September 9, 1933
Tom grinned evilly as he looked at Harry. Harry was sprawled across their bed - more like a cot, really - in a most amusing manner, sheet somehow bunched underneath Harry's neck. That looked like it would be sore, Tom thought with a wince, but Harry deserved it. It would teach him not to steal the blanket all night! Tom woke up at least once a night shivering. He had become rather skilled at wrestling the blanket away from Harry, but it was still rather irritating. Tom really wished he could teach himself to steal the blanket in his sleep just to get back at Harry. It would be a funny reversal.
But blanket-stealing hijinks all aside, this fine Saturday morning, Tom had a plan. A glorious plan. It began with one of Tom's favorite daily activities... waking up Harry in the most annoying way possible. Normally, Tom woke up at least an hour before Harry, so he had a lot of time to prepare whenever he was feeling particularly vengeful. He had started doing this about a month ago, and it was terribly hilarious.
Today...today was going to be one of Tom's favorites. Tom glanced back at the tattered grey blanket and sprawled limbs on the bed, pulling on another shirt. It was a bit brisk today. Tom buttoned it up, humming with excitement, before carefully opening the door, taking care not to let it squeak. Mrs. Cole tended to disapprove of anyone being up too early. She probably thought that someone would spend the time playing pranks.
Tom was suddenly reminded that what he was doing right now was actually considered 'hooligan' material on Mrs. Cole's part, and that made him stifle a snicker.
Tom crept to the bathroom, slipping in quietly. He walked over to the sink, turning it on sticking his index finger under the stream. The water was icy cold and made his finger feel numb, but Tom ignored it, waiting until he deemed enough time had passed. Turning off the sink with his other hand, Tom slipped out of the bathroom and tip-toed back to his room. Upon entering, Tom couldn't resist grinning again.
He inched closer and closer to Harry, finger still wet and frozen. Harry snorted quietly in his sleep, rolling to the side slightly. Tom inwardly cheered as Harry's ridiculously wild black hair shifted just enough to expose one of Harry's ears. Waiting a few seconds for the perfect moment, Tom caught his breath. Exhaling after a few seconds, Tom quickly thrust his wet and freezing finger right into Harry's ear.
The reaction did not disappoint.
Harry surged out of bed with a girlish scream, twisting in midair until Tom's finger was ripped from his ear. "Tom!" Harry moaned, rubbing his ear. "Why do you hate me?"
"I don't hate you, Harry," Tom said sticking his hand into his pocket and sighing quietly as his numb finger began to warm again. "In fact, I love you very much. So much that I wanted you to enjoy the morning with me before the sun came up. And waking you up properly any other way would have taken too long."
"You just like it when I scream," Harry muttered darkly, wiping at his ear with a grimace. "You know, that's just gross. Why would you even do that?"
"It's effective," Tom shrugged.
"I'm tempted to do something like that to you."
"Ha," Tom said. "As if you ever wake up before me. That hardly ever happens."
"Just wait," Harry said, glowering. "One day."
"I'm scared!" Tom said in a high-pitched voice, pretending to cower away in fear. Harry looked unimpressed.
"I'm tempted to get revenge," Harry said. "It's been a while."
"I," Tom said, paling slightly, "am not going to be convinced into playing that horrible game again."
"But you make such a nice Crup!" Harry wheedled. Tom took a step back. Harry's eyes had changed from anger to a familiar mischievous look.
"No," Tom said, edging away slightly. Harry stepped closer. Tom watched warily as Harry slinked closer, fingertips twitching. Hearing a slight intake of breath, Harry's personal tell, Tom dived for the bed, sprawling across it just in time. Behind him, Harry whirled around, leaping forward as well. Tom wriggled sideways, swinging his feet to the floor and jumping off of the bed as fast as he could, darting to the dresser. Harry followed him, eyes glinting.
"Are you scared?" Harry dared to ask, smirking.
"Of course not!" Tom said, a familiar lie. Harry shook his head in denial.
"You're so obvious!" Harry declared, jerking toward Tom in an ungraceful motion that Tom hadn't even seen coming. Tom crashed into the dresser behind him, holding back yelps of laughter as Harry's evil fingers danced down his sides. Harry looked smugly at Tom, who was struggling to breathe, vainly trying to convince himself that tickling didn't feel ticklish in the slightest.
"Stop!" Tom wheezed, bending over. He shoved at Harry, a few high-pitched laughs breaking free. "You're evil!"
"You're the one who stuck your soggy finger in my ear," Harry said, folding his arms with a smirk. "It's only fair that you suffer too."
"But your face is always so funny!" Tom whined. "I can't help it."
"Try," Harry said. "I swear, I'll learn to wake up before you. And then you'll wake up every morning with your hand in a cup of water."
"You wouldn't," Tom said, horrified. "That's gross."
"It would be your fault. I'm warning you!" Harry said, pointing his finger at Tom. "Now come on, let's get breakfast." Harry reached out a hand, Tom grasping it tightly and pulling himself out of his half-folded position. Harry began pulling Tom toward the door, but suddenly froze.
"Oh wait, I forgot to change," Harry muttered, shooting an annoyed look at Tom. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Tom actually hadn't noticed, but he instead plastered an immensely smug grin on his face. To his delight, Harry narrowed his eyes and huffed, stomping over to the dresser, pulling out some clothes and pulling them on. Tom sniggered when Harry ended up pulling on Tom's pants by mistake, almost tripping on them. Harry shot him a glare that was so menacing that Tom felt proud of him.
Harry finished eating his porridge, sighing contentedly. He had snuck some sugar from the kitchen storage a few nights ago when he was feeling restless. Harry had made sure to sprinkle the sugar very carefully over his porridge, hiding the paper it was wrapped in against the palm of his hand. Of course, after Tom had noticed Harry's addition, he had wheedled Harry into sharing some. So they were both now full after a pleasanter breakfast than usual.
"What are we going to do today?" Harry asked, eyes closed as he savored the sugary sweetness that lay so smoothly on his tongue. "It's odd to think about going to school most of the week."
"Well," Tom said, leaning closer. "I think we need to figure out how to deal with that creature."
"Mr. Anderson?" Harry questioned, pausing. "Why do you call him that?"
"It's just because that's what he is," Tom stated firmly. "He's disgusting both in looks and personality. Something that disgusting can't be human."
"Tom, you used the word 'disgusting' twice!" Harry called in mock horror. "Shame! Repeating words!"
Tom glared at him and poked him hard in the arm. "Shut up. I was explaining."
"Okay," Harry said, sniggering. "Go on. Tell me about this scary scary creature that is actually our teacher."
"I don't understand why you can be so...so...okay with him!" Tom sputtered. "You remember what he did to you, right?"
"Yeah," Harry said, focusing his sight on the pleasant coils of his magic. "I remember."
Harry remembered all too well. Feeling his face slipping into a frown, he rubbed at his arm. He had felt so helpless then. And feeling Tom twitch near him, feeling his roiling magic as it swirled around in pain and confusion and something that Harry was quite sure was helplessness…
"I don't like thinking about it," Harry muttered.
"That won't help you, you know," Tom said pointedly. "Pretending you're not scared of him is just lying to yourself. Next time he scares you, you won't be ready."
"What do you think we can do?" Harry said, exasperated. "We're just...babies, compared to him."
Tom was pensieve. "I'll be right back," Tom said quietly. Harry listened to the clatter of their bowls as Tom stacked them on top of each other, followed by the clink of their spoons. That finished, Harry listened as Tom drew away, peeking up to watch Tom's retreating form. He felt a little bad that Tom was doing that for them every day, but he didn't really feel like he could do much about it. Navigating through the maze of chairs and tables when they were empty was hard enough as it was. Harry had already collected a few impressive bruises on his shins until he learnt to be a little more careful.
As Harry watched Tom return, he stood up and sighed. "Let's go to the park?" Harry offered as a peace offering. No matter how much Tom denied it, he loved going to the park, even if it was probably because of the lack of other orphans. Not to mention the distinct lack of Alyssa, who professed to hate nature.
"Alright," Tom said, grabbing onto Harry's arm. "But it's cold outside today. We need to dress better."
Harry followed Tom up to their room, yawning a little. "We'll finish this conversation later," Tom murmured. Harry nodded his assent. "How cold?" Harry asked, heading over to the window. He laid his hand along the glass, closing his eyes. The cold seemed to trickle into his fingers from the point of contact with the glass at an almost leisurely pace, the chill numbing his fingers.
"Yeah, cold," Harry answered to himself.
"Here," Tom said, and Harry turned to face him. Harry wasn't fast enough, though, as he turned right into the coat that Tom had thrown at him. It smacked him right in the face, the scratchy material feeling rather unpleasant as it slid down into his waiting arms.
"Thanks a lot," Harry muttered darkly. Tom only graced him with a charming smile.
"I just would hate for you to be cold!" Tom said. "It wouldn't do for you to catch a chill."
"Yeah, because you hate caring for me when I'm sick. You could just say that," Harry said, smiling wryly.
"Lies!" Tom insisted. Harry shrugged on his coat, humming when he noticed how warm it was. He wasn't quite sure exactly where and when Tom had obtained this one, but it was certainly lovely. He wondered if it was 'permanently borrowed' or not. Some items Tom only loaned, as they were more likely to be missed. Whatever the situation, Harry could enjoy the coat as it was now.
"I'm ready," Harry said, sticking his hands inside a pair of soft gloves, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "I feel like I'm overdressed."
"You'll be fine," Tom said dismissively. "It's cold outside; you'll be glad you wore all that."
Tom grabbed Harry's arm and they proceeded to make their way out of the orphanage. What they were doing could be called sneaking out, as they hadn't told anyone about it. However, Tom had made the argument that if the adults at the orphanage truly cared about the orphans sneaking out, they wouldn't leave the gate open during the day. Harry knew that he and Tom weren't the only ones.
Tom ambled casually in the direction of the gates, leaning against the brick wall that surrounded the courtyard. Harry leaned back against it too, shivering when he touched some of it with his neck. He rearranged his scarf.
"Do you see anyone?" Harry asked, listening intently.
"Nobody's looking out way," Tom said, yanking sharply at Harry's coat. "Come on."
Throat suddenly tight with apprehension, Harry slipped out of the gate behind Tom, who immediately turned sharply to the right, walking confidently. Tom always said that one had to look like they knew what they were doing to keep people from interfering. Harry didn't question it; everything had worked for Tom so far.
They walked along the sidewalk for a few minutes, steadily relaxing...to a point. After Tom finished swiveling his head around, scanning their surroundings, he sighed. "We can go."
Harry smiled broadly, turning around the corner a half-step behind Tom. He grimaced a little as the cloying, too-sweet smell of garbage hit him in the face.
"That's gross," Harry said, shuddering. Tom grunted his assent, speeding up. Harry smiled fondly. Tom and his park, really.
After making their way to the park, which had involved a harrowing almost-accident with a bicycle, and an unexpected car as they crossed the street, they had finally made it to the the park.
Harry inhaled the smell of plants and soil and living things, sighing happily. Beside him, Tom did the same, his magic uncoiling into goo and lazily moving around them. Harry noted with amusement that his magic seemed to be doing the same thing. He wondered if it was a common side-effect with wizards and witches.
Tom led them over to his favorite tree. Harry wasn't quite sure what kind of tree it was, although Tom probably knew. What was most important was that the tree was behind two fairly large bushes, isolating it a bit. There, they could curl up and read and even practice their magic together on particularly empty days.
It appeared that today was one of those days. Harry bundled his coat a little closer to his body, snuggling back against the tree. He felt Tom do the same thing on his other side.
"So," Harry said. "Mr. Anderson."
Tom sighed. "We can't get in trouble with him again. The orphanage already thinks bad things about us."
"I know," Harry said. "They can't kick us out, right?"
Tom was silent for a few moments before softly replying, "I hope not."
"Any ideas?" Harry asked. He ran his fingers across the smooth grass, digging them as far as he could into the cold ground.
Tom shifted. Harry waited for him to say what he wanted to say. If Tom's hesitation meant anything, it meant that Tom thought that Harry would disapprove of his idea.
"I think," Tom said carefully, "that we should give the creature something else to focus on."
"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked. "Pranks?"
"No," Tom replied quickly. "I mean, you noticed that he likes hurting us. He's always going to be hurting someone."
"That sounds like giving up," Harry said.
"No!" Tom repeated. "I meant that we could shift the blame onto others. Someone is going to have to suffer anyway; it's better if it's not us."
Harry sat numbly for a few moments. "Are you serious?" Harry asked, voice turning high-pitched. "So everyone else suffers instead of us?"
"Do you have a better idea?" Tom snapped. "It's us or them. Choose. You don't even know half of them, and the rest are just others who hate us from the orphanage."
"It doesn't seem right!" Harry insisted. "How would we be any better than Mr. Anderson?"
Tom didn't reply for a minute. When he began talking again, his voice started out low and silky. "Harry, just because the creature likes hurting people doesn't mean that you do. This is...protecting ourselves. We get picked on, they get picked on...it makes no difference." Tom inhaled loudly before continuing. "Except this way, we'll be safe, and I won't have to feel like I'm going to explode when you're about to cry!" Tom said with a voice had risen a substantial amount, cracking a little.
Harry was quiet. "I see."
"It's us or them," Tom finally said. "And I don't know about you, but I'd pick us."
Tom watched the clouds moving through the net of leaves far above his head. Harry had been silent for a while, probably thinking his words over. He knew it wouldn't take Harry too long to realize that he was right; that Tom was the only person that Harry could count on, because Tom knew that Harry would always be there for him.
That cloud looked sort of like Harry, Tom thought. A few wisps of pale grey streamed out artfully from the main body of the cloud, and if Tom squinted, it looked rather like Harry's annoying mess of hair. He smiled as the cloud changed slightly in the wind. Now it looked more like a silhouette of Harry than ever...although it did somewhat resemble a melted teapot.
The park was deliciously quiet today. All that Tom could hear was the faint sound of Harry's breathing and the rustle of the grass by Harry's leg where he was digging into the soil. The air tasted clear and icy, as if the stink of the city was just beyond a wall. Tom knew that it was silly; the smell of exhaust and garbage was just looming around the little isle of clean air that was the park. But somehow, being here with Harry and tasting nothing but nature and winter on his tongue was the best feeling in the world.
Tom lifted a hand, looking it over. It was odd how something as simple as a hand could do so many wonderful things. He knew he couldn't see it - that was Harry's thing - but sometimes he thought that he could feel his magic as it spun out and did wonderful things. He glanced over at Harry, who was still pensively looking into the distance. The grass around his fingers was matted and slightly torn, as was the ground that he had been digging into.
Tom didn't like Harry feeling uncomfortable, but it was truly an "us or them" situation. He couldn't understand why it wasn't as easy to Harry as it was to him. Why did Harry care so much about what other people felt? He remembered the bet that he had made with Harry months ago. He thought that Harry had won it by now. He had felt extremely strong emotions such as hate, fear, and protectiveness...but they all centered around himself and Harry. It seemed as if Harry decided to feel emotions for everyone else in the world. Tom couldn't help but think that that was dangerous, though.
Tom dropped his hand back down to the ground, right on top of a dying flower. He gazed at the bent flower head peeking out between his fingers for a few moments before summoning that familiar feeling of power being just one twitch away. He focused on the flower and willed it to turn back time and be the way that it once was. To open and be as if autumn was not approaching. He felt something whisper past his fingers and he watched, still entranced with the wonder of magic, as the flower slowly straightened, brown withered petals slowly turning back to pale pink.
Tom heard a shift beside him, and he turned to meet Harry's eyes, who looked at him for a moment before looking down at the flower. Tom felt his magic finish the job and retreat back into him, and Harry's gaze turned back to him.
"I don't understand," Harry said. "You don't understand why it's bad to hurt other people. But then you go and do things like this."
"It's just a flower," Tom said, lifting his hand away from the flower and settling it just off to the side. "I don't think you can compare flowers to people."
"But it doesn't make sense," Harry said with a sigh. "But it's okay. I'll get you to understand one day." Harry leaned into Tom's shoulder, resuming his digging in the ground.
"I'll get you to understand me," Tom said, but Harry was silent. They sat like that for a long time.
He was frustrated. Understandably frustrated, of course, but that didn't stop him from making him want to curse the next person to enter his study. He growled quietly as his eyes flicked back and forth over the reports he had on his desk. He needed to distract himself from the mind-numbing stupidity of humanity before he set his study on fire.
He walked out of his work study and turned, striding quickly down the dark and gloomy halls of his manor. After a few short strides, he reached the door to his personal study and entered, closing the door and absently casting a powerful ward in its direction. He didn't want to be disturbed by anyone when he was doing his best to get rid of that simmering irritation which seemed to be only brewing and steeping underneath his skin.
Maybe today he would get more results.
He walked over to a large desk covered with parchment and muggle paper and a few odd potions ingredients that he hadn't felt like clearing away last time he was tinkering. He swept the potions ingredients to the side with a flick of his wand, making them vanish with a slight jab. He leant over the desk, fixing his gaze onto a map of England.
"Where could you be hiding?" he muttered under his breath, stroking the map carefully with one finger. "I know you survived; I want to see if it worked…"
September 11, 1933
"I can't believe you did that," Harry whispered hotly, shooting a glare at Tom. Tom merely lifted an eyebrow at him before resuming his careful scanning of their surroundings.
"Tom!" Harry said, not caring one whit that someone from the large group of orphanage children would hear. "Why did you make it seem like Athy brought in those frogs?"
"Shh!" Tom said, his hand tightening on Harry's wrist. "You know why."
"But Mr. Anderson was in a good mood today!" Harry said. "Maybe he wouldn't have done anything. You just provoked him!"
"Why do you think he was in a good mood?" Tom whispered viciously. "I heard during lunch that he caught someone trying to draw something bad on the walls."
"Maybe it would have stayed!" Harry protested, heart sinking. Tom had been pointedly mentioning Mr. Anderson's lack of humanity and the principle of "you are more important than anyone else" for the past two days. Harry hated to admit it, but it was wearing on him, especially with how today had went.
"You know it wouldn't have," Tom said simply.
"I don't like it," Harry said firmly. "I still think that making other people in trouble on purpose is wrong. What about just staying silent in class?"
"He'll get you in trouble for anything if nobody does anything," Tom said. Then, Tom froze. "Harry," Tom said quietly, "get ready to run."
"What is it?" Harry asked, tensing up. He lifted himself slightly onto his toes, bending his knees a little.
"Billy. He's waiting in an alley just a little bit ahead of us."
Harry felt cold trickling down his spine. "Oh. Together or separate?"
"We're too far from the orphanage for separate. You'd get hit by a car."
"Nice to know you have so much faith in me," Harry weakly joked. "Can't we go around?"
"No," Tom said curtly. "They've seen us. Go!"
Tom clutched harder onto Harry's wrist like a vise, leaping into the street. Harry heard a few yells as well as one long horn sound, but it didn't look like it was too near them. Tom had probably been waiting for the best opportunity to cross.
As they both ran across the road, Harry tripping on the curb which appeared too fast for him to realize that Tom had stepped up, Harry could hear the sound of pounding footsteps behind him. There was one loud yell, and Harry thought that he could hear some sort of collision. Maybe one of Billy's friends had been hit by a car. They would deserve it.
The air, horribly humid and warm, unlike the chilly day they had had in the park two days before, made Harry feel like he was choking. The taste of gasoline lay thick on his tongue. Tom's grip seemed clammy to Harry, but that couldn't be helped.
Tom was twisting around barriers that Harry could not see like mad. Harry knew that Tom was not going as fast as he possibly could so that Harry could keep up without crashing into everything. Despite Tom's care, Harry still occasionally hit his shins against something hard - probably a bench - and once collided almost fully with a person who was ridiculously soft. Tom had yanked him away quickly, which Harry was glad for, as he had accidentally grabbed onto something that had detached into his hands. Harry had a suspicion that that person would miss it.
Tom was rather brilliant. He knew the streets around them ridiculously well. Often, they could find a good hiding place to lay low in for a while before Billy's gang caught up. Billy's gang would win over a longer-distance race, so Harry knew that it was truly wonderful that Tom came up with such good ideas all the time.
"Stay close to me!" Tom shouted back at him, darting to the left. Harry followed him, trying to get as close as possible to Tom without making them trip. The area they had turned into wasn't cobblestone. It felt rather springy, actually. Much like the ground that Harry loved digging his fingers into when they were at the park.
"Squeeze in between the rails," Tom commanded, crouching down and shoving Harry forward. Harry flung his hands forward, hitting cold iron railings and curling his fingers around them. The railings were not very widely spaced, so Harry turned sideways and shoved himself in between the railings. The railings were rather tight, pressing uncomfortably into Harry's body. His head even got a little stuck, but Tom grabbed it and pushed it to one side enough to allow to pass. Harry tumbled backward onto what felt like grass, panting. He sat up on his elbows and watched Tom struggle through.
Tom managed to most of his body through, but he did it rather awkwardly. He had to awkwardly wriggle on his side, feet first. Still, he was making it. Then Harry felt his smile slip off his face as a familiar voice said with a wheeze, "Found ya!"
It was Billy.
"Grab onto him!" Billy commanded. Harry could almost hear the smug smile on Billy's face. It was surely there. Harry's eyes widened as he realized what Billy was saying.
Harry leapt forward. Tom had turned himself as wide as he could go, and he was now flailing at the air above him. Harry saw as hand-shaped voids clutched onto Tom's shirt and yanked. Tom didn't budge, though.
"Let go!" Harry yelled, punching wildly at the air through the fence. To his disgust, he didn't hit anyone. He yelped as someone's foot connected with his chin, making his teeth clatter terribly against each other. Harry shuffled backwards, grabbing onto Tom's legs.
"Tom, I'll get you!" Harry said, yanking back as hard as he could. To his dismay, Tom moved only slightly.
"Harry, just go!" Tom said, out of breath. "I'm making it hard for them to move me."
"I'm not leaving you!" Harry said, offended. With that declaration, he pulled harder. As it proved futile once more, Harry felt tears prick his eyes.
"Yes, little Harry. Go away. The freak said so," Billy said scathingly from somewhere past Tom. "We only want to talk to him."
"Liar!" Harry said, glaring madly in Billy's direction. "Old boys don't talk to anyone unless they want to hurt them!"
"I'm not old!" Harry heard someone squawk.
"True," Billy said. "Pull harder, Sam!"
"I'm trying!" Sam said.
Harry watched as Tom's eyes met his. They seemed to be fiery and angry. Tom wanted him to go. Tom thought he couldn't handle himself. He was only a few months younger! Harry would show him.
With that, Harry pulled on Tom's feet with his hands and something else. He wanted to crow when his magic actually responded to him promptly, despite using it so close to muggles, but that was prevented when Tom crashed into him, falling on top of him.
Tom quickly scrambled off, crouching low to the ground and staring at Billy's gang.
"That was obvious," Tom said quietly.
"Did you have any other ideas?" Harry asked hotly. Tom gave him an exasperated look, but didn't say anything.
"Hey! How did he do that?" Sam asked.
"Luck?" someone offered. It sounded like it could be Edward.
"We'll get you later," Billy ominously promised, and Harry could hear the sickening crack of Billy's knuckles. After a few long, agonizing seconds, where Harry listened with bated breath for any movement which would signal an attempt by Billy to get past the fence, Harry heard footsteps drawing away. Harry sighed in relief. Although he normally cursed Billy's age, in this case it meant that he was too big to follow them through the fence.
Harry turned to Tom. "Now what?"
Tom and Harry were sitting behind a bush in the garden they had broken into. At first, Tom had been hesitant about staying in the garden. It was a very nice garden, bushes trimmed and clipped so that not one leaf was out of place. The flowers, liberally scattered in the far side of the garden, looked absolutely exquisite, not even beginning to wither despite the weather turning. The garden, albeit small, was very well-cared for. Tom had worried that the owner would find them, but one look at Harry's shivering form had convinced him that surely it would be fine to stay there just for a little bit.
Tom had chivvied Harry behind a large flowery bush to wait for Harry to calm down. Harry had plopped himself down on the ground and refused to move. Tom had sighed, but he stayed.
Tom looked over at Harry. His face was broken up into a mosaic of shadows and dappled light, his eyes almost glowing their bright green. It was ironic how Harry's eyes were so remarkably vivid, considering that they didn't see anything but darkness. And magic, of course, Tom thought. He wondered what it would look like. Harry had described it to be like many tiny threads…
"Are you feeling better?" Tom asked. "We should probably go."
"I don't want to," Harry said. "I don't want to go anywhere. At all."
"Harry," Tom started. "The longer we stay here, the riskier it is."
"I don't care!" Harry spat, eyes alight with a poisonous fire. "We have magic; we can deal with it, whatever the risk."
Tom lifted an eyebrow. "You're the one always telling me about your 'Statue' of Secrecy. But you're the one doing magic near Muggles?"
"I don't care," Harry said, hugging his knees closer to his chin. Tom watched him for a moment.
"What's wrong?" Tom asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"
"No," Harry muttered. "Of course not."
"Then what is it?" Tom asked. Harry could just tell him outright without dancing around the subject. He was about to blow up anyway.
"I hate feeling useless."
Tom blinked. "So do I. Is it the Muggles?"
"Yes!" Harry said. "It seems like they've been getting meaner lately. First they were bullying you, then they started bullying both of us, and now Mr. Anderson...it's not fair."
"Well," Tom said, quirking his lips, "Mrs. Cole always says that life isn't fair."
"As if you ever care about what she says," Harry said dismissively. "I just wish I could stop them. But my magic won't even work right for me!"
It was true. Harry and Tom practiced magic every day for at least an hour, and while Tom could get some sort of result nearly every time, Harry's magic only jumped into action occasionally.
"What do you want to do?" Tom asked. "We already practice every day."
"I just want to finally figure out why it works better for you!" Harry said. "Then I could do it too, and then I can carefully use it to keep the Muggles from doing bad things to us." Harry gave him a suspicious look. "Why don't you ever use it near them?"
"You're the one who likes to take risks," Tom said primly.
Harry stared at him. "Tom...why?"
Tom stared back at him, biting his lip. He wasn't sure how to tell it to Harry. Harry seemed to have strict ideas on what was good and what was bad, and despite Tom's perpetual attempts to explain his thinking to Harry, Harry only rarely agreed fully with Tom.
"Tom…," Harry said warningly. "I don't care how bad it is. Tell me."
Tom leaned back against the curled iron fence behind him. "If I tried to use magic around them, I think I'd hurt them too much. And then you would be mad at me." Tom didn't know how to express how mad and seething he always was whenever someone tried to hurt him and Harry. How his very blood seemed hot and icy at the same time, and how his head seemed to cloud until he had to push back his anger and magic as if it was a heavy blanket pressing into his mind.
"Ah." Harry looked pensive. "I guess I'll have to try harder."
Tom gave him a weak smile. "Or you could support my idea to keep the eyes off of us?"
Harry turned his head away a little, giving a little snort. "Maybe."
They continued sitting in the shade of the bush, occasionally shifting to move into a larger patch of afternoon sun. Harry had started picking leaves off of the bush and was shredding them perfectly down the centers. Tom had taken to using the discarded leaf halves to form patterns in the grass.
"Do you think someone's wondering where we are?" Harry asked eventually. "I think we've been here a long time."
"Probably," Tom said.
"I'm hungry," Harry said suddenly. As if to punctuate his statement, Tom heard a terribly loud growl of hunger coming from Harry's direction. It sounded like some sort of scary animal, which Tom thought was really hilarious, as Harry was about the furthest thing from a scary animal that he could think of. Tom started snorting, which eventually made Harry laugh too.
"Do you feel like leaving now?" Tom asked. Harry glanced at Tom.
"Yeah, sure."
Tom got up, dusting off his pants. Harry got up as well, stretching with a little shiver. "What does it look like here?" Harry suddenly asked. "I never got around to making a picture in my head."
Tom smiled, not surprised. Harry was always oddly absentminded.
"It's very pretty here," Tom began. "The grass is really green and a little further in front of you are a lot of flowers in so many colors. Pink, red, yellow...we were sitting behind a bush with white flowers. To the left is the fence which we slipped through. To the right is an iron bench with iron flowers on it, and behind it is someone's house. It looks really nice; nicer than the orphanage…"
Tom trailed off, eyes wide. "Harry! Don't move. There's a snake."
"What?" Harry asked, voice confused.
"Don't move!" Tom repeated, staring ahead. There was a small little snake, no more than ten inches long, just lying in the sun-covered grass just a few feet away from them.
"Why not, Speaker?"
"Tom?" Harry asked. "What's going on? You sound funny."
"What?" Tom asked, looking at Harry in confusion. "I just said that there's a snake ahead. Don't move."
"That's not what it sounded like!" Harry insisted. "It sounded like you were hissing."
"I wasn't!" Tom said, looking back at the snake.
"Speaker?"
"Who's saying that?" Tom asked, staring suspiciously at the snake. To his utter shock, the reply came from its direction.
"I am, Speaker. My name is Assa. I will not move, but I ask again, why should I not move?"
"Are you...poisonous?" Tom enquired hesitantly.
"Tom?" Harry sounded a little panicked. "Your magic is moving funny around your throat? What's going on?"
"I am not 'poisonous.' The right word is 'venomous', though."
Tom looked at Harry. "Harry...can you hear it talk? The snake."
"Wait," Harry said, shaking his head a little. "You've been talking to a snake? Are you serious?"
"Yes?" Tom said. "It said its name is Assa."
"Oh," Harry said weakly. "Oh."
"May I come nearer?" Assa asked. "I did not think that I would ever get to meet a Speaker."
"Sure," Tom said. He caught a look of confusion on Harry's face.
"Sure, what?" Harry asked.
"Oh," Tom said, looking back at the snake. "I don't think that I can tell when I'm speaking snake or not."
"It's called Parseltongue," Assa added helpfully, drawing closer..
"Tom, can you speak English? I didn't understand what you said." Harry asked.
Tom looked at Harry, trying to test out a theory. "I'm trying." Tom paused. "Was that English?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah. That was English. Real English."
"Good," Tom said, looking at Assa, who was now curled up in front of Tom's feet. He slowly bent down, sticking out a hand slowly. "Do you want to come up?" Tom asked.
"Oh, I would love to!" Assa cried happily, springing forward and winding around Tom's grip in half a second. "Oh, you're warm!"
"I think I figured it out," Tom said, looking back at Harry. "If I look at a snake, I speak snake. Although Assa said it's called 'Passeltongue' or something."
"Parseltongue," Harry corrected, eyes focused on Tom's hands. Tom wondered if he could see Assa's form outlined against his magic. Wait...how did Harry know what it was called?
"How do you know that?" Tom asked. "Do other wizards know how to talk to snakes?"
"I'm not sure," Harry said. "But I remember hearing about Parseltongue before. I think it was in one of the stories my parents used to tell me."
"Is it a rare thing?" Tom asked, getting excited in spite of himself.
"Probably," Harry said. "The magic around your throat stopped swirling."
"Did it?" Tom asked, lifting a hand to his neck. It didn't feel any different from before. "Do you think it was the Parseltongue?"
Harry thought a little bit, but then shook his head no. "No, it's like that one time that my magic went into you and then you said that you could taste magic. Which is still weird. Why are we both so weird?"
"Because we're special," Tom said proudly. "Even among wizards, we're better than everyone else."
This time, you all get your first glimpse of another important character! The first person who guesses who it is correctly will get a one-shot dedicated to them! I have one in the works already.
Additionally, I wished to mention that I got an Ao3 account not too long ago, and this story is mirrored there. If you prefer reading on that site, the link is in my profile. I also have a sketch of Tom and Harry about Hogwarts age up.
This chapter is the longest yet! I had so many things that I wanted to put into it. I also had quite a few research projects that I had procrastinated on...that's why this one is so late. I'll continue trying to get things out as fast as possible, though!
