"Wingardium Leviosa!" chanted the class lifelessly. The professor that stood in front of them nodded tiredly.
"Very good," he said with equal lifelessness, "Now I want you all to practise that together. I will put you into groups-"
The teacher's monotonous voice droned on in the background while the large class of first-year students melted in their seats. Summer had rolled in and with it had come an intense heat. The windows were wide open, not that it helped and a multitude of mosquitoes and other insects flew around the musty classroom. Tom rested his body on his desk at the back of the class. He liked this lesson because no one ever paid him any mind. He was so out of the way that he was barely visible.
He hated the heat. Way more than the cold. He never thought a day would come where he would miss shivering. Even in the orphanage, when summer would come around, Tom would never ever get this hot; not even close. At least from the cold you could escape but from this incessant, overbearing heat... it was everywhere. A few beads of sweat dripped down Tom's small face as he looked lifelessly into the middle-distance. Somehow, he looked even worse than he usually did. Like he could die or pass out at any moment; not that anyone ever noticed. At least he wasn't getting thinner.
The other students in the class began chatting to each other, signifying to Tom that Professor Gilluk's ramblings were finally done. He was a short old man and was frequently called an elf by students that were taught by him despite him not being one. It says a lot about someone when the trait that everyone takes away from them is that they are boring.
Everyone, including that teacher, was practically done with this term. They just wanted to get it all over with. Now that it was summer and they had been dealing with the temperature for weeks, people couldn't help but wish to just go home. It was now after an eternity of waiting, the last day of term. There was only a few hours left before the Huge Summer Feast. After that there would only be one night left before, in the morning, they would all pack back onto the Hogwarts Express and be sent back home. Everyone was looking forward to it, including Tom Malumis.
Tom had already conceded that this year was and had been a lost cause for him for still held hope for, perhaps, a redemption next year. He'd have a second shot; a chance to turn it around. As his eyes darted around the classroom, observing the other students as they practised the spell they had been set, he couldn't help but ponder about the past year. It certainly wasn't the worst he had had. In fact, he would class it as one of the best years of his life. That still did not change the fact that he had a seemingly never-ending list of regrets. He knew it was his fault though. Ever since that fateful day he had ventured to the Leaky Cauldron and subsequently been told about the Wizarding World by Dante, he had set his expectations ridiculously high.
He had always recognised himself as a freak but, he supposed, deep down he had always had this hope; this dream that maybe in this other world with all these different, strange and magical things, creatures and people, he could find maybe something or someone that would consider him normal. But throughout this year, that hope had been squashed again and again.
Now though, Tom had finally come full circle. He had mostly accepted who and what he was and now, after his first year, was ready to get ready moving onto his next. He was lucky to have only gotten 1 beating this year. He couldn't do the maths exactly but he knew for a fact that he would've gotten way more if he stayed at the orphanage.
'That's probably because I've been under the radar,' Tom reasoned mentally, 'I haven't brought much attention to myself.'
Realising he couldn't spend the whole lesson lounging in the burning heat like an overheated dog, Tom pulled himself upright off his desk and picked up his wand. As expected, when he tried to cast the spell, a mere few white sparks shot off his wand before... nothing. Tom breathed a sigh of contempt and raised his wand lazily to try again. This was another thing he hated about himself; another thing that made him a freak. He was useless at all magic. He had thought maybe that it was his wand. It wasn't chosen for him but after overhearing some of the students in his dorms saying that their wands are hand-me-downs as well, he quickly realised that he was just well below average.
He waved his wand again, just like how the teacher had demonstrated.
"Wingardium Leviosa," mumbled Tom. Again, no response. He turned his head slightly to look at a student who was sitting at the far front of the class. Aubyn Young was skillfully swishing his wand in the air, masterfully levitating the feather he had been tasking with lifting and now moving it around the class. Just like normal, the Professor watched his magic with awe, constantly being impressed by him. Tom still wore his emotionless, glazed-over expression but found himself chuckling. At least he had ONE friend. He was surprised in all honesty that Aubyn was friends with him in the first place. He certainly appreciated it.
Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out the crystal statue that Aubyn had given him on Christmas Day and stared at it. Of course, he would never smile but deep down he was happy that someone paid him that little bit of attention.
Suddenly, Tom tore his eyes away from the statue and looked at the feather that he had been tasked with lifting. Much to his surprise, (so much so that Tom's jaw dropped slightly) the light feather was floating steadily in the air. Without noticing, his body must've been on autopilot, Tom had successfully completed a spell! After a few seconds of dumbfounded staring from Tom's part, the feather fell ungracefully to the ground but Tom didn't mind at all. This was great! This proved it! Things were going to get better! This year was just a practice year! Like a baptism or trial by fire. After this, things would be much better. The relief Tom felt in this moment, simply because of his feat, was palpable.
He looked determinedly back to the crystal statue that was still in his hand.
'Aubyn Young... I will make you proud to call yourself my friend.'
"Hey!" The yell was almost lost in the conversations of the sea of children leaving the classroom. Tom barely heard it and turned around to see where it was coming from, "Hey!" he heard it yell again. Barely visible over the bustling class of first-years, Tom spotted Aubyn's bobbing head heading in his direction.
"Hey!" Aubyn yelled once again, as he was much closer now. He stopped when he was directly in front of Tom panted for breath. When he had stopped, he looked up at Tom and gave him his signature dazzling grin and scratched the back of his head.
"Heh heh," he laughed awkwardly.
"H-hello," Tom greeted lamely.
"Hey man, I just wanted to talk to you because-" he paused again to scratch the back of his head, "-I guess we just haven't spoken in a while. And y'know- it's the last day of term!"
"It is," Tom nodded, not really knowing what to say. While it was true that Aubyn hadn't spoken to him in a week or so, and it was always nice to speak with him, this conversation didn't seem to be going in any direction like their conversations usually went. Tom definitely could not be trusted to carry a conversation so with Aubyn struggling to get his words out, the situation was becoming pretty awkward, fast. Luckily Aubyn managed to get straight to the point.
"I want to show you something," he said, something lighting up in his eye, "Something pretty special, you wouldn't want to miss it."
"W-when?" Tom asked, still unsure as to what Aubyn was talking about, "W-what-?"
Aubyn grinned again, "It's gonna be a surprise but you won't wanna miss it! It's going to be when the big feast is happening tonight. Go down the North Hallway and wait for me."
"Are other people going to be there?"
Aubyn shrugged, "Probably not. Maybe. I don't really know."
"Ok," At this point, Tom didn't really care much about other people being there, as long as Aubyn was there and made him feel at least slightly welcome.
"So remember: Down the North Hall, at the Summer Feast. If you watch me at the Gryffindor Table, I'll give you a signal as to when to get up."
Tom nodded to confirm he had understood, "North Hall, at the Summer Feast," he repeated. Aubyn gave him another trusty smile.
"Oh it's gonna be good," said Aubyn as he shivered comically in excitement. He turned around and started to run back in the other direction to try and catch up to his other Gryffindor friends who had gone ahead. He gave a small wave to Tom as he dashed off, "See ya then!"
Tom frowned and stroked his chin as he watched Aubyn, as well as the rest of his class, disappear into the distance. What could that surprise be? After a few more moments of complex thought, Tom shrugged it off, figuring he would find out later and piled onto his next class.
"I'm telling you Hermione, I really think he might be a ghost!" Ron laughed loudly at his own joke and Hermione, next to him, turned a shade of pink.
"Not so loud, the students might hear us," she hissed to him. Ron laughed again.
"Not in here, calm down," he said as he lounged back on one of the couches. The two Professors were currently resting in the Hogwarts Staff Room: a somewhat new addition to the castle but a welcome one. It provided a student-free space for the teachers to socialise and discuss in. It was a cosy room similar to the Gryffindor common room with comfy sofas and a large, glistening fireplace.
"There's a spell on this room Hermione, no one can hear us in here," Hermione gave him a withering look.
"Of course I know that," she snapped, still annoyed, "But your voice is so loud it might bypass it."
Ron gave her a playfully offended look, "I'm not that loud."
Hermione smirked, "I don't know how your students cope with their eardrums bleeding every lesson."
"I don't know how your students cope being taught by a Knockturn Alley ripoff of Professor Mcgonagall," retorted Ron, causing Hermione to once again go pink. Ron laughed loudly again at her reaction. It was no secret between them that Hermione frequently emulated the previous Head of Gryffindor house when she picked up teaching. She had gotten better over the years but when she first started, she was practically a carbon copy.
"It's not my fault!" It was now Hermione's turn to yell, "She was one of my idols, I had to take a few things from her to get better. I didn't know how to act as a teacher so I just magpie-d a few things."
"Yeah, yeah," Ron said sarcastically.
"Ron!" Hermione playfully hit Ron's arm who smiled his same goofy smile at her.
"That's no way to treat your husband!" he crossed his arms, "And what's all this business about you being called 'Professor Granger'!"
Now Hermione knew he was definitely joking (they had already talked this over multiple times) and thus allowed herself to breathe and keep talking calmly, "We've gone over this. My surname is Weasley but I choose to be Professor Granger. If I was Professor Weasley but you were also Professor Weasley, people would get confused."
"Then why don't you be Madame Weasley?" Ron asked, a mischievous grin on his face. Hermione grimaced. Ron opened his mouth, again, to keep his string of comedic rebuttals going, when he was interrupted by a loud creaking sound.
"What's going on in here?" the entrance to the staff door slowly swung open and a deep inquisitive voice called from the other side of it. Harry Potter revealed himself with a grand smile as he entered the room and closed the door carefully behind him.
"Talking of rehashes," Ron smirked mischievously, "How are you Dumbledore Jr."
Harry yawned and took a seat next to them, "Shut up Ron," he said lazily. Ron laughed at his tired reaction.
"No, seriously, how are you?"
Harry turned and smiled at him, "Great, great, just preparing my speech for the end of the Summer Feast."
"Oh yeah!" Ron celebrated. Hermione, not being as hard-headed, gave Harry a sympathetic look.
"Speech? Do you want some help?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry replied instantly, "But it just wouldn't feel right. It's the Headmaster's Speech so he should right it himself."
"I can-" Ron looked at Hermione, "We," he corrected himself, "-can help you know."
Harry shook his head, "Dumbledore never needed any help."
Hermione frowned, "Firstly, that's not true and secondly, you are not Dumbledore!"
"Yeah, he's way better!" encouraged Ron. Harry gave him a withering look, as did Hermione. He really wasn't helping.
"Look," Hermione put a comforting hand on Harry's knee, "You need to stop comparing yourself to him. He's one of the greatest wizards of all time. It's such a high standard-"
"And one I should be able to reach," Harry interjected.
"Look mate," Ron leaned forward, finally serious for once, "You're great. You're my best friend. And even though you kinda look like Dumbledore now," Harry stroked his beard, "You're not. You're Harry Potter. Be Harry Potter. Even if you think it's worse than being Dumbledore and maybe- who knows- maybe you'll end up being way better."
The trio sat in stunned silence as Ron, once again, leaned back.
"That was very wise, Ron," Hermione noted.
"It's been known to happen," shrugged Ron. A large smile grew on Harry's face.
"Thank you Ron," he said as he got up. He sighed before speaking again, "I'll try to be Harry Potter. Be Harry Potter... and write this speech. I'll see you at the feast."
He waved them goodbye before quietly exiting the door of the staff room. Once he was gone, Ron turned back to Hermione.
"And anyway," he continued like an excited child, putting aside the events that had just happened to keep going with what he had been saying, "About that creepy Malumis kid..."
The Summer Feast was now well underway. Tom looked around anxiously. He sat at the Slytherin Table and, like always, was isolated completely from the rest of the house. He sat near the end of the table, a couple feet from the closest students to him. In front of him was a bunch of delicious-looking delicacies, most of which Tom had passed up. In his time at Hogwarts he was definitely thankful for the abundance of food but due to his years of 'training' to get by on an average of one meal a day, he found himself unable to eat as much as the other students.
That was fine though because eating was the furthest thing from what Tom was thinking right now. Occasionally (every 10 seconds) Tom's eyes would dart to Aubyn Young on the far-away Gryffindor table, waiting for him to give him a signal to go. Of course, Aubyn's seat on the table faced away from him so he didn't notice Tom's desperation as he engaged with the other people crowded around him. At the very front of the Great Hall, the large table of Professors were chattering similarly to the children that sat on each table in front of them. Professor Weasley sat amongst a group of peers and caused much laughter with his jokes that he may or may not have 'borrowed' from his siblings. Professor Granger sat next to him, frowning stern and disapprovingly at the comedy while laughing internally. In the middle of the table sat a somewhat silent Harry Potter in his grand chair, his fingers interlocked and his face one of stoicism and great thought. His eyes were glued to one particular student that stood out from the crowd of the rest. He had overheard Ron talking about him and could've sworn he had seen him before but must've forgotten. Now he couldn't quite put his finger on it but as Harry looked at the boy he could sense something was not quite right. Something was off. And as much as he tried to deny it, Harry Potter was, by nature, a curious person. He was drawn to the different and the boy that he was looking at currently... was different.
After what seemed like an eternity, Aubyn finally turned his head around to look behind him at the Slytherin table. Tom's heart jumped in relief as he saw the boy turn around to him and looked for what signal he would give. Aubyn looked around, his eyes fishing for the familiar face in the crowd of Slytherins. Eventually he found him: the odd one out and sitting away from the rest. He nodded at him.
Understanding the gesture, Tom brought himself up from the table and walked towards the grand doors of the Great Hall. Nobody noticed, of course. His small frame was about as conspicuous and attention-grabbing as a tiny hedgehog. Aubyn, upon seeing that Tom had left, turned back toward his table and he, himself, began to prepare.
Only one person seemed to notice Tom's strange absence from the Great Hall but like many other professors who saw students leaving the hall, Harry Potter put it up to him needing to go to the bathroom. Speaking of needing to go to the bathroom... Harry's stomach grumbled violently causing Ron to look over to him slowly before guffawing with laughter. Chuckling awkwardly, Harry arose and walked over to the special exit of the Great Hall for staff only, to the right of the large Staff Table. Just because he was headmaster, didn't mean that he couldn't take a few minutes break to go to the toilet, could it?
Tom explored the vast halls. The stony floors and intricate and delicately designed walls were lit up beautifully by the exquisite candlelight. The usual greyness was replaced by a remarkable atmosphere of bronze mahogany. It only added to it that Tom himself was fairly tiny and, to him, it all looked much much bigger. As he strayed further and further from the great hall, getting lost down an endless maze of beautiful corridors, Tom wondered to himself when Aubyn would be meeting up with him. It had only been 5 minutes or so since he had left the Great Hall but still, the thought bugged him. Only when Tom thought he had wandered perhaps too far did the boy realise where he was. This corridor, even by the scale of the other ones, was much larger and grander. The ceiling was taller and it had a much larger width and the design on the wall was completely different to those next to it.
*DRIP*
Tom's head spun around in surprise. He hadn't expected to hear a sound. Especially not one like that.
*DRIP*
He heard it again. Tom sniffed the air and then repulsed. There was a strange, panging, disgusting aroma. He turned his head again, searching for the sound.
*DRIP*
It sounded like water. Like a tap dripping. Tom, like everyone, knew the sound from showers and sinks and such. But there was something so small and different that set this sound slightly apart.
*DRIP*
He finally could pinpoint it. Tom turned in its direction and walked up to it. There was a large puddle on the ground, right by the grand wall. Tom looked into it and furrowed his brow. Perhaps it was the light..?
*DRIP*
A small red droplet fell into the puddle, causing it to ripple. Tom's mouth slightly fell agape. The puddle was crimson: as crimson as the stamp sent on the Hogwarts letter. He bent down and reached a hand into the puddle. He pulled it out and inspected it. His hand was drenched in sticky, red liquid. The puddle was filled with blood. Confused and unsure what to do, Tom pulled himself up. He almost wanted to panic at the stuff on his hand but his body couldn't quite find the strength to move, let alone scream. Desperately he began to wipe his hand on his trousers: a decision he immediately regretted when he saw the horrific stains that were being produced. Still unsure of what to do, Tom turned back to the puddle, his teeth beginning to chatter. It was all becoming too much for him and he didn't know what to do-
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Tom's head darted around, terrified, at the scream. Professor Hundale, the Head of Slytherin House, stood only a few steps behind him, staring at him with wide, estranged eyes.
Not knowing what to do and his mouth still hanging open, Tom could only gape. He hadn't noticed it but a curious crowd of students were standing behind Professor Hundale and they quickly began to grow and grow. Soon the crowd overtook the Professor and started advancing.
They surrounded Tom but also gave him a large amount of space: enough to feel isolated from the rest of the group. Staring around him, unsure of what to do, Tom simply looked around desperately, practically dancing in front of the hundreds of scared student's eyes.
One particularly scared student raised a trembling arm and pointed above Tom at the wall. Many students gazes followed the finger before subsequently ducking back in fear. Tom, himself, looked up and stared at the strange red symbols that were sprawled over the wall.
"Enemies of the heir, be-" An anonymous student read aloud before covering their mouth. Tom looked in the direction the sound had come from. He looked like a deer in the headlights. Everyone was looking at him.
Above Tom was written the phrase, "Enemies of the heir bew" in sparkling and shiny, scarlet blood. The rest of the phrase had not been written; the message was left unfinished. Of course when Tom looked at the words, he could not understand them in the slightest but that did not stop him from reading the room and understanding that whatever situation he had been put in, it was not a good one.
"WHAT THE HELL!" suddenly called out a terrified voice from the crowd. Tom's eyes shot to where it had come from.
"FREAK!" screamed out another. Tom's eyes instantly filled with hurt. No tears fell and to the average observer, Tom's face did not shift much at all but there was an innate sadness visible in it; one that only grew with each comment that was flung at him. He looked around him. He felt it all, from every direction: resentment, hate, fear. All emotions were clear in the faces of those he saw.
His eyes zoomed over what seemed like millions of faces. After a while he just didn't want to see it anymore. He almost was about to break down completely but somehow his body stayed upright. What the hell was going on? Even Tom had no idea. But somehow the blame was all on him. What had even happened?! WHAT WAS GOING ON?
Suddenly, Tom's whole world seemed to freeze. Everything went in slow motion. All the voices silenced, as did everything else. A single face was made clear to Tom in the crowd. It was like a spotlight was shone in this one area and everything else was absorbed in the darkness. Tom paled. He swallowed, His eyes focused on who it was.
Aubyn Young stood amongst the crowd, his eyes boring into Tom. Tom stared back, completely at a loss. But then... in that one moment... in that one moment where everything stopped and it was only something between him and them; in that moment where everything else seemed to disappear and it was left with only Tom and Aubyn... it all seemed to click in Tom's head.
Aubyn's face changed. He reached his hand up to his face and slightly pulled down his eyelid. As he did so, he lightly stuck his tongue out. He pulled an akanbe.
Tom stepped backwards, his jaw dropped. His breathing began to increase. To him, the world still moved in slow motion as he kept looking at Aubyn. He put his hand down and pulled back in his tongue. Tom could see him clearly chuckle once before giving him one of his signature smiles. Except this time- it was different. It was clearly different. And yet... it was the same. The same as all the other smiles that Aubyn had given him. Except now Tom finally recognised it. It was not friendly nor welcoming; Aubyn's smile was twisted. It was smug and selfish. It was manipulative and evil. Tom saw through the smile. He saw through Aubyn. He managed to close his mouth and felt his eyebrows furrow and his hand slightly clench. All Tom could do was watch as Aubyn, having given Tom a classic smile, turned away and disappeared into the crowd.
The rest of the time at Hogwarts before Tom left the next day felt like a blur. He knew that shortly after the "incident" in the corridors, he was whisked away by the Head of Slytherin into his office but what happened after that was nothing but a haze. Tom knew he couldn't have had a beating because he would've remembered it. He rationalised that he must've been yelled at a lot. He was still too zoned-out from the experience to focus on anything.
Eventually, Tom was let out of the office and stumbled back (with a new pair of clothes) to the Slytherin dormitories. By the time Tom arrived, they were empty with the school having all gone to bed. He went down to his particular dorm and found that it was locked. He braced himself before knocking meekly onto it. There was silence. Tom tried to open the door. He found it locked. After a few minutes, Tom heard a set of slow footsteps from the other side, coming towards the door. A small clink of a lock could be heard before the door opened a smidge. The crack in the doorway was so small that even a mouse couldn't get through it. All Tom could see from the other side was a single eyeball of his fellow roommate, staring at him through the tiny gap.
"C-can I come in please," Tom whispered quietly. He could tell from that certain look in the eye that the person on the other side was not pleased with him.
"Why should I let you in," he hissed, "After what you've done!"
Tom looked at him pleadingly, "I-I don't know what I've done!"
"Whether or not you do, you've made everything worse for all of us Slytherins!" Tom couldn't understand what the boy was talking about but he interpreted that it wasn't good. The boy on the other side continued, "For years and years we've been trying to rid ourselves of this reputation and you come along; acting all weird and putting up messages in red paint pretending it's blood!"
Tom almost sighed in relief. He still didn't really comprehend everything being said but he was glad that there was no real blood at the scene. In hindsight, it wouldn't make sense for it to be blood but in the heat of the moment, Tom's brain was acting on instinct.
"I don't know what we would've done if that Aubyn guy didn't warn everyone that you were gonna do something," Tom's head perked up at that, "If he didn't get up and start yelling in the middle of the feast, when everyone found your message they probably would've thought the worst..." the boys voice drifted off.
"H-he... told you?" Tom asked, his voice barely coming out. The eye from the other side narrowed.
"I'm not letting you in. Go somewhere else you freak."
The door slammed in his face. Tom looked down at the floor. He slumped over to his usual spot next to the door and allowed himself to rest. Just like he did at home, Tom clutched his legs for warmth. But thoughts of comfortableness didn't cross his mind.
'Of course,' Tom thought, 'Of course he told you... Of course.'
'I wonder... was it his plan all along?'
Things finally started to click in Tom's head but before he could fully put everything together, Tom felt his grasp on consciousness soften. He truly surprised himself, at the ease of which he fell asleep for the final time of his first year at Hogwarts.
Tom was completely avoided as he left the castle. He walked to the station, detached from all others. He was alone as he waited on the platform for the Hogwarts Express and boarded it similarly. His compartment was set aside from everyone else. He was completely alone in it. The only clue that he wasn't alone on the train at all was the distant giggles, cheers and conversations that he could barely hear from the other side of the carriage. Tom sat himself down on the uncomfortable seat next to the window: the one facing the direction in which the train was going. He threw his small bag of belongings to the side with a tad more aggression than he had intended. When he first sat, Tom put his hands on his lap and stared at them. He felt so cramped in this relatively large empty space. His mind felt like a swirling tornado: smashing through everything in its path and yet Tom's body refused to stretch out.
Slowly and deliberately, Tom exhaled; pushing his shoulders back as he did so. With much effort, he took a much more relaxed posture. He breathed steadily through his nose and brought his head up to look at the empty space opposite him.
"What the hell is going on?" Tom growled so quietly that it was almost imperceptible. His face morphed into a grimace. Suddenly, in front of him, Tom could see Aubyn; sitting in front of him just like he had when they first met on this very train. Tom felt his fists clench.
"So what's your name?" asked the image in front of him. Tom felt his jaw tighten.
'From the very beginning,' he thought to himself, 'Was it all fake?'
"I'm gonna be his friend to help him out."
'There's something still off about it...' he thought, 'Why keep up the facade so long?'
"Dante? Who's he, your brother?" "So you live in an orphanage?" "What house do you want to be in?"
'All those questions... and all so fast... I'd barely known him for a few minutes before he started interrogating me and...' Tom looked up to the fictional Aubyn that sat in front of him, 'Why... me? What drew you to me?'
"So you're in Slytherin? I'm sorry I was so nervous at the Sorting Ceremony I kind of zoned out. Didn't notice."
'Like hell you didn't notice,' Tom felt a surge of anger pulse through him as he recalled the event, 'You knew and you came to gloat.'
Every smile from Aubyn Young took on a new meaning. Every look and every glance. Tom had interpreted, first, them being friendly but now; now Tom had seen his smile last night; now he saw them for they were.
They were smug. They were mean-spirited. They were cruel. They were fake. Each and every one of them. His signature smile: it was nothing more than a facade. Every. Single. Smile. Tom had perceived Aubyn Young as a friend. He had paraded him in his mind like he was a god. Acting like he was nothing but a freak not blessed enough to be in his presence. Even remembering the feeling made him want to throw up. Tom felt himself becoming physically ill with hatred. He had never felt anything this strong before.
Tom's breathing began to accelerate. The fake form of Aubyn Young in front of him drifted away. Tom began to fall forward slightly and put his face in his hands. He rubbed his face over and over; rage boiling inside him. His teeth began to chatter and began pulling his hands through his hair, brushing it over and over. His eyes were bloodshot and his veins clear on his neck. The tornado in his head was quickly becoming a hurricane and it showed no signs of stopping. Tom saw the truth now. He had been manipulated. He had been humiliated. He didn't know why but he knew it had happened. And for some reason, now- of all times, now- everything; all the anger and torment was coming to the surface. His mind was moving at a million miles per hour. Thoughts couldn't quite make it through his head. Everything was going too fast. He was going too fast. His hand smashed into the window next to him with such ferocity it left a sizable impact afterward. He let it stay there, sitting among the somewhat shattered glass for a few moments. The window wasn't busted enough to actually make a hole but one look at it would tell any person that it only took a slight tap to make it all shatter. Tom couldn't contain it anymore.
'Why me?' Tom asked himself, 'Why am I the freak?'
He slowly and carefully pulled his hand out of the dent he had made in the glass. His eyes were burning with fury and his whole body seemed to be on edge.
"I really didn't want to be Slytherin; or a freak; or bad at lessons; or bad at flying; or just..." Tom paused, "I'm just bad! I'm bad at everything! I can't do spells o-or read, o-or... anything! A-and you're so good! And I can't-" he stopped and rubbed his face in his hands, "I just... can't."
Aubyn walked slowly toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't notice Tom's slight tension.
"Slytherin or not- you're still my friend," he said solemnly, "Remember that."
Tom thought back to the memory and his body almost visibly repulsed. His embarrassment, disgrace and anger were tangible.
"Oh don't worry..." Tom's voice sounded more like a demon's than a child's. It sounded so sinister it almost sent a shiver down his own spine, "I'm going to remember it."