Chapter 11
Amaryllis spent the next two weeks following her misadventure in Diagon Alley abed. Her father and Albus had easily repaired the hairline fractures to her ribs by giving her a dose of Skelegro and then putting her in a magical sleep so she wouldn't have to suffer through the painful regrowing process. Her innate healing ability as a dryad helped the process along, along with clearing up her minor scrapes and bruises, and she was deemed physically recovered by morning.
However, following the incident, she finally hit one of her periods of weakness. They weren't sure if the incident had triggered it, or the process of healing, or if it was due to happen on its own. Albus spent a great deal of time hovering in her bedroom, sensing out her magic, taking notes. Occasionally he'd perform some sort of diagnostic magic, slowly letting his glowing wand scan over her as he kept his eyes closed and seemed to be viewing information on the insides of his eyelids.
By the end of that week, Albus had to confess that, at this time, he was stumped as to the trigger of her illness. She had a great deal of latent magic, more than the last time he had scanned her, but he couldn't spot any buildups or blockages of magic within her, causing damage to her body. He couldn't find signs of her somehow unintentionally directing her own magic into a sort of rudimentary curse on herself to cause harm.
He could only note that her magic had increased a bit in the last few weeks, and that it felt more wild than most witches' and wizards' magic. That dismantled one of his theories that coincided with Lily's main theory outside the obvious problem- that her weak spells were possibly caused by a sudden drop in her magic. It seemed perhaps the opposite was true. Which, after much discussion with her father and with what was collectively known about nymphs, they were now theorizing that perhaps the sheer volume of magic coursing through her might be the problem, that her young body couldn't properly adjust to it. Which, as nymphs usually attached themselves to trees that allowed them not only a safe haven, but a conduit to draw in or ground power, might actually make sense.
They weren't sure how much magic nymphs usually wielded, but Albus could tell that Amaryllis had a great deal more magic within her than her aunt. Which, according to nymphs, was because she was the first daughter of a first daughter, so forth and so on back to the first groups of nymphs born of the mythical Gaia, otherwise know as Mother Earth. According to their traditions, each matriarch (who they referred to as 'Maha',) was meant to guard a section of their ancestral mother, and the power to do so was passed on through the generations to the eldest daughters. They were usually capable of having multiple daughters, who would further spread out their influence and aid in protecting wild areas, but those daughters did not have nearly as much power as the Maha of each family line. Over the millennia, thanks to human expansion, several wildlands had been decimated, and some lines of nymphs had been entirely wiped out.
According to Amaryllis, there were 9 remaining Maha, including herself, out of what was initially dozens of lines. There was one in Ireland, whom Albus was attempting (unsuccessfully, for the moment,) to make contact with, via instructions given by Lily. There was one in North America, one in South America, two in Africa, one in Russia, one in Tibet and one on a remote island in the Pacific Ocean. Without being able to observe another Maha, the wizards had little to gauge Amaryllis by in regards to normal nymph power level, and even less guidance on the matter. She could be perfectly normal in power level, and would be experiencing no trouble if she could only make her connection to nature.
That left them with the critical question of how to make the half-blood connect with such a conduit as her sacred trees.
Did the specific location of the tree make a difference, especially in her case? Maybe she wasn't meant to connect to the trees in Italy, but instead one from her father's land? He was by birth English and Spanish, (even though he had only visited Spain a handful of times in his youth,) so perhaps they'd need start taking her on tours of isolated woods around England and Spain to see if she felt any pulls to merge with one.
Was it a matter of, because she was a Maha, it wasn't so much where the tree was located, but that it was old enough or powerful enough to handle her magical power? Her wizarding side had allowed her to pair with a Rowan wand, so perhaps they should seek out ancient Rowan trees for her to try attuning with?
Or perhaps with her wizarding roots, they would in fact need to teach her proper magical techniques and need incorporate that into her merging. Would she be able to transfigure herself to be a part of the tree? Perhaps potions to expand energy or shift form? A charm to connect with nature's patterns and influence it? Some complex ritual they'd need develop specifically for her unique circumstance that involved an artifact or two that might catalyze her merging?
There were many theories, and theories spinning off those theories, but not much chance yet to prove or disprove them, to narrow down the possibilities.
Amaryllis didn't know any proper magic yet to see if expending her magic some might help her feel better, but they did try levitating her outside after a 3rd day of her illness had passed and worry for her had grown. She was dreadfully pale, her veins visible beneath her skin, and she felt alternatingly hot or icy to the touch. Her muscles were beset with faint tremors that grew noticeable as her illness lingered and she could barely lift her head that 4th morning to take a sip of water.
While she had enjoyed being brought outside and laid in a hastily constructed bower, murmuring she felt less confined now, it hadn't seemed to actually help. They had hoped that perhaps, even if she didn't have a tree to connect to, being among nature would provide a lesser relief. Zephyr and the house elves kept watch over the sick nymph as the two older wizards excused themselves to the library to consult their books for any clues to help.
And, what they didn't say to Amaryllis, allow Armando the chance to breakdown without his daughter seeing. The old wizard was quite close to a full break in mental capacity with the situation weighing on him. He had had to speak with the aurors when they showed up to confirm the ID of Amaryllis' attackers. Then relatives of all branches of his family had been trying to send a great many owls, demanding to know why he hadn't told any of them about having a daughter, why they had had to find out the same as anyone else, if he was going to be having a proper debut of the young witch to meet family before the school year started, or (if not) could they set a day for visiting with the new family member, and was she alright after the scuffle at Diagon Alley with the Mulciber wretches and their friends?
Albus had done what he could, sending off consolatory letters to the relatives under Armando's name, begging for patience as there was much to tell and Armando was still adjusting to a life of full time fatherhood, and that they were trying to keep his daughter from being overwhelmed, but yes, at some point, they'd be overjoyed to arrange all the proper meetings and perhaps a welcoming party.
But with Amaryllis' sudden shift in health, after seeming like a perfectly healthy young witch, Armando was far too worried to care about the niceties of societal mixing and family politics. And that everything they tried seemed to have no effect only made him feel worse.
As he said between suppressed sobs and furious bursts of magic leaking out, torching books that Albus had to hastily extinguish, he hadn't just discovered he had a daughter to lose her so soon. There absolutely had to be something they could do for her. It was just a matter of finding the right method. But there had to be something. Albus did his best to calm Armando, agreeing that yes, they should be able to find something to alleviate her symptoms until they could find a cure for the illness itself. Armando eventually collapsed onto a chair, and cried until he felt numb inside and could concentrate again.
It was also during this outburst, when Armando's guilt for leaving Amaryllis to wander on her own was at a peak, that he made passing mention of the name of the boy that had been there to rescue his daughter when he had been lax in his parental duties. While Albus was verbally trying to reassure his friend that he was not a horrible father for leaving Amaryllis in the relative safety of the Market, and that he was actually quite proud that the centuries old wizard had attempted such a modern outlook with his pre-teen daughter, Albus's inner thoughts were quite elsewhere.
He initially thought he had misheard Armando when he said that Tom Marvolo Riddle, of all children, had been the hero of the moment, fending off three attackers to protect Amaryllis. From what he had heard from the orphanage's Matron, young Riddle was an anti-social, secretive child with a propensity for bullying bullies and unexplained acts of cruelty to some of the other children who just happened to cross him in some way. The child had stolen from some of those children and used innate wandless magic to cause people harm. Not to mention, he was a parselmouth and, while Albus didn't wish to be prejudiced, that was almost exclusively tied to dark wizards with little care for other humans, as they took on with time many characteristics of their favored animal.
So how did such a child manage to do a complete turnaround in so short of a time? Was it possible the matron, or perhaps himself, had misjudged the child a bit too harshly? After some thought on the matter, during free moments over the next few days and after getting Armando to tell him further details of the incident, Albus was willing to cautiously think that perhaps that might just be the case. An orphanage, especially the likes of which young Riddle was growing up in, wasn't a nurturing environment for children. Perhaps the boy was just poorly coping with his surroundings, with being around muggles who were often cruel to anyone different, (as Albus knew better than most could be the case from his own experiences as a youth,) and his past actions were misguided retaliation for the harm that had been caused to him.
Having learned about the magical community, it might have inspired some sort of feeling of acceptance, of being less of an outsider. Perhaps such a recognition of sameness was causing the boy to take his elder's initial cautions to heart and he was trying to start off his wizarding life on the right foot? Albus wasn't naïve enough to think that the child was 100% reformed in such a short time, but perhaps he was on his way with genuine intent.
Otherwise, how else would one explain the child acting completely contradictory to what he previously seemed, risking his own wellbeing in the face of more skilled opponents to rescue a complete stranger in an alley? Staying with her and risking himself further until help could arrive? He had even been completely honest about his actions, instead of trying to hide them like he had when Albus had first visited with him.
It was a rather remarkable change to hear about, one that left Albus curious and puzzled. As much as he would like to follow up on it, though, they had more pressing matters. The boy had been safely escorted back to his orphanage and he'd be able to judge how the child was shaping up once school was in session. For now, the daughter of one of his few true friends needed his attention and aid, and he was determined to help to his full capacity. Their magical community was so small as it was, they couldn't afford to lose any more young witches to magic gone out of control.
After three more days of tending Amaryllis and research, it was the elves who thought to suggest having the wizards shield the estate with their magic so as not to draw attention, and then letting Amaryllis use her nymph magic on the property. Maybe that could provide a sufficient outlet to burn off some magic, and if the excess mixed magic itself was indeed part of the problem, they'd see results, no matter how she released the energy.
Albus and Armando proceeded to place a great many charms and jinxes around the property to ward off potential unwanted visitors and contain magic, then asked Amaryllis if she could concentrate enough to influence the family's woods any. She was not entirely coherent by then, but some part of her mind understood that her sire was giving her permission to access her innate gifts and she could play with the plants as she liked.
It started off with small things. She shakily pulled a hand from the blanket she was wrapped in and let it drop to the grass beneath her. Fingers entwining in the leafy blades, she reached out tentatively to sense the flow of their energy. It was easy enough to attune to, grass was a simple organism. With a bit of prodding and expenditure of magic, the grass beneath her hand became fuller, softer, more lush. The effect spread out in a slow pulse around her, until the nymph was in a patch of thick green meadow almost a hundred meters long.
Armando watched the transformation with a mixture of worry that she was expending too much energy, and awe at the simple beauty his daughter could create with but a thought and push.
Albus watched with pleased curiosity to the natural wonder of the girl doing what dryads did, something few humans were privileged to witness, and a great deal more clinical detachment. He was carefully monitoring her energy level and patterns, ready to break her out of her self-inflicted trance if there were any sudden spikes or drops in her energy, if there was any signs of harm being done.
After her minor communion with the grass, though, the exhausted girl fell asleep. When she woke a few hours later, she was slightly more coherent and, after the elves had fetched them from their discussions, the wizards explained what they were testing and wanted her to do. Amaryllis managed to give a tired nod and, lifting a hand and giving vague flicks of her fingers, vines that had been previously wrapped around a nearby oak tree and been used by the wizards in the hastily transfigured bower started creeping towards the nymph and she spent the next half hour directing them to make a more intricate shady canopy for her where she laid. That done, she murmured she was tired again and drifted back to sleep.
Albus had been monitoring her again and told Armando that the girl may be physically tiring herself out with the exercises of her power while ill, but it was slowly syphoning off her magic. And that may be a good thing, as already her temperature was beginning to stabilize and spike less one way or the other.
The second week spent with careful exercises saw Amaryllis slowly but steadily feeling better, and Armando's estate slowly but steadily seeing a peak of verdant beauty it had never before known. The entirety of the grounds was covered in lush grass and artfully dispersed dappling of flowers that seemed to grow from nowhere, old trees that had stopped flowering or fruiting seemed revived and young again. New bushes and plants to attract birds and butterflies and bees sprouted up everywhere she thought there should be one. She had even gotten bored enough, while waiting to be able to walk entirely on her own again, that she spent two whole days growing an intricate hedge maze from a design one of the elves found in a book.
And it seemingly proved their newest hypothesis. Lily might have erred in trying to keep Amaryllis from exerting herself in all but emergency situations, incidentally causing more damage by trying to prevent it.
It might be a tricky, delicate balancing act, but until they could get her to merge with a tree properly, they might be able to burn off some of her natural energy with such exercises and doing so might affect her health for the positive in the long term. As she learned proper wizard magic, she'd be able to burn off larger amounts of her magical stores in shorter amounts of time. Which was critically important for her to learn how to do, if they were correct, because magical reserves grew for both wizards and nymphs as they grew older, so there'd be more for Amaryllis to try coping with as she aged into her teen years.
Of course, that begged the question of how they were going to give her enough outlets to expend her energy in nymph ways, without drawing the attention of others, until she could properly expend magic in wizard ways and then eventually make her arboreal connection.
And they still weren't sure of what effect they'd see on Amaryllis' health if she burned too much energy by accident, how they'd transfuse outside energy to her to shore up her health. They would deal with that if and when the occasion arose, and make what hypothesis and preparations they could in the meantime to hopefully be ready.
For now, though, she seemed back to her old self, to everyone's relief.
But they had less than two weeks left until the start of the school year to figure out what their plan was. And Armando was past due to return to Hogwarts to oversee the final preparations for students arriving, though Albus and the other professors were kindly shouldering as many of those responsibilities as they could, feeling sympathetic to the old Headmaster's plight of new fatherhood and the scare in Diagon Alley with his daughter being attacked.
And he still needed to attend to family matters, as the flow of owls had gotten, if anything, heavier over the last few weeks and people felt more slighted by his aloof responses. He spoke with Amaryllis on the matter and she expressed tentative interest in meeting her extended wizarding family, but asked for more time adjusting to her new circumstances and learning to be a proper witch before being questioned in depth by people who'd feel they had the right to ask for more details. Armando was happy to oblige the request and told her they'd perhaps arrange for a family party for the winter holidays, but they could both use the extra few months to rest themselves and finish fleshing out the details of her fake history before coming to live with him.
Ten days before the start of term, cutting it much closer than professionally comfortable, Armando had them leave for Hogwarts via the Floo network that went directly to his office. Being a Headmaster had a few perks, including avoiding a long train ride or having to fly by broom. He used to enjoy a good fly, but he was really getting too old for such means of travel. He had to cast a number of charms to keep from getting too cold and too achey, and now he sometimes suffered from vertigo and was secretly terrified he'd fall from his broom stick. No. If he couldn't apparate or Floo, it likely wasn't worth the travel.
As she was feeling better, Amaryllis was introduced to her professors at Hogwarts that were already present at the school, and the dubious caretaker, Mr Pringle. Albus was not present, taking a short break to finish some private matters before returning to the school. There was a Professor Horace Slughorn to meet, a rotund, glib man in his early middle ages that nearly rushed to be the first to great them and meet the mystery daughter of their headmaster. Amaryllis wasn't certain how she felt about him from their first impression, except to think that she'd need to be especially careful around him because he hardly seemed the type to be able to keep secrets. Professor Galatea Merrythought was the next she met, an iron-grey haired elderly witch with sharp eyes and a serious manner that belied her advanced age. She was polite in her welcome, but more interested in mentioning to Armando that they had need to speak on a few forms that needed to be signed so she could have imported some subjects for the sixth years' class.
Professor Herbert Beery, the herbology teacher, was a cheerful man wearing brown robes to hide the dirt from his work and was most interested to hear from Armando that the youngest Dippet had a great love of plants and was looking forward to learning new things in his class. They were interrupted on the subject of growing the treacherous mandrake plants by Professor Silvanus Kettleburn , the dark haired handsome Care of Magical Creatures professor. Amaryllis was immediately in mind of a pirate, as the man had a wooden leg and dressed in bright colors, with a boisterous and carefree attitude. Professor Kettleburn, upon overhearing the word "mandrakes", wanted to know just when the seedlings would be ready, as he needed a batch to lure the Dugbogs from the swamp just inside the Forbidden Forest, so he could relocate them further from potentially wandering students. An argument ensued between the two on just how old the mandrakes needed to be before they'd make adequate bait, and Amaryllis quietly backed away from the bickering wizards.
She accidentally backed into Madame Hooch, a young woman with dark hair and hawkish eyes who taught flying to the first years. The professor, who was just starting her 3rd year at the school, laughed off Amaryllis' apologies and said she sincerely hoped she'd see more attention of surroundings during class, or they'd be having more than a few incidents. Amaryllis felt thoroughly embarrassed and bashfully promised to try to pay more attention to where she was walking. Inwardly, the thought of flying terrified her. She was a nymph, and nymphs' feet belonged on the ground, communing with Terra. Birds, like Zephyr, belonged in the air and she didn't begrudge him his domain or wish to share it.
Her father intercepted her at that point, wanting to introduce her to Professors Aurora Sinistra and Filius Flitwick, both of whom were starting their first years as Hogwarts professors, Astronomy and Charms respectively. Professor Sinistra was a tall, lean, dark woman from Africa who spoke with an accent that Amaryllis found to be most enchanting, though the woman seemed to be sparse with her words because she was still mastering English, being more fluent in her native languages and French. Professor Flitwick seemed to be Professor Sinistra's exact opposite in every way. He was incredibly short, only coming up to the nymph's shoulders, fair skinned and tawny haired, stoutly built and full of excited energy to be present, making up for his quieter counterpart.
Amaryllis was informed that Professor Septima Vector wasn't present yet, but she would be teaching Arthimancy, which Amaryllis wouldn't be able to sign up for until her 3rd year. Professor Bins, the History teacher, was a ghost who rarely left his quarters for anything except classes. Amaryllis wasn't sure how a ghost would go about teaching classes, but she supposed she'd learn soon enough. The Divination professor, Cassandra Vablatsky, was held up at an international conference for oracles in Greece and would be arriving at the castle a few days before the start of term. The Ancient Runes and Ancient Studies professor, Yuri Blishen, was finishing some work in Egypt and would be arriving just a day before the start of term.
After that, she was given a short tour of the castle and shown to a guest room in the Headmaster's Tower, where she'd be allowed to sleep until the start of the school year and she was properly sorted into her house. Until then, she had permission to roam the castle as she liked, barring a few restricted areas, and her father wanted to be informed if she was going outside so he'd know where to find her.
Given the moving staircases, the trick stairs, the fake doors, and various ghosts roaming the deserted halls, Amaryllis said she'd prefer to have a guide when leaving the safety of the Headmaster's Tower, just until she knew her way around better. Her father nodded his understanding and after lunch he led her to one of the courtyards so she could enjoy some time outdoors until dinner.
The next several days were spent with Amaryllis learning what she could of the castle so she wouldn't get lost, spending time outside, reading some of her school books while outside, practicing some minor charms with her puzzle boxes to try getting the rudiments of wizard magic learned, and bugging her father about when she'd be allowed in the forest because she still had need to meet the local nymph within and speak with the Scot tribe of centaurs. Her father promised her that they would make proper introductions just as soon as they could, but he really needed to catch up on his duties as Headmaster first.
Amaryllis found her way into the kitchens one evening and met the castle's house elf population. They could instantly tell she was a nymph, even had they not been warned by her father, but had also already been sworn to secrecy. They let her visit with them and plied her with many confections until she felt she'd explode from the amount she had eaten. Besides them, though, her only frequent companion was Zephyr, as the adults were all very busy preparing for the start of school.
The half-blood found herself feeling lonely, and subsequently anxious for the start of school year so she could visit the forest. And, just maybe, make a few friends among the young magic folk that would be her peers at the school.
That thought brought to mind the brave boy she had met at Diagon Alley, Tom. He was quite unlike the ruffians she had been chased by. For one thing, the magic that radiated from him was palpable. Her only excuse for not noticing his presence sooner in the alley was her obvious distraction with being chased and the ambient magic of the shops and their contents around them, but the boy was undoubtedly blessed with a wellspring of magic at his command. One in which he already had in tight control, and made use of with stunning precision to fight off those other boys.
It was downright impressive, if she was to be honest when thinking back on the event. He seemed very serious, and a bit cynical, but he had been kind enough, with a brusque sort of compassion. His mannerisms in some ways reminded her of some of the centaurs back home- fierce and proud, sarcastic yet perceptive, solitary yet steadfast guardians of those they deemed worthy of protecting. For all the strain that event had placed on her, and despite the fact he wasn't even a full year older than herself, she had actually felt safe with him watching over her while they waited for her father to arrive.
She had also caught his mention of being from an orphanage to her father and the auror. She didn't know the word "orphanage", but she did know "orphan" and could make the logical guess it was a place for orphans to go. He didn't have parents, and her mother had died and she grew up without her sire. She could well guess his self-reliant and brusque nature may very well come from having to look after himself. She knew how that could be. And they were both starting Hogwarts in the same year, at least knowing one another beforehand. She was hoping perhaps he didn't find her to bothersome and he might turn out to be someone she could consider a friend for the duration of her time among magic folks. For all he chastised her, he hadn't seemed to mind making acquaintance with her and said he'd see her around.
The faint blush on her cheeks at the thought of the snake-speaking wizard was swiftly faded, though, by the stray thought of the ruffians. Apparently successful legal repercussions had been brought against them for their actions that day, but part of the plea bargaining for the admittance of guilt meant they'd still be attending school. She was not looking forward to seeing them around the castle and was more than a little concerned that they might try to do something against her for the trouble they were in for their earlier actions. Her father had tried to assure her that the professors would be keeping a close eye on things, but as she knew from her explorations, this castle was massive and the teachers couldn't possibly see everything that took place.
So, it was with mixed feelings and wary hope that Amaryllis found herself eventually greeting the first day of the school's opening. Waking up late, for the last time this summer, she met her father and a newly returned Albus for a private breakfast. They spent the morning discussing their plans to meet with the centaurs the next weekend, and possible projects she could set for herself in the Forbidden Forest in the evenings to burn off her magic reserves, provided she had the safe escort of one of the two wizards. The Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster had need of readying themselves for receiving students, so they parted ways for the time being, promising Amaryllis someone would be sent to lead her down to the Great Hall and mingle with her peers for the Sorting Ceremony and welcoming feast.
Amaryllis filled the afternoon mentally replaying what was and was not okay to say around magic-folk (including not to call them magic-folk), chatting with Zephyr while she still had the time and freedom to do so, and settling on an outfit to wear for her first meetings with her classmates, as humans cared so very much about such trappings.
As evening fell, lights were magically lit around the castle, and she could see from her window the great lake in which the boats were gathering at on the other side, with Professor Kettleburn guiding them (which only increased the pirate image to her mind when she heard who was sent to escort the first years.)
Her father ended up having Professor Beery come fetch her when the time was right, which she took as a kindness. She had spoken with the herbology professor a bit more than the other professors, as his trips between greenhouses and general caretaking of the grounds' flora meant that they had run into one another on more than a few occasions while she spent her time wandering outside to keep herself feeling some small measure of grounded to nature. He really did know a great deal about his vocation, and she always learned something new from their chats about the wizarding perspective of plant keeping. Including the answer to her question about why her class was called "Herbology" and not "Herbalism". Apparently, wizards called mundane plant keeping herbalism, but the study of magical plants or mundane plants that'd be raised for magical purposes was called herbology to differentiate the two practices.
Soon enough, sooner than she was honestly ready for, they had made it down the many flights of stairs towards the Entrance Hall. To avoid the older students for the moment, Professor Beery led her through a small side corridor that would take them to the annex first years were gathered in. They paused in front of the hidden door, where she could hear many young voices on the other side, so she could have a moment to collect herself before slipping in with the other students. Thanking Professor Beery for the assistance, he opened the door just wide enough for her to slip through, and she found herself at the back of the group gathered.
A few students noticed her attempt at a discrete entrance, but besides some confused or curious glances, they quickly turned their attention back to the speech Professor Dumbledore was giving at the head of the hall. Professor Dumbledore caught her eye for a moment, sparing an encouraging wink for her without pausing in his speech, in fact becoming a bit more animated for a few seconds to guaranty he had the students' full attention trained back on him so a fuss wouldn't be made.
Amaryllis took a deep breath, thankful for the smooth integration, and then glanced around the crowd. Almost as though she could feel the gaze, her eyes were drawn like a magnetic pull to the dark gaze of the familiar face she was seeking, who was the only other person not paying attention to Professor Dumbledore's speech. She couldn't help it, she broke into a pleased grin when she saw Tom standing off to the side of the crowd on the other side of the hall. She saw a small smirk pull at his lips and he gave her a brief nod. Taking that as invitation, feeling like perhaps he had been waiting for her, she deftly slipped around the twenty or so students between them so she could greet him. As she got closer, she noticed a small scratch along his jaw. It was fresh, the blood crusting along the wound and at the edge of his shirt collar was still a dark, vibrant red; and there was some mild bruising just forming around the injury.
Had he gotten into another fight already?! And who had managed to injure him?! Just what happened?!
Apparently her gaze showed her concern, because Tom absently pulled his collar up a bit as she came to stand next to him, hiding the injury from sight. Smirk still playing at his lips, he said in a whisper, "Evening, Amaryllis. How was the rest of your summer?"
She glanced up at him, and he seemed entirely unfazed, like nothing could be the matter. "Tom, are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
Tom shushed her under his breath, as her voice wasn't quite a whisper. After a glance around to make sure no one had noticed, he nodded, smirk widening ever so slightly and now taking on a hint of confidence. "Quite alright, I promise."
"What happened?" Amaryllis asked, minding her volume.
"Nothing I couldn't handle or you should worry yourself over," Tom whispered back, finally looking down to meet her gaze.
Amaryllis felt barely any relief at his easy replies. "What happened?" she repeated.
Tom rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the front of the crowd. Still, after a few seconds, he said grudgingly, lips barely moving, "I'm sure you'll notice a lack of thief in the crowd?" Amaryllis looked around and indeed could not spot the boy who had robbed her. To her questioning gaze, Tom simply muttered, "Seems our friends from the alley weren't convinced I won our duel fair and square because I had the advantage of surprise. I proved them quite wrong. They're fine, but Madam Parkinson will need some time to reverse the jinxes I left them with."
Amaryllis glanced up at the boy in shocked amusement. "Is that even allowed? What if that gets you in trouble?"
Tom shrugged, attention still forward. "The Mulciber gang wasn't willing to say who jinxed them, not after what happened before. They claimed they were rough housing among themselves and got carried away. Can't get in trouble if they don't know or can't prove it was you. I figured they'd say something like that, and it was worth the risk now to get them to leave us alone for the rest of the year."
Amaryllis had to suppress a giggle at his now mischievous and prideful tone. He really was something else, wasn't he? And she didn't miss his usage of the word "us". Apparently he was of the same thought she had been since their meeting- that they had a potential for friendship and solidarity. "What'd you do to him?"
Tom glanced back down to her, then winked and nodded ahead to the moving crowd so she'd pay attention to the rest of the group. "Time to get sorted. I'll tell you after the ceremony."
Amaryllis nodded and filed in front of him at his courteous gesture to go before him. Perhaps this year at Hogwarts wouldn't be so hard to endure after all, if she had a friend like Tom to pass time with and help her cope with these magic folk.
.
.
.
Tom had spent August restless, wanting school to start and resenting his prison of an orphanage more than he could remember ever having resented it. If that fight hadn't broken out, he would have had a few more weeks among his wizarding peers, but instead he was stuck with these muggles. The other children could tell he was in a foul mood and gave him a wide berth. That placated his anger only in the slightest ways. He was able to read through the rest of his books, and picked out a few more spells that he thought he'd likely be able to cast with a bit of practice.
He had also finished up the dueling book Auror Wilkins gave him, finding it useful if he kept in mind the auror's words about how dueling tactics could be used in even non-traditional settings. And as Wilkins had told him, there was some basic spells useful in duels listed at the back, complete with diagrams to show proper casting. They looked more advanced than spells he had previously learned, but he practiced the wand movements for a few of the easier jinxes and shields in the evening, then practiced the incantations to get used to saying them, and some part of his brain was feeling confident that if he combined the two, he'd be able to cast the spells.
When he was forced to go outside and take a break from his studies, Tom tried to find as many snakes as he could, to question them on what a "mistress" was to them. Unfortunately, the urban dwelling snakes had no idea, saying it must have been something to do with the vipers and their homelands, perhaps their term for a female parselmouth. Tom was frustrated with that answer, especially because he knew that the witch he had met spoke to more than just snakes, so he had a feeling the answer was more than regional differences in snake-speak. He'd have to wait until school started and then see if perhaps he could convince Amaryllis to tell him how she could speak to birds as well.
September 1st eventually came, much to Tom's relief. Mrs. Cole also seemed to be relieved to be rid of him, making sure he was up earlier than needed so they could get to the train station with plenty of time to spare. Upon arrival, he told her he didn't need help getting his things to the platform and she willingly left him to his business. Exerting a bit of mental influence to levitate the weight of his trunk a tiny fraction, not enough to be noticeable but enough to make it easy to maneuver, he made his way to the open area between platforms 9 and 10.
He kept in mind Professor Dumbledore's instructions to access 9 ¾, and spotted one wizarding family disappear through the magical gateway. Seemed easy enough.
Tom tightened his grip on his trunk and strolled through the portal, refusing to show any nervousness about crossing this important threshold to his wizarding future. He came out onto a platform just starting to fill with wizards and witches and their children. He glanced around and didn't see any young familiar faces, friendly or unfriendly. He wasn't expecting to see Amaryllis here; her father had told Wilkins they were going to Hogwarts weeks before start of school so he could dive into work. However, he did want to keep an eye out for the Mulciber cousins and their friends, just in case they were wanting to start another round of trouble. No sign of them yet, but as he made his way towards the gleaming, red and gold Hogwarts Express steam engine, he did see Aurors Wilkins and Blishwick off to one side, keeping an eye on the platform to make sure everyone boarded without problems.
Wilkins noticed him and gave a small wave and nod. Tom gave his trademark charming smile and made a short detour to say hello and thank him for use of the book.
"Hello, Tom," Auror Wilkins said in good humor once the boy was in easy hearing range. "Make it through the rest of summer alright?"
Tom nodded and said, "Yes, sir, I did, but I'm very happy to be here today. I just wanted to thank you again for the book, I finished reading it this summer and I think it will be very useful come time for Dueling Club."
That brought a smile to Wilkins' face and he asked, "Finished it already? " He chuckled, "Suppose I shouldn't be surprised with a bright lad like you. You saved the practicing for Hogwarts, though, correct?"
Tom nodded, and said as innocently as he could, "Of course, sir. You and Headmaster Dippet made it clear there was to be no magic outside Hogwarts again."
Auror Wilkins let out a hardy laugh at that, and gave Tom a knowing look. "I'd wager you didn't mind studying the spells in so far as you could without actually casting them, though, didn't you?"
Tom let a guilty smile creep across his face, "I might've looked them over, but only because I did take to heart the warning of the possibility of delinquents in hallways causing trouble."
Wilkins gave him a wink. "Good lad." He glanced to his partner, who was watching them with a faintly amused expression. "I'm telling you, Blishwick, we'll need keep an eye on his progress. I think this one's going to be joining us someday."
Blishwick gave a small nod. "That's possible, if he keeps up the hard work and stays out of trouble."
Tom gave another winning smile at the votes of confidence, and it was partly fueled by genuine pride at the confidence Wilkins spoke with. "I don't want any trouble, sir. As long as people let me get along to my studies in peace, there won't be any."
Wilkins nodded and said with a hint of concerned warning, "I believe you, son. Keep an eye out, though. We were able to get the guilty pleas from the boys, but part of them admitting guilt and their parents agreeing to pay some substantial fines for that concession was that they'd be allowed to continue their schooling, instead of being expelled as they could've been. I'm sure their fathers let them have it once they were healed up from their initial injuries, so they'll be wanting to take their frustrations out somewhere. Don't make yourself an easy target. You are allowed to defend yourself if they fire off the first combative spell and school officially starts the moment you step on the train."
Tom said seriously, "I'll keep aware, sir. I promise. And I won't be the one to instigate a conflict." Inwardly, he realized and was thankful Wilkins was giving him the heads-up on how the case had turned out, and confirming for him that while he should behave, it was okay to trounce the bullies if they came after him.
Wilkins gave a nod, then gestured towards the train. "Well then, about time you get yourself a cabin to relax in for the trip. It's some hours to get to Hogwarts and you don't want to be scrabbling for a cramped spot at the last minute."
"Thank you, sir, I'll do that," Tom said agreeably. He looked to the other Auror, then Wilkins, saying, "I hope you both have a quiet day."
Blishwick nodded and said, "Thank you, young Tom. Have a good school year."
"Take care, Tom," Wilkins said, giving a final smile.
Tom departed for the train, noticing that a few people were giving curious glances between him and the aurors, obviously wondering who the lone child was and how he knew the aurors. He kept his attention forward, though, and boarded the train with as much nonchalance as he could manage. He found an empty cabin about a third of the way from the back of the train, on the side away from the platform. He closed and locked the door behind him, lowered the screen on the window, and assured of privacy he swiftly changed into his school outfit.
Looking down at his grey, orphanage outfit, Tom grimaced. It looked like something a prisoner or mental patient should wear. They really didn't try to inspire the kids at Wool's any. His gaze went over his school robes and under garments, and a smirk formed. The other students could stay in their state-sponsored cells of drudgery and conformity. He had found a way out of that hell hole, and he was going to stay free of it one way or other.
In a pique of rebellious thought, not caring how he'd have to explain the loss come summer, Tom summoned by sheer will a bluebell flame and tossed the drab garments in. His flame wrapped around the clothing and they were ashes in seconds. There went any proof of his dismal muggle home life, he thought proudly. A prod with his thoughts, the window slid open, and he directed the ashes out the window. It was a lovely day out, for a change, and he left the window cracked open.
Thrumming with prideful glee for his summoning of the bluebell flame without words or wand, he pulled out his wand from his trunk and slipped it into his outer robe's pocket. He also gathered up his History book, as that was the one subject he was having difficulties absorbing the information on. It was tedious, with so many similar names of people and places that they blurred together in his mind. He definitely needed to give it another read through. A wave of his hand, he silently levitated his trunk to the overhead storage rack and then settled into his seat to study.
He ignored the sounds of students in the hall outside his cabin, but the occasional jostle of the locked doorknob by someone seeking seating space would cause him to casually place a hand in the pocket containing his wand. Couldn't be too careful with delinquents somewhere on the train. He was not going to be caught off guard. He was not going to spend the year in fear of potential retaliation, or multiple incidents of bullying. First time they tried something, he was going to make it abundantly clear that he was far more dangerous than the rest of them combined and they'd better recognize there was a new pecking order at Hogwarts.
Fortunately, though, boarding went quietly and eventually he heard the train whistle, soon followed by a small lurch of his cabin as it began to move. Tom breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat some, swinging his legs up to stretch on the bench and prop his book against.
He spent the next few hours reading the massive tome, trying to not fall asleep from boredom so he could hopefully get this damn information memorized. His studying was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a cheerful call from an elderly voice of, "Tea and treats trolley, dear. Do you want anything off the Trolley?"
Tom glanced up and considered the question. He was fairly hungry. And he did have some spare sickles and knuts because he hadn't spent as much time in Diagon as planned and had been frugal with his school stipend. "Yes, please," he called back. "One moment while I grab my money bag."
"Of course, dear, of course," the witch said agreeably. "Gives me a moment to rest my feet."
Tom retrieved his bag, unlocked the door, and surveyed the trolley with a polite smile for the neatly dressed elderly witch pushing it. He recognized some of the sweets from shops in Diagon Alley, and found that he wasn't quite in the mood for the more sugary offerings. Finally he said, "Tea, please, black. And some cockroach clusters and vanilla ice-cream."
The trolley witch nodded pleasantly and pulled the requested treats, saying, "Can't say too many younger students have much appetite for the clusters."
"I'm not one for chocolates," Tom said with a shrug. Given the things he was forced to eat at the orphanage, a nutty and caramel confection in the shape of a bug wasn't going to offend his palette.
"All the better," the trolley witch said, "though I suppose it's a bit contrary with my profession. But children who overload themselves with sweets do cause such a mess of the cabins."
Tom accepted the bag of candies and little paper bowl of no-melt ice cream. "I promise not to leave a mess."
The witch finished pouring the tea and said as she handed it to him, "Well that'd be sweet of you, dear. 5 knuts, please."
Tom nodded, set the treats and tea cup on the bench seat, and fished out the requested knuts. The trolley witch accepted them with a smile and wished him a happy trip.
Tom closed the door to his cabin and sat cross-legged on a bench, taking his time to enjoy the fresh tea and rare occasion of treats. The cockroach clusters, despite their odious appearance and propensity for skittering in the bag to avoid being eaten, were tasty. The perfectly cold and creamy ice cream was a welcome balance to the crunchy sweets, as hoped. He alternated between the two, with an occasional sip of his tea before it could go cold.
Treats finished, he crumpled up the disposable tea mug and clusters' bag, put them in the ice cream cup, and left the cabin to find a trash bin to dump them in and a loo to use. He found the bathroom at the back of the carriage, and fortunately a trash can was present.
He finished up and was about to flush the toilet when he heard outside the lavatory, "I know I saw him go this way."
Tom stiffened. It could be anyone looking for anyone else, but he was fairly certain the voice was Antonin, and from the menacing tone he wasn't looking for a friend. Seems Wilkins was right on the mark about these boys wanting retribution and starting early.
"We checked all the cabins." That whine definitely came from the younger Mulciber cousin.
Tom's hand slipped into the pocket with his wand, and he felt the comforting thrum of magic connecting to catalyst as his fingers wrapped around the bone-pale wood.
As he took up a dueling stance defensively, he heard Antonin say, "He's either in the loo or he went to the next carriage."
A pause, then, from a deeper voice, "I'll check the next carriage for him."
"Bugger off, Fenrir. You can check the loo."
"Why me?" Fenrir asked, sounding agitated.
"Because I said so," Antonin snapped back.
Tom rolled his eyes. They were kind of pathetic, even in a pack. He needed to nip this problem in the bud now.
"What if it's a professor in there?" Fenrir grumbled.
Tom slid open the bathroom door, noted all but the elder Mulciber cousin present, and said sarcastically, "If it was a professor, I'm certain they'd be wanting to know why you're in the halls while the train is moving. Mind letting a bloke past?"
All eyes turned to him, with varying levels of surprise that swiftly morphed to furious recognition. Tom's mind was already devising his plan of attack, remembering advice from the auror on dealing with being outnumbered.
"You!" Antonin barked out.
"Yes, me," Tom said with a smirk. "Do I need ask a second time?" His gaze went to the thief, "I think we all remember how that went last time."
The thief lifted his wand to toss a spell at him, but Tom already was taking a step back and as Mulciber started to say, "Exp…." Tom made a slashing motion with his wand, using a spell from their defense book, saying sharply, "Verdimillious!"
A flash of brilliant green sparks burst from the tip of his wand, causing his opponent to stop his own incantation as he shouted with pain and threw up his arm protectively over his flash-burned face. The other two ruffians were likewise shielding their faces, sustaining only small, minor burns on their arms, but were momentarily blinded by the bright flash.
Tom wasted no time sending a knockback Jinx at the big brute, Fenrir, which sent him flying into Antonin, causing them both to collapse to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Unfortunately, Antonin had had just enough time to fire off a cutting hex, but his aim was ruined by Fenrir's collision and Tom was able to move out of the way enough that the spell barely grazed his jaw. Still, that to the head or neck would've killed him. Seeing Antonin lose his wand in the collision with Fenrir, Tom disarmed Mulciber, caught the wand with his off hand as it flew to him, and a mental push tossed the boy on the other two troublemakers, causing more groans of pain.
Before they could recover properly, Tom decided to try one of the easier curses found in their defense book and pointed his wand at Fenrir, saying "Petrificus Totalis!"
Fenrir, who was just extricating himself from the pile, found his legs snap together and his arms snap to his sides, and he toppled back over, driving into Antonin's chest and causing yet another pained grunt from the ebon haired ringleader.
Smirking at his prowess, Tom switched over to Mulciber's wand, which was awkwardly weighted and foreign feeling in his hand, and debated a few seconds on the few rudimentary jinxes and curses he had read in their defense book. No, those were too nice after what Antonin had done, trying to corner him in a loo and causing him to bleed.
He decided to try something he had read in the dueling book, though it was theoretically above his grade level. He made the proscribed sharp wand movements, what looked almost like the outline of a key handle, as he said, "Locomotor Mortis!" Antonin's legs snapped together, which seemed less debilitating than the Petrifying curse, but apparently this one was much harder to reverse, requiring a very technical counter-spell or potion.
He shifted the Mulciber wand to be held with his, willed Antonin's wand to his dominant hand, pointed it at the thief and settled on a rather appropriate, "Furnunculus!" Pus filled boils swiftly rose up on his face. Tom called for Fenrir's wand, then cast the spell again, this time at Antonin, who really deserved another layer of punishment for the scratch he had dealt him.
Tom could hear people questioning one another in their cabins about whether to risk opening their doors to find out who was fighting, and someone suggested signaling for the Prefects or Head Boy and Girl.
Tom stepped outside the bathroom, and a mental grab and throw silently sent one bully after the other tumbling into the bathroom. Tom tossed the wands in the sink, and said to them, "I'm playing nicely because we're on the school train, but we all know I could take advantage of your ineptitude and current disabled states to humiliate you further or slice something vital off."
He pointed his wand warningly at Antonin, who was stuck between Fenrir on top and Mulciber beneath him, and whose eyes crossed trying to keep the wand tip in view. Tom let his voice go to an icy whisper that had never failed to scare the children at his orphanage, "You are going to call off your petty grudge, started by Mulciber here's own stupidity, and leave me, and Amaryllis Dippet, alone for the entirety of this year. Prove to be stupider than you look and come after us, you'll all be needing a trip to Mungo's to have any chance of ever casting another spell again."
He heard a small magical wail go up from a nearby cabin, and assumed someone was trying to get the attention of those in charge of keeping order. He could also smell fresh urine coming from in front of him, though which had soiled themselves was unclear. He asked with a sanguine smile, "Do we have an understanding, Antonin?"
Antonin nodded once and snapped out, "Yes, you damned freak!"
Tom's eyes narrowed. "I don't like your tone of voice." He used his innate power to make Antonin stick his tongue out, grabbed Fenrir's short, dark wand (as it had been the least resistant to use) from the sink and used it to swiftly cast the Engorgement charm from their Charms book on it. It swiftly swelled many times larger than what seemed physically possible.
Antonin nearly gagged on his own tongue as his head jerked down from the weight of it.
Tom's gaze went to Mulciber. "Seems you three got into a rather nasty argument and went a bit far in cursing one another. Do you need the same to ensure you don't say anything to the contrary?"
Mulciber, already starting to blubber a bit as Antonin's drool hit his face, shook his head frantically and stuttered out many no's.
Tom turned on a heel, shut the door behind them, then looked both ways down the corridor. Seemed all clear. He just about ran to his cabin, and was just closing the door when he heard noise coming from the back of the carriage, people entering to see what the noise was about. Tom carefully shut his door, gathered up his history book, sat down on a bench and balanced the book on his knees. While faking reading, one hand was pressing against the injury on his jaw to stem the trickle of blood, and with the other he had his wand muffled under his leg as he whispered basic "lumos" and "nox" charms in quick succession to hopefully cover his tracks if any Prefects or the Head Boy or Girl knew how to check wands for recently cast spells.
There was a great deal of commotion down the hall, but no one came looking for him specifically, nor for possible combatants in general. After the thirtieth repetition, to mimic a whole month's worth of the only spells he could get away with casting outside Hogwarts for evening study, he slid his wand out from beneath his leg, used the simple cleaning charm from the front of their charms book to clear the blood from his hand, and then slid his wand back into his pocket.
The noise in the hall soon subsided and the rest of the train ride had gone peacefully. When they finally reached their destination, Tom departed the train with a rather light gait, and a pleased smirk formed as he saw the Mulciber gang being levitated off the train by a group of older students who looked thoroughly disgusted with them. He managed to compose his expression back to neutrality, but he was gloating inwardly. He had dealt with the Mulciber gang twice now, this time besting them even when they were fully aware of his presence because they had been looking for him. With as thoroughly as he had trounced them this time, they'd have to be very stupid to try for a third encounter. And he had managed to cast two new spells he had only read about previously. If that wasn't something to mentally celebrate, he didn't know what was.
The first years were called together to ride small boats on the side of a lake by a tall professor with an odd limp, that Tom soon spotted was caused by having a wooden leg. The professor chatted amiably with some younger siblings of older students that he recognized from the resemblance as he led them to the boats. Tom glanced around the side of the lake and found a boat with only one other student in it, so he sat down across from the boy, who was studiously looking forward and obviously trying not to interact with anyone.
As the boats seemed to steer themselves across the lake, Tom took note of how large the lake was, how smoothly the boats cut through the placid waters, and then… Then Hogwarts castle came into view.
Tom couldn't help but stare. It was massive, and ancient looking, aglow with moonlight above and candlelight in the windows. It looked like something out of medieval books, a place one could believe magic happened within. He didn't notice the other students going into awed silences as well, nor his boat-partner leaning perhaps a bit more than he should in wonder. His mind raced with imaginings of the possibilities, of how far he could take his magic as he learned this revered castle's secrets. This, this was the start of something fated, he could feel it.
As the boats drew beneath the castle, heading for a craggy inlet and they were shrouded in darkness, Tom breathed in deeply. The air was cool and damp, soothing to the skin and lungs. And there was already undercurrents of magic tingling on his skin. There was power here. His future, his destiny, was here.
He had never known a home before, he hadn't stepped foot in the halls yet, but Tom felt like for the very first time he had found where he belonged.
The other students scrambled to get off the boats, some tripping over their new robes, and inside to the welcoming feast. Tom took his time, getting out with as much dignity as he could. He didn't want to rush this moment. This was something he wanted to imprint deeply in his mind and treasure.
They were led by the Professor, Kettleburn he thought he heard said, through the boat house and a long winding rough-hewn corridor that eventually connected to proper halls via a massive oak door. This new hall was moderately lit by candlelight, likely to keep from blinding students with brighter lighting after the walk through darkened corridors. Kettleburn introduced the assistant headmaster to the students before taking his leave, but Tom recognized Professor Dumbledore without introduction.
Some students crowded forward to hear Dumbledore's welcoming speech to the first years, but Tom looked around to admire the moving paintings. And, if he was being honest, scan for Amaryllis. She'd obviously not be on the train or boats, what with being here early with her father, but surely she'd have been waiting to meet with the other first years? Apparently not. Tom wondered how she had healed up from the attack last month. Maybe there had been complications and he hadn't done such an admirable job protecting her? He hoped that wasn't the case, as that'd lower the Headmaster's esteem of him. Wilkins hadn't mentioned any such complications, though, hadn't lost any regard, so he didn't think it so likely.
He was studying a picture of three witches arguing over a cauldron when the wall directly next to it cracked open. And who came slipping through but the very potential social ally he had been hoping to see. She looked recovered from last month's event: hair immaculately brushed and some braids woven to pull her long tresses back from her face, rosy cheeked and biting her lower lip. She looked nervous, hands smoothing the rich black silk dress she wore beneath her school robes, violet eyes scanning the crowd and seeming to avoid the gazes of some people nearer to her that noticed her quiet entrance.
Then Amaryllis' gaze fell on him before he could look away. And then she broke into what may have been the sunniest smile he had ever seen; certainly the most pleased smile someone had ever given to him. He hadn't expected her to be quite so pleased to see him, and that radiant smile momentarily stilled his mind of all the plotting he had been up to since finding out about Hogwarts. All he could feel was a reactive pride and smug pleasure that she had utterly ignored all the others to find him first.
A small smirk crept to his face of its own volition. Seems the Headmaster's daughter had appreciated his aid in truth and not just words. Trying to not give away how pleased he was by the attention, he simply nodded to show he had seen her. She glanced at the crowd between them, then moved to walk around back of them to reach him. Apparently the pureblood daughter of the Dippet patriarch had no qualms about being seen socializing with someone of less certain lineage in open public. As she drew closer, he saw her eyes fix under his jaw, where he had been injured. Damnit, apparently his collar had slipped. Trying to act casual, he fixed it back in place to hide the injury.
Unfortunately, she didn't take the hint and ignored his greeting, asking what had happened. A short exchange ensued to- 1) ease her worries and not have a scene made, and 2) perhaps impress her a bit and reinforce that she had a competent ally to rely on should she need and want one. Both seemed well accomplished; and as hoped from her own willingness to deal with matters on her own and use less than polite means to do so, the witch was pleased by his news and curious about exactly what he had done. At least the headmaster's foreign daughter wasn't an uptight goody-two-shoe. That would make her easier to tolerate on a long term basis.
As they filed into the Great Hall, the line becoming more of an uneven procession, Amaryllis' expression became nervous again and her pace slowed a fraction. Tom stepped next to her so he wouldn't end up stepping on her heels, and noticed from the corner of his eye that she looked up at him.
When he glanced down, she murmured, "Any idea what house you want to be sorted into?"
Tom shrugged, then said, "Honestly?" She nodded. "I thought from what I read in our history book that Slytherin seemed most appropriate." What he didn't say was that as much as he wanted to join Slytherin because from everything he had read it seemed ideal for his ambitions, he knew he couldn't be placed there because they only accepted purebloods or the occasional highly-connected halfblood. He was neither.
She looked momentarily surprised at his choice, then considering. Finally she smiled that sunny smile and nodded. "House of the Snake would be rather appropriate for you. Though I thought perhaps you might say Gryffindor with as courageous as you were."
Tom rolled his eyes, smirk now a tad scornful. "Gryffindor? No. Lions are loud and need a huge pack to survive." He glanced back down to the witch and said teasingly, "With your roar, though, you might get placed there."
Amaryllis' cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she shuffled her feet, which were clad in those old-fashioned slipper shoes again, this time a black pair. She glanced back up at him and said, "I just don't like thieves and bullies. But I don't think I'm the stuff of Gryffindor House."
"Where do you think you'll be placed?" Tom asked quietly, noticing the first years were starting to quiet down as the Headmaster stepped up to the podium to address everyone.
Amaryllis glanced over to her father and then shrugged. Any answer she might give was cut off, though, as her father began speaking and she turned her attention to him.
Tom did the same, and paid attention as some beginning of the year announcements were made, including the introduction of two new teachers to the school and some new rules were laid out.
Then the moment of truth arrived. Professor Dumbledore was given the stage and he announced that it was time for the Sorting Ceremony, gesturing to a stool with an ancient frayed hat atop it.
The first name in alphabetical order was called out. "Ludo Bagman!" A taller young boy with messy, shaggy light brown hair and pristine robes had to make his way from the middle of the crowd of first years.
Amaryllis shifted nervously and glanced back at Tom again. She whispered, "Tom?"
Tom replied with a quiet, "Hm?"
"I know we only had the one meeting," Amaryllis said, looking at her intertwined fingers in front of her, "and I've heard students assigned to different Hogwarts houses usually have troubles getting along, but I hope whatever house we're assigned, we might be able to be friends this year."
Tom let an easy smirk slide across his face and he ducked his head, saying near her ear so they'd not be overheard, "I thought maybe we might be friends already." To her pleased yet confused look, he said, "Seems a state to be after facing down common opponents and having some similar affinities for animals, yes?"
She gave that sunny smile yet again and nodded, "Si. Yes."
He nodded and straightened his stance. "That's settled then. Let the others make their cliques based on houses. We'll do as we like."
She nodded and seemed to almost radiate her happiness at his declaration of friendship. He hadn't expected to win her over quite so easy, but apparently he had truly made a good impression on the foreign witch and she wanted to secure what friendships she could as early as she could. He was more than willing to fill the roll and have every in to society he could.