Chapter Text
Tom ate his breakfast alone, savoring what would be his second-to-last glass of orange juice for some time. He wouldn’t get to take his time with tomorrow’s since they had to leave early to get to King’s Cross, so he was going to do it today. If he had one complaint about school, it was the lack of orange juice. They didn’t have orange juice at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that was where Tom would be returning the following day. For Tom had found out a little over a year before that, as impossible as it might seem, magic was real, and there were wizards, and he was one of them. Oh, there was juice at Hogwarts, and it was orange but…
His internal monologue was interrupted by a quick tap at the kitchen window. He hopped out of his chair to open the window and allow a large barn owl into the room. It dropped a newspaper on the kitchen table and hooted at him. Tom smiled, scratched the top of the owl’s head, and slipped a few small bronze coins into the pouch tied to its leg. It hooted again and flew out the window.
Tom sat back down at the table and returned to his orange juice. He left the window open in hopes that another couple of owls would arrive shortly. In the meantime though, he opened the paper. The headline screamed at him above a moving photograph a middle aged wizard apparently making a speech.
Dangerous Prisoner on the Loose!
The governor of Azkaban Prison released information today regarding the escape of a dangerous, unnamed prisoner from the High Security Wizard Prison...
Tom’s attention was dragged away from the article when a second owl flew into the kitchen. It was a sleek eagle owl called Edwin who belonged to the Stark family, to which one of his best friends at Hogwarts belonged. The huge bird dropped an envelope on the table and leaned forward for a scratch. Tom obliged and gave Edwin his own missive for Tony.
The owl hooted and flew off, narrowly avoiding the rather bedraggled owl who at that same moment was on her way in. This was an ancient sooty owl called Morrigan who belonged to Frigga, the mother of Loki, another of Tom’s wizarding friends. Tom gave the exhausted bird a small dish of water and stroked her variegated gray feathers while she drank. He wanted to tear Loki’s letter open immediately, but controlled himself, taking care of the owl first before he gave her his own message and let her go.
He always had a debate with himself at times like these, whether to open Tony’s or Loki’s letter first. At the beginning of the summer, it was easy. Tony had been in the States, so his letters came infrequently, and therefore took priority. But now he was in London and wrote every day. If T’Challa - another of Tom’s school friends - sent him something, he always read that first since he heard from the Wakandan so rarely.
Loki wrote every day, and Tom did the same; it was how they both stayed sane. He would see all three is his friends tomorrow, so the choice of which letter to read first shouldn't feel so important today, but it did.
Finally, he broke down and opened the envelope from Loki. The other’s spidery hand covered a sheet of parchment. It had been something of a relief to find that their handwriting didn’t look anything alike, despite their near-identical faces. Tom’s writing was extremely neat, with curved, elongated letters in even, regimented rows. Loki’s was spiked and sharp, lines wandering up or down on the page depending on the other boy’s mood. Tom had noted that Loki’s handwriting had gotten more chaotic as the summer progressed. The formality of the missives had gradually decreased over time as well. Now it was more like a very slow phone conversation.
Tom,
I’ve finished the last book you gave me. I’d ask for another, but it hardly seems worth it, since I’ll be seeing you so soon. I’ll return the one I have when I see you on the first.
I’m not sure how I felt about the ending. It seemed too pat. A forgone conclusion, but I suppose you’ll tell me that it’s a stylistic choice or an homage or something. Of course if I don’t know the source material, that sort of thing falls a bit flat, doesn’t it? The romance seemed entirely too obvious and there for the sake of there being a romance than any true chemistry between the characters. It rather seemed like the author liked the idea of them being together but didn’t have a solid idea of why, so they just got together without any real purpose. A bit like mythology, really. I’m sure you have some interesting observations about it, and I would like to hear them, even if you think I’m wrong.
I’m very much looking forward to having a decent conversation with a real human being. As opposed to Thor.
Mother finally figured out that I had blackmail material on him. I don’t think she’ll tell Aunt Freya even though she probably should. I think they’re both relieved that their sons haven’t been fighting all summer like usual. I swear, extortion is the best motivator I’ve found so far for Thor’s feeble intellect. He even defended me to Sif yesterday! The look on her face was utterly priceless. How you can stand to be in a House with those two I’ll never know. Are you certain you don’t want to petition to be resorted into Slytherin? There’s plenty of room in our dormitory and Pietro sneaks out half the time to be with his sister, so it’s often just me. Though I suppose depending on who we get this year, we might have to share with first years. Poor things. Though better rooming with first years than third years. I’ve heard terrible things. Hopefully Ravenclaw will get some boys this year; otherwise I feel awfully sorry for Banner.
It seems somewhat pointless to put too much into this letter. I’ll be seeing you so soon. Not soon enough, mind, but soon.
On the first.
Yours,
Loki
Tom reread Loki’s letter, puzzling over his comments about third years. He knew that if he asked, the other boy would just roll his eyes and refuse to explain. Tom grinned at the last few lines. He and the Slytherin were magically connected in a way that made both of them feel… incomplete without the other, in addition to looking eerily similar. These past months had been hard with only written communication. Then again, Tom had spent eleven years without Loki, he could handle the summer holiday. Just barely.
He turned his attention to Tony’s letter next. His fellow Gryffindor seemed to have taken their House colors to heart. He now used yellow parchment and crimson ink flecked with gold. It was incredibly ostentatious. Tom had a sneaking suspicion that Tony had nicked the ink from his father.
Hey Tom,
Progress on the most recent thautomaton is going well. I should have him done before I have to head back. I wish I could bring him to school with me, but he’s too big to fit in my trunk. The next one will have to be smaller. I can just barely fit my tools in my trunk as it is.
Petey is complaining that he still isn’t eleven, he’s so desperate to come with me. I feel sorry for the little guy, but it’s not like I can age him up. I mean, I could make that aging potion for him, but I’m pretty sure Hogwarts checks for that kind of thing. I’ve asked him to keep working on my thautomata while I’m gone. Hopefully that will keep him occupied.
I finally finished Carter’s homework. That woman has an obsession with essays, I swear. I heard she’s teaching the Magical Health class. That should be interesting. Hopefully you won’t implode.
See you day after tomorrow! Well, tomorrow by the time you get this. Wednesday. Whatever.
Later,
Tony
Tom blushed right up to the roots of his curly blond hair. He’d completely forgotten the health class. Or suppressed its existence. And Carter was teaching it? She taught History of Magic, what did she know about… He shivered. Then again, the head of Gryffindor House had already seen him cry, so it would be difficult for him to be more embarrassed in front of her. Hopefully.
Oh lord, everyone else probably felt like this too, and with his powers, he’d be able to tell. Legilimotcy was often considered to be a lesser form of legilimency, but Tom had learned that feeling the emotions of others could be amazingly overwhelming.
Determined to put the Magical Health class out of his mind, Tom turned his attention back to The Daily Prophet.
Dangerous Prisoner on the Loose!
The governor of Azkaban Prison released information today regarding the escape of a dangerous, unnamed prisoner from the High Security Wizard Prison. The information provided by the governor is extremely limited, stating that the escaped prisoner can appear in any human-type guise. This reporter has to wonder if this is yet another attempt to frighten the wizarding community into....
Tom lost interest as soon as the report turned into conspiracy theory, which unfortunately happened a great deal with The Daily Prophet . Tony said that it had been like that ever since the new owner took over. Tom didn’t have anything to compare it to since he’d started reading the wizard paper the beginning of the summer. It didn’t appear that there was any useful information to be had in the article in any case. He was skimming Loki’s letter for the third time when his mother walked into the kitchen.
“Good morning, darling.” She yawned and ruffled Tom’s hair, a sleepy tea and biscuits feel coming from her touch.
He grinned up at her. “Morning, Mum. There’s tea in the pot for you.”
“Oh thank you love.” Mum poured herself tea and took a long drink before turning to him. “I will miss your early rising habits while you’re away at school.”
Tom snickered. He’d kept in the habit of getting up early during the summer and had taken to going for a run first thing. He’d realized at the beginning of summer than he got a tremendous amount of exercise just by climbing up to Gryffindor tower a few times a day - not to mention the rest of the hundred odd staircases in the castle - and that if he didn’t keep something up now, he’d be miserable for the first few weeks back at school. There were five flights of stairs to get to the tower, and another two up to their dormitory. His legs had been so sore the first few weeks… So he ran, since there was only one set of stairs to be had at home. The heat wasn’t bad in the early morning, so he rather enjoyed it, and got home before anyone else was up. His mother had been so grateful the first morning he made tea that Tom just kept doing it, even though he rarely drank it himself.
“Emma and Sarah will be much easier to live with once I’m gone; think about that.”
Mum sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She sipped her tea. “Do you have everything packed?”
“Almost. I have just a bit left to do.”
“Is that an actual bit or an ‘I’ll be at this all afternoon’ bit?”
Tom laughed and pushed his glasses up. “An actual bit.”
She smiled at ruffled his curls again. “I will miss you.” This time the feel was bittersweet, like toffee and seawater.
“I’ll miss you too, Mum.” Despite being absolutely desperate to get back to school and to see his friends, Tom would miss his family. He couldn’t help but compare his homelife to Tony’s or Loki’s. Loki absolutely adored his mother, but she was a seer and it made her… strange and sometimes difficult to deal with. The Slytherin also lived in the most dilapidated section of Thor’s family’s manor house, sequestered in a tiny, cramped space he shared with mother and an ancient house-elf.
Tony was at the absolute opposite end of the spectrum. His family had at least three houses that Tom knew about, a mansion in New York, another in California, and a posh townhouse in London. Tony was close to his younger brother Peter, but both of his parents were distant, and his father spent almost all of his time working. He was head of Shield - the American branch of Aurors who protected people from the Dark Arts - and ran some kind of business, so he had an excuse. But Tony thought it was just that, an excuse. Tom’s mum worked very hard to take care of him and his two sisters, but she was always there for them. The family didn’t see their dad often, but he was around. Unlike poor Loki, who didn’t even know who his father was.
Tom sighed. There was nothing he could do about his friends’ home lives. As much as he wanted to fix other people's problems. all he could really do was be there for them. Hopefully that would be enough.
Tom got to his feet. “I’d better take care of the last few things I need to pack. Just in case I’m missing something.”
“If only your sisters were as sensible. Is that a wizard thing?”
He chuckled. “My friends are some of the least sensible people I know. Well, Tony is. T’Challa is pretty sensible. Loki is more… pragmatic.”
Mum raised her eyebrows. “That’s an interesting distinction.”
Tom shrugged. “Slytherins are known their cunning, not practicality.”
“I would like to meet your friends at some point.”
He was certain she wanted to meet Loki more than anyone else. Yes, it made sense that she would want to meet the boy who so resembled her son, but Tom also talked about Loki constantly. “I'd like that too. I'm sure we can figure something out.” Muggles not being allowed past the barrier into platform 9 ¾ was a minor annoyance, but of course wizards and witches had to come into normal London, so there would be opportunities.
Tom smiled at his mum and went upstairs to finish his packing. His trunk sat in the middle of the room, open and mostly full. His Rainbow Quetzal, Sapphire, lay coiled on his bed in a patch of sun, basking in the morning light. Her scales had darkened from a bright ultramarine to cobalt over the summer and she was almost a meter long now, though still only a couple of centimeters thick. Her downy feathers were slowly being replaced by the more substantial primaries, but she wasn’t flying yet.
According to the book Tom had on Quetzals, she would start flying next summer. She might even be able to carry letters like an owl when she got big enough. He ran a finger over her smooth, scaled head and she blinked at him with intelligent golden eyes, licked his finger, then went back to sleep. He giggled. In some ways Sapphire behaved more like a cat than anything else. She certainly didn’t act like the snake she resembled other than seeking the warmth of whoever was holding her. She was still a reptile, after all.
He spent the rest of the morning tracking down stray clothing, making sure he had enough quills, and that his homework was complete and correct.
Tom decided that another pair of trainers was probably a good idea and hunted up a spare set that were just a little too big from the back of his wardrobe. He was growing again so they'd fit soon enough. Mum had let down the hems of his robes as far as they'd go, so he'd need new ones next year. At least the robes were easier to adjust than his old school’s uniforms.
The family spent the afternoon and evening together, and Tom tried to focus on them, but his mind wandered. He lived in two worlds, and one called to him much more strongly than the other. He wondered what it would be like to live in a magical household. To live with his friends all the time - or even just on his own - using magic in his day-to-day tasks. Students weren’t allowed to use magic at home, even the children whose parents were witches and wizards. But maybe when he was grown up it would be different, and he could live in that world all the time.
His brain stuttered as he tried to imagine his life as an adult. What would he do for a living? Would he get married? Have children? The world of an adult wizard was alien to him. Obviously wizards and witches had jobs and families, but how were they different from the Muggle equivalents? There were teachers and reporters and people who worked in shops. People who ran businesses or were elected officials. All of that seemed pretty much the same. But there were healers instead of doctors, Aurors instead of police or soldiers.
As for families, what he’d heard seemed pretty much just like Muggle families, but he didn’t know for sure. Tom thought again about the Magical Health class and blushed. The idea of kissing some girl - let alone doing anything else with her - made him very uncomfortable. Not that he disliked girls, but… No. Not ready for that. Just… no.
Maybe he'd thought about it a bit too much. When Tom fell asleep that night, he dreamed of kissing. Dozens of women. Soft lips pressed against his own, over and over. And most of the time it felt like… nothing. There was no emotion to it, not from them, barely any from himself. It didn't feel real. He was so used to feeling the emotions of others when he touched them that it took him out of the dream. This wasn't him, it was some other person - or people - whose eyes he was looking through. This was almost always true of his dreams, but he'd never thought of it in terms of his powers before.
Tom awoke, struggling up and out of the dream. His room was dark, as was the sky outside his window. Sapphire was coiled between his neck and shoulder, as usual. He pressed his fingers to his lips, chasing after that feeling: the odd, emotionless touch. In the dream, the women was been just that, women. Not girls his own age. He’d clearly been an adult as well, taller than all of the others. The youngest had been a teenager; fourth or fifth year at a guess. It was only in that part of the dream that he'd felt the right size himself. But that hadn’t been him; he was certain of it. Her icy blue eyes were unfamiliar, the only emotion his own sense of trepidation.
What did it mean? Other than the occasional anxiety dream, Tom was always someone else in his dreams or nightmares. He ran a hand along his collarbone and started at the ceiling. It wasn't until he talked to other people about their dreams that he'd realized his own were strange. Most people dreamed about people they knew, things they had done. He almost never did. He dreamed of other places, other people, alien and fantastical.
Tom glanced at the clock. 3:32. With a sigh, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Hopefully, to less uncomfortable dreams.