The serpent's heir

Professor Dumbledore

Tom awoke to high ceilings decorated with familiar white sheets and windows made up of embossed glass that transformed the sunlight that shone through it int pretty rainbows in some places. Great. Tom was in the Hospital Wing. Again.

Surrounding his own bed was many more, although only two were occupied. Across the room from him, in the furthest possible corner away from him, laid the two out of three boys that Tom had injured.

Satisfaction grew like a heavy stone in his stomach at the sight of both boys wrapped in bandages. The Gryffindor that Tom had knocked out with a book had a bandage that appeared to be dosed in some sort of ointment wrapped around is head. And the boy Tom had stabbed still cradled his injury subconsciously, his own bandage having been soaked by the blood of his wound.

Like a dream, Tom could still feel his attackers fear, even whilst his memory of the actual events remained foggy. It was like a shot of adrenaline, pushing his blood around his body at an inhuman speed. His heart sped up and his cheeks grew flushed.

However, all signs of pleasure were pushed under his mask as he heard footsteps come from Madam Marlowe’s quarters and office. The last of his bloody flush swam to occupy the rest of his body as his smile twisted into something much more- pleasant.

Before Madam Marlowe could even get a word in, had even reached his bedside, Tom called out to her. His voice soft and worried. His eyes watery and his eyebrows pinched. “Madam, what happened to me?” The matron paused in her steps, hesitation drawing a sharp breath from her pinched lips. “You mean, you don’t remember, Mr. Riddle?”

“I’m afraid that the last thing I remember was being pushed into an empty classroom on my way to Defence class by three boys in Gryffindor colours.” Tom put on a good act if he did say so himself, he even let a tear drip down his face upon speaking his next words. “Those two, the boys in the other beds, they were there- they- did I do that to them? Did I hurt them?” He even forced his voice to crack when he spoke of how he ‘hurt’ his idiotic attackers. And, judging by the sympathy drawn onto Madam Marlowe’s face, his act was working.

“Professor Merrythought was the person who found you, and whilst your magic was the likely cause of what happened, we believe that it was most likely accidental magic given Mr. Stevens’s account of your apparent use of wandless and wordless casting.”

‘Ah yes, Christopher Stevens, the Gryffindor I didn’t get to play with.’ Tom’s face remained as a reflection of a tortured soul as his much more bloodthirsty thoughts battled to surface.

“I think your magic acted out in a subconscious effort to protect you.” Madam Marlowe continued, “However, it is only because of this that Headmaster Dippet has decided to let you all off with only a warning. You should count yourself lucky dear; things could have been a lot worse for all of you if Professor Merrythought hadn’t stepped in.”

“Yes, that was very lucky indeed.” Tom gave a shaky smile in return. “When will I be able to leave Madam?” He subtly changed the subject, pacing his bet on the healer becoming more focused on her job now. He got what he wanted.

“You should be ready to go just before dinner in an hour, Tom.” Madam Marlowe began to straighten her back and collected a clipboard from the end of Tom’s bed. “You have suffered from one broken rib and numerous bruises, as well as a little magical exhaustion.” She listed off with a practiced level of distance.

“The broken rib has been regrown with a treatment of skelegrow, and the bruises were healed quickly with some salve. The only reason I am keeping you here for a little longer is to make sure that your magical exhaustion isn’t worse than I am aware of, and to ensure that your rest up and recover like I know you wouldn’t if I let you leave.”