TORMENT (Harry Potter Sequel)

Chapter Ten

Tom's eyes burst open. He stared upward at the ceiling. The rest of Tom's body was completely still, too physically tired to move. His mind, on the other hand, was fully awake and so he was stuck in this sort of limbo state. As usual, the wind slightly blew through the window and brushed the lone lightbulb that swung slowly on its cable as it dangled precariously. Tom's eyes followed it as it swayed, as if hypnotized. There was no light shining through the window yet. Tom reckoned it must be very early in the morning. Somehow he managed to move his head to the side and read clearly the blaring red numbers on his digital alarm clock. 06:00.

'What a surprise,' Tom thought to himself sarcastically, 'Old habits die hard.'

The alarm had been turned off the day Tom returned to the orphanage but, even so, if a year at Hogwarts wasn't going to break him out of the cycle then he doubted a month and a half of being here would either.

Unable to move his body, Tom simply lay there until his body found the strength to move. He would have found it a peculiar phenomenon if he hadn't experienced it many times before. It was different to sleep paralysis and such because he felt no fear and he could move himself slightly but he compared it in his head more to just physical fatigue. Tom had just started eating at a regular pace and had also noticed, if not by much, he had started growing. He was still very small but he chalked up his fatigue mostly to that. It was a mixture of a lot of things, though: his lack of sleep throughout his life, his previous bad eating habits, his lack of stamina because of those aforementioned reasons, his change-up in his schedule and how he is now able to sleep and eat normally and, of course, the growing that he had begun to notice.

Tom watched as the ceiling gradually grew lighter as the sun, outside his window, ascended higher and higher. Around 8:45 Tom regained full control of his body. He pulled himself upright and walked over to the pile of clothes by his door. He bent down to inspect them and sorted through to see which ones were right for today. The matron had always been 'nice' enough to clean his clothes. She would probably hate him even more if he was smelly. The rate at which she cleaned them though was now much more frequent; he got clean clothes at least once every week now instead of once every month. Tom picked out the clothes he would wear and then carried them back to his bed. When he had sat himself down next to them, Tom reached under his bed and picked out the piece of glass he used as a mirror. He looked at himself in it, paying little attention to the familiar sight of his small, pale face. Instead, his gaze wandered to the messy ruffle of hair on top of it. He put a hand through it. There was little effect made to it. He sighed and tried tilting his head to find a better angle. It didn't matter. He put the 'mirror' down and turned back to the clothes he had put next to him: his Hogwarts robes. Tom lost his original hand-me-down robes from Dante but had been given these at the end of the last year. It was the only good thing to have come out of that 'situation'. Tom continued to look at them, for probably far longer than he should. Did he even want to go back? Tom, in all honesty, didn't know. He had deeply considered not returning but he knew that if he didn't he would regret it. Dante, immediately, sprung to mind. He really didn't want to end up like Dante.

"Wow," Dante said, walking down the pavement out of the orphanage, "I can't believe I'm finally going back."

Tom followed quietly behind him. He didn't have anything to say so he didn't speak at all. He knew that Dante hadn't been back to the Leaky Cauldron in a long time but he didn't truthfully know why. Had he been too ashamed? From the way Tom had seen him, it looked like he couldn't wait to go back there. Tom kept this all to himself and continued to walk behind Dante as they neared their destination.

Dante stopped outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and thus, so did Tom. He seemed to be mentally preparing himself. Tom didn't know what to make of it. It was kind of weird seeing Dante act like this; usually, he was so bursting with confidence. Now he was acting more like Tom did: meek and shy. After he had made himself ready, Dante stepped forward, pushed the door to the pub open and strode in.