Hogwarts: Chill, I’m Not That Tom Riddle

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Getting caught sneaking food is always awkward—unless you run into someone doing the same thing. Then, it feels like you've found a kindred spirit.

That was exactly the case with Tom and the two people who showed up afterward.

After a brief moment of surprise, the two identical faces broke into matching grins and walked over to Tom, laughing.

"Well, what are the odds?"

"Running into Slytherin's newest snake."

"Riddle, you're the first student we know—"

"Outside of a few Hufflepuffs—"

"To discover the kitchen's secret this fast."

The twins finished each other's sentences so naturally and rapidly it was like they shared one brain.

Tom raised an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. "Do you two have telepathy or something?"

They exchanged a smug smile, clearly enjoying the compliment.

"Let's do introductions. I'm Fred."

"I'm George."

"And we're both Weasleys!"

"I'm Tom Riddle," Tom replied with a smirk. "The famous Weasley twins, huh? Even though the year just started, Phyllis never stops complaining about you two. You're hard to ignore."

Phyllis—Slytherin's fifth-year prefect.

"Figures," Fred said with a shake of his head. "He probably said some nasty stuff about us, didn't he?"

"Just because we tossed a dungbomb into his bag. Honestly, he needs to lighten up."

Tom couldn't help laughing. Say what you will, these two really were the life of the castle. You'd never be bored with them around.

"Riddle, your reputation is way bigger than ours right now," Fred leaned in and lowered his voice dramatically. "You know, you've already broken a record."

"What record?" Tom asked, intrigued.

George leaned back with mock seriousness. "You're the first Muggleborn ever sorted into Slytherin."

Fred added, "Well, at least in the last ten or fifteen years."

Tom looked a bit disappointed. "Oh, that? Yeah, I already knew. Technically, it's been thirty-two years. The last one disappeared after graduation—rumor says he was killed by a Dark wizard."

To be precise, he was killed by Tom Riddle.

Yep—the last one.

Maybe it was to prove his loyalty to the pure-blood ideal or to show just how "pure" Slytherin was meant to be. Either way, the poor guy ended up on Voldemort's hit list.

Seeing how calm Tom was, the twins looked at each other, clearly disappointed. Fred couldn't help asking, "You mean you've never been picked on? Being stuck with a bunch of people who look down their noses at everyone sounds like a nightmare."

"Not really," Tom shrugged. "My roommates are great, honestly. We get along fine."

He had no intention of airing Slytherin's dirty laundry. After all, he was one of them now. The way he had "trained" his roommates was nobody else's business.

The twins looked at each other like they'd just seen a ghost.

In the end, they decided Tom must just be saving face. That explanation felt more reasonable.

Soon, their midnight snacks arrived—Tom's and the twins' both.

The three of them ate and chatted. Fred and George truly were walking encyclopedias of Hogwarts lore. They knew every shortcut, hidden passage, and interesting secret in the castle. Tom managed to dig out a lot of useful info.

The twins were well aware he was fishing for information, but they didn't mind.

It was rare to find a new student who was not only immune to their pranks but could fire back just as hard. Compared to their younger brother, this guy was way more interesting.

So the three of them ended up having a great time.

As for inter-house rivalries? Tom had no beef with Gryffindor—yet. Those old grudges had nothing to do with him. If things ever got messy, he could deal with it then.

…

After they'd eaten their fill, the three parted ways in the entrance hall.

Before leaving, the twins clapped Tom on the back and solemnly promised that if any Slytherins gave him a hard time, they'd make sure those bullies ended up reeking of dungbombs.

Tom just chuckled without responding.

They weren't trying to help—they just wanted an excuse to prank someone.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

…

A new day dawned. It was Friday, which meant the first week of the new term was nearly over. Two full days of weekend rest were just around the corner.

Slytherin's Friday schedule was pretty light—just a double Potions lesson in the morning. Gryffindor had the same.

After breakfast, Tom headed with Daphne for class.

As they passed Snape's office, Tom glanced at it subtly.

He'd originally thought "zero-cost shopping" might be easy—but it turned out Snape's bedroom was directly connected to his office.

He'd only learned this from older students. If he hadn't known and tried to sneak in at night… yeah, that would've been a disaster.

So Tom decided to wait for the right opportunity—one where he could be sure Snape wasn't in the office or the bedroom.

At nine o'clock, the bell rang.

Snape entered right on the dot, moving with brisk, dramatic energy. His robes billowed behind him like a bat skimming across the floor.

The moment he appeared, a heavy silence fell over the room. Whether Slytherin or Gryffindor, every student clammed up immediately.

As Snape swept past, Tom instinctively leaned away.

He didn't want that greasy hair brushing against him.

Snape's eyes scanned the room, lingering a little longer on Tom and Harry before pulling out the roll book.

Like most professors, he paused when he got to Harry's name.

"Oh yes… Potter," he said with an edge of disdain.

"Our newest… celebrity."

Malfoy and his goons snickered like they'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

The tone. The delivery. It sent a chill down Harry's spine. He was used to professors making a big deal out of him—but this time, something felt off.

Something felt… wrong.

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