Thanks so much for reading! Thank you to all the lovely reviews as well! Just a quick reminder (because we all have headcanons when it comes to our favorite non-HP characters on what house they would be sorted into) this is a prompt fic, and the person who requested it did ask for Sybil and Tom to be sorted into Hufflepuff (though I personally do think Sybil would have been sorted here) ;o) ALSO, it was brought to my attention that Hogwarts was always free to its students. Well, let's pretend since this is an AU and it's set in the nineteen teens, that for students like Tom (who came from poorer families) that any such costs for him were covered by "generous donators" such as the Crawleys, though just because they donate doesn't mean they have an generous attitude ;o) Anyway, I hope you continue to still enjoy, and thank you again for reading and reviewing!
Chapter Two
1913
"You're a natural Tom; I think you have the makings of a seeker!" Matthew had told him, while the Gryffindor Team took a break from Quidditch practice.
Tom couldn't help but smile, feeling his chest swell with pride. It was a relief, in many ways, after a rather trying first year, to find something he excelled at.
"I'm serious!" Matthew insisted, taking Tom's silence at the compliment as a sign of disbelief. "I could barely fly when I was a first year, or a second year—I could barely fly when I was third year, to be honest!" Matthew chuckled.
"And now that you're a fifth year?" Tom asked with a lifted brow.
Matthew chuckled. "Now…it's still just barely—but I make it look convincing!"
Tom threw his head back and laughed, and was soon joined by Matthew. When he first met the tall, blond English boy, and then newly appointed captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, he never would have suspected that the boy would become one of his closest friends, despite their differences in upbringing and age. Matthew was a kinder version of Tom's older brother Kieran, who while growing up did everything he could to avoid his younger brother.
"It's one thing to master flying a broom," Tom sighed when their laughter had finally managed to settle down. "But quite another to chase after a tiny, speeding, golden ball."
Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "I've seen the way you fly on that thing; you could do it if you wanted to. You could become one of the greatest players in this school's history, I have no doubt." He let out a mock-weary sigh then. "If only you were in Gryffindor..."
Tom rolled his eyes and shoved at Matthew's shoulder. Even though they were joking, Tom couldn't deny that it was the only downside to their friendship, that they both belonged to different houses. However, he didn't regret being sorted into Hufflepuff, not at all; how could he? When his best friend was in that house alongside him…
A smile spread across Tom's face as it so often did when he thought about Sybil. She wasn't like any posh girl that he had ever met before. Actually, she wasn't like any other person he had met before. When Tom had boarded that train to go to Hogwarts, he didn't think it was possible for him to ever feel at ease. However, after meeting her and shaking her hand, despite the harsh whispers murmured by her sisters, he felt that nervous tension melt away…and it only melted further when the Sorting Hat announced that she was to join him in Hufflepuff.
"This is wonderful!" Sybil had excitedly whispered after she hopped down from the stool and rushed over to the Hufflepuff table, not hesitating to take the vacant spot beside him. Tom swallowed and stared at her with wide eyes, though he couldn't help but smile at the way she addressed him, as if they had been friends for years.
And that was exactly how it felt. She always sat next to him at meals, walked beside him to most of their classes (during their first year they had shared four of the same classes, and now in their second year, they shared five), and when it came to studying, Sybil always made sure to find an open nook that could accommodate the pair of them at the Hogwarts Library. She was very studious (not that Tom wasn't) but he couldn't help but sometimes find it fascinating that she wasn't in Ravenclaw, or Slytherin for that matter, what with her drive to do well, though there were only a handful of Slytherin's that Tom could tolerate (most of them were from old, aristocratic, pure-blood families that looked down their noses at people like himself).
But then he would remember the Sorting Hat's words about Hufflepuff:
"You might belong in Hufflepuff,
where they are just and loyal;
those patient Hufflepuffs are true,
and unafraid of toil."
And of course it made perfect sense that Sybil Crawley had been placed there.
Tom still recalled how just the other day, when he had gone to the library to join her for their usual afternoon study session, he found her pouring over a book, a deep frown set on her face, and only when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention, did she bother to look up.
"Oh Tom, this is beastly!"
His eyebrows shot up at the indignation in her voice. "What? What's beastly?"
Instead of directly telling him, she pointed to the page she had been reading. "House Elves…" Tom murmured, reading several lines. He lifted his eyes to meet hers then, and saw that her face was going from an angry red to a furious purple.
"I had no idea…" she muttered, her hands clenching into fists. "Downton hasn't had any House Elves since I was baby; apparently Papa doesn't care for them, though I know several families that we are acquainted with that have some, though they rarely make an appearance when I have visited, but that's beside the point," she groaned, surprising him by slamming her fist down on the book. "Last night, I was coming back from the Astronomy Tower, when who should I pass but Larry Grey!"
Tom instantly made a face when he heard the name. Thank God this year he had no classes with the bastard. But last year he had had two, and both of them had been classes without Sybil. Larry Grey was in the same year as both he and Sybil, though he acted and behaved like he had already passed his O.W.L's. He enjoyed nothing more than making other students lives completely miserable, especially students that, in his opinion, shouldn't be there (much less share the same oxygen he breathed). He especially had hard opinions on students who weren't pure-blooded…and while Larry Grey wasn't the first to use the slur, he had on more than one occasion hissed "mud-blood" in his ear.
Of course, Larry had backed off a little bit, when Tom corrected a mistake in potions that Larry had foolishly made when he dumped an entire vial of dragon's blood into his cauldron in order to finish first, that could have resulted in blowing up the room, had Tom not been quick to counter the reaction by tossing in some phoenix tears. Tom had earned twenty points for Hufflepuff, and Larry had lost twenty points for Slytherin.
"What happened?" Tom asked, looking at his friend with concern. It was one thing if Larry wanted to bully him; he was only twelve, but Tom knew how to handle and take care of himself in a fight (not that he could imagine Larry doing something so "muggle-like" as throwing a punch). But the thought of the git bullying Sybil caused his own fists to clench—
"He was kicking a house elf!" Sybil gasped. "I don't know entirely what happened, but I highly doubt it was the poor creature's fault! And the way Larry was snarling at the frightened thing…" she shook her head in utter disgust. "I couldn't just stand there, Tom! I had to say something, so I stepped forward and shouted at him to leave the elf alone, but Larry looked at me, told me to 'mind my own business', and the elf scampered away, muttering apologies as it went, and before I could turn and berate Larry some more, he disappeared around the corner," her let out a weary sigh, before once again pointing at the open book before her. "So I've been reading up on House Elves, trying to learn all that I can—and I didn't realize that…that they're SLAVES!"
Tom's eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted. Despite Sybil's brilliance (because in Tom's opinion, she really was brilliant) she could be terribly naïve sometimes about the "ways of the world", or specifically, "the ways of the upper classes". Of course Tom had never grown up with a house elf. Only the oldest magical families, and the wealthiest, kept the creatures in their service. Though even that was a misleading term, because yes, as Sybil had said, House Elves weren't servants like a maid or a footman, but slaves to serve their master or mistress until the gift of clothes was finally bestowed upon them.
"It's absolutely disgusting," Sybil muttered, before closing the book with a frustrated huff. Tom agreed with her, but apparently his reactions were not what she was expecting. "I thought you would be more outraged?" she questioned.
Tom sighed and finally sat down in his chair. "I am, Sybil, but…well…this sort of mistreatment isn't 'brand new', it's been going on for years—centuries, even."
Sybil's eyes widened at his words. "I…well, I…I know that!" she snapped back, though he could see a shameful blush covering her cheeks. He didn't mean to embarrass her, that hadn't been his intention.
Sybil lifted her chin and adopted that haughty expression he had long since learned to be "the Crawley glare". "Alright, so…so it's nothing 'new', as you say, but…well, that's no excuse not to be indignant about it!"
"I agree," Tom answered, his voice a bit calmer. "But what can be done?"
Sybil's eyes widened again and he noticed how her purple face paled at his words in shock. "Tom Branson! I can't believe that you would say something so apathetic—"
"No, I'm not saying 'it's no use, nothing can be done'," he quickly corrected. "I'm asking you, 'what can be done'? What do you think we can do to help House Elves?"
Sybil slowly sank down into the chair opposite of him and chewed her lower lip in thought. "Well…the obvious answer is to provide them with clothes, as that is how they win their freedom."
"True, but it's not that simple."
"No," Sybil sighed, and Tom couldn't help but smile, because he knew she was thinking about the problem and searching for solutions. "Last night…that poor elf kept apologizing to Larry…the creature was terrified! And yet he seemed to be even more afraid of my…interference…than Larry giving him another kick."
"And why do you think that is?" Tom asked, leaning forward a bit.
"Because…" she paused for a moment and then looked up at Tom as if she had just made a grand discovery. "Because…if the elf obeyed, he knew he wouldn't be punished…but…who knows what would happen to him had he stayed and allowed me to further interfere, and not knowing something can sometimes be even more frightening."
"That's right," he nodded his head. "My mam would sometimes say that 'the devil you know is less frightening than the devil you don't'."
"Ignorance is the problem!" Sybil gasped, her hands falling down on the table between them. "Because those that have the power know that they can use ignorance as a means to keep the elves under their control!"
Despite the subject matter, Tom was grinning because of Sybil's understanding. "Exactly, because if you think about it...House Elves hardly know a life other than 'service'."
"They're not prepared or even given the opportunity to consider that there is something beyond it," Sybil continued.
Tom nodded. "And that is exactly the excuse the toffs give, that they're doing the House Elves a 'favor' by keeping them—"
He paused as he suddenly realized what he had said, or rather…the word he had just used in front a girl who came from a family of "toffs".
Yet if Sybil was insulted, she didn't show it. In fact, she was nodding her head in agreement! "You're right, of course, which goes back to what I said, about how those that have the power use ignorance as a weapon to both control others, as well as an excuse to keep things as they are…oh Tom, it's more than just the House Elves; I mean, this is the same sort of logic used in denying women the right to vote!"
"Or giving the Irish their freedom," he muttered, though more to himself.
But Sybil had heard, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "And the only way to combat ignorance is with knowledge."
He met her gaze and smiled…and then felt something squeeze his hand, and it was only then that he realized when he looked down on the table between them, that her hands were on top of his.
Yes, this had been one of the many reasons why the Sorting Hat had selected Hufflepuff for Sybil; she was wise and clever, brave and ambitious, but perhaps more than anything, she had a compassionate heart that craved justice and that wasn't afraid of working to see it through.
So much for studying, he chuckled to himself as he once again recalled their time in the library. Instead, the two of them had brainstormed ways in which they could help the House Elves, ways to educate other students about the horrible treatment of the elves, and before the library closed for the evening, had documented a letter for the headmaster, as well as a petition that Sybil wanted to place in the Hufflepuff common room for fellow students to sign. "And then we'll pass it on to the others!" she had declared, though Tom wondered if it anyone in Slytherin would sign it.
"Best be going in," Matthew sighed, breaking Tom from his thoughts. "But think about what I said! You really could be a great Quidditch player!"
Tom smiled and nodded his head, though more to humor Matthew than anything else. "I'll keep it in mind," he chuckled.
Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing Tom was humoring him. "See that you do," he sighed, and then a smirk began to spread across his face. "At the very least, you could be a beater. And don't tell me that you wouldn't enjoy hitting a bludger at Larry Grey."
Tom paused for a moment, imagining this. Larry had just joined the Slytherin team…
"When are tryouts again?"