Tap. Tap. Tap tap! TAP! TASSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Tom bolted out of bed, ready to high kick anything that came close. What he expected to see was not a massive owl standing almost proudly amidst the shards of broken glass on the carpet. In its beak was a black envelope. Strange. Cautiously approaching the animal, Tom picked up the letter it had dropped on the floor. Seeing its parcel safety delivered, the owl turned towards the window and lifted off into the sky. With a wingspan like that of an eagle's, the owl flapped hard, cuffing Tom hard 'round the head as it went, causing him to step backwards. He watched silently as the owl flew off into the rising sun, until it was no more than a speck among the cotton clouds.
CRASH! Thunk. "Owww."
Tom spun around from the window, once more in high kick mode. Seeing it was only another kid in a black robe, he relaxed. About three centimeters. This new person looked a lot like "Crabbe" in stature, but obviously wasn't as bright. He stood there in the doorway, rubbing the back of his head. Tom started breathing again. He slipped the letter into his robes.
"What do you want?" Tom said as evenly as he could.
The boy scrunched up his face, as if thinking very hard. It got all red, and his eyes started to bug out. Tom watched in fascination. If he continued in this manner, he would more than likely blow up like an overcooked hot dog. (A/N: Yummy!)
Then, like a sun peaking out through a storm, relief washed over the boy's face.
"Crabbe wants me to see where you are. You should have been down in the common a half hour ago." The boy looked immensely pleased with himself, and he turned to walk down the spiral staircase, pulling up his robes as he went. Dumbstruck, Tom followed him down until he was in what seemed like a living room gone gothic. There were chairs, (black lazy-boys) a fireplace, and a section of tables in a corner where a few people seemed to be reading. The walls were stone. The carpet was black. It was deathly cold in the corners of the room; it seemed the only way one could avoid hypothermia was to sit beside the fire. Which he did. Sinking into a chair, he thought once more of where the hell he was. His thoughts were interrupted however, when he felt eyes stabbing into his back. Turning, he saw everyone in the room was staring at him. He turned around and faced the fire once more, not sure what to do. He stared into the dancing flames, trying to forget about the stares. He pulled out the letter and opened it. 'Draco, ' Tom looked up. Who the hell was this Draco guy anyway? 'This is your father, and I've come to remind you about the yearly Slytherin tradition. It's not every day you get to properly put a mudblood in her place. Have fun, and don't forget the memory charm once you're done. Don't want Dumbledore knowing anything that would, ah, upset him. -L.M. ' Yeah, I know this one's short. Bear with me. (TBC)
Tom bolted out of bed, ready to high kick anything that came close. What he expected to see was not a massive owl standing almost proudly amidst the shards of broken glass on the carpet. In its beak was a black envelope. Strange. Cautiously approaching the animal, Tom picked up the letter it had dropped on the floor. Seeing its parcel safety delivered, the owl turned towards the window and lifted off into the sky. With a wingspan like that of an eagle's, the owl flapped hard, cuffing Tom hard 'round the head as it went, causing him to step backwards. He watched silently as the owl flew off into the rising sun, until it was no more than a speck among the cotton clouds.
CRASH! Thunk. "Owww."
Tom spun around from the window, once more in high kick mode. Seeing it was only another kid in a black robe, he relaxed. About three centimeters. This new person looked a lot like "Crabbe" in stature, but obviously wasn't as bright. He stood there in the doorway, rubbing the back of his head. Tom started breathing again. He slipped the letter into his robes.
"What do you want?" Tom said as evenly as he could.
The boy scrunched up his face, as if thinking very hard. It got all red, and his eyes started to bug out. Tom watched in fascination. If he continued in this manner, he would more than likely blow up like an overcooked hot dog. (A/N: Yummy!)
Then, like a sun peaking out through a storm, relief washed over the boy's face.
"Crabbe wants me to see where you are. You should have been down in the common a half hour ago." The boy looked immensely pleased with himself, and he turned to walk down the spiral staircase, pulling up his robes as he went. Dumbstruck, Tom followed him down until he was in what seemed like a living room gone gothic. There were chairs, (black lazy-boys) a fireplace, and a section of tables in a corner where a few people seemed to be reading. The walls were stone. The carpet was black. It was deathly cold in the corners of the room; it seemed the only way one could avoid hypothermia was to sit beside the fire. Which he did. Sinking into a chair, he thought once more of where the hell he was. His thoughts were interrupted however, when he felt eyes stabbing into his back. Turning, he saw everyone in the room was staring at him. He turned around and faced the fire once more, not sure what to do. He stared into the dancing flames, trying to forget about the stares. He pulled out the letter and opened it. 'Draco, ' Tom looked up. Who the hell was this Draco guy anyway? 'This is your father, and I've come to remind you about the yearly Slytherin tradition. It's not every day you get to properly put a mudblood in her place. Have fun, and don't forget the memory charm once you're done. Don't want Dumbledore knowing anything that would, ah, upset him. -L.M. ' Yeah, I know this one's short. Bear with me. (TBC)