Chapter Text
Now, it's been so long since I met someone like you.
He stared up at the dorm room ceiling, wondering what exactly the hat meant.
The most obvious answer was that he simply reminded the hat of someone, Tom had always been an odd kid-perhaps there was an odd kid who came before him.
Yes, that was most probably it.
But a traitorous part of his mind hoped for something different, besides what’s were the odds that both of his parents were muggle.
“Wake up, we have to get ready.” Abraxas’s voice rang throughout the room, waking up Nott, while the person it was intended for snored into his pillow.
Abraxas was standing at the foot of Alphard’s bed, who lethargically raised his head, propping it against the head board as Bella chewed on his fingers.
Tom watched them for a few seconds before sitting up, body sinking into the mattress momentarily as it got used to his weight.
Next to him Nott turned in his bed, squinting as he too sat up, a pile of books to his right falling down as he leaned on it.
Tom’s feet hit the suitcase which was laying at the foot of his bed as he stood, he had promised to sort through it today, too tired to do it yesterday, neither Abraxas nor Alphard had organised their things either.
Nott was the only one who had, quickly sorting through all his items, which consisted mostly of books as soon as they stepped into their dormitory.
Tom turned his attention back to them both when a thumping sound filled his ears.
“Could you please get up,” Abraxas had climbed onto Alphard’s bed, hitting the boy with a pillow. “It’s already-thump-six a.m-thump-do you want to tarnish-thump-your family’s-thump-reputation?"
Like the boys at the orphanage, well not exactly-they fought to hurt the other kids, until one of them stopped moving or the matron stepped in, Abraxas wasn’t trying to hurt Alphard.
“My family would disown me if I tried waking them up at six on a Sunday,” Alphard announced, staring up at the ceiling as he closed his eyes again, unbothered by his assailant.
“I have to use the showers, if you don’t mind.” Nott interrupted them, a pair of clothes in his hand. Tom thought he looked like an owl, with his large round spectacles and floppy brown hair.
Abraxas blinked, as if only now remembering that other people were present in the room, the sneer that was previously on his face melting into a polite smile, “Go right ahead.”
“Of course, it’s no problem, truly,” Alphard half mumbled as he yawned, the words coming to him naturally as he tried pulling the curtains on his bed shut, quickly stopped by Abraxas.
“Thank you,” Nott nodded before shutting himself away in the bathroom.
Tom filtered out most of what they said next as he got to organising all his things, there wasn’t much in the first place, all he had was a few sets of clothes-most were given by Hogwarts-and random knick-knacks he had stolen from the other orphans.
The only thing of any importance were his books, it felt weird leaving them out, a part of his mind screaming to at least hide them somewhere, he considered it for a moment, but Abraxas’s suitcase was lying open on the ground, Alphard had carelessly thrown his rings on his side table and Nott had left all his books on the bed, so he kept them on his nightstand.
“Tom, you're going after Nott!” Abraxas called out, his voice muffled as he bit into Alphard’s arm while trying to drag him off the bed.
—————
Tom stacked a large pile of bacon and ham on his plate, wolfing it down in a few bites, the flavours bursting in his mouth with warmth. The food in Hogwarts was better than anything he had ever seen, much less tasted.
Next to him Alphard groaned into his plate, a few wayward feathers still in his hair as he cut into a soggy piece of toast Abraxas had placed on his plate while saying you can’t function on an empty stomach.
Tom stared at him curiously as he shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth, wondering when he would bring up the radio.
He had noticed Alphard staring intently whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Lestrange had been the fourth member of their dormitory originally, only for Alphard to take one look at the board and order Lestrange to be replaced by Nott. What struck Tom the most was perhaps the fact that Alphard hadn’t even looked in Lestrange’s direction.
He hoped that wouldn’t happen with him.
“Tell me, do I look that dashing?” Alphard’s voice broke his train of thought.
He blinked, eyes glancing towards the now empty seat where Abraxas was previously sitting.
His eyebrows furrowed, before he could answer-
“Meet me at the statue of Morgana at twelve." Alphard took a bite of the toast, already knowing what he was thinking.
The look in Alphard’s eyes back at the train station was one he hadn’t forgotten, a mixture of hope, eagerness, aspiration but most of all desperation.
Tom had been fixated on what the hat had said but now he wondered why someone like Alphard, rich-famous-handsome would care for what Abraxas and all the other slytherins would define as ‘barbaric-muggle technology’.
He paused mid bite, half tempted to ask him why the radio mattered-he wouldn’t of course especially now that Abraxas was coming back towards them, the girl from the feast-Druella following behind him.
“I hope you don’t mind.” She said, sitting down between him and Alphard.
Alphard looked her way, “You're very much welcomed to, m’lady.” He said as Abraxas picked out a feather from his hair, though judging by the scathing look he sent Abraxas’s way he wasn't too keen.
“Thank you,” her lips were drawn into a tight smile as she looked over at Abraxas, for a moment he was sure she was going to strike up a conversation but then she hesitated, turning to look around at everyone else.
Lestrange, Avery, Rosier and a few other kids he couldn’t name were huddled together in a group in the far end of the table, while Nott had surprisingly enough chosen to sit with them, his nose buried in some book.
She looked over at Alphard and Abraxas one more time, who were arguing animatedly among themselves.
Tom watched as she considered both her choices before making a decision and turning to Nott, biting her lip as she lent out her hand, “hello?” She spoke with bated breaths.
Nott looked up from his book, blinking owlishly up at her, “hello, Thaddeus Nott,” he paused, “you are?”
She frowned, "Druella Rosier.”
Curiosity struck Tom, all the slytherins had known each other back in the dormitories, and had spoken like old friends. Yet Nott wasn’t even aware of her name.
He stared intently at her, Tom had met two other Rosiers in the common room in his year alone and they had spent the first night together, Druella however hadn’t even been present.
odd.
“Not from around here, are you?,” he asked, watching as she tensed.
“No-this is my first time in Britain actually, I travel a lot though.” She said, surprised.
He supposed that made sense, her thick German accent had stuck out among the sea of light French or British accents.
Nott had already turned back to his books, the rustle of paper as he turned a page reaching Tom’s ear.
“You?” She asked, directing all her attention at him, revealing surprisingly green eyes.
Tom raised an eyebrow, staring down at his well worn, and admittedly shabby clothes pointedly, covered by a cheap robe, “I wonder?” He deadpanned back at her, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Next to him Abraxas stiffened, glancing at him with a light frown on his face, even Lestrange and Avery gave him odd looks from where they sat, only Alphard seemed too tired to comment, eyes shut in exhaustion.
But Druella seemed to brighten up if anything at his rebuttal, a small smile extending over her face.
She was staring at him curiously, no longer nervous,“you’re from muggle Britain, correct?”
He bristled, “yes.”
“Where from?” She asked, leaning into him slightly.
Tom grit his teeth, images of checkered floors, small overstuffed rooms filled with wailing children, aching hands with dirty under their fingernails came to mind.
He remembered the kids at school, how’d they pick on every orphan, the annoying comments and harsh shoves when they were displeased.
“Rather not tell,” he bit out, feeling like a rabid dog gnawing on its own leg.
Druella hummed, a grin on her face, unaware of his discomfort or perhaps not caring of it as she continued to ramble on, any propriety she had once possessed dissipated, replaced by a child-like adolescence Tom had last seen in the orphanage.
Hogwarts-Tom had learned on his first night, was full of well mannered children playing at a game, Abraxas polite smiles and introductions as they walked out of the common room were example enough.
Compared to that, Druella's confidence while behaving like a normal kid was disconcerting.
Nobody turned their way, but they all shared glances with each other. From the corner of his eye he saw Lestrange say something to Avery, who laughed.
He filtered her out, replying with a nonchalant ‘yea’ or hum from time to time. It wasn’t new, a constant chatter had always followed Tom wherever he went in the orphanage, he had learned quickly how to ignore it.
“Tom, do you mind coming with me to fetch the timetable?” Abraxas interrupted them, his eyes twitching slightly, his hair puffed like an angry cat, or kitten-that fit him more.
Tom tilted his head, Walburga had handed them the time tables on their first night, “Sure,” he said, watching as Abraxas sniffled at his remark.
Druella rose up from her seat, clapping her hands together, “well then I must get going, see you again Riddle, Malfoy, oh and you too Black?” She smiled down at them cheerily before walking off, a pip in her step.
As soon as she left, Abraxas groaned lightly, “I have no clue what I’m going to do with her.”
“Why is she your responsibility?” He asked, confused.
Abraxas sniffed, voice hushed as he spoke, “I taught her everything, but Merlin-in the one ear-out the other, I tell you.”
He frowned, that didn’t answer his question.
Alphard rolled his eyes, “you're fine, she’s just slow, nothing you can do about that.”
Abraxas made a dejected sound, “she was talking with Potter of all people!”
“Perhaps she’s a muggle lover?” Nott looked up from his book.
Abraxas shook his head, as if it was an absurd idea, “She’s a Grindelwald fanatic.”
“Grindelwald?” He blurted, he hadn’t heard that name before.
Alphard raised an eyebrow, “not that loud, Tom-I’d rather not get detention on my first day.”
“She doesn't seem the type.” Nott now looked up from his book completely, a curious twinkle in his blue eyes.
He hadn’t looked up once before, Tom wondered who exactly this Grindelwald was.
Abraxas nodded, looking at Tom, “fanatic I tell you.”
Alphard raised a brow, an amused curl to his lips, “now-now don’t tell me you're a muggle lover.”
Abraxas huffed, “Don't get me wrong-Grindelwald is correct, for the greater good,”- Alphard and Nott repeated behind him, for the greater good they said-“I’m just saying she’s the type of person to buy those Grindelwald romance books.”
————
Tom was walking outside out of the slytherin common room when Walburga found him.
“Tom, how are you?” She was smiling as she gently waved in his direction.
“Good.” He replied halfheartedly, walking past her. It was already twelve and he had no interest in small talk.
Walburga frowned slightly, a disapproving glint in her eyes, “I was wondering if you would like to join the dueling club?”
He paused, glancing at the pamphlet in her hand, “dueling club?” He echoed, reaching forward and snatching a few flyers from her.
Walburga huffed, offended, "at least have some shame, Riddle.”
He looked up at her blankly as she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Dumbledore holds them twice a week, starting next week. Alphard and Abraxas already joined.”
Tom hummed, eyes glancing over the flyer, “sure.” He said, beginning to hand them back when a thick piece of paper slipped from between them, curiously he picked it up.
It was much higher quality than the worn out pamphlets, gleaming a dark blue, on top in bold letters it read-
FOR THE GREATER GOOD
Below it was a moving picture of a handsome man standing on stage, he was bowing dramatically as he held out his hand, witches and wizards surrounding him.
Grindelwald, he thought-that must be him, his eyes jump around the paper trying their best to absorb all the information when-
“Ah, just ignore that, Dumbledore was doing surprise check-ins in all the dorms so Mulcebier gave it to.” She looked down at her nails as she spoke, completely unbothered.
His hands wrapped tightly around the paper, it crinkled slightly, “I’d like to keep it, if you don’t mind.”
Walburga tilts her head, her eyes narrowed. “It’s not mine, though I suppose Mulciber does deserve it.” She drawled out the words.
Tom nods, “bye,” he says walking past her.
Walburga turns to look at him, “Thanks m’lady, now if you don’t mind I have somewhere to be,” she says the words slowly, a reprimanding look in her eyes.
“What?”
She raised an eyebrow “You’re not so dumb.”
Tom blinks before repeating after her, “Thanks m’lady, now if you don’t mind I have somewhere to be,” the words feel out of place in his mouth, like a wolf among sheep or more accurately like a fawn taking its first steps.
She sniffles, “better, much better, though the accent is…something.”
Tom bristles, “hard to do everything at once,” he hisses out the words.
“Yes, it is,” with that, she walks away.
He tucks the pamphlet under his arms as he strolls around, half tempted to drop everything and read it.
There’s a corridor to the left of the common room and as he walks deeper, the carpet walls around him fade into cobble stone, and large statues of witches and wizards surround him.
Their faces are marred with indifference, and as Tom went further in they towered over him even more. Low lights hung from the ceilings-the only thing illuminating the hard edges of the statues.
Tom isn’t aware of how long he’s been walking, only that he comes to a halt near the foot of a large stone statue, at one moment it's beautiful, the other it’s a rotting mess, the thing seems to flicker between hope and despair, standing strong at one and weak the other.
On the bottom it reads, Salazar Slytherin-king of snakes.
“Wouldn’t look that long at it, if I were you,” Alphard’s smooth voice jolts him out of his frozen state, he stands at the feet of a beautiful witch, her hair tumbling down her shoulders, face sharp and angular.
“Why?” He asks, Tom had wanted to ask the same question a million times since he stepped foot into Hogwarts, this the only time he does.
Alphard cocks his head to the side, “it’s cursed, after Salazar left Hogwarts, Godric destroyed it in a rage-Rowena tried fixing it, lover of history she was but she was never able to encapsulate Griphook’s design,”
Tom’s eyebrows furrowed, he had read about the four founders of course, “who’s Griphook?”
“The goblin who helped build Hogwarts,” his face is bright with confusion, “surely Hogwarts: the history would have that in its content?”
He shrugged haplessly, “I suppose it didn’t.”
Alphard raised a brow, “curious, now if you don’t mind we’re already late,” he declares, turning around, his hand resting on the podium where Morgana stands, Tom realises he’s speaking-no chanting.
It sounded ancient, deeper in tone than any language he had ever heard, he walks closer and watches as a door appears on the wall.
It is as grand as it is barren- the only speck of life are the seven large snakes all ingrained on the stone.
Alphard seemed unbothered, his hands reaching out to grasp at the door, opening it with a strong shove.
Large particles of dust fly into the air and Tom sneezes as he scrambles to follow Alphard.
The room is large-the ceilings especially high, and at once Tom is filled with both fear and wonder, the room is oppressive with its greatness, the large glass murals which extend over every window paint monsters and gods, many are ones Tom recognizes from his own muggle fairytales.
But not quite correct, the stories he heard were twisted, weaved and retold to fit the teachings of muggles-the art in front of him was untouched-pure.
Tom felt wrongness settle in his bones-only exemplified by the silhouette of a radio on the ground, starkly muggle-just like him-in contrast to the ancient walls, “why drag me here? Why not the dorms?” He asked, Abraxas and Nott had been lying on the couch when they left after all.
Alphard freezes, a frown tugging on his lips, “muggle technology isn’t permitted inside the common room.”
“Why not sneak it in then?”
Alphard has now paused completely, an judgemental look on his face, “by not permitted, I mean if I walk into the common room right now with this radio in my hands I would have to be transported to the hospital.”
Tom blinked, for a second struck by the hatred of wizard kind, “I see,” he says, if only to fill the silence between them.
Tom’s no fawn or wolf he’s a snake, but he’s in a cobra’s nest, they have no qualms eating their own.
He spends the next hour teaching Alphard how to use the radio. He’s hopeless at it in the beginning, hands turning the nobs in confusion, many times he hears Alphard muttering something about muggles, most of it is insulting.
That crosses out Tom’s first theory that perhaps Alphard simply likes muggles, it rang hollow then-the desperation in his eyes wasn’t one of interest but now it was practically impossible.
Nevertheless by the end Alphard seemed to grasp the simple inner workings of a radio, “There,” he said the words softly, as a clink sound reverberated throughout the room, echoing off the empty area.
His face is drawn in deep concentration, like someone trying to crack a particularly difficult puzzle.
Still he can’t help but find it funny how much Alphard struggles with a simple radio.
There’s chatter coming from it, a man’s voice-low and deep, it’s ignored by them both.
He’s finally able to open the flyer again, now given time to read it-he understands one thing-Grindelwald thinks the muggles are enemies, not pests to be stepped on.
He remembers the matron’s harsh words, the men scared from the Great War who walked around like ghosts, the stories of bombings the older still spoke of when they thought the kids were asleep.
Grindelwald was correct, muggles couldn’t be controlled.
His inner monologue is interrupted by a static hum-Alphard had stopped staring at the radio program schedule in his hands.
Suddenly he draws his wand, and Tom watches as he says tempus, the time appearing before them.
His brows are furrowed as he looks at the time, 1:29 it reads.
Tom glances at the schedule, ‘1:30-short stories’ he frowns.
Jokingly he thinks perhaps Alphard is simply a lover of stories.
A woman's voice is now transmitting through the radio, she’s retelling a simple children’s story, one that you put on the background as you do the dishes or sweep the floor.
Not cradle in your arms and stare as if it is your entire world.
A sense of wrongness creeps over him, and he grips the flyer tightly, the crinkle of paper alerting Alphard, “You’re free to leave now,” his words are polite enough but Tom knows a dismissal when he hears it.
“Thank you,” he’s looking at Tom, a grim feature to his face, not one of a boy thankful for the help but Tom nods back anyway before he makes his exit-
But he hesitates, his feet stuck to the ground, “I’m ready to lend a hand whenever you like,” he says the words quietly, but they reverb loudly against the stone walls, it feels weird on his tongue.
Alphard looks his way, cool grey eyes watching him skeptically, “yes…I suppose I could use help from time to time.”
As he walks back to the common room, the mental image of Alphard kneeling on the ground as he listens to the radio replays over and over in his mind, mulling over Alphard, not for the first time, wondering what the boy’s deal was.
so it is surprisingly quickly that he reaches the end of the hallway, the pamphlet digging into his palm as he wrapped his hands around it protectively.
Squeak.
For a second Tom thinks he imagined the noise, but then his eyes land on a small- long creature near the base of one of the many statues. A ferret, he thinks.
It was watching him intently, far too intelligent for a thing with a pea sized brain.
He took a step back when it walked even further, its small paws landing on his shoes as it looked up at him, small nose twitching as it sniffed.
“Shoo!” He shook his leg, watching as the ferret flew back-a slight feeling of guilt passing over him as he stared at the animal, who looked back at him dejectedly.
He wasn’t particularly fond of animals-not that he minded them but most seemed to fear him, well except the snakes in the garden, Bella and now this ferret, for a moment he wondered if perhaps magical animals were less likely to fear people.
His hand reached for his pockets, where he had stored a few candies he had snatched from Abraxas’s desk, he looked down his palm-picking up an orange flavoured toffee and throwing it near the long rodent.
It picked it up quickly, munching on the sweet and swallowing before walking up to him again, its snout digging into the front of his shoe, as it squeaked indignantly.
Tom frowned, “I’m not giving you any more.”
he turned and walked away, the slight patter of feet following him.
Thankfully, the noise disappeared before he moved into the common room.
————-
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Abraxas said as he packed his bag, an array of transfigured items lying on his desk-a button, clock, paint brush, napkin and a comb.
“It was boring though,” Druella said, nibbling at the end over quill as she leaned over Alphard, the girl had practically inserted herself into the group.
“One man’s boring is another man’s fascinating,” Nott replied, already having started the transfiguration essay.
Alphard cracked his knuckles, “Nott, how much would I have to pay you to do my essay?” Druella raised her head at the notion.
Nott only huffed, throwing his essay haphazardly into his carrier, Tom was sure he used some type of spell so they didn’t all crumple-or get lost in there.
Alphard pouted, while Abraxas looked over at him in disappointment, “just do them yourself,"
“We’re tired,” Druella responded.
“It’s the first day of class, ugh whatever,”
They continued to talk among themselves. Both Alphard and surprisingly enough Druella were good at transfiguration, Abraxas of course had transformed the most objects, Tom had only managed a few before the bell rang.
He aimlessly rotated his wand, staring down at his own desk.
Dumbledore was taking circles around the classrooms, he paused in front of them, quickly turning all the items back to their original forms with graceful flick of his hands, as he jolted something down.
Alphard was looking down at his timetable, a small frown on his face, “we have history next,” he announced, next to him both Druella groaned dramatically.
Abraxas looked as if he wanted to complain but didn’t wish to be associated with Druella.
Tom was too busy glaring at his wand to notice them calling out his name, which led to Alphard jabbing his finger at him, “Tom?”
All their bags were packed, and Nott was already halfway through the classroom. Right, they were waiting for him, “you go, I’ll take some time.”
Abraxas frowned, glancing at Alphard before looking back at him hesitantly “okay-just come on time, don’t want you being late to class on the first day.”
“Of course,” he said, barely looking over at him.
One by one, everyone walked out of the class, a few minutes later the only noise left- his own small breaths.
back at the orphanage Tom had always been top of his class, the teachers always used to send letters to Mrs. Cole let him jump up a few years, she had finally agreed last year-not that it meant much.
Abraxas had taught him how to transfigure the pin after he had struggled with it for five minutes. He had tried to comfort him, Avery's pin still looks the same and he’s a pure-blood, he had said.
“Riddle, is something the matter?” Dumbledore's voice broke him out of his meandering, he was standing at the edge of the bench, blue eyes watching him thoughtfully.
“Nothing, professor,” he reached forward to hurriedly pack all of his things, if only to get away as quickly as possible.
“Are you well Mr, Riddle, You seem… dull?”
Tom looked up, staring at a pin Dumbledore kept on his vest, for whatever reason he hated making eye contact with the man, it felt good with others- but with Dumbledore, it felt more like a weakness, “just getting adjusted, it’s a new experience.”
Dumbledore tilted his head to the side, obvious that he didn’t trust a word Tom had said, “your roommates, are they treating you well?”
Tom grit his teeth, “I don’t understand what you’re implying sir.” The words were forceful, more hissed then said.
“I simply hope to look after all my students.”
Tom took in a deep breath, placing the last of his books into his bags, “I’m well, my dorm mates have been most welcoming.”
“If you say so, oh and good job, you’re skilled in the art of transfiguration.”
Tom’s hand wrapped tightly around his wand, its back end digging painfully into his hand. “I'd rather you tell me what I did wrong then give me false hope, sir.”
Dumbledore paused, a pained- no- pitying look on his face, for whatever reason that was more angering then comforting, “I do not know why you take every compliment as a personal attack, but I promise I simply meant it as one-you were fourth in the class, Tom.”
Tom, as if he knew him, took one look at him at the orphanage and decided who he was "Abraxas Alphard and Druella all did better then me-I don’t see you complimenting them,” he hissed out the words, aware he was pushing his luck but couldn’t care much about it.
He truly hadn’t, Dumbledore had walked passed-not even acknowledging Abraxas's perfectly done button or vase.
“they all happen to be pure-bloods from the most prestigious of lines, that is expected of them.”
Again, that darn word, he paused, meeting Dumbledore's eyes for the first time in the entirety of their conversation, he had heard the word before, it was thrown around in the slytherin common room the first night, but he never understood its exact meaning “sir, what exactly is a pure-blood?”
Dumbledore shifted, an uncomfortable look in his eyes. “Well…I don’t think I’m the best person to teach you.” For the first time he looked truly unnerved, he swayed slightly before walking over to to his desk and picked up a book, handing it to Tom,"here..I think it will help you.”
Tom stared at the book, on the cover there was a painting of a regency girl and guy staring at each other longingly.
“Pride and Prejudice?” He knew the book of course, one of the sisters at church had gifted a version of it to him but doubted it would be of much help in this context.
“A disguise, the content explains the inner working of wizarding kind, it’s just a manuscript so I can’t promise it provides the best of contexts.”
He nods, opening up the book and scanning the context, “you’ve been working on this?” He asks, looking up at Dumbledore.
“I wish to repay a debt.” There was a certain sadness in his eyes.
————
He was indeed late to history class, much to Abraxas’s chagrin, as he scolded him the entirety of class and refused to share his notes, thankfully Nott had slid his from across the bench.
History of magic wasn’t as boring as Abraxas and Durella had described it, even if it wasn’t the most interesting of classes.
Professors Binns was another story, but Tom was used to archaic teachers who had no knowledge of their own subject so he powered through, but how the man somehow made being a ghost boring was unclear to him.
By the end of the class Alphard was doodling in the back of his notebook, Durella was fast asleep and Abraxas had given up entirely on writing his notes.
Him and Nott were the only ones jotting down what Binns said.
“I don’t know how any of that sticks to your mind,” Druella announced as they walked into herbology class, Abraxas and Alphard made sounds of agreement.
Mrs. Poppy was a round, cheery woman in her mid fifties whose hair was littered with specs of grey, it didn’t seem to affect her however as she bounced around the greenhouse.
They spent the first day planting seeds and making compost, Abraxas left halfway through after Tom had accidentally gotten manure on his hair.
He was still digging dirt from under his finger nails as they walked back to the common room after classes.
Tom flipped a page in the book, his knees tucked under his chin as he sat on the couch, Druella was lying next to him on her stomach, glaring at her still empty paper.
“Shouldn’t you be doing the essay?” Abraxas squinted, hair still slightly damp, “Instead of reading pride and prejudice?”
He shrugged, “already did it.”
“Could I please just copy it?” Druella asked.
He hesitated, perhaps he could make some kind of deal, saying no outright seemed-
“Absolutely not.”
Rude. He stared at Nott, who too was reading a book.
“Just do it before class, nothing's a better motivator than humiliation,” Alphard said, opening his eyes, he was resting on an armchair, crossed feet hanging over the edge.
“That’s horrible advice,” Abraxas admonished, before Turing to look at Nott, “do you think you could proof read my essay-I’ll do the same with yours.”
Nott nodded, “very well. Riddle, what about you?”
He blinked, trying to land on a response, “It would be a shame not to,” Amusement danced in Abraxas’s eyes, and he felt a faint pink hue dust over his face, alright-perhaps a bit too formal.
The next half an hour was spent in comfortable silence, filled only with the quaint sound of paper ruffling, as Tom wrote corrections over Nott’s paper with invisible ink.
Druella too had finally started her own paper, a pout on her lips, as she stuck her tongue out in concentration.
“And I told you, I don’t know where it is.” Walburga’s voice was heard all throughout the room as she barged in, walking over to them swiftly.
An older boy (fourteen or fifteen?) chasing behind her, he was tall with broad shoulders and a generally bulky figure.
“Oh come on Black, surely you know! Look I’m sorry but-
“And I told you I lost it! If you’re so worried you can check the flyers around campus, maybe I just accidentally put it up with one of them,” Walburga was standing with her back to the boy, huffing slighlty.
The boy frowned, “oh don’t be ridiculous-we both know that isn’t true.”
“What do you want, Mulciber?” Alphard had turned to look at the boy, a sneer on his lips-morphing his face into one of a stranger.
Mulciber took a few steps, “nothing, she just lost something I gave her.”
“You didn’t give it to me, you shoved it in my hands-I wasn’t aware that it mattered so much to you.” She snapped.
Mulcebier frowned, a ticked off expression talking over his face, “Enlighten me, are you that dumb? Were you not taught even the most basic of manners?”
“You seem to forget who you’re speaking to,” Walburga snarled.
Mulciber gaped, “you’re the one who-“
Abraxas, who had been watching them tensely, interrupted, “I think it’s for both our better interests if you leave, Mulciber.”
“I-“
“She already lost it-yelling won’t get you anywhere, I’ll buy you a replacement if necessary.”
Mulciber sighed, “No, there’s no need,” He shrunk back, a frown on his lips.
As he walked away Walburga turned to Abraxas, “ever the mediator I see.”
“I try,” Abraxas looked her up and down, a curious look in his eyes.
“what even happened?” Alphard interrupted, a worried look on his face.
Walburga shrugged, "I might have misplaced his Grindelwald poster,” her eyes flickered to Tom for a second and he stared back undeterred, his hands tightening around the pamphlet tucked in his book.
“All of this for a poster?” There was a look of disbelief on Druella’s face.
“You know you’re in deep when Druella thinks you're extra.” Nott said.
She made an indignant noise, “I just support his views and the fact that he’s doing so much for the wizarding world.”
“I support him, you’re a weird fan-girl!” Abraxas pointed out.
Druella fake gasped, “am not!”
“Don’t you have a copy of ‘the mistress of grindlewald’?”
Tom did a double take mentally, he had thought the romance books to be a joke.
Druella threw herself into the couch, muttering out a muffled "Research purposes,” through the pillow.
Walburga laughed, “it’s okay, he’s a good looking fellow.”
“No It isn’t, Wally?”
He watched as they continued to ridicule her, he chimed in himself sometimes but their chatter was quite enjoyable to listen to, so it wasn’t long before he curled into himself again, reading the book Dumbledore had given him as they all (mostly Abraxas and Druella) talked.