A/N: I'm so sorry about the super late post! Combination of life, exams, and honestly, writer's block. I know where I want to go with this, but not necessarily how to get there. Part of the learning process I suppose. But i finally churned it out there, and will hopefully have the next chapter up soon. Thanks so much to anyone who has stuck with this. Also, comments are appreciated very much! It helps me know if I'm writing this in a good direction or not.
Obviously, Tom missed the call from Thiru that night, and in the morning Amy started looking at him differently than she had the night before; an amalgam of wariness, confusion, disbelief and possibly awe. But superimposed on all of that was that mad glint she wore last night. It was that glint that told Tom that the game had changed and the rules that applied earlier had too…Amy had leverage on him.
'Of course, my…pre-stated consequences should hold more weight now…except that the old cow has made it so I cannot even go next week and make good on my threats,' he mulled to himself over morning porridge. At least she didn't seem to be telling everyone. Tom wondered how long it was going to be before she figured out how to make calls herself. When she did, that was it. He was done for. She would recant that it was her mirror and say she saw Tom with it, that he looked suspicious so she took it to show the minister. That Tom himself was a worshipper of Satan and all the complaints against him which previously passed for childish exaggerations would be under close scrutiny in light of this discovery. God only knows what would happen to him then.
Then he had a horrible recollection; the Ministry of Magic had laws in place that forbid revealing the magical world's very existence. Clearly Tom had already broken that with Amy and possibly Ben finding the mirror, but if he didn't stop her from taking it further, he could very well be expelled from Hogwarts, kicked out of the new safe haven he found for himself. That was utterly unacceptable. It was time for some serious damage control over the situation.
With that sobering thought, Tom felt decidedly less hungry for the bland concoction in front of him as he got up from the communal tables and left the hall. Wandering around the halls lined with faded paintings that didn't move or have half the personality of the Hogwarts' masterpieces, Tom went back up to his room.
As he got up to his room, he struck an idea, brilliant in its simplicity. Amy and Ben were both still down at breakfast, and he hadn't seen them carrying the mirror. Of course, it would be stupid to leave the artifact alone at any point when it was such key point of blackmail material, but Tom would bet good money (that he didn't have) that Amy and Ben were just that kind of mental. They didn't have half the sense or skill that Tom did, it wouldn't occur to them that Tom could (and would) simply search their rooms when they were outside them.
Creeping to the door across from his own, he listened toward the stairwell for a split second before carefully slipping inside. Amy's room was similar to his own, drab curtains and sparse furniture. The only things different were the dull, pink dressed rag doll on the bed and a few thin spined books; picture books, if Tom were to hazard a guess, probably with the words broken down into syllables. Tom rather thought his eye roll was inevitable.
There weren't many places to look, fortunately. It seemed as if Amy had thrown the mirror across the room from her bed. It lay in the corner of the room, along with strewn hardcover books, shards of what looked to have once been an ivory letter opener that had been on Ms. Cole's desk the last time Tom had been in her office, and a small stone paper weight. Tom figured Amy had been alarmed enough at the sounds and random appearance of a face in the mirror that she had tried to break it, and due to the anti-shatter charm, she had been very unsuccessful despite her seemingly numerous attempts. Tom picked up the mirror swiftly and turned to leave the room.
"What exactly have they been teaching in the fancy school, eh?" Tom looked up to the door to see Amy with her goons standing in the doorway. Only, she wasn't wearing her signature smirk, now she had a malicious snarl curling over face. And she was steadily strolling closer, apparently fearless, but Tom knew the confidence was only there so long as she had her brawn behind her. "What've they been teachin' yous, eh? You're a buncha Satan worshipers, aren't ya?!"
Tom might've been able to take on Amy if it had to come to physical blows, but he was outmatched in strength and weight when he calculated in Ben, and now Charlie. He was slowly getting backed into a corner.
"I saw a darkie girl last night, Tom. She must be a freak like you! There's no doubtin' that youre goin' to hell, Tom," Amy taunted. That's when the first blow came. Tom saw stars as the breath was forced from his chest. His head swung back as pain bloomed over the arch of his cheek. Tom dropped to his knees and clutched the mirror close to his chest, tucking his head down into his lap as the boys began to kick, and Amy began to laugh. One after another until Tom could scarcely count them any longer. One last, strong swing sent him rolling back to the wall, the mirror skittering across the floor.
"You ain't never gonna see this again, Tom. And I'm gonna tell the father down at the Abbey here all about your little darkie friend, and how yous two been practicing devil magic. You watch and see Tommy Boy, you watch and- what yous two naffs lookin at?" Amy suddenly rounded on the two large boys, who were in turn watching the trickle of moisture slide from her left eye, down the curve of her cheek.
"Hey, I ain't cryin- AHHHHHHH!" Amy gave a blood curdling scream when she lifted her hand to her sight and saw the drop of blood on her fingers. Her sclera was a brilliant vermillion, blood, which was now trickling down her face in a steady stream, as her nose began to bleed slowly as well. She continued to scream in abject horror, touching her face while staring at her reflection in the mirror. There were now more blood tracks on her face than visible skin. In the back of his mind, Tom thought she looked better like that. Tom watched the two blunder heads slowly raise their hands in the air, terror written over their faces.
"You will hand me the mirror, you superfluous little twit, and in return, I won't do anything further." Tom took the mirror and stalked away, the sounds of horrified crying dying down as Ben ran past him, most likely to bring Mrs. Cole or the nurse. Tom frankly didn't care either way. The rush of adrenaline was still rushing him far higher than he had ever felt before.
"She's blind?!" Thiru exclaimed shocked.
"Apparently. She can see flases of shadows and light, but not much else. Doctor says she might yet make a full recovery. Whoopee!" Tom drolled on disinterestedly, pushing the letter he'd received from the Ministry's Department of Underage Magic out his line of vision. Apparently, it hadn't been deemed important enough for them to send anything more than a warning to Tom.
"Tom! This not something you should be so casual about! You seriously hurt this girl! Despite whatever she may have said or did, it's not something to take lightly!" Thiru replied, eyes wide and voice firm with an undercurrent of disbelief.
"It's not as if I sent a spell her way! I had no control on it! It just happened! You know? Its called accidental magic for reason." The ministry hadn't made half as much fuss as Thiru was making. What was the big deal?
"Tom, whatever the cause, you may have permanently damaged this girl's vision. That's not a small thing. Aren't you in the least bit remorseful?" she persisted earnestly. Tom's eyes darkened as he lifted the hem of his night shirt and angled the mirror to his torso. It was riddled with mottled purple and blackish blue markings, some showing definitive shapes of fingers in fists.
"Am I expected to be? After all they have done to me, all the things they said to me? Do you think I should be expected to have to feel remorse? Or pity? Or sympathy?" Tom was yelling by the end of the tirade. Silence reigned for a few moments.
"No, you shouldn't be expected to. But you should anyway. That's humanity, Tom," Thiru replied quietly.
"And what good has humanity done for me? Hm? I refuse to be soft, I refuse to be pushed around and made to be the submissive sheep in the flock. Being told what to feel and how to act," Tom spat vehemently. "I'm through with humanity, and I'm sick of you judging me!" Thiru, pressed her lips tightly together, as if stopping the words that wanted to pass through, a physical barrier.
"I can see that you are…emotionally taxed right now, Tom-"
"I'm not a delicate thing that can be 'emotionally taxed'-"
"-so I'll let you go sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning." Thiru barreled on, not letting Tom cut in.
"I feel fine right now. I just don't appreciate soft, emotional sheep trying to tell me how to feel."
Silence, once again. Then-
"Goodnight, Tom."
Tom didn't even bother trying to call her back. He put the sinking feeling in his stomach to the back of his mind as he pulled the light, summer blanket back and tried to sleep.
It had been three days since Thiru had picked up any of his calls. Tom was beginning to think he had alienated his only friend at Hogwarts. It was time for something drastic.
It took another two days, a few stolen piggy banks, and a deliberate punch to Ben's face in front of Mrs. Cole, so that he might be able to steal some shillings from her purse while she kept him waiting, but Tom finally racked up the funds needed to get the omnibus as close to Bexley as possible, from there he'd walk and save the extra change.
Tom waited till just after lunch to slip away, that way he wouldn't be missed till supper. Just to be safe, he took he mirror with him, in case Amy decided to have another go. He slipped on a tattered newspaper boy hat and his better tweed coat, despite the heat. He hoped he looked alright. Walking down the uneven cobble stones, children playing with sticks and old bicycle tires, some dirty boys in tattered clothes selling apples or papers, he soon came to the omnibus stop at the corner of the main street. The day was warm, if you were being polite; Bloody blazing, if you weren't. Tom pulled at his collar, and mentally groused at the fact he was wearing tweed of his own volition on a day like this. What kind of person had he become?
Thankfully, It wasn't too long a wait before he saw the red, double decker, wooden framed bus with its second deck arching over the driver's seat. Tom handed the conductor his change as he was granted a ticket, and sat back to watch London Town crawl by. The steam from the engine was making the city seem even more blistering than usual. Tom fervently hoped that all this effort was worth it.
It was then that Tom noticed something, or rather, someone. It was man, probably in his thirties, dressed rather smartly in a suit and tie with a bowler hat to match. What caught Tom's eye, was that the man was unerringly handsome, not that Tom was looking at him in that way. But he was undeniably handsome, from his straight, long nose, and strong jaw, to the sleek, black waves peeking from the bottom of the hat. His smile at a newly boarded female passenger was dazzling with two rows or straight, white teeth. But it was his eyes that stood out to Tom, they were the same cerulean blue underneath thick eyebrows as he himself had. And that struck him like a thunder bolt.
All at once, Tom was itching to get out of his seat and run to him, grab his sleeve and see this man realize that Tom was here, that he was real and alive. Ironically, Tom had never felt his legs were made of stone as much as he did right then. He sat, rooted to the seat in the corner of the bus, while the man, who was undoubtedly his father, sat a mere 7 feet away, smiling the smile that Tom knew he could pull off himself if he practiced enough. Tom looked like his father, completely like his father. You'd have to be blind to not see it! It was such a revelation! The excited energy was rolling off of him in waves as he began to bounce his leg up and down, head swinging from the window, to the large lady who had seated herself next to him, back the back of his father's head.
'My father…' Tom thought reverentially to himself. 'I have a father.'