Reading his new book had given Tom a bit of a fascination with the outside gardens. They were bare now, but still well maintained, no weeds or dead bushes hanging around to suffocate the new sprouts that would come later.

But, although he felt a fascination, and a bit of new understanding, he didn't have any desire to get his hands in the dirt. He just wanted to be around it all, watching the plants, the birds, and the insects as they all lived their own lives far removed from caring about what any human said or thought.

He found himself envious of that.

He walked through the sleeping gardens, his new book in hand, just feeling the bite of the wind as it blew through his hair. He'd been finding more moments like this recently, moments where he wasn't angry at the world or shutting himself down because it was all too much. He just felt… content.

He wandered for a while. It was still cold enough outside that most of the other kids didn't come out to play until later in the afternoon, so other than the chirps of birds and the low echo of clatter from the nearby kitchens, there wasn't much noise at all.

He found a nice spot to sit, and opened his book.

"Hey, Tommy," someone called in a singsong tone. Tom shot to his feet in alarm. No one was supposed to be out here.

A skinny boy of about nine walked out, hands in his trouser pockets. Tom recognised him.

"What do you want, Timothy?" Tom demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion. That boy was never friendly just for the sake of it.

"Just out for a stroll. Nice day isn't it?" Timothy said, grinning, coming closer. Tom took a step back.

"What's that you've got there?" he asked, spotting Tom's book still sitting on the paver. Tom moved to grab it, but the boy was faster, snatching it up and flicking through the pages.

"That's mine!"

"It's a girl's book is what it is."

"It is not!"

"Yes it is."

"Shut up!"

"Only hanging out with a girl, one weirder than you of all things, reading girl's books, I bet you play with dolls too."

"I do not, shut up! Ginny's not weird, and this isn't a girl's book it's just a book!"

"Nah, maybe you're not a girl. Maybe you're just boring."

Tom saw red, "Shut up!" he screamed, lunging at the boy. The boy danced out of the way, laughing silently.

Timothy frowned, opening and closing his mouth, mouthing words but no sound came out. He started looking panicked.

Tom grabbed his book and ran back inside as fast as he could, heading straight for his room and shutting the door behind him.

What on earth had that been? Timothy couldn't speak anymore, had that been him? Could he have somehow done that just by wanting it? No way…

He put his book down on his bed, took a few steps back, and stared at it, wanting it in his hands with all his might.

Nothing. The book didn't so much as twitch.

Okay so it wasn't that. Then what? Had Timothy suddenly gotten that sickness that stops people from being able to talk? Lary-something? Maybe he should go to the nurse.

No, no he wasn't going to get help for him. He'd had the nerve to insult him, imply there was something wrong with hanging out with Ginny, and then call him boring. As though Tom could ever be something as pathetic and insipid as boring! How dare he!

He could suffer for all Tom cared.

Maybe he should tell Ginny what happened though. She might have some ideas as to what happened and what to do about it.

But he didn't want to go running to anyone just because of a bit of trouble, even if it was her.

Where was she anyway?


When Tom found her, she was surrounded by Marcus and his band of menaces.

The sneering girl looked furious as she pulled on a fistful of Ginny's hair, her own hair a desperately bright orange rather than its usual blonde.

A rather large boy was holding Ginny against the wall while she fought, growling at them with fury of her own. Her nose and knuckles were bleeding.

Tom needed to get her out of there, but how? There were five of them, there was no way he could fight them any more than Ginny could, though she had clearly given it her best shot. Marcus himself had a black eye, and the boy holding her had a split lip.

Ginny spotted Tom, her eyes widening either in surprise or concern, or a mix of both, he wasn't really sure. Either way it was enough that Tom ducked back around the corner to consider his options without being beset by those trolls.

Mind you, if he did get them to chase him instead, then Ginny could get away and he could lure them into a room and lock them in.

They would almost certainly want revenge after that and come after Ginny and himself even harder, but this was the worst escalation he'd seen and he needed to get her out of there before they broke her nose.

He braced himself and rounded the corner.

"Hey!" he yelled, puffing himself up. Ginny looked up in alarm as the bullies all turned to face him.

"How are you all so pathetic that you need to beat up a little girl? Are you freaks or just cowards?" he continued.

"Who're you calling freak?" demanded the boy with the split lip.

"You're one to talk," sneered the smallest boy, "I've never seen you with anything but that freakish stare. Do you even know how a face is supposed to work?"

"Clearly not like that," Tom replied, pointing at the small boy's own ratlike mug. The boy charged at him.

Marcus grinned, "Looks like the creep is asking for it today," he said, and followed the rat-faced boy.

Just as he'd hoped, the boy with the split lip dropped Ginny and gave chase.

Out of the corner of his eye, just before he ran, he saw that the girl hadn't followed. But there was no time to worry about that, Ginny would have to deal with it, because now the rest of them were chasing him.

It occurred to him, as he rounded the seventh corner and struggled for breath, that this was a really stupid plan. It relied very much on him being faster than four boys who were all taller than him.

At last he'd reached a hall of bedrooms, it really didn't matter whose.

He opened a door at random, flinging himself inside and leaving it open, positioning himself to pull it shut as he ran back out.

The others followed him in, and Tom grabbed the door handle and ran.

One of the boys saw the move out of the corner of his eye and grabbed at Tom before he could get out, tossing him into the centre of the room with the others.

Someone kicked the door shut, sealing him in with four very angry, surprisingly large boys, all older than him.

The boy with the split lip grinned, blood coating his teeth.

Oh god, he needed out. Right now! He bolted towards the window on pure instinct, bracing himself for impact and cursing whatever force in his body made him want to do that.

But he hit nothing. The wind hit his face, nipping at his cheeks and pulling at his hair. Tom opened his eyes, frowning.

He was outside. Right near the sleeping gardens where he'd been reading not an hour ago.

How? Seriously, how?

He turned and made his way back inside.

He wished he knew some swearwords, today was just that kind of day.


"That was very brave of you, Tom. Thank you," Ginny said as he wrapped up her knuckles with clean handkerchiefs.

"Stupid is what it was. We need something better next time, something to stop them from hurting us in the first place. To scare them enough that they won't try."

She looked up at him, an odd expression on her face.

She shook her head, "We could just tell Sarah, or Mary. I know the Matron won't do anything, but they might, and we have proof that we're the injured parties," she said, pointing to her nose.

There was a clearly visible purple bruise blooming across it now. She was very lucky it wasn't broken.

"We also have proof that we didn't just sit and get beaten," he retorted, holding up her newly wrapped hands, "We retaliated, we won't get any sympathy now. With our luck, the ones that chased me will have said that I herded them into the room and attacked them."

Ginny sighed and looked down at her hands, her eyes watery. Tom hoped that was from the bruising and she wasn't about to cry.

He frowned, "What happened with the girl who stayed with you? She didn't hurt you more, did she?"

She shook her head, "I got away."

Tom nodded, "Good."

He thought of telling her all the odd things that had happened to him today, but he wasn't sure what to make of them yet. Perhaps he was going mad. He didn't want to be creepy and insane, then he'd be all alone again. He didn't think he could bear it a second time, not after knowing what it was like to have a friend.

He couldn't tell her. But, if he really were going mad, no one else would see the strange things that were happening around him. So Ginny shouldn't have seen that the girl bully's hair was the wrong colour.

"Ginny, the girl who pulled your hair, what colour was hers?" he asked.

"Her hair?" Ginny asked.

"Yes."

"What do you want to know that for?"

"It doesn't matter why, just tell me."

Ginny shifted in her seat and looked around, "I dunno. I was getting beaten up, remember?" she mumbled.

She got up and headed over to the bed, pulling the covers up to her ears. Nevermind that it wasn't even sunset and they were still sharing.

That was… odd. Not another to the list of odd things, but a definite point against him being crazy. Because it seemed to him that she too saw that girl's hair had changed, and was intentionally hiding it.

Why on earth would she do that?

"Ginny," Tom said, sitting on the bed next to her.

"Mmmph?" she responded, her face practically buried in the pillow.

He hoped she didn't hurt her nose.

"Why did Marcus target you so hard today?"

She turned and faced him, looking impossibly sad. Something in his chest ached at the sight.

"I did something. I didn't mean to, but that doesn't really matter around here, does it?"

Tom shook his head. It really didn't. He placed his hand on hers.

"I'm here," he said.

She smiled, something like hope shining in her eyes, and threaded her fingers with his.