Written listening to Vance Joy's song, Riptide.
After Harry finished stuffing his lunch into his mouth (something that made Tom stare at him in horror), he leapt out of his chair. Finally, new clothes! Although Harry had never been a very big fan of clothing before, the prospect of getting new clothes that were actually his was a very attractive prospect. No matter how well-meaning Tom was, his clothes just didn't fit Harry that well.
It was unfair! Harry knew that Tom was about the same age as him, but he was already bigger! Harry suspected that he would be small for his age for a while yet (something that his father had teased him about). Well. At least Harry could hope that one day, he'd outgrow Tom. He was going to be a famous Auror. How lame would it be if he was shorter than all the dark wizards he defeated?
Harry snapped out of his thoughts as Tom poked him on the forehead. "You look like Mrs. Cole after she has her gin," Tom criticized, tilting his head and examining Harry's face with interest. "What were you thinking of?"
"Nothing," Harry said, trying to be nonchalant. "I'm just a bit excited about getting new clothes."
"Sure," Tom said, tone disbelieving. "Well, I don't know what Martha is going to say, but I'm coming with you. Knowing her, she'd dress you in terribly girly things because she finds it cute." Tom said that with a voice that implied that cute was the worst possible trait that Harry could have.
"Cute?" Harry asked, horrified. "Help me, Tom!"
"Gladly," Tom said, pursing his lips and grabbing onto Harry's arm. He dragged Harry out of the dining room to the back hallway where they had entered from the courtyard. They both stopped to wait.
Martha was nowhere to be seen.
After a few minutes had gone by, Harry started to fidget. Standing was so boring! Where was Martha? Harry's estimation of the quality of his new living accommodations was reaching dismal levels. Tom's here, Tom's here, Harry repeated in his head. That made it worth it.
Harry glanced at Tom. Tom's face was so expressionless! It was kind of creepy. It was almost as if Tom wasn't really Tom at all. Maybe it was a huge, human size doll? Harry shuddered at the thought. They stood waiting for a few more minutes. Harry couldn't handle it anymore. Harry had to check.
Harry slowly lifted one finger and, when Tom showed no signs of noticing the small movement, he quickly jabbed it into Tom's cheek.
"Ow," Tom said, glaring at Harry. "What was that for?"
"You were being too quiet," Harry said. "I thought you were replaced by a big Tom statue!"
"That's a ridiculous idea," Tom said. Despite his scathing tone, Harry thought he could detect a hint of a smile. Ha, Harry was winning!
"No it's not!" Harry insisted, poking Tom's cheek again. "Weird things happen with magic all the time. You never know. Weird things exist. I'm pretty sure there's some kind of magical creature that can turn people into stone!"
Tom sighed. "Let's just wait for Martha."
Harry pouted, but acquiesced. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait much longer. A very flustered-sounding Martha burst through the door to the courtyard, patting down her clothes.
"There you are, Harry!" Martha called out, almost tripping over her own feet as she closed the door. After she quietly shut it, she turned to Harry, voice playful. "Keep this a secret, will ya?"
Harry was about to give a sound of agreement when next to him, Tom snorted. Harry could hear as Martha instantly shifted herself, facing Tom. "You too, Tom," Martha said coldly.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Of course."
"Now, Harry," Martha said kindly, "let's go get you some clothes. I have some in the storage room that might fit you!" Harry thought she sounded rather suspicious. It was as if after threatening Tom, she completely forgot about his existence at all!
That wasn't right. Tom was a human too! Well, a more awesome human than all these Muggles around, anyway. Muggles just didn't understand it. But still! What exactly had Tom done to deserve this? Harry had noticed that Tom had a tendency to be a bit snarky and rude, not to mention his furious belief in the merits of stealing, but nevertheless! Harry was going to show Martha that Tom wasn't that bad. Maybe she would be nicer to him if she saw how nice Tom actually was? It seemed to work remarkably well on Alyssa.
"Okay," Harry said evenly, resolving to make things right. "Can Tom come too?"
Martha was quiet for a few seconds. "Are you sure?" she asked faintly.
"Of course!" Harry said innocently.
"Well," Martha said. "Then follow me."
Tom started pulling Harry forward, making Harry sigh a little. Martha completely forgot that he couldn't see her. The negligence was astounding. Harry was sure that if his parents were still around, they'd actually make an attempt to actually care! Much like Tom was doing, actually.
Tom led Harry down a few hallways and up a flight of stairs. Harry thought that he could remember where they were. They were close to where Mrs. Cole's office was. He was getting better at orienting himself inside the orphanage, which was good. He couldn't always rely on Tom to take him places. Tom might not always be around!
That thought made Harry feel a little cold. Of course he will be around, Harry reminded himself. Where would he go? His mind didn't provide any answer to that. A chill raced down Harry's spine faster than a Cooling Charm would have.
Harry clutched Tom's arm a little harder. He thought he heard Tom make a sound of surprise, but when he heard no other reaction, Harry continued holding onto Tom's arms tightly.
He wasn't sure exactly what was going on. He'd only known Tom for a little while, but already the idea of being without Tom scared him. Harry had already realized that Tom was the only reason that Harry was staying in this particular orphanage, as it didn't have any redeeming qualities aside from Tom's presence. Harry was sure that he could hide just as easily from mean people trying to give him new family in a different orphanage. He would just have to find another policeman and repeat his story.
Suddenly, Harry froze. Tom continued on, stumbling a little bit when Harry stood immovably.
"Harry?" Tom whispered, pulling at Harry's arm. "What's wrong?"
Harry shook his head, staring numbly forward. He registered that he was moving forward again, but he ignored that little detail.
Hadn't he just thought about Tom being like a sibling, while they were eating lunch? How was that any different from getting new parents. Of course, Tom wasn't exactly forced on him, but still! He was a replacement family. And that was unacceptable. Harry's parents, although dead, were his only real family. He couldn't, he absolutely couldn't replace them!
That would be like admitting that they had been useless.
He couldn't do it.
Harry filled himself with steely resolve. Tom was great. He wasn't going to be letting go of Tom soon. But he would never think of Tom as his family. That thought would be destroyed if it ever came up. His real family, his dead family, would be the only one. Tom could just be a really good best friend. Yes, that was it.
Harry felt a little lighter.
Coincidentally, after Harry's big realization and resolution, Harry found that they had reached their destination.
"In here, Harry!" Martha said cheerfully, though Harry could detect a note of strain in her voice. She was purposely ignoring Tom's presence again. Harry sighed a little.
"Okay, Martha!" Harry said with false cheer. Tom pulled him through a doorway, his magic flickering a little angrily again. Harry watched, bemused, as Tom's magic stretched pretty far out, flooding the whole entire room.
Blue threads, flickering green on occasion, spread everywhere, passing through all sorts of objects. Harry found that he could actually see the room! It was hard to tell, exactly, but the magic seemed to stay mostly in the air, which allowed Harry to somewhat see the shapes of objects which the magic didn't seem inclined to force itself through.
The room was rather large, and it was filled with a bunch of boxes. Harry even noticed a woman's shape, standing with a box in hand. Martha was chubbier than Harry had imagined her. Interesting. The blue magic continued dancing around the room, spreading in a way that Harry could almost say felt curious. It was as if it was searching for something. Suddenly, however, the magic snapped back to Tom.
Harry suppressed a sigh of disappointment. Maybe Tom could repeat that?
"Okay, Harry, come over here and try on this shirt," Martha said.
Tom huffed and let go of Harry. He marched forward and collected the shirt that Martha had been offering, turning back and handing it to Harry. Harry murmured a thank you as he pulled it on over his borrowed shirt. Meanwhile, Martha was being nasty to Tom again.
"Why did you do that, Tom? Harry's perfectly capable of getting it himself!" Martha sounded a little irritated.
"I thought it would be faster for me to get it instead of having Harry trip over half the boxes in here getting to you!" Tom sounded a little mad. Oh dear.
"Just because he's blind doesn't mean that he can get everything easy in life, Tom," Martha said, sounding as if she fancied herself great and knowledgeable.
"Doesn't mean you have to make things hard on purpose!" Tom said, almost shouting. Tom stomped in front of Harry, looking at him carefully. After a few seconds, Tom shook his head. "Take that off. It looks even worse than the shirt I gave you."
Harry giggled a little bit, but he complied. He pulled the shirt off and handed it to Tom. Tom turned back to Martha.
"I'm going to pick out his clothes."
Harry watched Tom, bemused. That was rather commanding of Tom. Apparently, Martha thought similarly.
"Boy, I work here. I will give him his clothes."
"Your taste is gross." Harry found himself giggling again. Tom didn't seem like the kind of person to actually use the word 'gross.'
"Boy…"
"Martha…"
"You have five seconds to cut that impudent tone, boy."
"You have five seconds to let me save Harry from being dressed like a girl."
Tom and Martha continued to argue. Harry found that a little funny. Tom was at least five times younger than Martha! But they were both really very distracted.
Harry decided that he would pick his own clothes, both of them be damned.
Okay, maybe Tom be damned a little bit less. He was his friend after all. Oh, wait. Sorry mom, I forgot about not saying bad words like that.
Harry felt around with his foot for the nearest box. Hitting it lightly with the tip of his foot, he carefully felt down for it and stuck his hand inside. Feeling a rather scratchy cloth, Harry withdrew his hand. He moved over a little bit to another box. When he put his hand inside, he met a very nice, soft kind of material. Finding that a good omen, he pulled out the first article of clothing and pulled it on.
A coat! It was a little bit large, but that was alright. Harry was planning to grow taller, anyway. He pulled it off and hung it on his arm.
In this manner, Harry finished searching through several boxes by the time that Martha and Tom noticed that he wasn't just waiting for them to finish their silly argument.
Harry noted that when Tom was truly blindsided, his facial expression greatly resembled that of a house elf. Who knew that Tom could open his eyes so wide? Once again, Harry found himself stifling a giggle.
"Harry," Martha said reprimandingly, "what are you doing?"
"Getting clothes," Harry replied, snickering. "I found a coat and two shirts!"
Harry lifted the clothes he had hung on his arm and proudly displayed them in Tom's direction. "What do you think, Tom?"
Tom just stared at Harry for a few seconds. Then, he said, as if nothing was wrong, "I like the green one."
Tom walked over to Harry and grabbed one of the shirts, looking over it carefully. Harry noticed that Tom himself was trying to hold back a giggle. Or perhaps a cackle. Harry wasn't really sure about Tom's laughing habits yet. He wouldn't put it past him to cackle.
"What is it?" Harry asked, a little annoyed. "Is it...girly?"
Tom stared at him, face impassive, before calmly saying, "it's pink with horses on it." Harry wasn't fooled. Tom's lips were twitching.
"Not that one, then," Harry said, turning back to the box he had been rifling through. "Help me find some more."
As Tom walked over to help Harry search, Martha sighed. "Harry, you can have three shirts, two pairs of trousers, one pair of boots and one pair of trainers, and three pairs of socks and underwear."
With that, Harry listened to Martha leave the room. Harry turned to Tom excitedly. "You won the argument, then?"
Tom lifted his chin a little higher before replying, "of course I won. Superior intelligence always wins."
"But Martha's older?" Harry questioned, pulling on a shirt that felt soft, if rather itchy. "How does this look?"
"Not good. Take it off," Tom instructed, before adopting a thoughtful look as he picked through a box of either gloves or socks; Harry couldn't tell. "Not all people are created equal," Tom finally said.
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked. "I was always told to listen to people older than me."
Tom looked faintly irritated. "You listen to people too much, Harry."
"Well, was I just supposed to ignore everyone?"
"Of course not," Tom said. "But not everything they tell you is right. But back to what I was saying before." Tom thrust another shirt into Harry's arms. "Try that one on; I think it would look good."
"Okay," Harry said, absently pulling it on. "How is it?"
"Passable," Tom decided after looking at Harry carefully. "Green, blue, and black are definitely your colors. Maybe grey."
"Okay," Harry said, pulling it off and hanging it on his arm. "So?"
"Well," Tom said, "we have magic."
"Yeah, so?" Harry said. "I was always told that muggles weren't any less, though."
"That makes no sense!" Tom insisted. "We have the ability to make magic happen; to break the laws of the universe! You told me all the things we can do. What can muggles to do compare? We are obviously better somehow if we have this magic that they do not."
"We're all people…" Harry said uncomfortably.
"Better people. You know how we talk better than the other kids our age here?"
"Huh?" Harry said. "What do you mean?"
"Haven't you noticed that everyone you really talked to was older than you? Alyssa was three years older. Harry," Tom said, stepping closer. "We're smarter. We're better!"
Harry watched uneasily as Tom's magic began swirling around him again, blue threads glinting. He nervously ran his hands along the weave of the coat on his arm. Tom noticed that, face morphing from joy to one of suspicion.
"Why are you nervous?" Tom asked.
"I'm not!" Harry quickly defended.
"Liar," Tom said. "Tell me."
"I'm not lying!" Harry denied. Tom's face grew a little angry. "Tell me."
Something was different. As Tom said that, part of the whirling threads stripped away from the mass storming around Tom, and went through Harry. It felt a little cold. And Harry was suddenly filled with the strong, unexplainable, untamable urge to tell Tom everything.
"Stop that!" Harry cried, stepping back. He tripped over a box behind him, falling painfully onto a another box.
The storm of magic slowed a little, and the threads retreated.
"Stop what?" Tom was watching Harry with an unexplainable look on his face.
"You- you just- you just!" Harry sputtered.
"What? What is it?" Tom was looking a little bit afraid now.
Harry suddenly remembered that Tom was newer to the whole magic thing than Harry was himself. He had to tell Tom. Tom probably did it on accident. He would understand. Tom was his friend.
"Y-your magic, Tom. You were talking about being better and it started moving. Moving fast! And swirling around you in a circle! And then when you kept telling me to tell you, some of your magic hit me in the head and I swear it made me feel something weird."
"Feel what?" Tom asked hungrily.
"I felt like I had to tell you everything. And it was really scary and really weird and I wasn't sure if you did it on purpose or not but I didn't like it and please tell me that you didn't, you didn't do it on purpose!" Harry rushed out in a single breath.
"I...think I've done it before," Tom said really quickly. "But this time was an accident, I swear!"
"Really?" Harry asked, watching Tom's face. But Tom looked sincere.
"Really."
"Wow…" Harry said. "You actually did real magic, then!"
Tom's face lit up. "I did? This was magic?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "I think so."
"Do...do you think I might be able to replicate it?" Tom asked. "Do it on command. You said that we can do accidental magic but...is it possible to control it?"
"I don't know," Harry said, thinking. "But you were really happy when your magic started moving. And I guess you really wanted to know what I was nervous about."
"So feeling something strongly can help you do magic?" Tom asked.
"Maybe. But that just made your magic swirl."
"So it was wanting to know that made it happen?"
"Probably," Harry admitted.
"That makes it easy. I'll try it!" Tom grabbed one of the shirts Harry had chosen for himself. He put it on top of a box and started staring at it.
He kept staring.
Harry waited for a few minutes, but no matter how much Tom scrunched up his face, nothing happened. His magic was back to normal.
"Let me try?" Harry asked. He walked over to the box and felt around for the shirt. Keeping one hand on it, he began to think really hard about making it fly.
Fly! Fly! No matter how hard Harry yelled it inside his head, nothing really happened.
"Darn it," Harry said. "I was so sure it would work."
"Me too," Tom said, turning around to look at another box. He took a moment to shoot a glare at the shirt.
Harry froze as Tom's magic swept out in patterns from under his skin, threads wild and lashing, until they hit the shirt. He saw as the lines laid themselves along the shirt, and he saw how the threads started threading themselves together at a furious pace. In the blink of an eye, the threads snapped back to Tom's form, and Harry thought that he could, for a second, feel some heat on the front of his knees.
"What was that?" Harry whispered. "Tom...your magic…"
Tom was turning toward him. His face was alight with discovery.
"Harry, I think I know how to do magic."
Harry stared back at him, grinning widely, before he suddenly panicked.
"Wait...my shirt!"
I will start listing the music I listen to as I write each chapter (in the event that I do). They're not meant to really say anything; they may simply give you a better idea of my mood.
I am looking for a beta reader; an experienced one, preferably. I am fairly good with grammar and syntax, but someone who wouldn't mind checking it over and perhaps telling me when something is confusing would be very beneficial.
I thought it would be prudent to mention that I already have an idea for an ending. As such, I am now 500% more likely to actually finish this.
Additionally, I would like to chat with some of my readers to get their opinions on it so far. If you wouldn't mind doing that, drop me a review saying so and I'll reply over PM!Also, out of curiosity, does my writing seem anything like someone who is writing English as a second language? I'm curious, as I've been told that occasionally my sentence structure can get rather eccentric.
Apologies for such long ending notes; I had a lot to say.
