𝕬 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖎𝖘 𝕭𝖔𝖗𝖓 | 𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 |

Chapter 29- A Summer Nightmare

Exams were eventually over and done with and both Frankie and Tom had passed, with mostly "Exceeds Expectations". Miraculously, Frankie had woken up and really turned it around in their Potions final. Quin had offered up some of this sketchy draught he bought Zonko's that was good for staying awake when pulling all-nighters. Tom was desperate enough to accept his assistance in bringing her back to life for the examination. She was able to return slightly, to take it of her own free will, and immediately jolted up, like she'd chugged seven cups of coffee. They ended up doing well and thankfully Slughorn didn't notice her manic energy that Quin and Tom spent the hour trying to reign in. Once Frankie was fully back to her senses, she wouldn't dare answer Tom's question about the Mirror of Erised. They might've been unnaturally close, but there was no way she would tell him something like that in her right mind. Tom didn't press on the subject too much, anyway. He didn't even want to think about that mirror again, now that he knew exactly what it was. It had been much too revealing.

Now, the two mentally and physically braced themselves for yet another summer at Wool's Orphanage. Although, it was merely meant to be the summer leading up to their fourth year, something in the air had changed while they were away. Nothing really seemed too different when they first returned. The older kids still hated them, vehemently, remembering the old days of constant 'cursing' and mass hysteria. The girls had gotten more obvious with their resentment towards Frankie. She always came back with nicer clothes, a clean face and a thousand interesting stories, like she was better than them. Meanwhile, their time was running thin, and Mrs. Cole could only hire so many to stay and work. She would get out and have a better future and it wasn't fair because she was supposed to be cursed trash even lower than the rest of them.

Mrs. Cole hadn't changed in the slightest. She was still constantly scolding them for various incidents and strange happenings they weren't even causing since they couldn't do magic. A new happening she enjoyed scolding Frankie for was the 'parade' of owls flying through all the orphanage windows,

"You're lying! Who sends mail by owls?"

Mrs. Cole was just being overdramatic, like usual. It was really only one owl who was frequently flying into the orphanage. Daphne had badgered Frankie for the address to the orphanage, so they could keep in touch this summer. Frankie was always sitting calmly on the playroom floor, surrounded with small kids petting the owl on her lap, reading a letter. No ruckus or mayhem in the scene, despite Mrs. Cole's incessant need to turn them into these bad characters. Meanwhile, Tom would be sitting slightly off to the side in the only adult chair, reading the nothing-of-interest book and ready to retort Mrs. Cole on Frankie's behalf. When they weren't fighting off that wretched woman, Frankie and Tom would sit at their little table in the garden and try not to watch as London burned. Air quality usually forced them back inside an hour or two later, but they tried to be out as long as they could bear it. On Sundays, when Mrs. Cole took the orphanage to church to pray for the city, they'd sneak off on little walks. Why go to church when they were already thought of as sinners? As a young witch and wizard, they were not exactly welcome in God's house. Tom often made jokes about his father, "The Devil" as they passed London's many churches, which he knew amused Frankie despite what she told him. Even with the city in war strung ruins, they acted like everything was normal, completely uneventful from any other summer,

Then, an east wind started blowing.

                                                 ─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was nearing midnight on a cool, mid-summer night. Tom was sitting on his bed reading one of his various textbooks in the dim light, when he heard someone knocking on his bedroom door. He sighed. He shoved a spare scrap of parchment in the book he was reading and reluctantly went to go answer the call. There was only one person it could possibly be at this hour. Surely enough, there Frankie stood in his doorway. Her long hair was messy and knotted, her hazel eyes drooped and tired. She was holding the white rabbit, Rue, tight to her chest. A noble companion, but not strong enough for this night apparently. She needed him.