Tears come the heart, not the brain
- Leonardo da Vinci

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A couple of weeks passed, and I'd fallen into a sort of routine. Chris, Claude, Abby, Pan and Greta were my closest friends, and we usually hung out together.

I had even grown much closer to Aberforth and Albus. They treated me like family now. I'd visited grandmama Helga twice more in this time, just trying to figure out where precisely the Smiths lived.

I was trying to get used to living in this time. It was working, and I was getting accustomed to seeing Abby grinning at me from her place in the bed beside mine, and trying to get Pan and Abby from murdering each other every two days. Claude's annoying sense of humour was growing on me. Chris's abnormal need to care for everyone in our little group was amusing, as I was usually the mom of the group. Little Greta was the shy one we all adored. She was like our younger sister, always piping up with stuff to do, and always trying to keep peace between us.

I only saw Tom in the classes we'd shared, which was quite a lot. He only ever annoyed me in Potions, but sometimes I'd feel his steady gaze on me like I was at laser point.

At this point, I should've just started planning to sneak into every Smith house to see if they had my damn goblet. Technically I wasn't stealing it. I was simply returning it to my grandma Helga, and she would give it back to me.

I found out where some of the Smiths lived by asking around and doing my own research.

Christmas break was upon us, and I found myself saying goodbye to all my friends as they headed home for Christmas. I got five offers to come and stay with them, but I refused goodheartedly. I loved all five of them, but I still had a task to complete.

It was the next day, and I found myself sitting in one of the window stills outside the Great Hall. I was scribbling down coordinates and trying to figure out how exactly I was going to get the cup back from Hepzibah Smith. I had utterly no clue where the woman lived. I needed to get her address somehow.

According to grandmama Helga, she was a very vain and conceited woman. "Besotted wench." Grandmama had muttered under her breath.

I close my notebook, walking into the mostly empty Great Hall. Everyone was gone for the holidays except for the rare few.

I see Tom Riddle in the corner, sipping from a gold mug like a fine king. He was reading something that sat on the table in front of him. I decided to act before I lost my nerve.

Marching over, I plop in the seat across him. I open my notebook and begin scribbling in it again, ignoring Tom completely when he looks up to see who had dared interrupt his reading.

"Dumbledore." He drawls in his usual smooth tone. His voice sends goosebumps down the length of my arms.

"Riddle," I answer in a similar tone to his.

I see him eyeing me in annoyance. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He asks, raising a perfect brow. I look up, and my gaze clashes with his own.

"Maybe your silence?" I pipe, making him scowl in anger.

"You are the annoyance that interrupted my afternoon read."

I glance at the book he was reading. I recognize the passage he was reading instantly. It was our Potions textbook. He was researching the Confusing Concoction potion we'd done during our first potion lab together.

"Seriously, Riddle? It's Christmas, and you're doing homework?" I murmur in an amused tone. His eyebrows furrow in exasperation.

"Says the girl obsessing over the Smith family." He sneers, making my smile drop instantly. My lips purse irritated beyond compare. What on earth made me sit with Tom Riddle of all people.

"He reminded you of yourself." Abaddon starkly says with an evil chuckle.

"No one asked for your input!" I emphasize to both of the males in my company.

Tom had, though. He reminded me of the days I would sit alone in the orphanage, watching kids come in and out laughing and giggling. I was never found without a book in my hands, huge, round-rimmed glasses always perched on the bridge of my nose. He reminded me of the sadness I felt every Christmas at celebrating all alone.

"How did you know to put unicorn tears in the potion?" He asks, ignoring my outburst like answering was beneath him. I smile slightly, remembering Snape.

"A very, very smart man told me," I answer truthfully. The unappealing truth I gave him has him scoffing.

"Of course, you wouldn't come up with it on your own." He preens, his eyes dismissing me in an instant as he continued reading the potions book.

"How'd you know I was researching the Smith family?" I ask quickly. He doesn't look up.

"You've been asking around." He answers, still trying to dismiss me.

"Paying attention to me, I see." I snort, and he whips his head up with a snort of his own.

"Don't flatter yourself, Dumbledore. You're a troll with a brain the size of a peanut." He insults me, but my smile grows.

He sighs, closing his book, looking half a second away from hexing me. "What Dumbledore?" He demands, irritated at my presence.

"I may be a troll with a brain the size of a peanut... but you're the one paying attention to this troll." I quip back.

My words have him rolling his eyes. "An arrogant troll, I see." He sneers.

"A mirror would crack if it had to stare at you for more than two seconds." He retorts, leaning back and crossing his arms. He was trying to intimidate me, I realize. I copy him, my lips turning up amused when his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Why are you interested in the Smiths?" Tom queried.

"They have something of mine that I require back," I answer.

"And what, pray tell, may that be?"

"My grandmother's goblet," I say truthfully. He looked baffled and confused.

"You went through all this-" He motions to my notebook, bringing his hand around a full 360 degrees, nose crinkling in disgust. "-trouble just for a mere goblet?" He inquires and then hands me the goblet he'd been drinking out of. "Here. There you are. A goblet." He jeers, mocking me with every derogatory move he made.

"Wow. Very clever." I give him a sarcastic round of applause. "If I needed just any goblet, I'd go to the kitchens where they have clean ones you imbecile. Not ones with-" I stop to sniff what he'd been drinking. "-hot chocolate in them?" I ask, and he turns away, acting like he didn't hear me. I saw his ears redden a tad, making me grin in amusement.

Lord Voldemort enjoyed drinking hot chocolate. Who knew.

"They have a shop in Hogsmeade, you know." He sighs exasperated, and I look up in shock.

"Seriously?" I ask and move to I get up about to leave. He grabs my forearm, standing up and walking around the table to meet me. I look at him, confused. "What?" I question him, and he raises a brow.

"Do you know where the shop is?" He asks, and I stop.

"I can just ask someone." I think, but Tom shakes his head.

"I'll accompany you. I have nothing better to do, seeing as you interrupted my afternoon reading." He scowls.

"You are definitely an old man trapped in a thirteen-year-old's body," I conclude, after staring at him for a second. "There is no other explanation," I announce, but Tom just shoves me forward.

"I'll meet you in the Courtyard in ten minutes. Don't you dare be late." He orders, leaving before I could say something else. I was glaring at where he left for a solid minute before I strode away, going to my dorm to get the jacket Albus had given me a couple of weeks ago.

"Ignorant evil prick," I mumble under my breath.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow