TORMENT (Harry Potter Sequel)

Chapter Five

Each second-year student stood in a row in front of a large table filled to the brim with various different water goblets. Standing in front of them stood their teacher who was demonstrating the actions they would need to take with their wands to perform a specific spell.

"Swish your wand and then give it a flick," commanded a stern Professor Granger, "What are you meant to do?" she asked the class as a whole.

"Swish and flick," they repeated monotonously.

"Good. I will organise your goblets in a seco-" Professor Granger was cut off by a quiet knock on the door. She groaned to herself. She didn't like her lesson being interrupted, "Okay everyone, go to your seats."

While the second-years all went to their places, Professor Granger walked over to the door and opened it. Being in this school she had learned quickly how many pranksters and time-wasters there are so she was half-expecting to see a couple students dash around a corner in the distance after 'ding-dong ditching' her classroom. Instead however she was met by the sight of a small, little boy staring up at her.

Tom leaned against the side of the doorway. Ever since he had been forced to get out of bed he had been extremely light-headed from exhaustion. The rings around his eyes were darker than usual and his breathing and blinking patterns were noticeably off. He pulled himself off of the doorway when it opened and bowed when Professor Granger looked down at him.

"S-sorry..." he said, "I-I d-don't know where my class is."

He looked up slightly but brought his gaze back down sharply when he saw the stern expression on Professor Granger's face.

'Am I really that scary?' Hermione thought to herself with an eye roll, 'What's this kid's name again?'

"Ma-loom-is?" she enunciated his name from memory. Tom nodded quickly.

"Y-yes ma'am." Hermione flinched.

"Call me Professor," she said. Her voice was by no means friendly but by the reaction that Tom gave, it was as if she had just threatened him. He took a fearful step back, his eyes incredibly wide.

"S-sorry... Sorry... Sorry..." he kept repeating the word as he backed away further and further, terror clear in his expression. Hermione watched as he slowly left her point of view before giving the blank air the boy had once been present in, a curious look.

'I guess I am that scary," she thought with a frown before shrugging. She shut the door and went back to teaching her class.

Tom was late to all his classes that day. Each time he walked into the classroom, minutes after the lesson had started, he braced to receive a beating. But none came. All he got was a couple of stares from the class. The teachers all just ignored him and kept going with what they were saying. Whenever he sat down at a desk, Tom felt his eyes fluttering and his body slowly collapsing. His body kept having microsleeps. He just couldn't comprehend anything that was being said to him, it all seemed like incoherent language. At one point, a professor did actually come up to him, a ginger one wearing red robes, and asked him if he was alright. Tom meekly replied with a blank stare before his tired head drooped back down to his desk. To Tom, the words all sounded too garbled to mean anything. He was too tired to even realise how little he accomplished in the day before, like the rest of the first-years, he was herded to his dorm.

He collapsed into his bed, his eyes closing instantly.

Tom sat on his bed, crouched over and holding his knees in his arms. His large eyes were glued to the digital alarm clock beside him. Aside from the red glare from that, the room was devoid of light. A cold wind came through the window above his bed and Tom's whole body shivered and shook. Finally, the minute ticked over and the time now read 21:00. 9PM. The time Tom had been both dreading and waiting intently for. He pulled himself out of his room and walked down the dark corridor of the orphanage and down to the matron's office. He stood in front of her door, pale-faced and wide-eyed. He really didn't want this to happen. He held out his arm and looked at the goosebumps that were already on it. He swallowed. It didn't make him feel better. There had been this growing lump in his chest all day and nothing he could do seemed to help it. He clenched his fist. He should be stronger than this by now. He should be used to it. He was 11 years old and yet this still scared him.