4: Home

Tom looked around the room that had been his for the last six summers. The bare, cold, walls looked the shade of grey that only comes from white paint long overdue a new layer. Or two. His hand rested on the frame of his metallic bed, where he had lain awake for hours, trying to get any rest in the always too cold room, that only seemed colder when lying on the old spring mattress. It never mattered that he was only ever there for the eight weeks of summer break, when one would have thought the kinder weather would have warmed the run down building. The room was always cold as the light never truly reached it. His window - if one could call the little square on the wall a window - was facing a decrepit brick wall barely a foot away, adding another touch of pathetic to his 'quarters'.

He hadn't always stayed there. The first eleven years of his life, he had been in a room with seven other boys. The room had been relatively more comfortable, but this was probably due to his smaller frame and the fact that the window had been facing south, bringing in some sunlight to the cold building.

Tom could not recall ever feeling anything but cold hate for the place. The other children had treated him like a monster as long as he could remember - as long as he had been able to do accidental magic. The matron and ladies in charge of the children's care were sparsely present and they, too, had kept their distance towards him.

No, Tom could not feel anything but cold detachment towards the place that had seen him grow from his newborn day to the day he had finally been able to leave it behind for most of the year - only returning when his beloved Hogwarts was closed to students in the summer holidays. He had once hated the place with a passion. Not anymore. He had learned to detach himself from things that did not matter and that place definitely did not matter.

After today, he would also never have to set eyes on it again. Thank Salazar.

His hand slithered down toward his school trunk, closing it shut in a decisive click of the iron lock. He slipped his wand up in his sleeve, securing it to the little holster that one of his Knights had gifted him the previous Christmas. He then seized the handle of his truck, smiling in satisfaction as he felt the featherlight charm he had placed on it almost two months ago was of course still in place.

Pulling the trunk along the corridor of Wool's Orphanage, he listened to the sound of his steps resonating in the unusually quiet building. He could hear voices coming from the lunch hall and figured that something must be going on. He couldn't care less however and kept moving decisively towards the front door.

He only saw the old caretaker, waiting for him at the door. He nodded to Tom, who insisted on carrying his trunk into the rickety truck so the old muggle wouldn't notice the weight of it - or rather, the lack of any. The journey to King's Cross station passed in silence, Tom taking in the strange peacefulness of London, which came as a stark contrast to the anxious and dirty atmosphere that had reigned over the city in the past years.

The destruction was still very much present, however and Tom could only see another reason to never want to set foot in the muggle world from now on. Hate, cold, destruction and death. This was all the impression the muggle world had left on him in the past sixteen and a half years.

As the truck slowed a couple of streets away from the station, Tom's hand briefly closed around his opposite arm, feeling for the comforting presence of his wand, his constant connection to his magic that he had never let go of since getting it six years prior.

Not looking back towards the old man that had driven him to his final escape, Tom marched confidently towards King's Cross, an air of superiority that came from the blood and power that naturally ran in his veins. Something that the muggles had never understood, never acknowledged, simply because he was tied to not use his magic outside of his rightful world.

"Tom!" a feminine voice that he knew too well called behind him. He placed a polite smile on his face before turning around to greet who was undoubtedly the best student in our year. After him, that went without saying.

"Good morning, Alya. I hope you are well?" he asked in a perfect picture of polite caring.

The girl looked shorter than he remembered, evidently due to the fact that he had grown over the summer, now just over 6 feet tall, he looked down on her petite frame. Alya Travers was a Ravenclaw Prefect. They had often been paired up on assignments, and he had to admit that she was rather clever and a pleasant study companion when unavoidable, but the time they spent together had led the girl to feel some silly infatuation towards him. The simplicity of manipulating girls into following him was really unchallenging.

"I am very well, thank you, Tom. How was your summer?" She asked, a hint of a blush lighting her pale cheeks. "I am sure you have made Head Boy, have you not? I am Head Girl!" She continued, barely taking a breath from her precious question.

He took a deep breath and deepened his smile. "That is great news, congratulations Alya." Tom acknowledged, ignoring the annoying question regarding his summer. He placed a hand on her forearm. "I will go find my housemates to get settled and will meet you at the front of the train in half an hour to discuss our headship."

As expected, Alya's blush only deepened at the minute contact and he smiled a bit more..

"Hmm, yes, of course. Congratulations as well, Tom. No-one deserved it more than you!" She beamed and he nodded coolly before retreating.

On his way to the train, he met with Thorfin Rowle and Emmet Rosier, two of his Knights, as they were now known amongst themselves. "Thor, Emmet," he acknowledged them and the boys nodded with the hint of deference they had learned to show him. Tom gestured to the train and the three boys made their way towards their usual compartment, where they expected to meet the rest of their group.

Arriving at their spot however, they found that someone was in the process of claiming it and irritation slithered its way in Tom.

"What are you doing here?" Thor, who was the first to come in, asked the intruder.

Everyone knew not to come there and doing could only be the action of a foolish Gryffindor looking for a fight this early in the year.

"Settling in for the trip to Hogwarts, clearly." The tone was sharp and unforgiving and Tom was briefly surprised to hear it was a strange girl. He had expected it to be one of the simpleton Gryffindors that always wanted to pick a fight with him or his fellow Slytherins.

"That compartment is taken," Emmet stated neutrally, an air of arrogant boredom on his face but then he seemed to notice that the girl was not one we had seen before. "Who are you?" Tom thought he saw a crack in Emmet's usual mask of boredom.

"What my companion are trying to say, rather gauchely," Tom slided into the conversation, "is that we usually sit here and were surprised to find someone unknown already settling in." He offered the girl his best smile in an attempt to soften her. "I am Tom, and here are Thor and Emmet, two dear… friends of mine." Tom pointed to the boys in turn before taking a step forward.

The strange girl took a step back, an air of panic on her face. Her gaze was darting quickly between Thor and Emmet, who were now standing on either side of the door. She seemed to be assessing the best way to get out of there. That was definitely not what Tom had aimed to achieve.

He levitated all of their trunks to the baggage racks in a fluid motion and went to sit, signaling to Thor and Emmet to sit by him, leaving an empty bench available, as well as the way to the exit, should the girl decide to run away. Salazar knew she seemed ready to.

"What is your name?" Tom asked, trying to inject some softness to his tone in the hopes to let her know she was safe. Believe she was, in any case.

"Ginny, Ginny Prewett." She looked up into his eyes for the first time since he'd walked in. She had dark amber eyes, a reflection of gold emphasised by the sunlight that had finally decided to make an appearance. They almost look on fire, Tom thought. They match her fiery red hair.

Tom smiled, almost genuinely this time. The strangest feeling of familiarity crept in as he heard her name. "A pleasure, Miss Prewett." His eyes still frozen in place, diving into hers, he felt compelled to keep talking; "I am in Seventh year and also Head Boy. You can come to me if you need anything while learning about the castle."

Time seemed to slow for a moment as they looked at each other and Tom was grateful to Thor, when he broke the moment with his own introduction. What is it about this girl that makes me feel so… intrigued? He mused, observing her as she interacted with his companions.

AN: I couldn't resist a bit of Tom's POV :D

Thoughts?

Ada xx