A/N: Written for the 2006 HP reversathon fest on LJ.
Tom knew he was special-different from the other children—he had to be. Why else would snakes speak to him as he passed by? They didn't speak to anyone else; Tom had checked. He'd been clever about it, though, because one thing he learned very early on in the orphanage was he didn't want anyone else to see he was different. At least, not in any way that would get him into trouble.
He'd got Michael Hibbert to go looking for snakes with him, and when they found one, Michael had wanted to box it up and bring it back to the orphanage to frighten Sally Collier (who was very tall and had bosoms). Michael hadn't blinked when the snake told Tom there were some "Nice juicy toadsss by the sstream," if Tom happened to be hungry. No one but Tom heard the snake complaining constantly about the box when Michael brought it back, either.
If Tom had ever been tempted to tell anyone about what he could do, that temptation had been quashed when he learned about The Asylum.
The Asylum was where they sent children who weren't right in their heads. It was ten times worse than the orphanage. They locked you up in tiny cells and gave you injections with enormous needles every day, and if you fought, they'd put you in a Straight Jacket. You couldn't move, not even a finger, if you were in a Straight Jacket. Fred Beecher had said so, and he knew. His sister Mary had been taken away to The Asylum after she'd nearly scratched Mrs Cole's eye out at dinner one evening; Fred went to visit her on Christmas.
"There's a girl there what cut herself open stem to stern. Mary said she thought serpents was crawling 'round in her stomach," Fred told a group of rapt boys one evening. "Mary saw the scar, it was all red and jagged like," he said, drawing his finger over his own torso in illustration. The boy gasped appreciatively.
So Tom was careful about his specialness, mostly because no one would believe him, but sometimes, partly, because he wasn't quite sure himself. What if it wasn't real? What if he was mad? He couldn't tell anyone about the snakes, because the snakes didn't speak to anyone but him. But what if they weren't speaking at all and he'd made it up? There was Billy Stubbs's rabbit, yes, but ... what if he'd only dreamed he'd made it hang itself, when he'd really climbed up and done the deed with his own hands?
Yes, Tom tried to be very careful.
Most of the time, he succeeded.
The cave called to Tom from the start. 'Called' was the best way he could describe it, but it was more than that. It was like a need had been gnawing away at him, and suddenly he knew what would fill that need. He felt it when they arrived in the village, a strange pulling feeling in his chest telling him there was something waiting for him, out on the cliffs, something special and wonderful. All he had to do was find it. "Going exploring," he told Mrs. Cole after lunch. She nodded absently and mumbled something about not wandering too far off.
Tom passed Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop playing five stones by the gate.
"Where're you going Tom?" Amy said, springing up. Amy had a constantly running nose, and the bad habit of lifting her skirt up to wipe the snot away. "Can we come?"
"But I'm on threes," Dennis said, "I can get fours this time, I know it."
"No, you can't come," Tom told Amy. But an itchy little voice in his ear said, why not bring them? They might be good for a bit of fun if you don't find anything...
Dennis frowned. "We're supposed to stay with Mrs. Cole or someone older," he said, tugging on one of his large ears.
"Tom's older," Amy said, as if that settled it.
Tom shrugged and set off toward the cliffs. "Come if your coming," he said over he shoulder.
The pulling feeling got stronger as they walked along the cliff. Waves rushed and crashed against the jagged rocks below. Tom stared down. The height made him feel a little dizzy and sick to his stomach. His legs wobbled as the urge to simply step off the cliff came over him. Would he fall and be smashed to pieces against the rocks? Or would something save him?
Could he save himself?
He stared down at the rocks. What was it that compelled him to come here? There had to be something. If there wasn't... Tom closed his eyes, warding off the image of The Asylum. After a moment, he opened his eyes and his gaze flitted over the waves and rough cliff face. There, down near the water-Tom's heart began to pound-a dark slit in the rocks.
"There's a cave down there," he said quietly. "Let's climb down."
"A cave? D'you think it's a smuggler's cave?" Amy said, fingering the hem of her skirt.
"Probably. There's probably all sorts of treasure in it," Tom said. He sat down and dangled one leg over the edge of the cliff, feeling around until he found a foothold. He smiled. Of course he'd be able to climb down; he was meant to find this cave. It was his.
Whether Amy and Dennis could make the climb was of no real concern.
"Treasure, Dennis! Come on," Amy said, following Tom. She had to stretch her legs even farther than Tom had, but she found the same foothold.
Dennis hesitated until Amy and Tom descended past his line of sight. "Wait, don't leave me here!" he cried, scrambling down after them.
They slowly picked their way down, Amy and Dennis following Tom's steps. Tom knew exactly where to put his foot; he didn't slip once. He could hear Amy and Dennis struggling to keep up.
Dennis yelped. "It's too high!" He was clinging to the cliff, staring down at the waves below.
"Stop looking down," Tom said.
"Yeah, don't be babyish," Amy said, her voice quivering.
Tom kept climbing down, and after a long moment, Dennis shut his eyes and continued on.
When they were closer, Tom saw that the entrance to the cave would be almost completely under water at high tide. Though the tide was low, they would still get quite wet.
"I d- don't like this," Dennis said once they'd jumped down into the dark tunnel. The water came up to his chest, and his jaw chattered from the cold. The walls were wet and covered with slime and barnacles. The only light came from the narrow entrance.
"There's something there," Tom said, wading deeper into the tunnel. His foot caught on the first step. "Stairs. Someone carved stairs here," he said.
"Oh, d- d- do you think it w- was the smugglers?" Amy said. She climbed the stairs after Tom and stood shivering and dripping next to him.
Tom didn't say anything. He stood on the spot where, many years hence, he would construct a door that demanded blood for passage. His entire body shivered, and there was a rushing noise in his ears. He touched the rough stone wall, and a shock jumped through him.
This place was special, the way he was special.
"I wish we'd brought a candle," Amy said as she wrung water out of her skirt. "How are we going to find the treasure in all this darkness? It's—"
"Stop talking," Tom said, his voice turning deep and commanding. He continued to feel along the wall, ignoring the two children. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the cave was quite large. It would take a long time to thoroughly explore. One thing was for certain: this place was his. It struck a note in Tom's bones and set his body humming with- with- something. Power? Knowledge? Madness?
He blinked hard and dismissed the last. He wasn't mad; he couldn't be. He was meant for something great. Madness was for weaklings like little Mary Beecher.
"What's wrong with Amy?" Dennis said, interrupting Tom's thoughts. Tom glanced back at her, then stared. She was wide-eyed and her mouth was gaping like a fish, but no sound emerged from it.
"Amy?" Tom said. Amy opened her mouth and gasped. Tom frowned. "What's wrong? Tell me," he said, his voice going deep again.
"I- You- you said not to talk, and I couldn't," Amy said. She sniffed; she sounded like she was about to start blubbering.
Tom smiled. This was something new and interesting. He looked hard at Dennis and said, "Come here."
Dennis blinked and walked over to Tom.
"Put your hand on the stone, here," Tom said, pointing out a sharp jagged rock jutting out from the wall. "Push against it as hard as you can."
He half-expected Dennis to tell him off, but instead, Dennis did exactly as Tom had told him. When blood began to trickle down Dennis's palm to his wrist, Tom's insides turned over. Billy Stubbs's rabbit was one thing; this was making people do what he wanted.
"Stop it, stop it," Amy said, tugging on Tom's shirt sleeve. "You're mad; you'll go to the madhouse!" Her voice raised up to a squeak.
Tom touched Dennis's shoulder and said, "Stop."
Dennis stopped and grabbed his hand, staunching the bleeding with his jacket. Tears slipped down his face.
"Dennis. Grab hold of Amy and bring her to the wall," Tom said. Dennis shook his head, but he couldn't help doing as Tom told him.
"No, stop it Dennis! Let me go!" Amy shrieked. She struggled against Dennis's grip, but couldn't escape.
Dennis sobbed. "I'm sorry," he said as he dragged Amy over to the rocky wall.
"Now tell me: what do you know about madhouses?" Tom said, keeping his voice low and even.
Amy shuddered and twisted in Dennis's hands. She looked like she was going to be sick. Slowly, she spoke. "I- my mum's in the madhouse. Sh- she tried to burn me up." Amy stuck her chin out as defiantly as she could.
"And that's where you think I should go?" Tom said, curling his fingers into a fist. Anger roared through him. "Dennis. Push Amy's hand against the stone—hard—and don't stop till I tell you to."
Amy screamed. Dennis mashed her palm into the stone and screamed with her.
"Stop, Dennis," Tom finally said. Dennis let go of Amy's hand, dropped to his knees, and vomited.
Amy held her bruised and bleeding hand, her body shaking with sobs.
"The madhouse is for people who believe things that aren't real," Tom said. "Now Amy, hit the stone with your hurt hand. Hit it as hard as you can."
Amy slammed her fist into the rock and screamed in pain. "Do it again," Tom said.
"That's real," he said, leaning in close. "Again."
He wondered if she would do anything he told her. Could he get her to bang her head against the rocks till she died? He wanted to find out.
But as he opened his mouth to give her the command, he realised he couldn't. He couldn't go that far, not now. Amy and Dennis were witnesses to his potential greatness. They'd seen it was all real, and not some madman's delusions.
And there'd be too many questions if Amy and Dennis went missing while under Tom's watch.
"Now now," he said in a soft tone. "Why's everyone blubbering? Come here." He held out his hands and touched their shoulders when they drew near. "No need to cry; Tom'll take care of you. Tom's your special friend, right?"
They shivered in unison, then slowly nodded.
Tom grinned.
He was special.