.

the year end

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April 1939

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When Septimus returns from Easter holidays, he doesn't have much news to share. The four of them wander off to a corner of the library to talk, as there are too many people in the castle at the moment to sneak off to the fifth floor.

"Atticus said that it sounds less to do with healing and more to do with other kinds of magic," Septimus tells them in a low voice.

"What kinds?" Tom asks, peering sharply at him.

Septimus looks reluctant, but he says, "He said that it sounds like dark magic was used. Which makes sense, because you said you think it was a dark wizard that caused it."

"Hmm." Tom frowns. He glances over at Harry, who is trying to disguise his worry.

"You won't go looking for that, will you?" Annalise asks in a faint tone. "For dark magic."

"Those books are kept in the restricted section," Septimus adds, grimacing. "So it would be hard to get access without raising questions."

"So we shouldn't," Annalise says. "We shouldn't go looking for it." Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap. Then she looks nervously over her shoulder, as though she's expecting someone to come over and chastise them.

"If it is dark magic," Tom says, thinking how to phrase it so that their friends will go along with it, "then all the more reason to find out what's happened. We don't know if it will be dangerous in the long term."

Harry shifts in his chair. Tom reaches under the table to place a hand on Harry's knee, willing him to stay still, and Harry does, though he bites down on his lower lip, his green eyes flickering over to Tom.

"It could be," Septimus says. "So maybe we should tell an adult."

"If they find out there's dark magic involved," Tom says, voice low, "it will bring up an investigation, won't it? Because as Hogwarts students with no magical parents, we're considered wards of the school." He's done his research—he knows the laws. He knows that Septimus and Annalise must have some idea of them as well, and so they will understand the severity.

"Yes," Annalise says, her eyes wide. "That's all true. Ever since Grindelwald, the Ministry has been more strict about cases involving the use of dark magic."

"So then there would be nothing stopping them from taking Harry away," Tom finishes.

Harry goes even more still, like he's become a statue, and Tom has to flex his fingers against Harry's knee, a silent reassurance that he will never let Harry out of his sight.

"That won't happen," Septimus says. "They wouldn't do that. They can't just take students away from Hogwarts."

Truthfully, Tom doesn't think it will happen, but he doesn't doubt the small possibility of it. If this helps convince their friends to simply keep their mouths shut and do as they're told, then Tom will push this point to its extremes.

"Harry's a Muggleborn. And a student," Annalise says, sounding uncertain. "There'd be no reason for them to suspect him of any wrongdoings."

Tom hesitates. This part is not his to tell, not quite. So he looks to Harry, who has remained still and quiet while Tom has made his points. Harry looks back at Tom, gauging what Tom wants him to do.

If they are committing to these relationships, then perhaps sharing Harry's heritage will prove advantageous. Especially as both Annalise and Septimus are Purebloods themselves, they'll know more about the old ways than what Tom has learned from reading. So Tom jerks his head in a nod; Harry takes a slow, deep breath to steady himself.

"We've got magical heritage," Harry finally says. "Tom and I. We don't know where Tom is from, but I'm related to the Potters."

Annalise actually gasps, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. "But Harry," she whispers. "Why didn't you say anything? My mother says the Potters have been trying for children for years—" She cuts herself off, her expression now scandalized, then adds, even more quietly, "Unless they didn't want people to know."

Tom understands her reaction immediately. While infidelity had not occurred to him before, due to the nature of the letter Harry has in his possession, it is a plausible reason for secrecy to present to their cohorts.

"It would be bad," Septimus says. "If it got out that Harry was related to the Potters." Then he sighs heavily, glancing out the window. "So you're right, Tom. We should keep this to ourselves for now. I don't know what would happen if all this got out, but it's better not to test it. The Potters are a decent sort, according to my dad, but that doesn't mean they won't move Harry somewhere else because he's illegitimate. I know some parents send their children to Durmstrang so they don't have to bother with them. They have the option for year-round boarding, there."

Tom's read about Durmstrang. It might have been an appealing option if not for the fact that some of the students there seem to be dark wizards in the making. Harry wouldn't enjoy a place like that, Tom thinks. Though Tom would have been able to survive there, even flourish there, he wouldn't have been able to protect the both of them as perceived Muggleborns in a school known for its preference for blood purism and strict discipline.

"We'll keep Harry safe." Annalise's sudden conviction startles all of them. She continues, her voice firm, "We'll keep the secret. He belongs here at Hogwarts with us."

And Tom can't help but agree with her wholeheartedly.

Septimus turns twelve on a rainy day—April 23rd, to be exact. With only a month and a half left of classes, many students have taken to lounging around the common room to chat and play games instead of studying. As decided previously, Tom has expanded their group to occasionally include a few others: a rotating selection of various first-years from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.

But today it is only their group ensconced at their table, books scattered across the surface as they work on their study guide project. It is only when Nathaniel comes over to ask why they're studying on Septimus' birthday that they find out that he's turned twelve at all.

"You're just as bad as Harry," Annalise says. "How are we supposed to know unless you tell us?"

"We've had bigger things to worry about," Septimus says. "You know, research and things."

Annalise glares at him. "Nothing that can't wait for one day."

"It's raining," Septimus protests. "We can't even go outside."

"Then we'll do something like, I don't know," Annalise says, flustered. "Play Exploding Snap. Or Gobstones."

So they borrow a few sets of Gobstones from Nathaniel and his classmates. The four of them play a few rounds together, and—despite the childishness of the game—the others seem to enjoy it, laughing loudly every time someone gets a face full of foul-smelling liquid. Tom continues to treat it like a child's game until he loses his first Gobstone, and then it's officially war, because Harry's grin is full of undisguised mischief, and Tom's not about to lose to that.

Nathaniel sits with them, claiming the need to referee the match, but he also helps to Vanish the mess the Gobstones make, which is nice of him seeing as the rest of them won't be taught the spell for another three years.

They play until it is time for dinner. Nathaniel follows them down to the Great Hall, chattering happily about his upcoming OWLs while the four of them listen attentively.

"Do they release rankings for OWLs?" Tom asks.

"No." Nathaniel shakes his head. "The only ones who can access the marks are Hogwarts and the Ministry. But you can release your marks to potential employers in the future, should you wish to, but most of them will be looking at your NEWTs. Getting your OWLs is merely a stepping stone to the higher levels of the classes you want to take."

Tom supposes that getting into the classes he wants will be proof of status enough.

"Although," Nathaniel continues, looking closely at Tom for a moment, "they do release the name of the top performing student every year. The one with the most OWLs and the highest marks."

Harry gives Tom's elbow a playful nudge. "That will be Tom, then," Harry says confidently.

Septimus snorts. "Might as well just give the title to him now."

Tom smiles genuinely, basking in the knowledge that his reputation is secure in the eyes of those around him. At least in Gryffindor, among his housemates, his superiority is now recognized.

He'll generously give the rest of the school one more year. It will be long enough for Tom to show that his successes aren't the product of coincidence, and then Dumbledore will see just who is allowed to stay at Hogwarts for the summer.

May 1939

The panic of looming exams has finally begun to sink in.

There is a rush of students trying to complete their final essays and assignments on top of their review, and Tom finds himself high above it all, perfectly prepared to take any of their exams at a moment's notice. Their study guide has been looked over numerous times by Tom and Harry both, and most of their classmates are now eager to seek out an easier way of revision.

Fourteen sickles from each copy sold, with a small portion split to Septimus and Annalise, and soon Tom finds himself and Harry in the possession of twelve galleons. Not a fortune by any means, but well worth the effort put in considering they all would have been revising anyways.

Annalise goes so far as to try to refuse her portion of the money, saying that she has no need for it, but Harry stubbornly insists to the point where she eventually caves, though Tom suspects she plans to spend it on sweets to share with them.

The four of them plus Adelaide split the cost of the History of Magic exam answers, and set about memorizing the parchment provided. They're all sat in the library going over the questions when Septimus stands to stretch his legs out.

"It feels like we've been indoors for months," he says, rolling his shoulders. "Think I've forgotten what sunlight looks like."

"You should go out flying," Tom says smoothly. "Take a break from all of the memorization." He bumps Harry with his elbow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Harry looks up, blinking. "Yeah? Sure, Tom."

Annalise stifles a yawn, pushing back in her own chair. "That might be nice, to get some fresh air. It's only a bit cloudy, so I think we could catch some of the sun before it's time for dinner."

Tom watches as Septimus puts his things away. "Let's go, then," Septimus says.

Annalise throws her textbook into her bag, eager to go along, but Harry glances curiously in Tom's direction.

"Are you coming?" asks Harry.

"I've a few more chapters to read," Tom says, flashing his teeth. "I'll be done by dinner, certainly."

Harry squints. "You should come, Tom."

It's Adelaide that lays a hand on Harry's forearm, her pleasant smile devoid of any hints of wrongdoing. "Don't you worry, Harry. I'll make sure Tom doesn't work too hard. Go take my sister out flying, won't you?"

Harry frowns, his eyes flickering between Tom and Adelaide. "If you're sure."

"Go have some fun," Tom says. "You deserve it, Harry. Practice for next year, when you make Seeker."

This comment has the desired result, which is Harry's cheeks flushing with pink. Harry averts his gaze to where Septimus and Annalise are waiting for him to join them. "Okay," says Harry. "See you at dinner?"

"See you then," says Tom.

He and Adelaide watch as their three companions depart. Then, once they're alone, Adelaide shuts her Potions textbook with a quiet thump. "That was almost too easy," she says. "You know him very well."

Tom sneers at her. "Of course I do." Harry is his; he knows Harry better than anyone else ever will. All of the interesting pieces that make up the whole of his counterpart.

"Don't you feel a bit bad? Hiding things from him."

"It's for his own good," Tom says mulishly, rolling his parchment up. "I should think you of all people would understand that."

Adelaide's taunting expression falls away. "You're cruel, Tom."

Tom offers her a wide smirk. "Tell me something I don't already know."

June 1939

The atmosphere of the common room is best described as 'tense' in the remaining days before final exams. Tom finds their group often surrounded by other first-years when they go to study in the library. According to Adelaide, they are considered to be a top tier group due to the presence of both herself, Tom, and Harry. The three of them had ranked highly during the winter exams, and it is finally occurring to their classmates that insinuating themselves amongst the most intelligent will perhaps lead to improving their own marks.

Annalise is holding up fairly well this time, much to Septimus and Harry's relief. She spends a lot of time with Adelaide, and though she remains anxious and jittery, Tom finds her more tolerable.

Most of Tom's free time is spent with Harry; it has become common practice for the two of them to sometimes wander off together, and neither Septimus nor the Greengrass sisters question it.

Harry and Tom practice casting various spells over and over: Harry with the spells from their curriculum, and Tom with new spells he's been wanting to try. Tom learns the Knockback Jinx, which he practices on chairs, and Harry tries to save the chairs from their untimely demise upon the floor by casting Wingardium Leviosa.

Tom teaches himself the Shield Charm, too. It takes more tries than usual as the spell is rather complex, but eventually Tom can feel his magic coalesce into the invisible, intangible form of a shield directly in front of him.

However, when Tom asks Harry to cast a spell at him, the pulse of magic flares up against Tom's shield, and Tom feels as though a heavy weight attached to his brain has just been dropped down a very tall cliff. He barely has a moment to try and tighten his hold on his shield before the entire thing flashes brightly and blinks out of existence altogether.

Harry steps forward and reaches for Tom's forearm, holding it still. Then he looks at Tom's wand, raising his own up carefully next to it. Though the woods are not the same, the wands look balanced: the dark wood of Harry's holly wand and the lighter tones of Tom's yew one. The wand in Tom's hand hums gently, a resonance that sends a tingle down his wand arm.

"They're alive," Harry says quietly. "I think they recognize each other."

Tom tries to see if he can feel Harry's wand, too. But it's hard to tell. Tom is used to being acutely aware of where Harry is, so much so that the close proximity of Harry's presence drowns out nearly everything else.

"It's nearly time for dinner." Harry puts his wand away, taking a step to the side.

Tom blinks, pulled from his trance. His wand has gone back to normal. Both warmth and magic still exist in Tom's hand, but less intensely than before.

"Alright," Tom says warily. "We'll try again another time."

However, with the rush of exams and all the year-end fussing, they never get the opportunity to.

Their first exam, on a Monday morning, is Transfiguration. Tom had convinced Prefect Laine to conjure some animals for them to practice their spells on, and so he feels reasonably sure that their group will perform well.

Tom reviews the method of turning a desk into a pig for the hundredth time. He practices the match-to-needle Transfiguration until he can do it with his eyes closed. Even Dumbledore will have to admit Tom is the perfect student once Tom achieves the highest marks for the second time. While there is no place for favouritism in Dumbledore's classroom, failing to recognize Tom's talent will surely raise suspicions in the eyes of the other professors. So if Dumbledore fails to do so, Tom will only have a new advantage to use against him.

Annalise shows up late to breakfast on Monday, dark circles under her eyes. There is still a bundle of notes wedged under her arm as she sits down next to Harry.

Septimus pours her a glass of orange juice. "Come now, what's done is done. You're going to do great, Annalise. A few more minutes of cramming isn't going to do anything but make you more nervous."

"But it might help," she insists, dropping her notes upon the table.

Septimus shoves the cup of juice at her. "Drink. Eat. You'll do worse if you're hungry and thirsty."

"I just need to do very well," Annalise mutters to herself. But she takes the orange juice and drinks it all down, then serves herself a small helping of oatmeal. She stares at it for a long moment, not eating, then says, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Have some water," Tom says. "It might help settle your nerves better."

Annalise pours herself a glass of water and drinks all of that in one go, too. Harry takes her glass away and hands her spoon back to her.

"Just think of it this way," Septimus says. "Once it's done, you'll be free all summer! So that's something to look forward to."

Tom watches as Annalise inhales and exhales deeply. Then she eats a mouthful of oatmeal, chewing slowly. "It will be okay," she says, swallowing. "It will all be fine. We're all going to do very well."

"That's the spirit," Septimus says.

As breakfast draws to a close, Adelaide comes over, takes Annalise by the arm, and leads her back out to the corridor. Though Adelaide says nothing to the rest of them aside from a perfunctory greeting, her eyes do catch onto Tom's, holding his gaze for a moment before she turns away.

Tom goes back to eating. Annalise is now Adelaide's responsibility. He's not worried about his own exams, so there's nothing left to do but finish his food and wait for the year to be over.

Their exam week goes by faster than expected. A few students even come by to thank Tom for his aid in organizing the study guide. Another recent development is that Leo and Francisca now sometimes sit with their group during meals. The two of them are quiet enough that Tom doesn't pay too much mind to their addition. They're not interesting or useful enough to register as more than followers.

Much to Tom's satisfaction, however, Harry seems confident about all his tests. Their practicals had gone exceedingly well, and Tom knows that, come next week, the results will reflect their hard work. He's eager to see where Harry and the rest end up on the list.

"Next year," Annalise says, "we'll have people queuing up to join our group."

It is now Friday evening, and Annalise has been more cheerful now that all of the exams are done, though Tom suspects another crisis will surface on Sunday night, which is the night before their marks will be released.

"We might even get to be picky," Septimus jokes. They're sat at their table again, and Tom allows his gaze to drift across the common room, curious to see if anyone is listening in on them. No one is actively looking, but Tom likes to think that a claimed table is as good a start as any. People know to come here to find them.

"Well, I like us as we are now," Annalise says. "Having others around is nice, but it's good when it's just the four of us, too."

Four, not five. Tom finds it interesting how Adelaide isn't always included in the headcount. Though Adelaide isn't always free to spend time with them, Tom thought the last few months had rather solidified her as a part of their group. But perhaps her house allegiance means she will always remain, to some degree, an outsider.

If Tom hadn't followed Harry to Gryffindor, perhaps that could have been his fate. To watch Harry from a distance that would be close, but not close enough. To watch as Harry made friends with Septimus and Annalise. To mostly see Harry at meals, Potions class, and Slug Club gatherings.

"I like our group, too," Harry says, holding out a quill. Tom takes it automatically. Then he looks to see what it is, and realizes that Harry's opened up their box of sugar quills, probably to celebrate the end of exams, and has handed one of the quills to him.

Tom unwraps the candy and sticks the feather end of the quill into his mouth, drifting back towards his previous thoughts. The sickly sweetness of the sugar quill will serve as an excuse to not engage in conversation for the time being.

"You should come over this summer," Septimus tells them. "We've got some lands behind our house, so we can go flying. I can borrow one of my brother's brooms, and then we can play a game or two. Maybe Harry and I can play against Adelaide and Tom? And you can referee, Annalise."

"That would be nice," Annalise says, accepting the sugar quill that Harry holds out to her, adding, "Thank you."

Septimus pauses, looking thoughtful. Then he says, in a light voice, "I'll help you convince your parents, alright?"

Annalise nods, though she avoids looking directly at any of them as she does so.

"Tom and I would have to find a way to get there," Harry says. "Where exactly do you live?"

So Septimus starts to explain where his house is, and the conversation eventually turns to forms of magical transportation, and how Harry and Tom can perhaps ask to borrow the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron in order to travel to the Weasleys'.

"It's good you both live together," Septimus says. "I can send post to you both over the summer. Sometimes mum gets tetchy about who's using Flynn to send mail, and I don't want to be accused of hogging him."

"Yeah," says Harry, smiling at Tom. "We're really lucky."

Tom has always known that Harry would have a tremendous impact on his life. While Tom may not believe in fairytales, in heroes or saviours, he believes in the connection he shares with Harry. The two of them are inextricably linked in so many ways that it's hard for Tom to imagine a world without Harry by his side.

Where would Tom be, alone in Slytherin, surrounded by the likes of Avery and Black and Carrow? Although, with Professor Slughorn as his Head of House, perhaps Tom would have been able to convince the Headmaster to let him stay at Hogwarts during the summer. Still, as far as exceptions go, more allowances might be made for him and Harry together, as it is easier to justify two students instead of just one.

"Must be nice having someone your own age at home," Septimus adds ruefully. "Nate is amazing and everything, but I can tell he thinks he's too old to do some of the things I want to do. Which is fine," Septimus adds hastily. "I don't blame him or anything, because he still spends a lot of time with me anyways. I just imagine it would be nice to have a sibling my age, you know? Most of my brothers are so much older than I am."

"There's perks to being youngest," Annalise says. "You don't have any of the responsibilities of being firstborn."

"That's true," Septimus says. "I guess I forget that there's more that goes on once we're adults."

The conversation seems to have reached its natural end, so Tom pops the remainder of his sugar quill out of his mouth, smacking his tongue to try and regain some of the feeling in it.

"I'd like to meet your brothers," Tom says. "It'd be nice to hear about what kinds of jobs there are for when we graduate." Speaking with the older Weasleys will also give Tom more insight as to how the more moderate side of Wizarding Britain views things.

"Atticus stops by a lot," Septimus says, nodding. "So you can ask him questions yourself."

"Excellent," Tom says. He wraps up the stick of the sugar quill in its wrappings and sets it upon the table. "Harry and I will be sure to come by."

On the first Monday in the second week of June, their marks are released. The introduction of practicals means that a number of the rankings have shifted a good deal.

Tom, of course, still finds his name at the top of the list.

His name is followed by Lestrange, Black, Nott, and then Adelaide. Adelaide's position comes as a surprise, but as her name is followed immediately by Harry's, Tom decides that perhaps the other boys had simply somehow managed to do better than her.

Adelaide certainly doesn't seem to mind. She and Tom are eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table, having both woken up extremely early this morning, and she's been perfectly pleasant the entire time. At least, as pleasant as she usually is around him.

When Septimus, Annalise, and Harry finally come downstairs to join them, Tom can see they're in the middle of a whispered argument. Septimus nudges Harry with his elbow as they approach, and Harry shakes his head, his jaw tight.

"Congratulations on your ranking," Adelaide says to Harry, interrupting whatever it is that's going on. "Well done."

Harry startles. "Oh, thank you. You, too," he adds. "Congratulations." Then he moves to sit next to Tom, helping himself to some eggs, now firmly focused on the task of getting breakfast.

"Was there something you wanted to share?" Tom asks Annalise and Septimus, who are both still standing.

The two exchange a glance. "Nothing," says Annalise, obviously lying. "It's nothing."

Septimus sits down next to Harry, and Annalise sits next to Adelaide. Tom cuts into his sausage, waiting. Then, after a moment, Septimus says, "Someone tripped Harry in the corridor."

Harry drops his fork back onto his plate with a loud clatter. "It was just an accident," Harry says, sounding angry. "I told you, I just wasn't paying attention."

Tom knows Harry is lying. He can tell right away and he knows exactly why. Adelaide had warned him that his successes would not come trouble-free and this is the proof of it.

"Who was it?" asks Tom.

Harry doesn't answer; he merely glares at Septimus and Annalise, as though daring them to try and talk. Annalise pours herself a glass of water and takes a long sip of it. Septimus, however, still looks as though he wants to speak.

"Who was it?" Tom repeats, this time directly to Septimus. "Who tripped him?"

Adelaide kicks Tom under the table, because Tom's voice is rising in pitch and there are now more students in the Great Hall who are around to hear him. But Tom doesn't care, because he's angry and he wants people to hear.

"Septimus," Harry hisses. "I told you not to say anything."

"It was the Slytherin boys," Septimus says. His blue eyes are fixed on Tom, and his voice is steady as he speaks. "I don't know which one, but it was them."

Tom exhales. All the tension in his shoulders vanishes and he leans back on the bench, now composed. "I see."

They'd picked Harry because he was an easier target. They'd probably thought they would get to Tom that way as well, since most people know that he and Harry are close.

"It wasn't anything," Harry says, but no one acknowledges him.

Tom pours himself some water, just to make a point of doing so, and Harry watches the movement. He's worrying, Tom can tell. No matter, Harry ought to know by now that Tom can and will be able to handle these things.

"They won't try anything else now," Adelaide says in an undertone. "It's too close to the end of the year to cause much trouble. But they'll be taking their marks home with them, and their parents will demand answers."

Septimus coughs. "Will yours?"

Adelaide levels him with a flat stare. "I'd say that's neither here nor there, Weasley."

So Tom resumes eating his breakfast, ignoring Harry's insistent nudges at his foot. They only have a few days left at Hogwarts, and Tom is not about to waste them on those pathetic excuses for Slytherins. Let them think their actions have no consequences for a while longer. Tom has all summer to decide just exactly what he wants to do next year.

A/N:

reminder to vote for the epilogue POV on the poll on my profile, which will end on december 25th, midnight PST.

the epilogue chapter will be posted before the end of 2019, and book two will start in 2020 (details to come).

thank you all for reading, and please (please) feel encouraged to leave a comment!