TORMENT (Harry Potter Sequel)

Chapter Forty

Tom didn't speak to Hermione and Ron after returning to Hogwarts. He didn't even look at them; in fact he was actively avoiding them. The same could be said about Harry Potter.

Tom really did not want to talk to anyone. His main goal for the rest of the year, no, the rest of this AND next year would be to avoid them. He had been so stupid to ignore the warnings of the letter. That letter should've been his gospel and yet for some inexplicable reason he thought...

Tom didn't know what he thought. He looked around him: he stood in the Hogwarts grounds, the leafless trees surrounding him, still bare and shivering from the winter winds. He was supposed to be in class right now but as usual he had decided he would rather just be outside. It must've been over a year now since he attended a regular class. That or just under a year. He didn't even remember at this point. Or care. He rubbed his eyes. He had had trouble sleeping at night ever since the attack; his chest still stung slightly even if the burning was gone. The mark had also faded which was strange. Tom would have to get to the bottom of it one way or the other.

"This way, come this way!"

Tom's head straightened slightly. He recognised that voice... and it wasn't one that he liked.

Charlie and a large posse of Gryffindor 6th years were all jaunting across the grass only a few feet in front of him. They hadn't seemed to have noticed him. A grimace overtaking his face, Tom took a slow few steps towards them until they realised his presence.

"Oh look it's the freak!" called out one of the Gryffindor boys pointing towards Tom. A chorus of giggles erupted but were cut short as Tom took a threatening step towards them.

"A-Aren't you meant to be in class?" Charlie spoke with obvious fake confidence.

Tom's reply was instant, "Shut the fuck up."
"Answer him freak," called out a nameless Gryffindor. As Tom's gaze shifted to him, he took a fearful step back.

"If you ever talk with me again I will snap both your arms off your body like twigs from a tree branch," the threat came out effortlessly and had the desired effect on the now pale-faced boy.

"Where'd you get all this confidence from, freak?!" Charlie's confident facade was getting a little too daring, "Just a few years ago you were..."

Charlie stopped talking as Tom slowly advanced on him. Tom stopped when he was right in front of him, and then looked down at the intimidated 6th year.

"A few years ago," Tom's voice was calm and casual, "I used to be the small one. I used to be the little guy that you pathetic runts used to beat up. You even said that you 'owned' me," Tom paused, "As you can see times have changed. So... tell me..." Tom put a threatening hand frighteningly close to Charlie's neck, "Do I own you now?"

Charlie's shaking face and widened eyes' only response was to stare up at him in fear- too frozen to speak.

"I think that's enough."

The overtly and annoyingly smug voice of Aubyn Young signifying his swaggering onto the scene. In his arm he was grasping on tight to the body of Alannah Estevan. She, herself, was wearing an unreadable expression.

"I do find it funny that you, freak, talk of owning anything," Aubyn's smirk infuriated Tom beyond belief. Tom let go of Charlie's throat, his attention now turned to something more important.

"What I find funny is how many times I've gotta beat the shit out of you pathetic little weasels until you learn to fuck off," Tom's voice came out lowly and with a threatening frown. Aubyn's face contrasted his, with him wearing a carefree smile.