Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter

Chapter 10

"Hagrid, Rubeus". The tall, shaggy-haired boy, who towered noticeably above the miniature first years, stumbled forward to have the sorting hat placed upon his head. If truth be told it wasn't an ideal fit and he sat nervously, hunched in on himself in a sort of way that suggested he wanted to sink into the ground. From the moment the boy had entered the Great Hall, whispers had begun hissing around the room, because this boy was, without a doubt, very different.

"Poor thing," muttered Catherine sympathetically, a newly instated third-year. "As if it's not nerve-racking enough without this sort of reception."

"Gryffindor!" boomed the hat forcefully and Catherine made a special effort to cheer and clap enthusiastically. As soon at the tall boy had arrived at the table, she shook his hand warmly and introduced herself.

"Hello… Rubeus?" she greeted him, hoping she had his name right. He smiled, which she took as confirmation. "I'm Catherine."

She noticed dimly that her head only reached his chest and his large hand completely covered her own and a little of her wrist. It was only in this close proximity did she realise how big he actually was.

"Yer can call me Hagrid," he told her, his boyish face splitting into a friendly smile and his black eyes glittering. There was something pure and warm about his expression and she found herself comparing his sweet, innocent eyes to the dark, knowing eyes of Tom.

On returning to Hogwarts, Tom had yet again become a shade darker in expression and manner. She suspected it was related to the amount of time he was spending with his Slytherin friends, who followed him around like pets. Catherine glanced at Tom across the Hall and saw the slightly unkind amusement in his expression as he surveyed Hagrid, who was now talking to Kate, Llew, Lommy and a couple of first years, who were laughing heartily at tales of "me li'l ol' dad". He moved his eyes to Catherine, who looked at him reproachfully and he dropped his gaze after betraying a flicker of emotion. He didn't look around at Hagrid again for the remainder of the feast and Catherine continued to enjoy herself with her housemates.

"Tom, there was no need for it," said Catherine sternly, talking to him as though he was a naughty child. This tone made him square his shoulders with indignation and he drew himself up to his fullest height. Catherine suddenly became aware of how much he had grown over the holidays and furthermore, his voice was a little deeper.

"Don't talk to me like that," he snapped. "What I find funny is none of your concern."

"It is if it's one of my friends," replied Catherine evenly. "Hagrid can't help what he looks like and he is a lovely boy."

"He's huge," sneered Tom. "He's like a troll trying to pass for a wizard."

"Stop it," glared Catherine, although still keeping her voice calm. "Let's say no more about it and just leave him alone."

Tom looked livid. In truth, it was the first time someone had stood their ground against him in weeks. He had grown so used to people doing his bidding without question that he had quite forgotten how stubborn Catherine could be. He decided, on balance to let this one pass. After all, she didn't need to see him taunting the blundering oaf. He nodded and Catherine beamed. She was so innocent and the contrast of her felt incredibly strange to him. After a pause, Catherine's face fell and she looked troubled.

"What is it?" asked Tom, feeling something that hinted at concern.

"It's just… my parents," mumbled Catherine, not looking at him and therefore missing his look of distaste.

"What about them?" he asked in a dead voice.

"They haven't written to me in over a week," she told him, with a slight frown.

"It's only the second week back," laughed Tom, feeling an odd sense of relief that he didn't quite understand. "Give them chance, they might be really busy."

"But it's not like them all," sighed Catherine anxiously. "It never takes them this long to write to me."

"Maybe you were such a pain in the holidays, they're enjoying the break," suggested Tom jokingly and was a little disappointed when Catherine didn't even crack a smile or playfully rebuke him. In fact, her worry begun to seep into him, as though it was contagious. "Stop fretting, Catherine. You parents actually like you; they'll be in touch soon."

However, he was wrong and it was not until Transfiguration later that week that Catherine found out why.

Whilst waving her wand over a mouse and attempting to transform it into a goblet, Armando Dippet knocked on the door, then opened it with a wizened and sorrowful expression.

"Professor, may I speak to you," he asked gravely. Dumbledore's sparkling blue eyes looked deeply into Dippet's for a moment, then his expression turned to that of matching sorrow and his eyes moved briefly to Catherine and back again.

"Of course, Headmaster," replied the Professor, his tone equally melancholy. The two men left the room and as the door swung shut, the class erupted into immediate conversation.

"What's happening?" asked Kate worriedly, looking concerned. "Professor Dippet has never interrupted any of our classes before."

"I'm not sure," answered Catherine, feeling a sinking feeling that she couldn't quite explain. In fact, when the two teachers re-entered the classroom, which was greeted by instantaneous silence, it didn't come as a huge shock when they both looked at her steadily. Something was wrong.

"Catherine," said Dumbledore gently. "Would you please come with me?"

Feeling the most awful sense of dread, she exchanged a look with Kate, Lommy, Llew, then finally Tom, before arising from her chair and following the teacher back outside the classroom.

"Would you like to come to my office?" asked Dippet kindly.

"What's happened?" Catherine asked urgently, the question rushing from her before she could stop it. The two men exchanged a glance.

"I'm truly sorry Catherine," murmured Dippet sadly. "But in the muggle world, as I'm sure you know, there is a war raging. However the, opposing side, as it were, launched a catastrophic attack on London and your parents were… caught in the… firing line."

"Are they okay?" demanded Catherine in a whisper, feeling sick.

"I'm sorry," he replied, shaking his head. "They were killed in the attack. It was an attack from the air, bombs, I believe." But Catherine had gone numb, feeling total disbelief. They were lying, they had to be; there was no way this could have happened.

"Lombard Switch's father sent us a letter to tell us of the events that occurred," Dippet told her gravely. "He managed to escape with his wife in time, but it was too late to save your parents. I believe he feels deeply guilty that he didn't get there in time.

"No," mumbled Catherine. "He shouldn't… not his fault… I…"

She didn't know what to say or do and the teachers could see this. Without warning, she spun on her heel and walked back into the classroom, in what could only be described as, as denial. She wouldn't accept it. It couldn't be true.

"Catherine," exclaimed Kate. "What's happened?"

She didn't answer. Saying it aloud made it real. Dumbledore approached her with a gentle expression.

"You don't need to remain here for the rest of the lesson," he said quietly. "You need time to come to terms with-"

"No," she muttered. "I don't want to go… and…" What? Grieve? But she couldn't feel anything at all, how would she grieve if she was numb? How could she come to terms with something she didn't believe? He tried to persuade her to go, but she refused, stirring everyone's curiosity and he continued with the lesson, watching her often. Once the lesson was over, Catherine told her friends to go ahead. Until that point, she hadn't moved and her numb thoughts had moved sluggishly around her head.

"No," said Tom firmly. "I am going nowhere. What happened to you?"

"Tom," murmured Dumbledore. "Leave her be, she's had a shock."

"What have you done to her?" he almost growled. "She was perfectly fine before you two dripped poison in her ear. Now look at her!"

"I…" Catherine struggled to speak and Tom looked around immediately to listen to whatever she had to say. "They're gone."

"Who?" he asked desperately. She threw a pleading look at Dumbledore.

"Catherine's parents have been killed in an attack on the country, led by Hitler," he explained quietly. Tom gaped. Catherine shuddered at how real and cutting the words were, as though it was it was a knife that was sinking in to her chest. She cringed away from this reality, but there was no stopping it. She realised it was true. They were gone, gone. Never coming back.

"Oh," was all he could manage, then he looked around at Catherine feeling lost and for the first time in his life completely powerless. Her pain was evident across her face, yet he could not relate to it, as he had never formed a bond with either of his parents.

So Catherine was orphaned, just as he was. It gave him an oddly conflicting feeling. She had another thing in common with him and she was the first person he liked having similarities to, however, she was shocked, horrified… traumatised even by the event. He had never seen anyone look so vulnerable and wanted to shield her from the two men who had brought her grief.

"Leave us," ordered Tom darkly. "You've done enough damage for the day."

"I think it would be irresponsible of me to…"

"What? Leave her with me?" he challenged furiously.

"She is in a very fragile state…"

"Oh and you think I would take advantage of that?" he growled. He was sure by something in the teacher's expression that this was the case. "You speak of house unity and love, but you never act on it, do you? You hypocrite."

"You're upset," allowed Dumbledore. "I see that. However, that is not an appropriate way to speak to a teacher and your raging is the last thing Miss Mills needs."

"It's Catherine," hissed Tom. "And I can take it from here." His voice became softer. "Let's get you out of here."

She nodded, got up and followed Tom from the room, Dumbledore looking on helplessly. Just before the door swung shut, Tom shot him a half triumphant half detesting expression and swiftly followed Catherine.

She was stood a few metres away from the door, with her back to him and her breathing seemed a little irregular.

"Catherine?" he said softly, unsure of what to do. Very slowly and cautiously, he approached Catherine and moved a pale hand towards her. A strange mixture of emotions jumbled within him as his hand became closer to her and after a seconds hesitation, he placed it on her shoulder and a tingling sensation began in his fingertips. This contact, for Tom, was new and very strange.

Catherine had completely frozen in something she assumed was a second wave of shock. Even through her numb disbelief and pain, she had been surprised by Tom's touch, being as physical contact wasn't his style and whenever it had occurred between them, he had always seemed a little uncomfortable and never administered it himself. The shock soon died, however and Catherine suddenly wanted to be alone, in case she broke down, something which she was sure was due any time now. She moved slowly from under Tom's hand.

"I'm sorry, Tom," she whispered. "I need... some time to..." Then she hurried away in the direction of Gryffindor tower, not looking around once, in case she gave away her despair.

Tom looked on after her, his hand still outstretched and feeling rather dejected. Had he done something wrong? He remembered Catherine's original concerns about no contact from her parents and wondered bitterly if she might have remembered his comments and be angry with him.

He had never been able to understand affection and at a time when he believed someone may actually need it, they weren't interested. How was he to ever comprehend the workings of people's minds when even they couldn't decide what they wanted for themselves? He sighed heavily and after adjusting his school bag on his shoulder, began to walk towards his next class.

Catherine just managed to hold it together until she reached the portrait hall and as she opened her mouth to say the password, a sob broke free and the painted lady watched helplessly as she struggled to regain control.

"I know I shouldn't," cried the Fat Lady. "But I heard about what happened and I know you're a Gryffindor, so…" and she swung open to allow Catherine's entry. She was incredibly grateful, as she had been unable to form any words through her shaky sobs let alone a tongue-twisting password and hurried through the hole, to be greeted by many concerned faces.

"Catherine!" called Llew. "What happened?"

She tried to get past him, because she wanted to be alone, but he didn't realise this and nor did the bustling group of people who all wanted to know what was wrong.

"Give her some space," called a clear voice and everyone looked at him. It was Lommy and his expression was one of deep sadness. He pushed through the now silent crowd, reached Catherine and pulled her into a hug, but while also moving her away from the gathering. He guided her towards the stairs to the girl's dormitory and she valiantly tried to control the tears with everyone watching. He pulled her round to face him and looked at her tenderly. "Do you want me to tell them what's happened, while you get a little peace?" he whispered sadly. Of course he knew, she realised; his dad had been there when it happened, when her parents... She nodded, deciding they would find out anyway and that she didn't want to have to be the one to tell them. Then, she turned quickly, rushed up the staircase and collapsed onto her bed, allowing any emotion she had held back to flow freely. It was the worst she had ever felt in her whole life.