If Only... (Harry Potter Next Generation)

~November, 4 Years Ago~

Considering how difficult I found this to write (on an emotional level I mean) I'm gonna go ahead and put a warning for the start and end of the violence so you won't miss much if you don't want to read it. Although, I have very little experience writing this kind of thing so I don't know if it'll even be good so I'll await your feedback.

In my third year things changed. Tommy and I had got kind of awkward around each other over the past couple of years, though we still spent the majority of our time together, simply ignoring the awkwardness. I was prompted to find new friends in my own house and Tommy got closer with Lizzie. He and Lizzie had in fact stayed in touch and talked very often. Aside from their mutual love of all things human, they seemed to find comfort in each other when it came to their families (or lack of). Lizzie's parents had divorced the year before and she was being constantly traded between their separate households. Turns out I - with the happily married parents and generally very large family - was not the kind of person she wanted to talk to about her problems. Instead, she preferred Tommy whose home life was just as - if not more - disastrous than her own.

Since I met him, I assumed his absent father had passed away and it just upset him too much to talk about. Turns out, that was not true.

"Hey, Tommy." One of my less-favourite new friends, Quincy Dart, spat at Tommy. I pressed my back up against the wall and peered round the corner. Tommy was surrounded by Quincy and his lackeys, who had blocked off his exits and were quickly drawing close. "A little birdie told me something very interesting earlier..."

"Leave me alone." Tommy muttered, avoiding the Gryffindors' eyes.

Quincy ignored him. "Guess what it told me? It said that your dad... is a murderer!" He feigned surprise. "That can't be true, can it, Tommy."

"Shut up." He gritted out.

———————violence starts

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the screams of all the women your dad killed!"

"SHUT UP!" Tommy lunged for Quincys throat but Quincy was quicker and landed a devastating punch to his jaw. Tommy fell to the floor, clutching his face and whimpering softly.

Quincy laughed menacingly. "Nothing like an old fashioned beating to put a mutt in his place."

My body trembled as I turned away from the scene. I covered my mouth for fear an unsolicited sound would escape and I'd be forced to get involved. If only I had. Instead I crouched to the floor and squeezed my eyes shut as I listened to my friend get beaten again and again. He didn't make a sound.

———————violence ends

After what felt like hours, Quincy spoke again. "Damn, he's no fun anymore. Let's just go before a teacher sees." They're gone within a minute, leaving Tommy bloodied and battered on the floor. And yet, I still couldn't move. I sit there, rocking back and forth, suppressing my tears, until an older student finds him and has him taken to the hospital wing. All the while the same thoughts race through my head: why didn't you help him? You could have helped him! You coward! Coward!

***

The day after I visited him in the hospital. He was unconscious when I arrived which I was grateful for. I hadn't yet planned what I was going to say to him. For a while I just sat by his bedside, unable to look away from his injuries. His lip had been cut and his yes were already going black, in addition to what Madam Pomfrey said was three broken ribs that she wouldn't be in a position to heal until at least tomorrow. The idea of Tommy being in pain for another day or more, all because I didn't have the guts to step in and stop it, made me nauseous.

A slight moan brought me out of my thoughts. Tommy stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
"Go away." He said when he saw me and turned his head away. "Why are you even here?"

I remain silent.

"You didn't do anything." My eyes widened in surprise. He knew I was there. "You could have  stopped them but you just hid!"

He sighs heavily and closes his eyes in frustration.

The silence remains for several minutes and I could do nothing but stare at him as his chest rose and fell with clear struggle.

Then, "is it true?"

"What?" Tommy grits out, unmoving.

"About your dad. Is he really a murderer like they said?"

"That's the first thing you say..." his body started to shake with anger. "Get out. Get out! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" He barely pulled himself up enough to scream at me and clutches his head in an almost panicked manner. "GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THEM!" Madam Pomfrey arrived at his bedside and lays a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him whispering that he'll hurt himself more if he continues. He hits her hand away and continues shouting. "YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THEM! YOU COWARD! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED THEM! COWARD! COWARD!" He let out a gut-wrenching scream and fell back on the bed, back arching and toes curling.

I ran.

***

Serial Killer Johnathan Clark Escapes Prison

The Muggle newspapers cleared everything up. The story Thomas had told me when we first met, about his father being dead, was a lie. I understood. There were many people I'd neglected to tell over the years who my father was. A heroic legacy is just as burdening as a wicked one.

That didn't stop the hurt that swelled when I realised he had been lying to me the past three years.

Three days later Madam Pomfrey had him all fixed up and he was able to return to classes. However, by that point, the whole school knew about Thomas' father. There was lots of doubts at first; the story was dismissed asa rumour for Thomas did not share his fathers name. When photos were released on wanted posters, though there was no doubt Thomas was Johnathan Clark's son.

Quincy and his friends barely waited a lesson before they made him wish he was never born.

This time, I was with them when we ran into Thomas. The taunting was all the same. "You're gonna end up just like him." "Slytherin!" "You've got the same name as him - as Voldemort" and Thomas could only stand an take it, any onlookers to afraid to get involved. "Bet he could kill you." One guy next to me whispered. "Bet his dad taught him how."

I turned away when they hit him.

Coward, echoed in my head. Coward.

"Oi, Potter!" Quincy yelled at me. He stood apart from the group currently hexing and punching Thomas, though his crossed arms and powerful stance made it clear to anyone he was in charge. "Wanna get a few hits in?"

My mouth opened immediately to say no but my eyes flickered to Thomas on the floor. I expected to see him cowering, defenceless, scared. There was none of that in his face. His chin was tilted up, almost proud. Blood dripped down his cheek and his eyes were thin from the beatings. And yet his teeth were gritted and he didn't dare take his eyes from mine. Coward. It shook through me and suddenly I was angry. Very, very angry.

What right did he have to look like that? As if he feared nothing. As if all the punches, all the kicks, all the terrible spells meant nothing to him. And all the while I couldn't escape one little word. Coward.

No. I was not a coward. And I would prove it. He'd regret ever calling me that.

I took three long steps towards him, grabbed his collar and pulled him up so we were eye level. And still he did not flinch. Just stared me in the eyes, like he was offering a challenge. So I stared right back. Stared at him as I raised my fist and brought it down on him.

So I realise this chapter is a complete contradiction to what I said in the last flashback chapter about them being short. I just forgot about this chapter when I wrote that so sorry but still!  Hope you enjoyed and that you understand a bit more the reasons why James put his name in the Goblet of Fire.
Until next week! Thanks for all your support and have a nice weekend xx

Words: 1450