Sorry again guys, I've had some serious writers block this past week. That and I've been really busy.
Anyways, enjoy! x
Tom's POV
I paced in front of the closed gate. The seven days I had given Potter were up. Five minutes to midnight and he still wasn't there yet and I was starting to worry. Yet, somehow, I knew he would try to come. We had some sort of connection, though I could not explain it.
Suddenly, a quiet pop sounded beside me. I stopped pacing and turned to address Potter. However, instead of finding black hair and green eyes, I came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall. I recognised her from when Dumbledore was headmaster of Hogwarts and I had gone to apply for a job.
"Minerva Mcgonagall."
She ignored my civil greeting.
"Are you armed?" she demanded coldly.
I pointed silently at my wand, which was lying close to her on the Potter's garden wall. She nodded curtly and raised her own wand.
"Expecto patronum."
A bright, silver tabby cat burst from the tip of her wand and sprang away into the night. For ten minutes we stared each other down.
Pop.
Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shackebolt and a pink-haired witch I had never seen before appeared, accompanied by Potter, a Weasley and the Granger girl Draco so resented. I smiled inwardly. Potter was definetly in for a shock.
The three youngsters gaped at me, as if not quite sure whether to believe I was there and ready to talk to them, without making an attempt on their lives. . Potter was the first to recover from the 'trance'. He walked slowly around me and rested both hands on the gate of the disused house. A series of signs came into sight, obviously muggle protected. I peered at a few of the signs.
God bless you, Harry Potter, wherever you are.
Good luck to you, Harry.
We're all with you.
I averted my eyes from the messages and scanned at the party of witches and wizards. The Granger girl was silently crying, comforted by the pink-haired witch. McGonagall was still eying me, but this time, with a certain sadness in her grey eyes.
"Come one, then."
Potter pushed the gate open and entered what would technically be his house. I swept after him, taking on the bat-like gait of Severus Snape. I heard someone snort, but I chose to ignore it.
Potter led us into a small, but comfortable sitting room. He trailed his hand along an armchair and sat down heavily on it.
Looking up at me, he said "Have a seat."
I gawped at him, taken aback by the polite offer. Sinking down onto the chair opposite, I barely noticed the rest of them filing in and occupying the sofa adjacent to our two chairs. What I desperately wanted to know, was why Potter was being so kind to me. Especially after all I had done, to him specifically.
"So?" The ginger boy spoke through the silence.
I sighed. "Okay, you came here to hear me talk, so here it is."
And I began to tell my story, all of it. From the beginning.