THE BIRTH OF NAGINI
Shadows danced to the firelight, leaping, shifting. It was warm basking in the mesmerising heat of the fireplace. He didn't want to move; for fear that the rising wave of contentment would be disturbed.
Alongside the little boy's motionless body was a miniature figurine – it was as large as his little finger. It wasn't remarkable in any form. In fact, it was worn. It had no redeeming features along the pocked skin of its body, there was nothing to admire in the shoddy craftsmanship of its indistinguishable visage. There was only one thing that the statue felt proud of and that was its sharp fangs. The tail was crooked; its flicking tongue had long been broken and lost. The figurine was worn with age. It was finally showing the signs of the many years of wear.
Its owner was not careless, merely fidgety. And bored. Really bored. He had an excuse though, so the statuette forgave him for that. The statue was, by now, used to its owner's melancholic moods and didn't blame its current state of lying uncomfortably close to the fire on him. While his owner was kind and caring to his own possessions, he was not to others. No, Tom didn't like others at all. One could even go as far as to say Tom hated other people. Tom was still little. The statue gave an internal sigh and settled back to wait into the boy's hold. He was waiting but didn't know what for.
As if he noticed the inanimate figurine's deep thoughts, Tom's hands twitched and drew the snake figurine closer to his body and more importantly, away from the boiling heat. The snake gave a tiny, invisible sniff. Fires were best when they were AWAY from his delicate wooden body. Who knows, it might mistake the poor snake for fodder! A curve drew on Tom's face. The slight smile lifted his expression, his grey eyes lightened.
"I'm so happy I have you with me, Nagini," he whispered softly, clutching the figurine closer to his body. The snake blushed. Or would have, if it hadn't been wooden in the first place.
"You mean that ugly thing?" announced a loud voice from behind Tom. He flipped over to see Clarence, a pudgy six-year-old (I'm not fat, just big-boned!). Tom bristled. His dark eyes glared hotly at him.
"I'm KIDDING, don't get your knickers in a twist!" he said cheerfully.
Tom hissed in reply but budged over to allow Clarence more room to sit.
"It sure is cold, ain't it?" Clarence said, almost mournfully. He held out his hands to the fire. Winter usually meant that the living room was crowded with people desperately trying to warm themselves near the fire. This evening told a different tale.
"Johnny got caught. Again." Clarence explained the absence of orphans. Tom pulled his knees up and tucked Nagini protectively between his chest and legs. Clarence caught sight of his movement and rolled his eyes.
"I'm not going to DO anything, sheesh!" he remarked. There was no reply. Clarence sighed.
"Alright, I'll leave." He rose. "I can see I'm not welcome here!" And with that, he flounced out of the room, nose in the air dramatically. Tom stared at the door for a while and returned his gaze back to the fire.
"I won't let Johnny get you, Nagini. I swear it with my life," he whispered. Johnny was not kind to anyone, not to those older let alone younger. He ruled the orphanage with an iron fist and Mrs Cole let him, reasoning that it was practice for the real world. The real world, Tom mused. He was still too young to understand what it was. He was always too young. Tom scowled darkly as he was reminded of a particularly raw, traumatic event for him. Amy Benson had once been his protector and guardian. She would lead him, hold his hand, take him to the best-smelling bakeries and there, they would occasionally beg for food. They'd make use of his innocent, glowing face while it was still chubby-cheeked and rosy to attract the attention of passers-by. Strangers would sometimes throw them money, especially if he sang.
Then Amy turned 7. She was a big girl now, she explained to him snootily. She couldn't be seen with a little baby anymore. "I'm not a baby!" he had shouted, feeling tears press the back of his eyes. Her face morphed into an ugly expression, harsh yet weary. Tom had never seen it on her face before. He recoiled. "You don't get it Tom! You just don't get it!" She screamed back. That was the last time they talked. He wasn't allowed out from then on. Four-year-olds were much, much too young to go out alone, insisted Mrs Cole. That was last year.
In a week's time, he'd get his freedom. His ticket. His escape. He was breaking out from this shrinking cage. No walls would ever hold him back again. No ONE would. He tightened his hold on Nagini. Gazing fondly at the little carved wooden statue, he recalled the first time he met Nagini. It was a cold winter, colder than this one, yet he was warm inside. He was still with Amy. They would stop by the roadside and watch as a certain beggar carefully carved miniature wooden figurines and sold them for some coins. He'd make his living with a block of wood in his left hand and a sharp blade in his right. Tom had admired him for that, imagine, carving one's living with only the power their own hands! Then the beggar offered the little snake to Tom.
"A special snake for a special boy," he leered. Amy pushed him forward to take it. He had been scared but it didn't deter him from quickly reaching out and snagging it. Nagini, he'd named it. Those were the days. Sometimes, he wished his snake was real. He'd wish and wish and open his eyes to check if the wooden figurine had twitched. Sometimes, he'd even imagine the snake talking back to him. The notion was so ridiculous, he almost snorted out loud. Snakes. Talking to him. Ridiculous.
But if...
There was a large hullabaloo beyond the door to the living room. Tom hesitated. The wall of noise drew nearer. He quickly stood. The door slammed open and Johnny strode in, laughing a little too loud, his eyes a little too wide. He was... running on an adrenaline rush, Tom recognised. He knew the look of someone who did something they weren't supposed to and got away with it. Johnny stared down at Tom cockily, his mouth turning up on one side in challenge. Tom stood stiffly, watching as his fellow orphans poured in, slapping Johnny on the back as they passed. Johnny grinned. Tom grimaced inwardly. It was not a pleasant grin but one that showed too much teeth.
Johnny met Tom's eyes again and Tom reciprocated warily. He recognised that look again. Johnny felt like the King of the world and was going to make sure everyone else thought so too. He was getting better at understanding people. He clenched Nagini in his right hand tightly.
"Tommy," Johnny drawled. "Tommy-boy. Such a common name. Such a- " he wrinkled his nose " -WEAK name." Tom bristled again but didn't defend himself. This time, he knew Mrs Cole was right, he was still too young. He accepted that. But when he was older...
Amy Benson stepped out from behind Johnny. Tom's eyes widened reflexively in shock. NO. WHY. Johnny caught his betrayed gaze and followed it to Amy. His eyes grew in delight and showed too much white.
"Oh," he cooed. "Oh, how cute! You like Amy?" He drew an arm around her. She hesitated, looking troubled, but another glance at Tom's horrified face had her sidling up to Johnny. Something in Tom's heart broke. He wasn't sure what he expected but a betrayal of this proportion never occurred to him. Even as his heart lamented, his mind coolly informed him that he was getting much too involved with other people. He needed to stay away, make a distance. In all his considerations during the past year regarding what it was that Amy seemed to think he didn't get, this wasn't one of the options.
"She's mine now," Johnny tossed out cruelly, leaning forward in a threatening manner. Tom didn't move. "You understand?!" His voice rose. The other children were silent. Tom's eyes rose to meet the gazes of the older children, the recalcitrant, the timid and Clarence, who stood behind two especially tall orphans. Even so, Tom could still feel his gaze, begging for forgiveness at the same time as he pinned an accusatory glare at him. Tom looked away at the wall. Humans were just useless. They'd pick someone up, promise them the world and drop them just as fast. USELESS. Tom didn't need people like that. Nagini's tail was almost drawing blood, clenched as tightly as it was in his fist.
"Don't look away from me, you bas-"
"WHAT is going on here?" Mrs Cole burst in and demanded. Johnny stole a sly look at Tom.
"Tommy-boy was accusing me, ma'am. Says I deserve to be caught." His expression turned sad and his eyelids drooped. But his eyes still glittered too much. I wouldn't be so obvious, Tom decided. Frowning, Mrs Cole turned to him, the solitary figure standing opposite a roomful of children.
"Is this true, Tom?" she asked. The rest of the children were quick to defend Johnny. From what, Tom wasn't quite sure but the one thing he knew was that it wasn't in his favour. He didn't say a thing. There was nothing left to say. No one would believe him. One day, one day he swore to have all the people behind him. He'd gather so many friends, no, followers like what Johnny had, and then he'd be the one laughing. Loyal sycophants that didn't question him. He WILL. Nagini's tail was definitely biting into his skin now. His rage was not expressed in words, but in actions. And he. Was. Mad.
Mrs Cole frowned harder, wrinkling the deep lines on her craggy face even further. Tom almost sneered. He had built up walls around his little heart a year ago and never looked back since. He needed this. Needed to keep this distance from everyone.
"Well then I guess we have no choice," she mused. She may be sharp but she was not kind. And Tom had been in the face of her ... unsympathetic treatment many many times over now. "The cupboard it is." Johnny smiled cruelly, a hint of canines flashing. Tom felt an impalpable tension press against his flushed skin. His right hand began to drip blood on the muddy brown carpet. Something, SOMETHING unnameable rose within the recess of his chest, like a snake rising to greet its enemy. His hands began to tremble in an almost anticipatory excitement. Something not quite normal was happening, and Tom was the reason. He felt powerful. For a second, he even felt like he towered over Johnny. The feeling expanded, filled him up to the brim, pushed outwards for release beyond the carnal boundaries of human flesh.
He lifted a hand towards Johnny, his left hand. Everyone froze. Their expressions hung in a gasp of horror and, in some cases, fear. Tom delighted in it. He was going to show Johnny the meaning, the consequences of crossing him. Suddenly, a jolt of pain rushed up his arm from his right hand. Tom lost his concentration and his left hand dropped. He stared incredulously at Nagini. Mrs Cole hurried forward and grabbed Tom by the arm. Pulling him harshly, uncaring of the bruises she was leaving on his thin appendage, she muttered under her breath, "Unbelievable. Can't imagine what could have posses-" but Tom didn't really hear her. He didn't really see anything anymore except for what he was gripping in his right hand.
He didn't see Clarence staring solemnly after him. He didn't catch the quick, worried glances Amy Benson shot at him. He didn't hear the raucous laughter of Johnny as he gloried in his victory. He didn't even notice as he was tossed into a tiny storage closet in the corner of the hallway, bereft of light and any warmth whatsoever. His breath started coming out in puffs. The door was slammed and locked behind him but he didn't care.
In his right hand, delicately curled in the middle of his palm was a small shape, no larger than his little finger. He didn't dare move. The worn wooden length of the body was now cool to touch and felt remarkably life-like all of a sudden. The curled shadow resembled the shape of the Nagini he knew and loved but for some odd reason, Tom could feel a distinct difference. After all this time of wishing and hoping that Nagini would suddenly come to life... Tom thought he felt a whispering tongue dart against his finger as he brushed over it hesitantly.
And then it hissed, "My Tom..."