Hi all, thanks for all your favourites, follows and reviews. Happy New Year.
~16th June, 1938..
May had passed into June quicker than Merlin had expected. Tom, who had remained stony as ever for the most part of this, was settled into life on Pennethorne road at last. He had remained quiet most days, speaking only when he needed to and accompanying Merlin with minimal reluctance on various outings.
Merlin had tried to slip in little life lessons whenever he could. Tom came to the market with him every week and they had also visited many other simple attractions of Muggle London. At first, when Merlin had begun to implement these outings Tom had been visibly uncomfortable with having to interact with muggles. Now he had knowledge that the wizarding world was truly out there, Merlin suspected that Tom despised how Merlin had not yet introduced him to any of it and he was being forced to lead a Muggle life when a whole wealth of power lay dormant at his fingertips.
It was plain to see, tricks about the house and tales of Diagon Alley were no longer enough.
Tom had made very little real progress when it came to interacting with muggles, he seemed only to put up with them more now. Merlin had expected the going to be slow, however, so he was not alarmed by this. He hadn't, however, realised what a problem the prospect of the magical world and Hogwarts would become.
The school loomed on an ever closer horizon, and Merlin was having to reconcile with the fact that he would have to let Tom go. They had but a few months together before the old Warlock would be forced to send Tom where he would no longer be under his supervision. It was putting him at odds with the boy because he could tell how badly Tom wanted to go. Whilst Merlin had no doubt the boy would make an excellent student- his magical core was stronger than most- he was only scared what might become of Tom himself. Would all the progress Merlin hoped to make be lost in the Hogwarts environment? Would Tom dominate and manipulate as he was capable of? Or was there a chance that the orphan boy would be left in the dust to brood into something even worse?
To Merlin, he could see no successful path through school. But he held out hope. In first year, there was surely little harm that could be done. He told himself this though he hardly believed it, he knew full well that underestimating someone was never wise. The only thing he was certain on, was that Tom had to attend Hogwarts. He was adamant in his mind that Tom needed the social exposure if he was ever to escape the state all his isolation had put him in. But even this rational thinking could not overpower the gnawing feeling of attachment that had formed within Merlin.
Tom was a project, that was for sure. An ambitious but important project. But Tom was also a lost little boy whom no one had given a chance. Spawned from an unsettling heritage, a victim of circumstance who needed someone to teach him what it was to be human. Tom was someone who had had to build himself on paper thin foundations and needed all the support he could get, not to mention there was still that part of the boy who reminded Merlin of his younger self. Or, what his younger self could have become.
A cruel and harsh world bred cruel and harsh people, and though Merlin couldn't ever hope to break such a cycle on his own.. he could try all he could. He was older now, harder now, and wiser now. He would not repeat his mistakes of the past so easily. Morgana had arguably been his greatest failure in his past life. A victim of the wrong people and a lack of guidance, just like Tom.
Merlin had been trying to force himself from the past, however, in order for his sole focus to lay on Tom's well-being, and they had begun to work on Tom's control over his magic. It was strange how quickly Tom could change from his quiet, brooding nature in the Muggle world, to his animated and determined attitude when magic was brought up. He had applied himself to the simple tasks Merlin had set him, concentrating on harnessing his magical core safely and improving his control and tolerance. This was perhaps the one area they had made the most progress, as Tom so readily and genuinely applied himself to it. The allure of feeling his own power and one day being able to use it was too much for Tom not to get stuck in.
The rest of the time he was impossibly difficult to break. But Merlin was beginning to manage it. He had realised within the first week that the only way for any of his lessons to stick was if he had first broken down Tom's mask. The real boy behind the walls. He tried to slip the notions of kindness and tolerance in wherever they went. Tom remained thoughtful of these things, but Merlin could not truly read him yet. He only hoped that at least something was sinking in.
Merlin had also been doing some thinking of his own. He had tried not to pry much further into Tom since the first day, when they had spoken of his family, but he knew he would have to venture in again soon. Parts of Tom's story just did not add up. Or rather, parts of Toms vocabulary didn't.
He had used the terms "Wizards" and "Muggles" in their first meeting at Wools without batting an eyelid. More importantly, he had used the phrases before even Merlin himself had used them. Wizard could certainly be allowed a lucky guess, but Muggle? Merlin had not noticed it in the moment, the word being so commonly used in modern wizarding society, it had slipped over his head. Not for long, however. He had racked his brains over many long evenings but he could not think of a sensible reason as to why Tom would know these words, and yet the rest of the magical world be so new to him. It was possible that Tom knew a lot more than he was letting on, and Merlin had only just scratched the surface, but surely a boy like Tom would not let his guard slip on such a tiny thing if he truly wanted to keep it under wraps.
He could think of no sensible sources where Tom could have picked up the word, as the Statue of Secrecy had been firmly in place now for almost three hundred years. No wizarding books could have escaped the ministry's surveillance, especially during the Grindewald debacle recently. Sure, the "accounts" Tom had found of people like him could be plausible, but the more Merlin thought about it the more unlikely it seemed that Tom could stumble upon such stories of strange events and manage to piece the picture together. He was smart, yes, but intelligence was not coincidence. Scouring libraries for this sort of stuff could take years, since most Muggles who had escaped wizarding encounters without memory modification were written off as mad. Any accounts from before the Statue would be seen as fiction, just like the legends of King Arthur.
It made Merlins head ache sometimes. He had seen Tom's furious work though, and he knew he was still working on it even now, as it was tucked in one of his drawers in his new room. The boy was still up to something and had apparently been for a year. Merlin had one lead from all of this, one still unexplored possibility. It seemed outlandish, but Martha had also seemed to believe that Tom's strange research had stemmed from there. The incident in the cave. The two children who were never the same.
Merlin sighed in his seat in the kitchen where he had been once again going over the same musings. He would have to ask Tom. Martha didn't know any more than she had told him and there was no way he would find answers through the poor children. He didn't want to jeopardise his relationship that he had built with Tom, but something within him told him that this plot hole couldn't go unsolved.
But for now, Merlin thought, there was a bigger thing at hand. He glanced across the work surface to where a letter sat quietly, face down. Addressed to Tom in a black elegant script, it set Merlins teeth on edge. It was here.
The front latch clicked from down the hall.
Merlin sucked in a breath.
"It's here, isn't it."
The response had been immediate, as soon as Tom laid eyes on Merlin. He had known it was going to be any day now, and so had Tom. The boys growing anxiety and questions about the letter had not escaped Merlins notice. Merlin was sure he would become an incredible wizard- there was nothing to fret about there- so long as he learnt to keep himself at bay.
Seeing him brought back Merlins earlier thoughts. In the month that Tom had moved in, he had made all the outward appearances of a changed child. What Merlin knew, however, was that Tom was as manipulative as he was clever, and that innocent and good natured facade still held a fiery ambition behind it. With his troubled start to a childhood, the clear foundations for corruption were set, and Merlin could only hope that the inches they had truly moved forward would be enough to see him through Hogwarts. Once there, he would be unable to scry on Tom, due to the wards in place at the school, and though it sounded clingy- he really didn't want Tom to leave. He hated the idea of not being able to protect him anymore. He had even thought about keeping the boy under his watch and homeschooling him, but a hard truth was that the isolation would do more harm than the shot at freedom. Clinging to something wouldn't keep it entirely safe, and may even suffocate it in the process.
Merlin sighed. "It's here."
Tom raced across the hall to meet Merlin, casting his bag aside by the front door as he did so. Snatching the letter from Merlins hands across the work surface and only slowing down in his motions to meticulously open the wax sealed, parchment envelope. Merlin noticed as Tom slid the letter itself from the envelope that his hands were shaking.
"Come round here, let's read it through." Merlin said, beckoning him to sit on the stool next to him. Tom did so, and as he unfolded the letter Merlin took hold of one side to keep it steady as Tom took in the paper with such an expression that Merlin told himself he shouldn't be getting used to. Relief was certainly plain to see, the release of all the worries Tom had had over the past few weeks as he questioned if he was ever going to get a letter at all. In his eyes hung the same hunger, even greed that would set a mans teeth on edge.
He turned those deep, dark eyes, glassed over by all the emotion of the moment, to look at Merlin, opening his mouth.
"Tuesday." Merlin said, answering the question he sensed on Toms lips. "I'll take you Tuesday."
He'd been with Tom to the Leaky Cauldron on one occasion, but they'd never set foot in Diagon Alley itself. He knew Tom desperately wanted to go, but Merlin had wanted to wait just a little longer until he was comfortable to let the boy loose in the muggle world before he took him into the wizarding one on a firm leash. Speaking of which...
"How was the paper round?" Merlin said, standing up from where Tom was still pouring over the letter intently, turning to the kettle and absent-mindedly flicking the stove on with an twitch of his wrist. He hastily pulled out his stuffed stick and pretended to use it to get two cups from the overhead cupboard, and the tub of cocoa powder. Tom hummed in reply, muttering something about a tip from Mr Peterson on the corner.
"Oh, well that's nice of him. Did you say thank you?"
"Obviously" Tom muttered, running his finger over the wax seal and committing it to memory.
"I've no doubt, you're annoyingly polite sometimes. A bit of a charmer some would say."
Tom smiled at this, finally putting the letter down and turning to watch Merlin as he made the hot cocoa. "It pays to be nice to people Mr Thomas."
"It certainly does, it certainly does." Merlin said, rummaging in the fridge for the cream. "It's incredibly rewarding you know, being pleasant. You feel good about yourself."
"People will do things for you." Tom said, grabbing a couple spoons from a drawer.
"Yes, the odd favour is always nice. But sometimes I just like to do something nice for someone for nothing but my own happiness in return. It costs very little effort. For example, I made you cocoa. It's reward enough just watching you enjoy it." Merlin said, putting far too much cream atop the steaming liquid than was medically acceptable, and passing it to Tom with a flourish. Tom let out a small chuckle.
"I guess so." He said, but it was enough for Merlin. He could spot when someone was playing another face, so whenever Merlin saw Toms genuine side shine through with even the tiniest truthful pleasantness, he felt as though he could jump for joy. Progress was progress after all, and Merlin was starting to think he was getting good at it. Once that wall was down, Tom's true character could be opened up, and Merlins could finally work his magic for an outcome.
But the moments never lasted long, the guard was back up as soon as Merlin had taken a sip of his own cocoa.
"Would you allow me to do some reading before I go? Just to.. get some basic theory and-"
"I'm sure I've got a few books in my study," Merlin said, kneading his forehead as he cut off Toms silky drawl, "but you shouldn't feel pressured to rush into it. I have no doubt you will be at the head of your classes. It might be worth having a few set-up reads though." Perhaps, Merlin thought, licking some stray cream from his nose, it would be worth giving Tom a few.. how to phrase it.. planted reads. Just a couple books of Merlins personal choice to give him a set up of the founding of Hogwarts. Not such that would ground his prejudice further, reading about the unfortunate fall of Salazar Slytherin, but perhaps something from a time far before that. Where the seeds of the future of magic were truly first sown. Where Muggles and sorcerers lived together, and in harmony. Each equal to the other.
Perhaps Camelot would be a good place to start.
"I'll find you something for this evening." He said after a moment and Toms eyes lit up.
"Now," he said, smacking his lips, "Lets take a look at that list they've sent you."
It was just passing five thirty when Merlin emerged from his study and called Tom down from upstairs. He paused, listening to the movement above and tapping his fingers rhythmically against the books in his arms. He hummed a tune he subconsciously realised was a rendition of one of the Camelot courts favourite banquet accompaniments.
He made his way over to one of the three armchairs in the living room, Tom soon joining him in another, eyeing the books beadily across the coffee table. Merlin gave Tom a small smile, setting the books down in a neat stack on the table. Tom immediately reached forward for them and Merlin allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction as the Riddle boy began to flip through the pages of the top book: a small, leather-bound tomb whose faded cover titled Camelot: The Establishment of Legend.
Sure, the book was dry in places, the author having a tendency to talk lengthily about the exact way the city was constructed in the first few chapters. Everything from the stone used in the great walls to the methods used to make the stained glass of the citadel courtyards, but he eventually got onto the social foundation and the bit Merlin was interested in. Merlin had picked it simply because it annoyed him the least of his unfortunate collection of books on Camelot. Dry, yes, but factual. The book actually talked relatively little of King Arthur and of the many ridiculous tales that had sprung up about him in the last millennium. Merlin liked it that way, for one thing it meant he could read about the city he had once loved without having to deal with the awful and frankly stupid misconceptions about what really happened, and the crushing guilt which came with every mention of his beloved King. For a second thing, and the reason he was giving the book to Tom, the author had focused on the social establishment of Camelot as a whole, and how the repeal of the ban on magic had lead to a harmonious society of sorcerers and muggles living equally- each with their own invaluable part to play in society, rather than simply focusing on a few characters.
Another book was a simple guide to the founding of the Ministry of Magic- it was an accurate and non-biased account, the sort of thing you would find in text-books, but Merlin knew Tom would lap up any knowledge of the wizarding world he could get. Plus, it would be useful for him to know how the ministry functioned.
Finally, Merlin had given Tom a book titled Hogwarts: Famous Alumnae. It did what it said on the tin, and there was little mention of the founders. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to go about the delicate matter of Salazar. Tom was, after all, his descendant. There was no knowing how he would react to such a heritage, or whether he knew already and to be honest Merlin didn't really want to think about that right now. He had known Slytherin very briefly, and rather distantly, but he had known him enough to be aware that the man was far more complex than the cruel and prejudiced figure that had gone down in writing. There were many rumours about what Salazar had left behind...
"Why this book?" Tom asked, leafing through the Camelot book across the room.
"Camelot was arguably the starting point for wizarding society as we know it. If you ignore all the ridiculous myth and legend, the city itself was just as incredible," Merlin mused, "But more importantly, it was real."
Tom nodded, understanding.
They were silent for a long time after that, Merlin thinking quietly to himself of all that had been. He had not stayed long in Camelot after Arthur... Well... Gwen had welcomed him back with the most open arms, and to this day he was still grateful for it. He had needed Gwen more than ever in those few years. Only she had known Arthur since the beginning of it all, only she had been through it all as Merlin had. Felt the wrath of Morgana; known her as she was before; seen Arthur grow; watched Uther fall...
The repeal of the magic ban had passed as a blur, nothing he remembered as happily as it should have been. His realisation of his own immortality had driven him painfully from the city after only a decade. He remembered his last words to everyone, he could never imagine forgetting a single one of them. He couldn't watch them die, as he had watched Arthur...
Merlin sucked in a slow breath, he couldn't be pulled into that now.
He turned his attention to Tom. The boy sat quietly reading through the first chapter of his Ministry of Magic history, concentration written clearly on his brow. Merlin wondered if it was worth a punt. Tom looked calm enough, and certainly satisfied for now, Merlin wondered if he'd open up for a bit of a favour. Whatever happened, addressing this was always going to be a massive risk.
Merlin sat back in his chair, thumb and forefinger nervously rubbing his clean-shaven chin. He had to know. But he was, quite honestly, terrified to jeopardise whatever connection he had built with Tom. The whole thing was resting very much on a strange mutual trust at the moment and even Merlins own curiosity could not convince him entirely that it was worth breaking that down for answers. It unsettled him, how Tom was able to scare him like that. They'd had no slip ups so far, no outbursts. The longer Tom lasted and the more control he learned over his magic, the more the tension built. Surely now that Tom had come on so well there was a reduced enough risk of an outburst that.. Merlin stalled, cursing himself.
He knew full well he could deal with a magical outburst from Tom, but the truth was he didn't want to. He didn't want it to come to that because he knew deep down he would truly have to face up to the importance of his task. Tom was powerful, and he could easily become the next Grindewald. Only Merlin stood in the way, and he would rather not face up to the pressure of the situation right now.
But it was necessary.
Merlin straightened up, attracting the attention of Tom from his reading.
"Could I ask you something?" There was no going back now. Merlin swallowed as Tom looked up from his books quietly and nodded.
"It's about something you said at Wools. I believe you... Called me a "Muggle lover" and I can't help but wonder how you knew the word." Merlin said carefully.
Tom had gone rigid.
"I told you," he said smoothly, body relaxing, "I knew I was different, I put in the work and the research and I was beginning to put together the skeleton of your world before you showed up and completed the picture, so to speak." His voice was enviably neutral, his face betrayed nothing but innocence. "I came across it in accounts, I suspected we would have a term for them all."
Merlins stomach churned. Tom spoke of muggles as almost animals.
"I don't believe you." Merlin countered bluntly. There was no delicate way to go about this with Tom, he was too perceptive.
Tom narrowed his eyes just a little, "Why? What could be unreasonable about that?"
"It's just that the more I think about it, the more unlikely it gets. The Statue of Secrecy is not something taken lightly, it is not often something slips through. I can perhaps allow you the coincidence of finding accounts of muggles seeing magic.. But there shouldn't be any source in muggle libraries where you could find the word. And as I said.. It all rests on coincidence."
"How else do you propose I came across it then." Tom said, it was not a question. He was calm in his seat, and if you didn't know him you would think the boy remained completely unfazed by the situation. But Merlin knew him. He could see the doubt in the boys cold eyes.
"That's what I'm asking you." Merlin said simply. "I am lead to believe that you know more about the wizarding world than you let on, and I can't think why."
Tom was silent for a long moment. "It seems strange to me," he said eventually, a small smile on his lips that set Merlins teeth on edge, "That you would ask me to open up, when you are clearly not willing to do the same."
The lump that had formed in Merlins throat dropped like a stone into his gut. He knew.
Tom's smile visibly grew and Merlin realised his surprise had crept onto his face. Was he surprised though? No, he should have known Tom would suspect immediately he wasn't all he made out to be. Merlin realised that he too had an out-of-bounds study that he was unwilling to share.
He needed to take a different approach. Tom was not going to speak to him unless Merlin gave him a reason to. It had to be in Tom's own interests to tell Merlin what he knew and how he knew it. He began to speak again, composure a renewed calm.
"Yes, I've got secrets, but the point is the more this bothers me, the more outlandish conclusions I am starting to draw. I am beginning to doubt everything you say- who is to know if I am seeing you or just an elaborate facade?" The irony was painful. Merlin reassured himself that even if he did live behind another name, unlike Tom, he had never hidden his personality or his nature. He was not the Merlin of legends, but he was still Merlin, in every way but his name.
Across the room, Tom bit his lip. "I've learnt to keep my guard up, Mr Thomas. You can hardly blame me."
"No, I can't. However I have trusted you enough to allow you into my home and I have been the only person to see something in you worth caring about. I would like to think I am owed your authentic self, when I have been nothing but kind to you."
Tom thought about this carefully. When the silence dragged for five minutes, Merlin decided to come at it a little more gradually.
"Had you ever met another Wizard before me?" He asked.
"No, I had not." Tom answered evenly. Merlin pondered him a moment, trying to gauge if he was lying or not. Somehow, he didn't think so. He hoped he was right.
"So if you didn't find it in a book, or hear it in person.. Where else could you have found knowledge?" Merlin said aloud, looking around the room as if searching for answers right in front of him. His eyes eventually settled back on Tom.
"If you're trying to talk the answer out of me, you won't." The boy said simply, "Perhaps you were mistaken? You never heard me say such a thing?"
"I'm certain I wasn't." Merlin said, smiling. "You can't talk me out of asking you, either."
Tom raised his eyebrows at Merlin, a challenge in his eyes.
"Well," Merlin said, "perhaps you'll allow me to ask about something else entirely unrelated?" He didn't expect to fool Tom with this, but he hoped to keep the conversation in this uneasy lighthearted state. Tom often enjoyed a conversation match in the evenings to keep himself entertained. Merlin often wondered if Tom was trying to puzzle him out in the same way.
Tom made no objection, so Merlin continued, "You went on a trip with the Orphanage, last summer?"
Tom nodded slowly, calculatingly.
"To the beach, I believe. And it was there that you found a cave." Merlin stated, making Tom sit forward slightly in his seat. He cocked his head in mock curiosity, but Merlin saw the glint of anger in his eyes.
"You took two children into that cave, and I'm told that they were never the same again." Merlin finished, watching Tom sternly. The boys reaction was unexpected.
"I suppose that was Martha who told you all that." He said, only he lightly spat out Martha's name in barely concealed frustration. "Don't bother with what she says to you. She tried to get me sent off to various institutions, the filthy muggle-"
"Tom!" Merlin growled, putting an end to the boys rant. "You do not use that language within my house."
Tom, knuckles white clutching the books on his lap, took a deep breath. Merlin had begun to feel his magic simmering within him and he hoped that the control exercises he had given would be enough, because Merlin wasn't finished yet.
"Martha is a woman who has my complete respect. She-"
"You respect her? After all she did to me?" Tom said so quietly that it sent the hairs on the back of Merlins neck on end. "You're a Wizard!" He cried, "I thought you'd understand!" Magic crackled in the air around Tom, his neatly combed hair ruffled in the strange breeze that had swept up in the room.
Toms control lasted only a moment longer, he had stood up out of the arm chair and almost immediately all the glass in the cabinet beside him had shattered outwards. The room crackled with magic, sparks igniting the stove across the room and pressure cracking the two empty cocoa mugs out on the side.
"Hilderand" Merlin whispered, throwing an arm out towards Tom. The shield surrounded him for a moment, as the force of his own magic threw him off his feet. Shards of glass showered over Merlin as all of a sudden the magic evaporated. Merlin began to breath deeply, surveying the damage warily.
The sound of shattering glass had left a deafening silence in its wake and Merlin felt as though he was watching the scene from afar. Slowly, very slowly, Tom got shakily to his feet. He looked around him a moment, drinking in the sight with pitiless eyes. He glanced down at his own hands, examining them carefully.
It was a while before he realised Merlin was there, Tom locked their eyes with a hard stare.
"I-" Merlin croaked, attempting to shake some of the glass out of his hair and noting that he had several small cuts bleeding down his arm.
"I'm sorry," Merlin said sheepishly, embarrassment creeping into his tone, "I should have seen that coming."
Still Tom didn't move, he stared Merlin down, fists clenched at his side.
"I-I can mend all this," Merlin waved a hand, indicating the chaos around them, at a loss of what to do, "I was always breaking things as a kid."
He shakily pulled his wand from his pocket, flicking it towards the cabinet. He ran a sweaty hand through his hair as the glass on the ground was pulled by an invisible force back into the cabinet frames. Tom watched this all silently and it worried Merlin that the boy wasn't reacting. He couldn't read him at the moment at all, and that scared him.
"Argh," Merlin muttered, "I should have known it would end like this." He found himself thinking back to the many outbursts he'd had as a child. At first, he had been shocked that the magic he had usually had such tight control over could lash out like that. The more he had been forced to suppress it, the more liable to an outburst he had become. This particular incident from Tom had probably been building for a few days. Merlin kicked his foot into the rug in frustration. He had missed all the signs, he had let it go too far. At least he was sure now, for better or for worse, Toms magic was far above average in its strength.
"That feeling when it suffocates the air around you.. I know all too well." Merlin found himself saying, unsure why. Anything to fill the silence was welcome. "You think you've got a hold on it and then, it just takes on a mind of its own."
"I'll be able to use this soon?" Tom spoke at last, he was still stood in the same place, looking at the mended cabinet intensely.
"Yeah." Merlin said, sighing inwardly and sitting back down in his chair, exhausted.
"It will obey me?" Tom pressed, Merlin sensed the same anxiety in his voice as there had been before the letter arrived. Tom had slipped in a question about it almost everyday for two weeks.
"Everyone's magic is unique," Merlin replied, relaxing now he realised Toms mind no longer cared about their previous conversation now his own magic was involved. "When you receive your wand, you will find yourself being matched by your magic. The wand best suiting to your power will choose you. Once you begin to properly study at Hogwarts you will find your magic is more willing to cooperate. You'll.. how to put this... get to know it more." Merlin found himself smiling as he thought of it. Tom, however seemed confused.
"You speak of magic as if it has a personality."
"I would say it does," Merlin replied, "In its own way. Magic is the force behind everything. It is the fabric of this world- it is in everyone. It's something a wizard must come to respect as his equal to reach his full potential."
"You mean to say that muggles have magic?" Tom scoffed lightly, but raised his eyebrows when Merlin made no move to object this.
Tom dropped back down into his arm chair. "Magic to me does not feel like a companion. It is a power I respect, obviously, but I intend to harness and control it fully." He said thoughtfully, his ambitions clear.
"Then I wish you luck," Merlin replied, still smiling, "that respect will help you greatly. Though I feel like magic has been a companion to you even if you haven't realised it. When I was young I had only my magic for company. It was several years before I met anyone who did not view me with suspicion, bully me, or cast me out. I was the gangly, clumsy boy who could do things no one else understood." It pained him to think of Ealdor, of Will, but he had found a strange calm wash over him after Toms outburst. He felt like it was important to show Tom that he could open up about things, and it shouldn't be something to scare him. Despite the hipocrisy of this thought, Merlin continued. He hoped to better Toms understanding of himself.
"Trust me when I say this Tom, I know what it feels like to be hated. To be distrusted by everyone for just being me. I could have been you, Tom. But I eventually met someone who was able to pull me out. To teach me that what I had was a gift, and that there were still good people in the world. I've learnt to judge muggles and wizards equally, and I'm no weaker for it. You may have been at odds with the children at Wools, but that does not mean that Mr Peterson, who gave you a tip this morning, is a bad man."
Tom scrutinised Merlin as they sat in silence, the Warlocks words hanging in the air between them.
Eventually Tom began to speak again, changing the subject to question Merlin about Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and the world he was about to enter. He drank in all the information from Merlin with equal hunger to awe. Tom didn't even seem to notice, that for the whole rest of the evening, his mask stayed down. It was the longest time that Merlin had ever truly seen Tom's true character. It was strange to see his stony face change into various expressions, and whilst his questions still focused on hunger for power and his words were unsettlingly prejudiced, he was open with Merlin.
Progress was progress after all, and it seemed like Tom had struck a chord with Merlin. It had never occurred to Merlin the effect that empathy could have.
Under the worrying exterior, Tom was just a little boy who needed someone to understand him.
I'm not sure I'm completely happy with this chapter, but I pretty much wrote the whole thing in one sitting, with a break to watch the New Years fireworks yesterday evening. I only had the letter scene written and a terrible draft of another part before yesterday afternoon.
I've tried to go through and put in all the relevant apostrophes- my spell check likes to leave them out, but I appologise if there's still mistakes in there. The next chapter will hopefully be up in the next two months, as that seems to be the average times it's taking me to put them together.
