Chapter Three

Mudbloods and Pure-bloods

With her face pressed into the window Rowan watched as the scarlet train pulled away from the station. Tom ignored her as he read the Daily Prophet. The two sat in silence for a good hour, just long enough for her to be bored by the same green hills and occasional small villages, and then she plopped back onto who seat and stared intently at the newspaper. It reminded her that the newspaper she had of Morfin Gaunt was still in her briefcase that had now found its home in a large Hogwarts trunk. She had thought about burning it. However, every time she saw Morfin Gaunt's sneering face she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"What is it?"

Tom's bored question propelled the face out of her mind. "Pardon?"

"Why are you staring?"

"I was looking at the moving photos."

"Lies," he countered, dangerously.

"It was not!" She huffed. Tom roughly flicked the newspaper onto his lap and glared at her. Perhaps lying really didn't work on him. It was worth an ask, she supposed. "Did you read the article about Morfin Gaunt...and our father?"

"I did."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

Rowan looked horrified. "Don't you care at all?"

Tom's mouth twitched upwards again but his dark eyes flickered, he hadn't expected her to ask that. "I didn't know him. Why should I care?"

"Because, because he's your father too!" She roared, sharply standing up for emphasis. "You didn't need to know him to care! I knew him enough to hate him but I still care!" And then her hands shot up to cover her mouth.

Tom lurched forward. "You hated him, did you?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no I didn't! I didn't mean to say that."

"You're lying again-"

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!" She howled, tears streaming down her face.

Tom leaned back and sighed. She truly was pathetic. He began to read the newspaper again, though this time not quite so avidly. When she realised her tears would not be comforted away she wiped her eyes and slithered back onto her seat. Her outbursts were terrible, she knew that, but she was always provoked into them. Always. That wasn't her fault. Tom's indifference made it easier to ignore him and eventually sleep took her as she curled up along the seat.

She was roughly woken up sometime later by Tom shaking her.

"It's half twelve, you need a snack."

Rowan rubbed the sleep from her eyes and gasped at the mountain of sweets that were laid at her feet. She sat up and looked between Tom and the sweets multiple times. "Why?"

"You need to eat something. There's still a few hours before we reach Hogwarts," he answered coolly. The newspaper was nowhere to be seen and he had his full attention on her. It was both unnerving and thoughtful.

"Thank you," she uttered before diving into the unusual sweets. They all tasted delicious and she had forgotten what sweets tasted like. However, even this wizarding world sweets warmed her tastebuds. She offered a golden box to Tom but he refused with a short shake of his head. Despite the glorious taste she barely made a dent in the small pile when she stopped eating, feeling full.

Tom took the pause to ask her a question, possibly the only thing about her that peaked his curiosity. "Pidge. Not your real name is it?" She shook her head. "Then why are you called that?"

"Father said I looked like a pigeon when I ate food, only pecking at it like 'crumbs of bread'. I guess it stuck. My real name is Rowan."

"Any middle name?"

"Sorbus."

"That's a strange middle name."

Rowan shrugged but her face drooped. "Father said my mother chose it. The only thing he ever told me about her."

"My mother chose my name too," Tom replied flatly. Something relatable between them would make her trust him more. His assumption was right as she smiled sadly at him. "So Pidge," he began, "we should probably begin to change into our robes soon, I expect we'll be arriving within a few hours."

He dutifully left the compartment and Rowan closed the doors' curtains. The robes matched her previous dull clothing but putting them on felt amazing. No more grey shorts, no more pretending. She smoothed out the black skirt and slid the curtain back again. Tom dipped his head inside and smirked. "Hard to imagine I had been as tiny and inexperienced as you not too long ago," he commented.

They swapped places and Rowan found herself swishing her robes with a hand, the silky black fabric liquified between her fingers. A boy her own age rushed past her, almost knocking her over, he snapped his head around to apologise before disappearing into a compartment further up. She glared after him while rubbing the sharp pain in her shoulder.

When both were changed and sat opposite each other again, Rowan noticed a green badge pinned to Tom's robes. "What's that?

"My prefect badge. Prefects watch over the other students in their house, have control over them and can dock points," Tom explained proudly. "There was supposed to be a meeting of all the prefects on the train today."

"Why didn't you go?"

Tom tilted his head slightly. "Because you're more important," he answered in a silky voice. Rowan was relieved. At least he didn't hate her too much then. Suddenly a yawn escaped her lips. "Still tired?"

"Someone was constantly snoring in The Leaky Cauldron but no one else seemed to notice."

Tom gently patted the space beside him. "Come here," he commanded softly, "you can lie on my lap if it's more comfortable."

She was uncertain at first, thinking it as some kind of joke, but Tom didn't seem to make many jokes. Cautiously she did as he ordered and shuffled over and laid her head gently on his lap. With a ghostly hand he stroked her hair. At first her thumping heart made it impossible to relax but as she adjusted to the foreign affection she fell into a deep sleep.

Tom smirked victoriously when he saw her body rising and falling slowly and heard the faintness of her breathing. Pathetic mudblood she was. But part of him reasoned that she could prove to be useful, otherwise, his act of keeping her alive that night at the Riddle House would have just been a sign of weakness. He was not weak. He thought of ways in which he could persuade her further, to make her trust him without much contact between them. There were ways, of course.

He decided to wait until she was sorted into her chosen house before deciding on what exactly he would do.

Finally.

Finally she had the Sorting Hat placed on her head, a huge grin protruding below the rim of the hat that covered her eyes. She could hear the hat muttering in her ear, trying to choose which house she belonged to. Please be Slytherin, she begged.

The Sorting Hat heard her. While it did see a thirst for ambition...

"Hufflepuff!"

The grin faded away. No. No, no, no this wasn't happening.

Rowan couldn't move. Her feet were lead and her hands refused to let go of the four-legged stool. Even as the Hufflepuff table cheered she felt like crying, cursing, she was so sure she could get into Slytherin. She had even asked the stupid hat to put her in Slytherin.

With so many eyes watching her Rowan had to get up and stumble over to the Hufflepuff table. The nearest person to her shook her hand and gave her a friendly smile. Rowan didn't return it. She glanced across to the Slytherin table and found Tom gazing at her. He had the most smug look on his face. Slytherin would never accept a muggle-born into it's house. It would disgrace the entire Slytherin legacy. Rowan shrunk into herself. Perhaps she was a muggle-born after all.

The first week was a miserable one. She avoided the Hufflepuff common room as much as possible and despite her fellow dormitory girls trying to include her in their late night chats she pretended to sleep so that they would leave her alone. She got lost virtually every lesson as she refused to ask the many Hogwarts ghosts for help and a particularly horrible poltergeist, Peeves, would suddenly make a coat of armour scream at her whenever she walked past. The lessons themselves were wonderful once she found them and apologised for being late. Transfiguration quickly became a favourite as Dumbledore was their teacher and her least favourite was Potions.

Professor Slughorn was cheerful enough and had expected her to excel in his class like Tom. That had been the case until her first lesson. He was concerned that she had managed to mix up ingredients so badly that the cauldron she shared with a Ravenclaw girl melted before their eyes.

And then there was Tom.

Ever since the Sorting Ceremony she hadn't seen him. If it wasn't for Professor Slughorn telling her how well he was doing in Potions she would've guessed he didn't exist. Every free period she had she used to try and find him but it always left her alone and behind on work for her lessons. Logically, she knew his timetable was different to hers but part of her felt he was avoiding her on purpose. She had been sorted into the 'pushover' house after all.

The next week started off badly too as she made the mistake of rushing to the first floor girls' bathroom. A Slytherin first-year had hounded her with insults once he knew of her blood status, how he knew she didn't know, but his last insult as well as another failed Potions lesson sent her over the edge and she had sprinted into the lavatory to cry beside the sink. Or she would have, if not for a silvery ghost hovering beside it. She wore the ghostly robes of a Ravenclaw and when she saw Rowan rudely slamming the door open she screeched. "GET OUT!"

Too startled to move she just sobbed there on the spot. The ghostly girl glared at her angrily, swirling around her a few times to get her to leave, but realised the more she screamed the more the girl cried. So she waited impatiently and eventually Rowan was sick of her own tears and wiped them away roughly. "I-I'm sorry," she stuttered.

"Just get out and leave me alone," the ghostly girl snapped. She paused for a moment, hovering over this little first year with swollen, red eyes. "Why were you crying?"

Rowan sniffled, "a Slytherin boy was insulting me."

"Is that all? When I was alive people bullied me because of everything about me! My glasses, my acne, my blood status-"

Rowan's head shot up. "Are you a muggle-born too?"

"Yes," she answered flatly. "Is that why the Slytherin boy was bullying you?" Rowan nodded. The ghostly girl grinned mischievously. "Want me to haunt him? I haunt Olive Hornby you know, the one that bullied me."

Rowan shook her head fervently, "that'll make it worse. But thank you." She shuffled her feet before adding, "who are you?"

"I'm Myrtle."

Myrtle. No one had told her about a ghost named Myrtle. "Have you been in here for decades, or hundreds of years like the other ghosts?"

At that Myrtle giggled, it was raspy and close to mad. "No silly girl! I've been dead for a few months, didn't they tell you what happened last year?"

Rowan shook her head. Myrtle explained the sudden petrified muggle-borns and her own death and how it had nearly caused Hogwarts to close completely. A wave of fear flowed through Rowan as she listened, what if the same thing happened this year? "And then they caught him, Hagrid, he'd done it alright. I heard Olive Hornby telling some others girls about it and how a prefect had caught him with the monster."

Hagrid? Prefect?

"Who?"

"You're just a little first year no need to know more."

"But you've already told me so much," Rowan whined.

"I have," Myrtle agreed, then grinned, "doesn't mean I have to tell you everything." And with that she dived headfirst into a toilet stall.

Tom leaned against the wooden archway and let the mid-afternoon breeze ruffle his hair. If he was correct, and he usually was, Rowan would be walking down the bridge any minute now. After another week she had given up trying to find him and had taken her free periods to sit beside the lake, alone.

He felt now was the time to act, seeing as that snotty Slytherin first year had done exactly as he had hoped.

Sure enough tapping footsteps sprinted towards him and halted close to his side. He made no motion that he had noticed her and continued to stare absentmindedly at the sky. She grew impatient, angry even, as he finally coughed and without turning his head addressed her, "hello there."

"Hello," she replied hollowly.

She sounded miserable. Good. "How was your first few weeks? Slughorn tells me you're terrible at Potions. One of the worst students he has ever had." That was a lie. Slughorn still had high hopes for her once the initial failures were done. Still, the more he got under her skin the better.

Her hands clenched into fists until her knuckles were white. She was so close to crying there and then but held them in the best she could. "Don't think I don't know."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, pretending to be confused.

"I know you're avoiding me, I'm not stupid. It's because I'm a Huffllepuff isn't it? Or is it because I'm a mudblood? Yes I know what that means now, I've had a boy insulting me with it since I started. I-I thought you'd at least try to help me, mudblood or not, because I don't have anyone else," she paused to gasp in a breath, "But you're doing what he did. You're pretending I don't exist. I hate you!"

She tried to run past him but a hand slithered around her arm and gripped tightly, like a snake constricting it's prey. He yanked her to face him, his grip tightening still as he bent a knee down to her level. His dark eyes, unblinking, kept contact as he talked. "Listen to me, don't ever think you being muggle-born changes anything."

"But you said-"

"I admit I didn't like it at first. Can you blame me? You had the life with our father that I never had, the life I wanted. I was...jealous. And that, that made me act so horribly to you and for that I am so sorry." He paused and smiled. "But seeing you so excited on the Hogwarts Express, talking about our mothers even though it was brief, it made me realise we are not so different. And I haven't been avoiding you," he lied, "my timetable, my work for classes and being a prefect keeps me busy. I'll try and find some free time, alright?"

She nodded her head sadly, not entirely convinced. He would have to do something else. Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her in a light hug. It seemed to work as she relaxed and hugged his middle as if her life depended on it. It nearly winded him and he wanted nothing more than to push her away but he endured it. Suddenly, he smirked darkly.

"Now, who's this Slytherin boy you mentioned?"

Rowan broke away from him to give him a quizzical look. "I never said he was in Slytherin. How did you know?"

Tom's face flashed with panic for a split second before it settled into a small smile. "A lucky guess, it's really only Slytherin that has issues with muggle-borns."

She was going to question further but Tom looked over her head to see Dumbledore walking towards them. Dumbledore always had a way of turning up whenever Tom didn't want him to. He stood up and greeted the interfering wizard with a nod. "Good afternoon, professor."

"Evening, Tom. Good to see you two getting along, however, may I borrow Pidge for a moment?"

"Of course, professor."

"Good, good. Follow me, please."

Rowan nervously followed Dumbledore back towards the castle. She turned her head around to send a fearful look towards Tom, in response he mouthed for it to be alright. As they turned into small dots in the distance Tom's smile dropped into a sinister glare. If his plan was going to work he had to isolate her, even from Dumbledore.