, he overheard a group of Hufflepuffs discussing him.
“He’s probably a more talented dark wizard than Voldemort himself. That’s why Voldemort tried to kill him in the first place…”
Tom didn’t want to hear anymore. He transformed into a shadow-like cat and decided to take a shortcut toward the dungeons, hoping to catch an opportunity to act for the mission.
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But then, Justin appeared right in front of him in a corridor, talking to Nearly Headless Nick.
Nick was defending Harry, “I assure you, Harry was attending my Deathday party when Mrs. Norris was petrified.”
Justin pressed, “He’s a Parselmouth. How could it not be him? Tell me again, exactly what time did he leave?”
Tom thought to himself: Are all Hufflepuffs this quick to judge without evidence? Are they now going to coerce witnesses into giving false confessions?
He grew larger, filling the entire corridor, while maintaining his Disillusionment Charm.
Justin and Nick both sensed something was wrong. The wind seemed to have stopped, and the air grew unnaturally silent.
Then, a presence—something watching them—grew heavier and heavier.
They turned, looking in the same direction.
Two enormous eyes appeared out of thin air, suspended in the darkness.
Their pupils were like pinpricks, and their irises glowed green like flames, flickering with golden sparks.
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Before Justin's brain could fully register what was happening, he was petrified.
Trapped between them, Nick also became stiff and blackened, reduced to a rigid, ghostly statue.
Nick's head tilted awkwardly to one side, as if someone had popped the cap off a bottle.
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Tom closed his eyes, gradually shrinking back down to his normal cat size. He had tested this spell on small animals before—there would be no permanent harm. And he knew the dark magic to reverse Nick's condition.
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“Yaaaah!”
Harry entered this corridor at that very moment Peeves floated down from the ceiling.
They both saw what happened at the same time and then looked at each other.
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“ATTACK! ATTACK! IT’S NOT SAFE FOR GHOSTS OR HUMANS!” Peeves shrieked at the top of his lungs.
Every classroom door flew open. Students poured into the corridor. Harry was left with no way to explain himself.
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Ginny screamed inside Tom’s head, “Do you realize what you have done?”
Tom retorted, “It’s Harry Potter who has terrible luck!”
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The Christmas holidays had arrived, but Snape blocked Tom on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast in front of the wall with the bloody writing.
“Miss Weasley.”
“Yes, Professor Snape?”
“Where were you on Halloween?” Snape interrogated her like a criminal, eyeing the height and reach of the bloody letters, which matched Ginny's stature.
Tom calmly replied, “I was alone in my room, Professor.”
Snape noticed that Ginny had changed. A few months ago, at the start of term, she wouldn’t have dared to even look at him.
“Your potion-making techniques have changed.”
Although Tom had carefully maintained Ginny’s handwriting, his focus and mannerisms while brewing potions were subtly different.
Tom’s relationship with Snape is like that of a top chef and the pickiest of diners.
Thick-skinned, Tom asked, “So what?”
Snape scoffed, “You might fool every other teacher, but you can’t fool me. Drop the innocent act, you fraud of a Gryffindor.”
Tom almost laughed, thinking that if Snape really had evidence, he wouldn’t need to resort to such provocation.
Ginny internally screamed, “Hold it together!” She, too, was overwhelmed with emotions.
Feigning confusion, Tom asked, “Professor, what are you talking about?”
Snape leaned in and whispered, “I’m waiting for the day you’re exposed... witch.”
He attempted Legilimency on Ginny, but Tom feigned nervousness, deliberately avoiding eye contact.
Snape, with a disdainful look, snorted and swept away in his billowing black robes, heading to Dumbledore.
When Snape finished reporting to Dumbledore, the latter merely responded calmly, “I’ll handle it, Severus.”
Snape narrowed his eyes. “So you already knew, didn’t you? Just like last year, when you didn’t even need me to stop Quirrell. What am I, a clown to you?”
Dumbledore reassured him, “You’re the smartest teacher at Hogwarts, Severus, especially when it comes to detecting danger.”
Snape snapped back, “That’s only because you show your true self in front of me!” As a former Death Eater, he understood just how cunning Dumbledore could be.
Dumbledore said, “Ginny is a good child. Trust me, and don’t bully her.”
Snape replied darkly, “Don’t drag more trouble into this castle and then expect me to protect Potter as well.”
Dumbledore responded with a gentle, “I appreciate your hard work.”
Snape rolled his eyes. He resolved to wash his hands of the Chamber of Secrets incident. Yet, during the Christmas feast, he glared at Tom just as many times as he glared at Potter.
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The next morning, Tom went to complain to Dumbledore.
“Snape is targeting me. Can you help me with an alibi?”
Dumbledore sighed, “It’s Christmas morning. Why aren’t you opening presents instead of bothering me?”
The Weasleys couple had gone to Egypt to visit Bill, and Dumbledore thought Tom would spend time bonding with Ginny’s brothers. But Tom had deliberately avoided everyone.
Following Ginny’s instructions, Tom had sent handmade Christmas gifts to all her family members earlier. But that morning, when he woke up intending to share the joy of opening presents with Ginny, she hadn’t stirred.
Tom didn’t want Ginny to miss this moment.
As the winter grew colder, Ginny slept more deeply.
Thinking this might be Ginny’s last Christmas, Tom felt a pang of sadness.
To change the subject, he said, “I want to visit Mr. Grindelwald. I prepared a Christmas gift for him, but I don’t dare send it by mail.” He was worried the prison guards would confiscate it.
Dumbledore, exasperated, asked, “You’ve only met him a few times. Why are you so attached to him?” After all, it was Dumbledore who had taken Tom out of the orphanage in the first place.
Tom pleaded, “Please.”
Dumbledore grumbled, “What did you prepare? Let me see.”
Tom pulled out a selection of rare ancient Dark Magic books from his self-made enchanted space pouch, books he had carefully chosen from the Chamber of Secrets library.
Dumbledore’s heart ached as he looked through them. “And what about my Christmas gift?”
Tom raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the massive stack of books others had sent Dumbledore.
Dumbledore sulked, “If you won’t give me a gift, I won’t take you there.”
The freshly reborn phoenix, Fawkes, echoed Dumbledore’s indignation with a chirp.
Tom thought, Is it true that people grow more childish as they age?
He shot a look at Fawkes and came up with a clever idea.
Transforming into a cat, he leapt onto Dumbledore’s desk and sprawled across it.
Dumbledore finally seemed satisfied, but Fawkes was enraged.
The phoenix flapped its wings and attempted to jump down from its perch to reclaim its spot.
Dumbledore quickly stood to stop the young phoenix, whose feathers hadn’t fully grown yet.
Scooping Tom up and balancing him on his shoulder, Dumbledore said, “We’ll be back soon. Be good!”
Soothing Fawkes, Dumbledore disappeared with Tom in tow.
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"When did you get a cat?" Grindelwald asked in surprise when he saw Dumbledore, clearly not expecting him. Albus had never visited him for Christmas before.
He wasn’t surprised that Tom was a cat, though he had to pretend otherwise.
Tom leaped onto the table, gazing at Grindelwald with a fawning look.
He couldn’t transform back into his human form because the prison guards had only allowed Dumbledore to enter alone.
Dumbledore offered a brief explanation and introduction. “It was Tom’s idea to visit you. Merry Christmas.”
He had transfigured the stack of books into a music box, which passed the inspection.
Grindelwald saw through the music box’s true nature and gently scratched under Tom’s chin. “Good boy.”
Albus complained, “He never lets me touch him.”
Grindelwald smirked, “You don’t like cats.”
Albus retorted, “How do you know I don’t?”
Grindelwald replied smoothly, “The fact that this little one doesn’t cry when he sees you anymore.”
Albus looked puzzled. “When did he ever cry?”
Grindelwald’s first impression of Tom had been that of a crybaby.
Tom let out a pitiful meow, as if to plead for him not to bring it up.
Albus looked even more displeased. “This little brat! I feed him every day, and he still ignores me.”
Grindelwald played along, looking concerned as he spoke to Tom. “Are things at school not going well? No one’s bullying you, right?”
Tom’s countless thoughts and emotions condensed into a single adorable sound: “Meow~”
The two old men couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
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"Harry still hasn't made any progress. Even Snape's starting to notice," Albus couldn't help but complain to Grindelwald.
Grindelwald replied, "Then you'll just have to drop a few more hints. Is that diary from last time still around?"
Tom lay quietly, dozing on Grindelwald's lap.
Albus, clearly annoyed, scooped up Tom and plopped him onto his own lap. "Does it even matter anymore? Half of it got chewed up by this cat."
Tom flattened his ears into a perfect airplane shape, sulking.
Grindelwald glanced at the cat and said, "There should still be a few pages left, right? The cat didn’t eat all of it."
As long as some of Ginny's soul hadn’t been completely transferred, there might still be hope.
Albus sighed, "Hagrid told me that Aragog sensed the basilisk's presence. But that's odd—Tom's clearly a cat now."
Tom's ears perked up immediately.
Grindelwald asked, "Aragog? Who’s that?"
Albus explained with a sigh, "The creature who took the blame back then."
Grindelwald said thoughtfully, "Perhaps the basilisk smells like Tom? Didn't Slytherin curse it with blood magic or something?"
Magical creatures' sense of "scent" was more of an instinct than a literal smell.
Albus pondered for a moment. Aragog only knew one basilisk in the castle, and Tom had always been associated with it. If the basilisk’s scent had been tied to Tom, it wouldn’t be surprising if Aragog confused the two.
He shared this theory with Grindelwald, who agreed.
Grindelwald even suggested, "Then you should find a chance to let Aragog speak with Harry."
Albus shook his head. "Impossible. That thing’s ruling the Forbidden Forest now. It's family has gotten so big to be the majority." He lamented that the forest was nearly overrun with Aragog's countless offspring.
Grindelwald smirked, "Can’t you have Hagrid cut down their numbers?"
Albus sighed deeply. "Ah, I think I owe him too much to ask for that."
Tom drooped his ears innocently, glancing left and right as though he wanted to disassociate himself from the conversation entirely.
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As soon as they returned to Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey rushed to Dumbledore to report that Hermione had mistakenly consumed a poorly brewed Polyjuice Potion.
The more complex the preparation of the potion, the more challenging its antidote would be.
She needed to trace the origin of the cat hair in the potion to extract more samples for testing.
However, Hermione refused to disclose where the cat hair came from. She was worried that if the Slytherins found out about her situation, they might deliberately hand over fake cat hair to worsen her condition.
Determined to avoid further trouble, she decided to wait until after the holidays—when the Slytherins had returned—Harry and Ron would then "borrow" from the same cat before notice.
This left Madam Pomfrey in a bind, knowing that the longer the curse lingered, the harder it would be to reverse. So, she sought out Dumbledore for help.
Dumbledore, with an ever-so-casual demeanor, patted Tom, who had been perched on his shoulder the entire time, "Leave it to him, and don’t tell Snape."
Madam Pomfrey, long accustomed to Dumbledore's occasional nonsensical remarks, raised an eyebrow.
"When did you start keeping a cat?" she asked, puzzled.
Dumbledore replied cryptically, "Christmas gift. Just don’t tell Snape."
Madam Pomfrey, perceptive as always, sensed that Hermione must have had a specific reason for ingesting the potion. That was why she had approached Dumbledore rather than going to Snape, the poison master, directly.
Sighing, she said, "Fine, fine. But I need that cat hair before the holidays are over." With that, she left.
Tom leapt down from Dumbledore's shoulder and turned to glance at him, blinking once.
Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "It’s all up to you now. Merry Christmas, Tom."
Tom didn’t reply. Flicking his tail, he quietly walked away.
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“Damn Potter!” Malfoy cursed as soon as the real Crabbe and Goyle returned, quickly realizing he'd been duped.
He wasted no time in writing a letter home to warn his father—not just about the incident, but also about his slip-up regarding the dark magic contraband hidden under their living room floorboards.
Malfoy knew full well his father wouldn’t be pleased.
Crabbe, rubbing his sore head, suggested, “Why don’t we report this to the Head of House?” After all, he and Goyle had been poisoned and stuffed into a closet—they were clearly the biggest victims here.
Draco snapped, “Do you want to embarrass yourselves even more?”
Goyle’s stomach grumbled in protest, but he wisely stayed silent. His discontent, along with any expression, was well-hidden beneath layers of fat.
Once Draco had vented enough of his frustration, Crabbe and Goyle excused themselves and left the common room.
“Whose cat is this?” Crabbe asked as soon as they opened the door and spotted Tom waiting outside.
“Who cares?” Goyle replied, glancing down at the cat weaving past his legs. “It’s either Potter’s or one of the teachers’. Maybe Filch picked up a new pet.”
Crabbe considered this and added, “Could even belong to Snape. You never know.”
Tom, uninterested in their musings, casually padded past them and headed straight down the hallway.
“Shoo!” Goyle tried to block the cat, but his movements were far too sluggish.
“Forget it,” Crabbe said. “I’m not going back to deal with Malfoy’s tantrums.”
Goyle hesitated, then nodded. A single cat wasn’t worth the trouble, after all—especially since Malfoy was the only one back in the dormitory.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed, and they left without a second glance at Tom.
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Tom didn’t know which dormitory the girl who fought with Hermione was in, so he had to search room by room.
During the Christmas holidays, students typically didn’t pack all their books and belongings, which gave Tom some clues about which room might belong to second-year girls.
Even luckier, Tom found the only cat bed in the room.
“What are you doing? Where are we?” Ginny woke up at this moment.
Tom collected the cat fur, explaining everything to Ginny as he left the room. Multi-tasking as he was, he forgot to stay hidden and accidentally got spotted by Draco in the Slytherin common room.
“Wait!” Draco, still wary after just being tricked, called out. Tom stared at him, motionless.
“Run!” Ginny shouted in his mind, but Tom had other plans.
He slowly approached Draco.
Draco stepped back, instinctively reaching for his wand, but then he remembered he had left it in his room. He had only come downstairs to check if Crabbe and Goyle had returned.
Tom leapt onto the table, stopping just within arm’s reach of Draco and staying still.
Under Tom’s intense gaze, Draco gradually let his guard down.
“What’s wrong? Are you hungry? Lost?” Draco asked gently.
Ginny…
Tom understood that Draco staying at Hogwarts for Christmas was a punishment from the Slytherins.
Draco had caused Slytherin to lose the Quidditch match, despite his father’s sponsorship of seven brand-new brooms.
“Meow,” Tom called pitifully.
Draco said, “You’re probably not a Gryffindor cat, are you?”
He didn’t remember Harry’s trio having a cat like this, and the Weasleys were too poor to own such a regal-looking long-haired cat.
Tom jumped onto the sofa, found a comfortable spot, and curled up.
Seeing how at ease the cat was, Draco became more convinced that Tom must belong to some student who had accidentally left their pet at school over the holidays.
“Poor thing,” Draco said, sitting beside him and stroking Tom’s fur.
Tom quietly lay there, breathing evenly.
It had been a long time since he’d been in the Slytherin common room.
In just half a century, the place had changed so much.
“Hurry up and leave!” Ginny urged in frustration. She hated the thought of Draco touching her body.
Finally, Tom stretched lazily, got off the sofa, and started walking toward the door.
This time, Draco didn’t try to stop him.
He simply collapsed onto the sofa, staring blankly at the ceiling.
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“Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you all day!” The twins exploded with energy as soon as Tom returned to the Gryffindor Tower.
Percy added, “We were starting to think you’d gone missing.” They were genuinely worried.
Ron and Harry were at the hospital wing keeping Hermione company, so they weren’t in the common room.
Tom lied smoothly, “I was flying around on a broomstick and lost track of time.”
He even complained a bit about how hard it was to borrow the shared school brooms in regular school days, especially since first-years weren’t allowed to bring their own.
The brothers reminded him to at least leave a note next time. Tom nodded and murmured agreement until they let him go.
Once back in the dormitory, Ginny sighed in Tom’s mind, “I’m so lucky.” Compared to a certain spoiled little heir, anyway.
Tom opened the gift from Mrs. Weasley and helped Ginny slip the knitted sweater over her body.
“Merry Christmas,” Tom said.
Ginny replied, “Merry Christmas, Tom. I wish for you to never return to Slytherin.”
“Thanks.” Tom understood her intentions were kind. Gryffindor was indeed much warmer than the dungeons.
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