Hierarchy of Need [t.r]

Chapter Four

  "Keep an eye on her." The boys looked at each other but nodded, in unison they spoke, "yes, my lord." Tom eyed them all and he let a sigh pass his lips. "Now, to more pressing matters. This is our last year, and although Dumbledore said he'd consider me for a position, he's clearly lying. He's good at hiding everything except his disdain for me." Just thinking about the man set off a fire inside Tom. Everything would be working much more smoothly if he never admitted to how he enjoyed hurting people to get what he wanted. He was naive and a fool when he first met Dumbledore.

Tom rubbed his eyes as the memory shot its way forward. He'd just turned eleven and a strange man showed up at the orphanage asking to speak with him. He was currently being confined to his room because he'd gotten in trouble for stealing a kids ball. All he wanted to do was borrow it, but the boy wouldn't give it to him, so he got angry and suddenly the boy was thrown back and the ball was in his hand. Tom had started to realize he was different from the other kids. That he was special. But his so called talent always seemed to get him in trouble. Then this man came into his room and smiled at him, and Tom felt that same aura of strangeness surrounding him. Tom immediately took a liking to Dumbledore, funny enough. Although Tom already knew he was something abstract from usual kids, Dumbledore confirmed his theory. He'd told him he could do magic and a genuine, cheerful laugh escaped his lungs.

  But then it went downhill from there. Tom showed Dumbledore how he could light his dresser on fire, how he could take things if he wanted them, how he could make people hurt. And that glimmer left Dumbledore's eyes as concern shielded them. As Dumbledore was leaving, Tom panicked, thinking he wouldn't let him attend this lovely school he'd called Hogwarts. He told Dumbledore he could talk to snakes. That then sealed his fate, Dumbledore would never grow to trust Tom.

  He sneered and pushed the flashback away. He couldn't believe he could be so stupid. But he supposed it had to happen. There was no going back to change it. If he would have never told Dumbledore of his little talent, he might have never been allowed to come to Hogwarts. He'd never tell anyone, but this castle was his home. And he was indebted to it.

  "About this summer," he began and watched as the boys tensed. "Malfoy, Rosier, are you still able to go to France?" They both nodded. "My parents have left me the summer house, as a graduation gift of sorts. If we need to regroup, it's available." Elio said and Tom appraised him silently. "Good, if I am correct, that's where Grindelwald will be passing time. Lestrange and Avery, you will be stationed back in London for the time being. Grindelwald still does not trust you Lestrange, thanks to your lovely aunt." Pyrrhus shivered and clenched his jaw.

  His aunt Leta had gone against Grindelwald and was killed in the Lestrange Mausoleum. His parents always told him about it, how she'd been a blood traitor.

  Despite anyone else's knowledge, he had a news clipping back from 1927, the year she died. She was between two men of the Scamander line and she was to be married to Newt. Though, he supposed she died before they ever could. He also had a copy of Newt Scamander's book he'd kept meaning to get signed. He wanted to meet Newt and ask about Leta. But his family would disown him and he could never work up the courage.

  "Do you think it's true, then?" Abraxas asked and Tom lazily rolled his head to the side to look at him. "Do I think what is true?"

  Abraxas shifted his weight and tried his best to look Tom in the eyes. It might've only been five seconds, but to Abraxas an enternity passed. He seemed to shrink under Tom's heavy, scrutinizing gaze. His dark eyes were usually passive when they were in public, but in the privacy of their meetings something darker, something more dangerous, teased its way to the surface.

  Abraxas looked away and Tom felt his lips tug upwards in a smirk. "That Grindelwald has the Elder Wand." Abraxas finished. Tom sighed and looked away from him and into the fire. "Yes, if my research is correct. And it always is. Apparently, Grindelwald took it from Gregorovitch, who murdered Antioch Peverell. And at the age of around nineteen, maybe early twenties." Tom ran his fingers over his own wand delicately. If he were to obtain the ownership of the Elder Wand, which he was going to do, he didn't think he could so easily give up his own. He'd still keep it with him no doubt.