Harry Potter: I, Tom Riddle, am not the Dark Lord Chapter 29 29: The Weasley Twins

Sneaking food and bumping into soone doing the sa? Embarrassing, yes—but there's also that strange thrill, like eting a kindred spirit in cri.

That's exactly how it felt for Tom when he ran into them.

After a brief mont of stunned silence, identical grins blood on two identical faces. The pair strolled over to Tom, laughing as though they'd just stumbled into an inside joke.

"Well, fancy that."

"Didn't expect to run into Slytherin's newest snake."

"Riddle, you're the first one we've ever t—besides a few from Hufflepuff—"

"—who's discovered the kitchen secret this fast."

They volleyed off each other effortlessly, speaking fast and without a shred of hesitation. It was like watching two minds with one shared stream of thought.

"I'm starting to think you two are telepathic," Tom muttered with a click of his tongue.

The twins exchanged a smug glance, clearly pleased with the comnt.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves. I'm Fred."

"And I'm George."

"And we're both Weasleys!"

"Tom Riddle," Tom replied coolly. "The infamous Weasley twins."

"You said it, George. Wait—no, I'm Fred. You ssed up the intro."

"Idiot, you were the one who said you were George first!"

"Was I?"

Tom couldn't help but grin. Say what you will, these two truly were Hogwarts' biggest mischief-makers. Wherever they went, silence didn't stand a chance.

"Riddle, you're way more famous than we are," said the real Fred suddenly, leaning in a little with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know that? You've already broken a record."

"What kind of record?" Tom asked, curiosity piqued.

George nodded dramatically. "You, my friend, are the first-ever Muggle-born Slytherin."

Fred chid in, "At least in the past decade or so."

"That's it?" Tom looked mildly disappointed. "I already knew that. To be precise, it's been thirty-two years. The last Muggle-born Slytherin disappeared after graduation—rumor has it he was murdered by a Dark wizard."

Technically, Tom knew exactly who that "Dark wizard" was.

It was himself.

Back when he had still called himself Lord Voldemort. The poor fool had been chosen as an example—just to prove his twisted loyalty to Salazar Slytherin's blood purity ideal. That unfortunate soul didn't stand a chance.

Fred looked frustrated by how calm Tom was. "You an to say... you've never been picked on in Slytherin? Living with a bunch of nose-in-the-air pure-bloods isn't at all uncomfortable?"

"Not really." Tom waved the question off. "My roommates are very welcoming. We get along just fine."

No way he'd air Slytherin's dirty laundry to outsiders. He was a Slytherin now, after all. No one needed to know how he'd broken in his roommates like training stubborn dogs.

Fred and George exchanged a look, clearly skeptical.

Eventually they concluded: Tom was just hiding the dirt. That felt much more believable.

Soon, the elves brought out the midnight snacks—the twins had a feast, and Tom had what he asked for. The three of them chatted while eating, and Tom quickly discovered that Fred and George really did know everything about Hogwarts. Secret passages, strange castle quirks—everything rolled off their tongues like folklore.

Tom managed to squeeze a lot of information out of them.

The twins knew he was fishing for intel, of course—but they didn't mind. It wasn't every day they t a first-year who wasn't afraid of them, could deflect their pranks, and had the gall to shoot back with a snark of his own.

Compared to their younger brother, this kid was loads more fun.

By the end, it was safe to say the three had hit it off.

As for inter-House rivalries? Tom hadn't done anything to Gryffindor—yet. The old feuds weren't his problem. If sothing ca up, then he'd pick a side.

After their al, the trio parted ways in the Entrance Hall.

Before leaving, the twins even thumped their chests and made a solemn vow: "If any Slytherins try to ss with you—co find us. We'll make sure they reek of Dungbombs for days."

Tom snorted, saying nothing.

Please. They weren't offering protection—they were just itching for an excuse to cause mayhem.

The night passed without event.

A new day dawned—Friday, the end of the first week of term. Two days of weekend freedom lood ahead.

Slytherin only had one class that morning—double Potions. Gryffindor had the sa schedule.

After breakfast, Tom and Daphne made their way to the dungeons.

As they passed Snape's office, Tom cast a subtle glance at the door.

He'd initially thought "zero-cost procurent" would be easy. But it turned out Snape's personal quarters were connected directly to his office. The two rooms shared a door.

Tom had only learned that from older students. If he'd tried sneaking in without that knowledge, things could've ended... poorly.

So for now, he'd wait. Wait for the right mont—when Snape wasn't in either room.

At exactly 9 a.m., the bell rang.

Snape stord into the classroom like a thundercloud. His robes billowed dramatically, making him look like a bat skimming just above the floor.

He brought with him an oppressive presence. Every student—Gryffindor or Slytherin—imdiately went silent.

As Snape swept past, Tom subtly leaned away.

He had no desire to get any of that greasy hair oil flung on him.

Snape's sharp gaze scanned the room, pausing briefly on both Tom and Harry before he finally pulled out the roll call.

Like the other professors, he hesitated when he reached Harry's na.

"Oh, yes. Potter," Snape drawled.

"Our new… celebrity."

Malfoy and his two goons snickered as if soone had just passed gas.

That tone. That voice. Even Harry, who had grown sowhat used to the professors' reactions, felt a prickle of unease.