His Guardian Angel

Chapter 11

Harry wasn’t keen on having to continue to pay for a room at a nearby muggle hotel and missed being able to spread his wings. He spent a few days looking into purchasing a property before deciding that there wasn’t anything on the market, muggle or otherwise, that suited his needs so in the hotel room he stayed. The manager did give him a sizable discount when he paid in cash and in full until the end of the following August. 

It was Tom’s birthday on the last day of 1937 and despite it being a Friday, Harry showed up after dinner with a present for Tom. 

He could tell Tom wasn’t used to receiving anything for his birthday and wasn’t quite sure how to thank him but that was all soon forgotten once the silver paper was torn off of the present and the decorative box opened. Inside was a quill cushioned by gold velvet, specially crafted from one of Harry’s feathers. He’d spent quite some time searching for one that he thought Tom would like and had finally managed to locate a black feather with the edges tipped in silver. Surprisingly, it was rather easy to twist the feather from the rest without causing himself any pain at all. The quillmaker at Amanuensis Quills had delivered on precision and looks and had ensured the quill tip would last at least a year and was completely replaceable when it finally did start to wear out. 

Tom simply stared at it in awe. 

“How do you use a quill? I’ve only ever seen them in old photographs.” 

“I’ll teach you to use it on one condition: you have to take very good care of that quill and keep it hidden from the others here. It’s a rather special feather, you see.” Tom nodded and tilted his head. 

“Why is it such a special feather? Other than you giving it to me, I mean. Is it from a magical being?!” Harry chuckled and told him that he’d tell Tom one day, but not today. Tom wasn’t too happy about that, but he accepted it all the same. They spent the rest of the evening talking about anything Tom could think to ask about until Harry finally managed to get him into bed. 

“Harry, would you tell me a story? A made-up one? I’ve never heard a story that’s made-up before.” Harry’s heart clenched and he settled Tom back into his bed with his quilts and freshly fluffed pillow before sitting on the edge and running his fingers through Tom’s hair. 

“Once upon a time,” he started, trying to keep his voice low and soothing. “There was a young boy who grew up with his aunt and uncle. They didn’t like him and treated him badly; he grew up in the cupboard under the stairs his whole life. His cousin hated him and beat him up just because he could. His aunt yelled at him and made him clean the house over and over again until it was positively spotless and his uncle would shout and hit him if he didn’t do what he was told.” Tom looked worried for the boy, but relaxed as the story continued. 

“But then, one day, he was rescued! He was whisked away into a wonderful world full of magic and mythical creatures and kind people where he learned how to make matches turn into needles and how to levitate things! He even learned how to brew potions to heal cuts and to help you get rid of a cold. There was so much to learn that he didn’t have time to consider the family he had grown up with. But there was a dark wizard, a very horrible man, that wanted to kill the little boy.” Tom tensed once more as the story went on. 

“You see, the dark wizard wanted to control everyone and everything and the little boy’s parents told him he couldn’t-”

“But what happened to the little boy’s parents if he grew up with his aunt and uncle?”

“The dark wizard killed them when the little boy was a baby because they told him he couldn’t just do whatever he wanted. And he tried to kill the little boy too but he failed and was cast away by Magic herself for many years.