AN: Alas, an insanely short chapter. I apologize – I really didn't have
much to say except random musings and scattered Quidditch events. But the
next year will be better, I promise. And, if anyone's familiar with WWII
history, they'll realize that I just couldn't help myself from making the
London Blitz a factor. Well, just like everything else I've promised, that
is coming next year as well.
Oh yes, and I updated the first chapter with a small intro with Voldemort's musings on his past.
That said, I'll let the ominous-ness return (bum bum BUM!)
~~
Chapter Eight: Year Two - 1939
~~
It took a few days for Tom to readjust to his carefree world of magic, but when he finally did, he was unimaginably relieved. There was no mystery here, at least not to a larger degree.
It was nearly impossible to say the castle held no mystery. There were a few times Tom found himself lost in the maze of corridors and under its haunted ceilings, even after promising himself he'd learned from his mistakes from the previous year. But after every dead end or vaguely familiar tapestry, Tom found his way, eventually.
There was always an answer, and that's what was comforting.
Questions aside, Tom found it easier to enjoy the game of Quidditch as the season returned in November. It was an entertaining game to be sure, but internally, an ever-raging battle raged on.
Artemus Black, much to his own delight, had been appointed as Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Even if it hadn't been announced officially by Don Evans, the captain, or if it hadn't been posted three times in the Slytherin common room, it would have become obvious after the countless practices Artemus tended to do, even without the team.
Walking around the hallways, he interrogated members of the team about tactics they'd already gone over some umpteen times, threatened first years into coming to the first game of the season, even when they assured him profusely they'd already intended to. He even carried his broom with him – a brand new model of the first Nimbus, the finest – under his arm between classes.
Tom, however, stood with a foot in both worlds – Slytherin and Gryffindor. He found it important, yet not wholly necessary to mention, that Simon Potter was now the Gryffindor seeker.
It became all too clear at the opening game, however. Tom wasn't at all surprised when the match ensued with especial brutality.
It seemed the Beaters shared Black's disdain, judging by the countless number of bludgers Simon had dodged by the end of the game.
The end of the game; which he'd won, by the way.
Something worth noting in his memory was an award they'd shoved into Tom's reluctant hands that year. It was an academic achievement, and therefore, a cause of shame for a twelve-year-old boy.
But looking back, it really was incredible. Him, a small boy with no extraordinary experience with magic, deprived of his life until only recently, receiving an award for the highest scores among the first years for his end-of-year tests.
Indeed, shameful – and hardly noted.
Rumors of war continued their due course of causing panic – only slight panic, mind you. It wasn't for sure, but it was enough for a few worried looks, and even a couple of students to be excused from class in order to properly mourn their loss.
And yet, what business did a wizard have in a fight among muggles? It was an interesting issue to some... unapproached by others... but after the numbers of casualties increased, it became vaguely but not surely evident that the World would shed blood, and not just the muggles involved.
Tom would have liked to put the matter aside and go about his second year as it should be – not too keen on the idea of arguing politics. But Simon had grown quiet lately, his only utterance being a confession that his Dad was in the Royal Navy.
What business would he have in the Royal Navy if he were already an Auror? Tom never asked, figuring it was a touchy subject.
But just as the end of the year approached, Tom now hitting the big thirteen mark without celebration, he realized something he hadn't seen before.
He hadn't wanted to see it – that this life, this world, it wasn't a refuge for him. It wasn't a world on it's own. Sure, magic offered it's own protection, a looming castle tended to inspire a sort of surreal façade of safety – but the truth remained that he lived in the same world, breathed the same air, watched the same fading sky as someone lying on their back, motionless, paralyzed, dying in the silence of a dead battle.
Hoping for refuge from what he'd counted on as a real childhood, he instead found his old life waiting for him... back in the hands of the state – along with the growing numbers of orphaned children that would join him.
When the end of the year came around and kindly stopped for them, Tom found himself following the same routine, taking the same tests, cheering for the same Quidditch team, laughing at the same jokes, smiling awkwardly at the same familiar faces... now hoping he could have taken his wish back... now hoping things would never change.
Now hoping death would never come - to anyone - to him.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Like I've said before, I just can't keep myself away from this stupid drama.
Reviews!
Awkward: Thank you for that! Sometimes these corny chapter titles really bother me.
Kim (and the really long name): Thank you! I must have skipped that interview or something, but I've read as many as I could. Damn, now I'll have to factor her in or something. Oh, and I reviewed one of your stories, but I don't think it got through, and it won't let me review again. Bleh.
Miss Piratess: Okay, okay! Gosh, tell the rabid weasels to get OFF me! I'll give you answers! Okay... haha... Glad you like Lillian. One of my key characters that I just couldn't avoid. I was afraid people would find her annoying. And yes, she will serve a larger role in the whole HP chronology, if that's what you're trying to figure out.
Oh yes, and I updated the first chapter with a small intro with Voldemort's musings on his past.
That said, I'll let the ominous-ness return (bum bum BUM!)
~~
Chapter Eight: Year Two - 1939
~~
It took a few days for Tom to readjust to his carefree world of magic, but when he finally did, he was unimaginably relieved. There was no mystery here, at least not to a larger degree.
It was nearly impossible to say the castle held no mystery. There were a few times Tom found himself lost in the maze of corridors and under its haunted ceilings, even after promising himself he'd learned from his mistakes from the previous year. But after every dead end or vaguely familiar tapestry, Tom found his way, eventually.
There was always an answer, and that's what was comforting.
Questions aside, Tom found it easier to enjoy the game of Quidditch as the season returned in November. It was an entertaining game to be sure, but internally, an ever-raging battle raged on.
Artemus Black, much to his own delight, had been appointed as Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Even if it hadn't been announced officially by Don Evans, the captain, or if it hadn't been posted three times in the Slytherin common room, it would have become obvious after the countless practices Artemus tended to do, even without the team.
Walking around the hallways, he interrogated members of the team about tactics they'd already gone over some umpteen times, threatened first years into coming to the first game of the season, even when they assured him profusely they'd already intended to. He even carried his broom with him – a brand new model of the first Nimbus, the finest – under his arm between classes.
Tom, however, stood with a foot in both worlds – Slytherin and Gryffindor. He found it important, yet not wholly necessary to mention, that Simon Potter was now the Gryffindor seeker.
It became all too clear at the opening game, however. Tom wasn't at all surprised when the match ensued with especial brutality.
It seemed the Beaters shared Black's disdain, judging by the countless number of bludgers Simon had dodged by the end of the game.
The end of the game; which he'd won, by the way.
Something worth noting in his memory was an award they'd shoved into Tom's reluctant hands that year. It was an academic achievement, and therefore, a cause of shame for a twelve-year-old boy.
But looking back, it really was incredible. Him, a small boy with no extraordinary experience with magic, deprived of his life until only recently, receiving an award for the highest scores among the first years for his end-of-year tests.
Indeed, shameful – and hardly noted.
Rumors of war continued their due course of causing panic – only slight panic, mind you. It wasn't for sure, but it was enough for a few worried looks, and even a couple of students to be excused from class in order to properly mourn their loss.
And yet, what business did a wizard have in a fight among muggles? It was an interesting issue to some... unapproached by others... but after the numbers of casualties increased, it became vaguely but not surely evident that the World would shed blood, and not just the muggles involved.
Tom would have liked to put the matter aside and go about his second year as it should be – not too keen on the idea of arguing politics. But Simon had grown quiet lately, his only utterance being a confession that his Dad was in the Royal Navy.
What business would he have in the Royal Navy if he were already an Auror? Tom never asked, figuring it was a touchy subject.
But just as the end of the year approached, Tom now hitting the big thirteen mark without celebration, he realized something he hadn't seen before.
He hadn't wanted to see it – that this life, this world, it wasn't a refuge for him. It wasn't a world on it's own. Sure, magic offered it's own protection, a looming castle tended to inspire a sort of surreal façade of safety – but the truth remained that he lived in the same world, breathed the same air, watched the same fading sky as someone lying on their back, motionless, paralyzed, dying in the silence of a dead battle.
Hoping for refuge from what he'd counted on as a real childhood, he instead found his old life waiting for him... back in the hands of the state – along with the growing numbers of orphaned children that would join him.
When the end of the year came around and kindly stopped for them, Tom found himself following the same routine, taking the same tests, cheering for the same Quidditch team, laughing at the same jokes, smiling awkwardly at the same familiar faces... now hoping he could have taken his wish back... now hoping things would never change.
Now hoping death would never come - to anyone - to him.
~~~~~~~~~~
AN: Like I've said before, I just can't keep myself away from this stupid drama.
Reviews!
Awkward: Thank you for that! Sometimes these corny chapter titles really bother me.
Kim (and the really long name): Thank you! I must have skipped that interview or something, but I've read as many as I could. Damn, now I'll have to factor her in or something. Oh, and I reviewed one of your stories, but I don't think it got through, and it won't let me review again. Bleh.
Miss Piratess: Okay, okay! Gosh, tell the rabid weasels to get OFF me! I'll give you answers! Okay... haha... Glad you like Lillian. One of my key characters that I just couldn't avoid. I was afraid people would find her annoying. And yes, she will serve a larger role in the whole HP chronology, if that's what you're trying to figure out.