A year later.
"Who are you?"
This seemed to only fluster the man farther. "Well, you see Tom, my name is Horace Slughorn and I'm a teacher at a school for very special people. A school of magic for people like you and me."
"Magic? Tch. You're from the asylum, aren't you?", it wasn't a baseless accusation. The man had been looking at him with a mild disgust since the beginning of their meeting.
"It's-It's understandable that you'd think that, but I can prove it!" Under the boy's careful scrutiny he pulled out a stick. And with a wave of it and some muttered words his gray garb turned to green.
But Tom was staring at the stick, face contorted in greed. "Where can I get one of those?"
Slughorn seemed pleased to be getting somewhere, "it's called a wand, and you'll be able to buy one with the rest of your school supplies. Erm, of course we have a fund provided for those in your situation."
"There's someone else. Someone here with that can do it too...magic."
"Are you quite sure? Well, I suppose that's not too uncommon. But remember, the utmost secrecy must be kept about our existence." Looking down uncomfortably he continued, "Would you like some assistance shopping for supplies?"
"I can handle it, just give me directions."
The man nodded in relief, doing just that. Looking up at the boy with a final scrutiny he gave his goodbye. And Tom, more with a sense of assurance than amazement, took off to seek for his companion.
