The two of them leaned over to ask Hermione, who was irritably chopping the eggs on her plate into tiny bits.
She hadn't seen Tom all weekend—not even caught a glimpse of him—and she was already fuming.
Hearing Ron's question, she snapped back, "I'm not a Slytherin mind reader. How would I know?"
Ron shrank back, not daring to provoke the bristling Hermione again.
Not far away, Fred and George exchanged a glance, their eyes brimming with curiosity. "Slytherin definitely has something going on. That Riddle kid is absolutely the biggest winner. Next time we run into him in the kitchen, we need to ask him properly."
As they spoke, a huge flock of owls flapped into the Great Hall, dropping letters and packages onto the tables of the various Houses.
Tom reacted swiftly, catching his package in one grab and barely avoiding the milk splashing beside him. A second slower, and his package would have ended up taking a "milk bath."
Daphne leaned over and watched him unwrap it. Inside were neatly sorted potion ingredients, all strange and oddly shaped. She couldn't help asking, "Tom, why did you buy so much of this?"
"Some of it is for me. The rest is for you." Tom casually checked through it, confirmed that nothing was missing, and wrapped it back up.
"It's to help restore your energy. Last week's training exhausted you. Drink the potion I make, and you'll recover in two days."
Daphne's eyes shone like stars, and she was practically bubbling with gratitude. "Tom, you're way too nice! If I'd known, I would've paid more tuition!"
Tom shot her a sideways look, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Give me any more, and I'll toss you into a cauldron and brew you into potion, so you'll stop thinking about