September 18, 1933
"You thought we would forget, didn't you?" Billy spat as he threw a quick punch in the direction of Tom's stomach. Tom twisted awkwardly out of the way, bringing his foot up and flinging it toward Billy in panic. To his brief delight, it collided quite beautifully between Billy's legs, eliciting a pained gasp.
Billy hunched over, barely standing on his legs. As Tom smirked, split lip be damned, he looked over at Harry with an appraising eye. Harry didn't look very well, curled up in a ball on the floor. Julian was kicking him alternately with Edward, almost lazily. Cowards.
"Freak!" Billy finally gasped, descending into a brief hacking coughing fit. Billy had acquired a nasty cold one cold winter a few years back, and it had never truly left him. Tom was glad that it didn't seem to be contagious, as Billy much enjoyed spitting on both Harry and Tom.
"No more than you," Tom said, jerking his left arm in a half-hearted attempt to get free of Sam.
Billy looked up at him incredulously. "You're the freak! You and Harry. Both of you. Nasty, freaky demons!"
"Yeah!" Sam said from Tom's left. "We always knew that you were messed up, but now you've gone and infected Harry too!"
"We're just trying to help, you see," Austin said, digging his jagged fingernails into Tom's arm. Tom clenched his teeth but tried not to show any reaction. That would be allowing them to win.
"Stop wriggling like the worm you are," Billy commanded. "Freak."
Tom glared at him even as Billy began swinging at him again. Some of Billy's hits were rather heavy, but Tom knew that he wasn't getting the worst of it. Billy, for all his bluster and seeming command of the other boys, wasn't actually that strong. Tom worried more for Harry, as Julian was a fan of football and had a rather strong kick.
Tom's head whipped to the side as Harry let out a small scream. He watched, shaking slightly with anger, as Edward clutched onto Harry's face, keeping it from moving as Julian pulled back his foot to give a kick.
Tom knew enough about anatomy that a kick like that to his face, if strong enough, could be quite dangerous. And there was no way in hell he was going to let Harry die and leave him alone in this place. It was time to pull his wild card.
"Assa!" Tom called with a heavy heart. Assa would be able to assist them this once, but Tom knew what her prospects of surviving past this encounter would be.
"Yes, master?" Assa enquired from behind Tom. She had stayed around to watch and worry as Harry and Tom had been ambushed outside of their room.
"Help him, please."
"Of course," Assa said, sadly. "Goodbye, Speaker."
As Tom finally hunched over, gasping for air as a particular blow landed right in his solar plexus, he heard screams. His arms were suddenly let go, causing Tom to topple over onto his side, writhing like a landed fish.
"Snake!" Sam yelled. "It's a snake!"
"We can see that, you idiot!" Edward whispered, backing into the dirty grey walls of the hallway.
"It's the freak's fault," Billy said lowly. "He did this. Kill it!"
"No way in hell!" Austin cried, walking backwards without stopping until he hit Sam.
Tom opened his teary eyes and smiled slightly as he saw what Assa had done. She had curled around Harry's head like some sort of crown and was now swaying slightly side to side, her neck gracefully arched into a serpentine "S," ready to strike. Harry was lying very still, eyes wide open. He had become used to Assa's presence within the week that they had had her, but he was still nervous when Assa was too near him.
Julian stepped forward. "I bet I can kick that snake right off of new freak's head."
Tom's heart went cold, and Assa moved.
It was glorious to see, that strike that Assa made. She leapt right off of Harry's head, body sinuously unwinding in mid-flight from Harry's head. She was airborne for a short, neverending second before her fangs latched onto Julian's ankle.
"Run, Harry!" Tom yelled, scrambling to his feet. He lurched toward Harry, grasping wildly at Harry's shirt and hoisting him up, mentally apologizing as he aggravated some of Harry's new injuries. The others were stunned in shock as Julian let out a screech, but that would not last long.
Harry stumbled but righted himself, clutching tightly at the fabric of Tom's shirt. Tom immediately broke into a sprint, racing down the corridor. He turned to the stairs, taking the opportunity to glance for one second to see what was happening; who was chasing them.
Tom wanted to cry when he saw Billy's foot descend on Assa's head.
Harry and Tom were stuck in a rather frustrating dilemma. They had ran outside and hid in the freezing metal confines of the playground in the courtyard. Nobody would look for them there, among that twisted expanse of plastic and metal. It was too cold today to properly enjoy it, and it was lunchtime anyway.
Harry's stomach rumbled, and he tried to place a hand over it to quiet it. It didn't work. Harry sighed, leaning back into the cold metal tube that he and Tom were hiding in. It felt very soothing on the new bruises that would be sure to decorate Harry's back next morning. Harry wondered what colors they would be. It was almost like a living decoration. First they would be red, then purple and blue, then they would fade into green and yellow. If not for them being so painful, Harry wouldn't mind them that much. Harry thought it was really interesting that the injuries would change color like that, but Tom didn't agree. He was always so irritated when Harry asked him what colors the bruises were each day.
"We need to get back," Tom brought up.
"I know," Harry said. "I don't want to."
"What do you suggest, then?" Tom asked, lounging across Harry's crossed legs. He didn't like the idea of lying in a dirty tube with his good clothes on.
"I wish we could fly," Harry said mournfully. "Then we could fly up right to our window and keep our door locked forever and only leave that way."
"Wizards can fly, right?" Tom asked. "You said they rode brooms just like in the stories."
"We don't have a broom," Harry said. "I used to have one, I think."
"It would be really convenient to have one now," Tom said. "Maybe we can climb up?"
Harry looked down at Tom's innocent face. "Are you mad?"
"No," Tom responded, snickering. "I'm just trying to think like you. You always come up with crazy ideas."
"No I don't!" Harry muttered, poking Tom in the ribs and instantly feeling guilty when Tom cringed away. "Sorry," Harry muttered.
"Do you remember that one time that you thought climbing a tree would get you close enough to touch a cloud? Or the time that you decided that stealing Martha's books was a good idea?"
"Don't remind me of that!" Harry moaned, pouting. "That was gross."
"Despicable."
"Scary."
"Horrifying."
"Icky-er than Mrs. Cole."
"I can't beat that one," Tom said, sighing dramatically. "But really, do you think we can?"
"I don't know," Harry said, closing his eyes. "I don't know anything about the walls underneath our room."
"It's too dangerous to check," Tom said. "Billy and his gang might be around."
"We have to go back sometime?" Harry offered. "Let's try it."
"I regret telling you my idea," Tom said, heaving himself off of Harry's legs and awkwardly manoeuvring to the end of the metal tube. Harry picked himself off of the cool metal wall, sighing slightly at the loss, and followed him. He lifted his head too early, though, and ended up smacking it on the edge of the metal tube.
"And here I was hoping your head would be undamaged today," Tom said sourly, hoisting Harry up. "Let's go before someone sees us."
Tom pulled Harry across the courtyard at a frantic pace, slowing slightly when Harry felt the cooler air in the shade of the orphanage brush his skin. Tom walked forward a little, placing Harry's hand on the worn brick wall and stepping back.
Harry felt the brick under his hands. It was rough and scratchy, cracked in several places within Harry's immediate reach. The space between each brick was slightly indented, but not enough for one of them to jam the toes of their shoes into.
"Is there anything else here?" Harry asked, moving to the right.
"There's a window to your right. And a little higher along the wall the bricks are broken."
"Oh?" Harry asked. "Let me see."
Harry resolutely ignored Tom's snort at his statement. "Very funny, Tom."
Harry heard him mutter, "It was!," but ignored it. Tom was right about the window. Small, a few feet off the ground. A little bit higher, right next to it, was a chunk gouged out of the wall. It gave Harry a little bit of an idea.
"Hey, Tom?" Harry asked, turning away from the wall. "What room is that window in?"
Tom walked closer, cautiously peering in. "It looks like that old storage room that Billy once locked us in."
"Oh," Harry said, shuddering. "I have an idea."
"Do you?" Tom said. "Please tell me it's not ridiculous."
"It's not ridiculous," Harry said, smirking.
"Stop that," Tom said, glaring. "What is it?"
"I think that we can climb the wall...after we break a few more holes into it."
Tom was silent for a few moments before sputtering, "How do you propose we do that without being seen?"
It took Harry a lot of convincing back in the metal tube, some intense magical exercise by Tom, and a whole litany of swears thrown in Harry's direction that he didn't even know Tom knew, but Tom eventually agreed to make the attempt.
"You know it'll be worth it!" Harry said cheerily. "Just think about how easy it will be to sneak out!"
"That won't help me if I die climbing up on that wall," Tom said, sounding nervous. However, he clambered out of the metal tube and walked toward the wall.
"Wait!" Harry called, tripping as he scampered out after him. "Shouldn't we wait until dark?"
"Oh," Tom said, looking sheepish. "I didn't think of that."
"I wonder why," Harry mused, grabbing onto Tom's arm and pulling him back into the metal tube. "I mean, I'm the one who constantly sees darkness. Why am I more aware of the dangers of being seen than you are? You're slipping, Tom."
"I am not," Tom said, sniffing. "I was just off-balance because I agreed to your silly idea."
"Sure," Harry conceded with a smirk, settling back against the metal, pressing his bruised back into it with a small sigh. "Hey, Tom," Harry said slowly, fighting the urge to yawn, "wake me when it's time, okay? I want to sleep."
"Only babies sleep during the day," Tom muttered. "But fine."
With that assurance, Harry let the magic in his sight fade away into the darkness of his dreams.
Tom shook violently, eyes wide and staring unseeing at the shadowed brick before him. How, again, had Harry convinced him to do this? Now, he was stuck. On a brick wall. Very high. In the middle of the night, barely able to see anything.
Tom mentally cursed stupid Billy and his gang because if not for them, he wouldn't be in this ridiculously terrifying situation.
"I can't do this," Tom whispered violently, glaring at the wall, knuckles white as he held onto the wall like a limpet. Below him, he could hear Harry call up encouragements.
"Come on, Tom!" Harry cheered in a voice not much above a whisper. "You can do it. We have magic, remember? Remember that time I told you about when I jumped out of the window and floated down?"
"What if that doesn't happen?" Tom shot back, voice high and strained.
"I'll catch you," Harry said. "I bet I can."
"Of course you do," Tom muttered.
"You're not even that high on the wall, you know," Harry mused. "You're actually only like six feet up."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Tom asked. "I can't even begin to imagine climbing up the rest of the way."
Tom carefully let go of one of the handholds and flexed his fingers, hissing in pain as the stiffened muscles loosened. With barely a second's delay, he latched onto the wall again, breathing deeply. He had to focus so that he could finally finish with this. It was too late for them to sneak in through the doors; they would no doubt be caught. He didn't trust his magic yet with locks, so that option was out.
He stared at the brick, grey in the starlight, biting his lip. He reached for a feeling deep inside him; that feeling that felt like lapping waves of power in an ocean located deep in his chest. When he thought that he had grabbed a hold of it, he directed it to the brick in front of him, focusing singlemindedly on the wish for the brick to be pulled out. He needed that handhold to be formed. And he was going to make it happen. The magic was his; it would listen to him when he called.
When Tom was sure that he had a good grasp on it, he gave it a strong mental shove, feeling it streaming out of his skin in a rather unfocused way. He was used to using his hands to channel his power, but in this case, they were currently occupied preventing accidental death. It felt odd as the magic flowed out of the skin on his face. The taste of the sea grew on his tongue until he could almost smell the sea breeze and seaweed and salt as if it was right in front of him.
Thankfully, his magic obeyed, slowly pushing out the brick located in front of his nose. "Watch out!" Tom called, lifting his body slightly off the wall with shaking arms, letting the brick fall between the small gap he made, falling toward the ground. He heard a muffled curse from below, meaning that Harry had barely made it out of the way.
"Are you stupid?" Tom muttered sourly. "I gave you a few seconds warning."
"I accidentally went forward instead of back," Harry said, sounding sheepish.
"Of course you did," Tom said, sighing.
"I like watching you do magic!" Harry said. "It was totally an accident."
"Whatever you say," Tom said noncommittally, carefully grabbing onto the newly-made handhold. Closing his eyes, Tom lifted himself a little higher, shifting one of his legs a little higher up on the wall, taking advantage of a preexisting dent in the wall.
It went slowly, Tom carefully making several handholds with varying levels of success before moving higher. He wasn't going to let something as silly as being afraid of falling stop him. Of course, some of the handholds would have been better if he wasn't so nervous, but Tom thought that they lent some credibility. There had been one moment when Tom had wished for the wall to stop existing, which ended up removing a thin layer off of almost twenty bricks. Another moment, he had used too much magic and blasted several bricks half out of the wall.
It wouldn't do for the bricks to be messed up too cleanly.
Finally, in the end, Tom reached their window, clambering onto the windowsill, leaning half of his body against it. He was panting for breath, arms trembling weakly. He grimaced with distaste at the feeling of liberal amounts of sweat on him. It was too late to rectify that. He could probably wash himself somehow in the sink.
After lying for a short while, catching his breath, he clambered fully inside their room, turning back to the window. "Are you ready to try?" Tom whisper-shouted down the wall.
"Yeah," Harry said, voice so faint that Tom almost imagined that he heard it. "Tell me where to put my hands, okay?"
"Okay," Tom said, leaning out further. "Move your left arm - no, the other one; my left - up a little...more left...up a little more. There."
"Got it," Harry said, clambering up the wall rather quickly. Tom watched as Harry took a few seconds at a time to run his hand along the wall, looking for more handholds.
"More right and a little higher," Tom said, watching as Harry found the next handhold very quickly. Tom was a little envious that Harry seemed to be showing no fear. Tom decided to question him.
"Harry?" Tom asked quietly. "How are you not scared?"
"Hm," Harry hummed, moving up another handhold. "I am scared."
"You don't seem like it," Tom said, wringing his hands a little before shaking his head a little.
"Well, I am," Harry said, already halfway up. "But my magic saved me from something like this before. Hopefully it'll work even better now that we can sort of use our magic already."
"True," Tom said, heart leaping into his chest as Harry lost a foothold. Harry grunted a little bit, sagging against the wall. Tom watched with wide eyes as Harry shuffled around a little bit before resuming his climb. He wasn't sure how Harry could simply do that.
"You okay?" Tom asked, peering closer at Harry's face. It looked...excited, of all things. Harry was enjoying this. Of course he would.
"Tom," Harry asked, breaking Tom out of his thoughts. "Tell me what the sky looks like."
Tom looked at Harry suspiciously. Was Harry trying to distract him? Well, he would humor Harry in that case. Tom looked up at the sky, briefly admiring the strange not-brown, not-purple color of the sky.
"It's a strange color," Tom began. "I think that all the light from the city is messing with the sky because you can hardly see any stars. It's almost brown... but it's also a little purple and grey and blue too. It's hard to tell... There are really small clouds just scattered all over. It looks...it looks as if someone took an enormous hammer and cracked the sky into lots of tiny grey pieces."
"That's an interesting image," Harry said, causing Tom to jump a little. Harry's face was right below the windowsill, looking smug. "You were worried, weren't you?" Harry said, smiling fondly.
"No I wasn't," Tom insisted, offering an arm to Harry. "Come on, get in. It would be so...so...pathetic of you to fall just when you're almost here."
Harry smirked but grabbed onto Tom's offered arm, almost wrenching it as he used it to heave himself over the ledge. Harry shuffled around a little, picking himself up and twisting until he was sitting on the ledge.
"Harry!" Tom said, glaring at him. "Get off before you fall off!"
"Okay," Harry said cheerily, jumping forward onto Tom and hugging him very tightly. "Thank you so much Tom! Now we have a secret path!"
Tom huffed, hugging back. He instantly noticed something odd; there was something hard poking into his stomach. He let go of Harry quickly, grabbing onto his shoulders and pushing him away. Harry's stomach looked remarkably square.
"What is that?" Tom said, exasperated.
"What's what?" Harry said, grinning.
"On your stomach," Tom said, poking the definitely hard substance there.
"Bricks," Harry said, as if that was all the explanation needed.
Tom stared at Harry as if he was insane. "Why?"
"You never know when you might need bricks," Harry said, shrugging.
October 15, 1933
Harry and Tom were in the middle of their daily magical exercises when they heard an odd, ringing sound. At first, Tom ignored it, convincing Harry that it was probably someone messing around with metal in the attic. However, a few minutes later, someone tried to enter the storage room that they were practicing in.
Tom immediately let go of his magic, irritated that he had to lose grip on it when he had finally got it to cooperate with him reasonably. It took him over an hour to gather it properly to use without straining so hard he felt like he would pop a blood vessel. What a waste. Harry tensed and froze, and Tom detected a hint of wariness in the icy feeling of Harry's magic.
"Why is this door locked?" they could hear Martha mutter, fiddling with the doorknob. "Is anyone in there?"
Tom contemplated staying silent, but a painful jab to his ribs from Harry convinced him that he was going to be revealed either way. He bit back a sigh, walking to the door and releasing the lock on it. He opened it slowly, smiling in a way he hoped looked shy as he looked up into Martha's unremarkable brown eyes.
Martha's mouth tightened some. Who was he kidding; everyone was still suspicious of him anyway, even though he had assuaged some of their fears by not killing Harry within the first day.
"What were ya doing here?" Martha asked suspiciously. "No matter. There's someone here today that's looking to adopt. You're dressed fine; go to the main room."
"Do we have to?" Tom asked, scrunching his nose in disdain.
"Of course!" Martha said. "You're the last ones I had to find. Hurry up!" With that, Martha turned around and strode away in the direction of the main room, hands nervously patting down her plain beige dress. Tom contemplated locking themselves in again, but before he could make any kind of move, he was suddenly being squeezed to death.
"Harry?" Tom choked out, trying to wriggle free from what had to be the tightest and most dangerous hug of his life. Not that he'd been hugged that much by anyone except Harry. Not that he could recall.
Harry stayed suspiciously silent. Tom tried turning around in Harry's death grip, eyes widening when he noticed how Harry was shivering slightly and seemed to be breathing rapidly. What was going on? Harry never acted like this. In fact, it seemed as if Harry was scared of something. Or he was upset. But why? Martha didn't say anything that seemed like it could make Harry react like this. She only mentioned adoption...was that it?
"Harry?" Tom repeated, hesitantly placing his arms around Harry as well. That seemed to be the right response, as Harry relaxed slightly, although his grip did not weaken.
"I don't want to be adopted."
"Oh?" Tom asked. "Most people do."
"Do you?" Harry mumbled from somewhere in Tom's shirt.
"Not particularly, no," Tom said. "Are you...okay?"
Harry moved his head in some vague way that Tom took to mean 'no,' though it was rather hard to tell.
"We'll be fine," Tom said, mind spinning in all kinds of directions to try to figure out what to do. He was sure that Martha would be rather displeased if they wouldn't show up. "I won't let anyone take you away from me."
Harry was silent for a few more moments before relaxing his hold on Tom. Tom almost began deeply inhaling sweet, sweet magic-scented air again with exaggerated breaths before he realized that it might be rude. "I promise," Tom said, grabbing onto Harry's shoulders. "If they really want to take either of us, we'll scare them both off. For each other."
"Alright," Harry said quietly, letting go and backing away. Tom noticed a glimpse of Harry's face, suspiciously red, but he didn't comment on it. Together, they both left the storage room and walked toward the main room of certain doom.
As Tom entered the main room, he noticed everyone was lined up according to age and height. He sneered a little at that system; it made the other orphans look like dolls to be chosen from, picked for the correct height and features. Just to spite Mrs. Cole, who was standing imperiously in one corner and giving Tom the evil eye, Tom led Harry over to one of the gaps left for them and shoved the others slightly out of the way so that both of them could stand together. Of course, since Harry was significantly shorter than Tom, it made for an interesting little break in the pattern.
The couple were watching them with amused eyes, something that made Tom seeth internally. They were the threat here. Although he himself knew that he didn't particularly want to be adopted, the fact that Harry seemed to dislike the idea so much made him decided that he was going to do the best he could to make sure that they were never considered. As if he would let anyone take Harry away!
"Children, these are the Turners!" Mrs. Cole said brightly, the effect slightly dimmed from the rasp in her voice that she had recently developed following a bad cold. Tom felt a little proud, as he was the one who had made a point of trying to transfer Billy's perpetually snotty handkerchiefs to places where Mrs. Cole would most likely touch. Seeing how Billy was constantly miserable from his sudden bouts of coughing, Tom had tried to do the same to Mrs. Cole.
Tom knew he wasn't very nice, but to be fair, Mrs. Cole wasn't all that nice either.
"They're here to adopt someone!" Mrs. Cole continued. "Say 'hello Mr. and Ms. Turner', everyone!"
"Hello Mr. and Ms. Turner," most of the orphans dutifully recited. Only most of them, though. Tom wouldn't participate in that nonsense.
"Hello!" Ms. Turner said. "I'm very glad to meet you all today." She walked up to the end of the line with the youngest children, the toddlers. She talked to each one for about thirty seconds before moving on. After she talked to a few children, her husband went around and began doing the same thing. It looked remarkably like an assembly line of some sort. It gave such a strong impression of window shopping that Tom felt horribly disgusted by the action and the taste of an ocean storm blossomed on his tongue.
Tom was bored with this farce. Ms. Turner was asking such inane questions. "Suzie, do you like flowers? My, you're a handsome one. Jacob, you said?"
It was as if she expected to find the child she wished to adopt by finding out if they had the same favorite color. "You like green? So do I!" Tom thought moodily. Although there was nothing wrong with green; that was the color of Harry's almost-glowing eyes.
Ms. Turner stopped in front of Tom, eyes lighting up. Once again, another fly had fallen into the web. Tom knew that he was very good-looking; old women cooed on the streets, other orphans looked at him with jealousy, and if he smiled, Tom knew he could almost always get what he wanted. So, Tom gave her a smile, hoping that it didn't look quite as fake as it felt. Although the chances of that were rather small; Tom had practiced his expressions in the mirror to perfection.
"Oh, hello there, handsome!" Ms. Turner said genially, smiling widely. "What's your name?"
"Tom."
"Hello Tom. I'm Ms. Turner."
Tom had to fight down the urge to laugh. It was as if she had forgotten that she and her husband had already been introduced to everyone there. "Hello, Ms. Turner," Tom said politely.
"What do you like to do in your spare time?" Ms. Turner asked, bending her knees slightly and leaning until she was more at his eye level. Tom's lips twitched slightly in irritation as the scent of her perfume grew stronger.
"I like to cut open small animals to look at their insides," Tom stated solemnly, allowing a little smirk to slip through. He heard a few sharp intakes of breath from around him, knowing that this 'confession' would be basically confirming all of the other rumors about him. Tom wasn't that worried though; everyone already knew that he was different and avoided him on principle except for that silly Alyssa and the fists of Billy's gang. Mrs. Cole seemed to think that he was a demonic spirit of some sort.
"Oh, that's very funny!" Ms. Turner said, but Tom wasn't fooled. She had straightened up a little bit and had taken a few steps back. "I'm afraid I have to go and talk to the others now!" With that, Ms. Turner turned to Harry.
Harry was shaking slightly. Tom's presence next to him was calming, but it wasn't enough. Being lined up in a manner like he was something on display was an unnerving prospect.
He wasn't going to be adopted today, if he had anything to say about it. He was not going to let some random people stride in, announce themselves his new family, and take him away from Tom. That would be like forgetting his real parents, his dead parents. Replacing him with people who were picking children out of a lineup.
Tom's magic was playing wildly, looking rather menacing. However, it was relatively well controlled, so Harry didn't fear it lashing out. He decided to focus on keeping his calm. Currently, it was densely layered around him, almost like a barely tangible, familiar hug.
He wasn't going to be taken away. Neither would Tom. Tom wouldn't let anything happen. If Harry knew one thing for sure, it was that Tom didn't share.
Harry stepped a little closer to Tom's side. He was right next to Paul, who had an unfortunate problem with body odor. Tom smelled much better. Tom was also safer.
He wasn't going to be taken away.
Suddenly, Harry's hearing sharpened as he heard Ms. Turner stand right in front of Tom. As Tom responded politely, Harry almost wanted to scream, "What are you doing? Don't be polite!" but refrained, instead sticking his right hand deeply into his pocket and proceeding to pull out the threads with only his fingers. A twirl of his finger, a jab with another, and a loop of thread was pulled partially out of the thick fabric of his trousers. Harry twirled it, moving his fingers almost absently in a circular motion. To his dismay, it knotted.
Then, Tom told everyone that he likes cutting open dead animals and Harry knew that everything would be fine.
But that meant that he was next in line.
Ms. Turner took a few steps away from Tom toward Harry, the sound of heels clicking against the floor very loud in the awkward silence. Harry absently reminded himself to congratulate Tom on such a dramatic performance.
Ms. Turner leaned closer and said, voice positively saccharine, "Oh, your eyes are lovely!"
Harry gazed somewhere in her direction, keeping his face intentionally stoic. "Well, they'd be more lovely if I could actually see out of them," Harry said, crossing his fingers in his pocket because he could see, just not in the way most people would understand.
Ms. Turner was silent for a few moments before sighing breathily and moving on. Harry let out a breath that he wasn't even aware that he was holding, smiling lightly. He and Tom were free. They stood together, so close that their hands were touching, basking in relief because they wouldn't lose each other. Harry had to fight the urge to grin obnoxiously, managing to reduce it to an upward quirk of his lips. When Harry glanced up at Tom, he found that Tom had almost the same expression.
Their eyes met, both relieved and laughing at an easy solution to what had seemed to be a difficult problem. Harry's magic positively danced with joy, and, on a whim, he made it attach itself to Ms. Turner's clickety-clackety shoes.
When Ms. Turner tripped, Harry couldn't hold back a small snort. Tom flicked his hand sharply, but Harry knew that he thought it was funny too.
Mrs. Cole hadn't been happy with them after that. Apparently, the Turners had left, calling the children unnerving, plainly telling her that they were sure that there were other orphanages around with less mental residents.
"Not as mental as someone who wears sticks instead of shoes," Harry whispered. Harry had thought the description of high heels was really hilarious after Tom had told him about the source of such a clicky noise. He had seen a brief glimpse of them, but he had thought it was a mistake. How could she even balance on them?
Harry decided that women were rather strange and terrifying. Ms. Turner had been walking alright before he had made her trip.
"Shh," Tom whispered under his breath. They were standing in front of Mrs. Cole's desk as she berated them for making the orphanage look bad.
"It is that bad," Harry muttered.
"She heard you, you idiot," Tom hissed under his breath, which made Harry pale a little bit. Mrs. Cole must have ears like a owl's.
"So," Mrs. Cole said, "I have to punish you both for this. You understand? I have to set an example for the others that lying and being rude is not acceptable, especially around parents looking to adopt! Today could have been someone's lucky day! But you ruined that. So," Mrs. Cole said, probably pausing for dramatic effect, "I'm taking away your allowances for the unforeseeable future."
Harry and Tom stood mute for a moment before both bursting into speech.
"No, that's not fair-"
"Mrs. Cole, we need that money-"
"Silence!" Mrs. Cole said sharply. "You just use it on sweets. You could do without those for a while."
Harry felt devastated. He and Tom did use their allowances before resorting to stealing, usually. This was unfair. This was...torture! Worse than Billy's gang. Denying children the candy they rightfully deserve…
"Okay," Tom said curtly. "Come on, Harry," Tom said, pulling on Harry's sleeve. Harry pouted, stomping after Tom. He felt like emphasizing his displeasure to everyone. At least he and Tom could steal things.
They both ended up in their room, sitting on the bed and sulking.
"This is inconvenient," Tom finally said. "The allowance was useful. People would get suspicious if we never bought anything for money."
"Yeah, I guess," Harry said. "I guess we have to steal more?"
"You mean candy," Tom said, staring at Harry. Harry blushed a little, looking to the side. "Candy is really important, you know," Harry wheedled, opening his eyes a little wider and staring at Tom innocently.
"That doesn't work on me," Tom said, crushing Harry's hopes. "You know we need to steal winter things soon."
"Do we?" Harry asked, surprised. "Why?"
Tom gave him a look, staring at him in disbelief. "Well," Tom said, "you may have noticed that in the months since winter we've grown."
"Have we?" Harry asked, surprised. "I didn't notice."
"Yeah. You got taller," Tom said, flopping back onto the bed. "Still not as tall as me, though."
"That's because you're a half-giant," Harry sniffed. "Just wait. I'm sure I'll get taller than you someday."
"We'll see," Tom said, smirking. "But we really do need to get a new coat each, at least."
"Coats are really large, though," Harry said. "How are we going to sneak them?"
"We'll have to be really careful," Tom said. "Losing our allowance is very bad in this case. We could have used it."
"I guess we'll have to steal more," Harry said. Funnily enough, that didn't bother Harry very much anymore. He guessed that getting candy out of it for so long was enough of a mind-changer for him.
"Yeah," Tom said. "We have to be really careful, though. We don't know what she would do next."
October 21, 1933
"Where do you want to go next?" Tom asked, looking at Harry. He strongly hoped that Harry wouldn't request another candy-stealing expedition. For all Harry's aversion to stealing initially, he was taking to it rather quickly. Apparently, all it took was positive reinforcement to gain Harry's support.
"I don't know," Harry said, letting go of Tom to spin around in a circle, arms thrown out. One of his arms hit a passing gentleman who gave them a stern look as he passed by.
"Oops," Harry said, giggling.
"You're such a child!" Tom moaned, dramatically throwing back his head and flinging his arms into the air. "How will I survive this torture?"
"Stop pretending to be a muggle movie star," Harry said, widening his stance and shifting a look of utter contempt at Tom. "Manners, cleanliness, and good behaviour are essential for success," Harry said in a tone that matched Mrs. Cole's almost exactly. His stance was a little bit off, but Tom could forgive Harry for that.
"You need to look as if I'm below you," Tom said. "Lift your chin as if you're looking at the sky."
Harry followed his instructions, lifting his chin to obscene heights. "Better?"
"Much better, yes," Tom said. "But we still need to figure out where to go. We keep hanging around the same parts of London. How about we go further? Explore?"
"I like the sound of exploring," Harry said slowly, tapping his finger on his chin. "You know what? Let's explore. But only if you tell me everything you see."
"Fine," Tom said, used to Harry's demands. "Let's go, then. It's probably a good idea for you to practice using your cane, though."
"Ugh, don't remind me!" Harry said, frowning. "I don't like it. I have you. Why do I need to learn to move around like a blind muggle? When we finally get old enough for Hogwarts I'm sure the magic of the wards will let me see at least a little."
"It's good practice," Tom said. "Especially if Billy gets to you alone."
Harry scoffed but nevertheless picked up his cane from the floor. "It's silly and I keep getting it stuck on things and it keeps yanking my arm and my arm hurts from using it. But I'll use it. Just because I'm nice."
"Of course," Tom said, walking off, smirking over his shoulder. Harry's eyes widened, mouth opening.
"You're terrible!" Harry insisted, swinging his white cane forward and hurrying after Tom. "If I couldn't see you, that would've left me alone. In the city filled with scary strangers. You're evil."
"But you can see me," Tom said. "So it's fine."
"Whatever. But you still deserve punishment for that," Harry said, flicking his cane to the side, thwacking Tom's ankle. Tom grit his teeth but didn't comment on it. That cane was more like a weapon than any aide for Harry, really.
"Alright," Tom said, hoping to prevent any further attacks. "Let's head north. So far, nothing but stores. Everything looks a little old and dirty here. Everyone is dressed really fancy, though. There's a man across the street that's wearing the funniest hat…"
Tom walked on, Harry shadowing him, idly sticking his cane in front of him and smacking Tom's ankle periodically. Tom kept up an endless stream of observations, focusing on the funnier things that he saw, knowing that they would pique Harry's interest. The stores gradually faded into rather tall buildings that looked like they could be housing flats, the other side of the road fading into a small park. Tom carried on, hoping for a place a little bit more exciting than a residential area. He made sure to mark landmarks as they went, though. Their unsupervised expeditions into London would end if they got hopelessly lost.
The sun was bright, but that didn't take away the chill of the air. Tom's newly acquired coat proved adequate to take the edge off, but his face soon felt chilled. When he looked at Harry, Harry looked as if he didn't mind at all.
"Are you cold?" Tom asked, examining Harry. "Even a little bit?"
"Not really," Harry sighed. "I love this weather. It's just sunny enough to make it feel pleasant."
"Of course you like it," Tom muttered. Figures that someone who smelled of winter and ice would enjoy the cold weather. Personally, Tom wasn't much of a fan of it.
"Oh, the area ahead looks interesting," Tom said, looking ahead curiously. "Looks like restaurants and bars."
"What's inside a bar?" Harry asked curiously. "I heard Robert bragging about sneaking inside one."
"Alcohol," Tom said, frowning.
"Is it that stuff that makes Mrs. Cole really mad about everything?" Harry asked curiously, looking up at Tom.
"Yeah. It makes her mad," Tom thought wryly, thinking of the rather accurate double-meaning in that statement. Tom turned to Harry again to begin narrating their surroundings when he noticed Harry staring, frozen, at one of the restaurants.
"Harry?" Tom asked, slightly worried. Harry never focused on anything like that. How could he, when he couldn't see?
"Tom," Harry whispered faintly, eyes shining with excitement. "There's a wizard right there."
"Who?" Tom said, looking at the red-painted exterior of the restaurant. "Which one?" There were three men currently standing in front of the restaurant, two conversing with each other while another was looking at something in his hand.
"He's holding something blue," Harry said. "His magic is this really really light green color. It could almost be grey."
"Really?" Tom asked, intrigued. "Anything else you can see?" Tom felt desperate to know more about this wizard; this one link to the world that they could not reach. Although he wanted to go over and maybe talk to the wizard; force him to do something, Tom shot the idea down. It was better to learn and observe.
"He's taking something that's glowing red out of his pocket...I think it's a wand!" Harry said, dropping his cane in his excitement. Tom stared, looking at the thin black stick that the man had plucked out of his overlarge coat. It looked wholly unremarkable. Suddenly, Harry inhaled loudly.
"Tom...we've been doing everything wrong! He just cast magic and I can see it! It's so...ordered! It's like patterns and it's all woven together and there are strange shapes in it and it's so beautiful…"
Harry's eyes were shining, focused on that distant wizard. Tom's mind raced with possibilities. Magic was ordered? Could they possibly order it like that, without a wand? Tom was aflame with curiosity and a need to test his idea.
"Tom," Harry said, "we need to get home right now and test this. It could change everything."
"I know," Tom said, glancing back to the man. Tom wasn't surprised when the man wasn't there when he looked back.
"If we can make our magic do those patterns," Harry said breathlessly, "it'll probably work easier and I won't have so many issues with it. It looked so much more efficient and used so little magic…"
A shiver of anticipation trickled down Tom's spine, not in the least caused by the wind.
I'm sure some of you more dirty-minded readers got the wrong idea when there was something hard poking into Tom's stomach. For shame, really. ;D
This chapter is turning out terribly long. Planning out my chapters is extending them to ridiculous lengths. Long chapters take a little longer to write, though.
History notes for this chapter include canes: in the late 1920s and early 1930s people began painting canes white to make them more easily visible. The modern "Hoover" method of usage was developed in 1944, before this time. Therefore, Harry is only using it in the way that comes most naturally to him...which is swinging it every which way without abandon, taking special consideration of Tom's ankles.
Changed the summary. What do you think?
