Chapter Text
August 30th, 1941, Hogwarts Express
Tom stared at the Hogwarts Express before him, his patent leather dress shoes firmly planted on the stone platform. Students around him exchanged goodbyes loudly with their families, promises of letter-writing being exchanged in an attempt to ease parental nerves. The chaos on platform 9 ¾ always soothed Tom’s nerves. It was a reminder of what separated him and Hermione from their peers. They may currently have the support of the Notts, but when it came down to it, Tom and Hermione were familyless. There was no maternal figure waiting for them to write home about school. There was no guarantee of a bed waiting for them next summer if they didn’t continue to prove themselves above the surrounding noise.
“Remember, I’m always an owl away if either of you need anything,” Cantankerous Nott reminded both of the orphans before him. He stood tall, regal even in a space full of other pureblood wizards. His hand rested on Edmund’s shoulder, ever the supportive father. His friend looked up at his own father, eyes filled with emotion. Tom had never taken a moment to think about how much his friends missed their families while they were away at school.
The moment he took to ponder it didn’t last long.
“Have a good semester, kids. I’ll see you for Christmas break.” Mr. Nott gave both Hermione and Tom a pointed look, expressing his expectations. He hugged his son tightly for a brief moment before waving them all on.
The three students clambered onto the train, their trunks in tow. Tom led the brigade, Edmund behind him, and Hermione finishing up last. They searched the passenger cars for any sign of their people, glancing into each compartment as they wandered by.
Tom didn’t take heed to the students in the compartments if they weren’t their friends. It didn’t matter if they were Slytherins or randoms, he passed them by all the same. He didn’t stop until he heard a loud thud! behind him and a quiet whimper. The sound was too familiar, his blood running cold before the sound even finished.
He whipped around to find Hermione sprawled out on the aisle floor, her trunk dropped onto her own ankles from her fall. The compartment door to her right was open. Bridget Bulstrode, the stupid bitch, was standing in the doorframe, her foot conveniently stuck out in the hallway.
The aisles were narrow in the Hogwarts Express train cars, really only the width of a good-sized trunk. Edmund was already clambering around his trunk, moving to Hermione’s aid.
Tom’s eyes locked back onto Bulstrode. He trusted Edmund enough to take care of Hermione. He could handle the on coming threat.
Tom couldn’t make his way closer to Bulstrode, but it wasn’t needed. He set his trunk down and turned his entire body to face her. The amusement on her face disappeared the moment she met his dark eyes. Fear took over, inhabiting every centimeter of her pig-like face. His wand slid from his sleeve into his palm, ready and threatening.
“I didn’t see you there, Bridget.” Tom’s voice was smooth and cool, much like a snake’s soft hiss. There was no clear menace to it, but the tone was unsettling nonetheless. His head tilted slightly to the left as he eyed the girl before him. “I’ll make sure we keep a better eye out for you from now on.” He let his dark eyes rake over her, clearly unimpressed with what she had to show.
They had all been content letting her exist, kindly ignoring the hatred between her and Hermione upon Hermione’s own request. She had wanted to handle the issue on her own.
That was no longer an option.
Once Bulstrode took a step back into her compartment, Edmund reached over and slammed the door shut in her face. He turned his attention to Hermione. She was now on her feet, her dress dusted off and her pride clearly damaged.
Without a second glance toward the now closed compartment, Tom levitated Edmund’s trunk onto his own. He glanced back at Edmund, who followed his lead and took the handle of Hermione’s trunk. Edmund offered his free arm to Hermione, which she cautiously took. She looked from Tom to Edmund and back. Tom made sure to look forward before her honey eyes found him again. He didn’t want to see the confusion in them that reflected the uneasy feeling in his gut.
Tom led them down the aisle once more until they found a compartment holding some of their friends. Inside, Vincent was seated with Antonin and Oswald, their trunks tucked away. All three boys hopped to their feet at the sights of them. Their excited greetings were quickly swallowed down as they saw the grim expressions on Tom and Edmund’s faces.
Before any questions were exchanged, Oswald and Antonin made quick work of stowing away the additional trunks. Vincent’s eyes darted from his two friends and back to Hermione. It was clear he was worried some sort of repeat of the Yule Ball had occurred in the two days that had passed since they last saw him. His eyes kept pausing on where Hermione’s hand rested on Edmund’s arm, him still steadying her. The next time the boy’s green eyes flickered to Tom’s, Tom shook his head once, dispelling all concern in Vincent’s posture. He didn’t need more people in their business.
With the trunks away, Vincent moved to sit on the same bench as Antonin and Oswald, with his body closest to the door. Tom made a point to sit in the same bench as Edmund, Hermione placed snugly between them. Once she was seated, her entire posture relaxed. She stopped worrying her lip with her teeth. Her hands rested calmly in her lap. Between them, she knew she was safe.
“Have a nice summer, Hermione?” Oswald was the first to speak. Tom was certain he could feel the heaviness in the cart and wanted to direct Hermione away from it. Oswald had been one of the first boys to show her respect in their first year. Tom buried the irked feeling in the back of his mind. It was good she was being distracted, good his boys wanted to look after her.
“It was lovely,” she told him with a soft smile. “I got an awful lot of reading done.”
“That sounds like your perfect summer.” Oswald grinned at her. His eyes flicked to Tom for a fraction of a second. Tom often found the boy trying to juggle his alliances to them both. Maybe they needed a few people that always put Hermione first–with his approval.
On the other side of Hermione, Vincent and Edmund began a conversation in hushed voices. Vincent glanced at Tom nervously as Edmund filled him in on the Bulstrode incident. Tom knew he should be over with them, making plans to wring that girl’s thick neck, but Hermione came first.
Hermione let out a laugh, either unaware or ignoring the conversation next to her. “I would offer recommendations, but I know reading isn’t your favorite activity.” Oswald joined in her laughter, smiling back at her.
“How was your summer?” Hermione asked. She leaned back against the compartment cushion. They really were crammed into the small space.
Each of the five boys had grown taller over the summer, now at least an inch or more taller than Hermione. Edmund’s shoulders had broadened, Antonin’s whole build was a bit stockier, and Vincent was the tallest of them all now. Hermione was squeezed in with them, her thighs pressed against Edmund and Tom’s, her body heat scorching against his own flesh even through their layers of clothes. Tom’s throat had never been so God damn parched.
“It was good! Father let me join him on some of his visits to the team’s practices this summer.” The excitement in his voice was palpable. It provided Tom with some relief. Hermione had no interest in quidditch, just like him.
“How’s the team doing? It’s the Magpies, right?” Hermione lacked confidence in her question. Regardless, it startled Tom. He knew the Mulcibers owned a quidditch team, he had just never bothered to remember anything about it.
“They’re doing excellent this season!” Oswald grinned at Hermione. His excitement dragged Antonin’s attention away from Vincent and Edmund’s quiet conversation, which Tom preferred. He liked Dolohov just fine, but the stocky boy hadn’t been privy to their summer activities. Tom wasn’t ready to throw more people into their secrets. He wasn’t sure if Edmund and Vincent’s conversation would accidentally stray.
“I went with them once or twice.” Antonin’s assertion came across as more of a brag, but Hermione showed no outward response to it. Dolohov had a habit of showing off to any girls around him. Gwendolen was the only girl that batted her eyelashes at his stupidity–even if Tom was rather certain she did it without sincerity. “This is going to be a great year for the Slytherin team, too.”
Before Hermione could respond, Oswald bumped shoulders with Antonin. “I don’t think she’s interested in our team much, Ant. She’s just being polite.”
Hermione’s laugh supported Oswald’s statement while easing the unsettled emotions in Tom’s chest. Their friends knew her well, knew that she wanted to hear how they were and about their interests, but didn’t care once-so-ever about quidditch. The two Slytherins didn’t look at her the same way Edmund did. Their eyes didn’t search her expression desperately for a hint of what she was about to reveal, eagerly waiting on her next phrase.
As the boys’ conversation with Hermione moved to education, Tom let his gaze move to the landscape flying past them. The feeling in his chest eased. The more effort he put into mastering his emotions, the more Tom became familiar with the nuances of the people around him. It was a double-sided sword. He noticed the way Edmund’s attention was always on her, even if he was across the room from Hermione. He noticed how Abraxas stuttered and stammered when addressing Hermione, always eager to please her. He noticed how his peers looked to himself first before talking to Hermione, as if he had some claim over her.
But he did, did he not? The moment he saw her walking towards Wool’s in her ratty clothes, she had become his in some way. They had been together for nearly a decade now, always living under the same roof. Did that not make him responsible for Hermione, to some extent?
Edmund standing snapped Tom’s attention back to the present. He looked over at the older boy, clearly confused. Edmund shrugged and gave him a half smile, a wordless apology.
“I’ve got to be heading to my first Prefect meeting,” Edmund explained. Oswald and Antonin, both hearing the news for the first time, clapped excitedly for their friend. The tips of Edmund’s ears turned pink. Tom smirked at the older boy, who shot him an annoyed look. “I should be back before we arrive, but if not, could you please see that my trunk makes it off the train?”
“I can do that,” Vincent answered quickly. Tom fought the urge to roll his eyes. Edmund removed his school robes and tucked them under his arm.
“Good luck.” Hermione smiled up at Edmund, her expression soft and proud. Tom wanted her to look at him like that.
With Edmund’s departure, the train ride calmed down. As they approached the station, they all changed into their school robes. Edmund didn’t make it back to them before their arrival. As Vincent promised, he brought Edmund’s trunk with him off the train. They all filed off peacefully, no sight of Bridget again. Tom hoped she recognized her own stupidity and hid for the entirety of the year, but she would most likely just wait until she got Hermione alone in their dorm.
Maybe Tom could give Gwen and Verity some pointers he had learned over the summer. He was certain they’d defend Hermione. He was glad Verity would be joining their private lessons. There were going to be places he couldn’t go with her, but they could.
Tom stayed distracted with his planning through their journey up to the castle. His favorite part of every summer was his first glance at Hogwarts. It settled the restlessness in his mind. He had never considered anywhere home before, but Hogwarts was as close to it as he had ever had.
Once they were in the castle, Tom watched as Hermione vanished into the sea of students. Like every other Welcome Back Feast, she would reappear at Lucretia’s side, the daughter of the noble House Black. How Hermione had made that connection on her first evening at Hogwarts, Tom would never comprehend. He liked to think he looked after her, but Hermione would fare fine without him.
Toward the back of the hall, he found Edmund seated with Abraxas, Vincent, and Raphael. Tom made space between Edmund and Vincent, settling in as if there had always been an open seat for him. He flashed a smile that was mostly teeth at Vincent. The blond decided to close his open mouth and shook his head.
He had made the right choice.
Headmaster Dippet began his welcome back speech. Tom glanced across the table at Raphael, who was assessing the state of his nails.
“Did you end up seeing any of your family this summer?” Tom kept his voice low, quiet enough to not get them in trouble.
Raphael let out a quiet sigh. He dropped his hand to his lap before looking at Tom. Usually the older boy’s eyes were full of mischief or mirth, but they were a dull brown. “No. All my family from France has officially fled to the States.”
“The good news is that they’re safe.” Tom spoke instantly, not letting a moment of silence settle between them. “It might have made for a shite summer, but they’re alive and as safe as they can be.”
The brown in Raphael’s eyes seemed to warm. It was a talent Tom was beginning to recognize he had. He could find the good in a bad situation, find a way to rile up morale in a person. The world was quite literally falling to pieces around them, but his world had always been in pieces. He knew how to keep going in the worst of situations. He was familiar with the worst of the worse.
“That’s true,” Raphael murmured. “I didn’t get to see any of them this summer, but that’s because of the international travel ban.”
Tom snorted. “That’s a crock of shit the Ministry put together in a false attempt to contain Grindelwald.”
Raphael’s eyes widened, though skepticism flickered in his eyes. “That’s what my father said.” Tom could see the thoughts churning in Raphael’s mind. He had never been Raphael’s favorite. The young Lestrange had been more critical of Tom than the other Slytherin’s had been. Tom saw his window.
“If it is still like this next summer, you should visit us,” Tom offered. “Vincent and Abraxas were restless and ended up at the Nott’s manor more often than not. Sitting at home thinking about what your summer should’ve been will only torture you.”
“Are you allowed to be inviting others over to a manor that isn’t yours?” Raphael raised one dark eyebrow at him.
With a heavy sigh, Edmund looked back to face his friends. “First off, shut up, the Headmaster is speaking and I’m a Prefect now. I can’t condone this.” He shot both of the boys a pointed look. “Second, my father has made it plenty clear to Tom and Hermione that our home is theirs. They can do as they see fit, even if it means inviting you over.” Edmund smirked at Raphael, who rolled his eyes back at his friend. “Don’t be a dick to Tom just because your summer was trash.”
With a heavy sigh, Raphael’s shoulders slumped. He shot a glare at Tom. “Thank you for the invitation, Tom.”
“You’re so very welcome.” Tom smiled at Raphael before they both turned their attention to Headmaster Dippet.
“I must wrap up this Welcome Back with some tragic news.” Dippet’s voice carried through the Great Hall steadily. All quiet conversations came to a stop. Every student locked their attention on their headmaster. After a moment, he continued. “It is with a heavy heart I must inform you all that your fellow student Elodie Pierce has passed. She will be missed by us all–”
Tom didn’t listen to the rest of Dippet’s speech. His eyes searched for Hermione. She sat toward the middle of the table, her eyes locked on Dippet still. Her hands sat on the table, in such tight fists that her knuckles were bone white. The headmaster didn’t divulge how Elodie died, but Tom would bet all of his belongings that Hermione assumed it was from the muggle war. There hadn’t been any attacks on British land the entirety of summer, but fear would win over logic.
Someone further down the table moved. Hermione was no longer in his line of sight. Tom looked to Edmund next, who was staring at him with the same worried expression Tom assumed was on his own face.
The room broke out into hundreds of conversations. Headmaster Dippet’s speech had ended and he was returning to his seat at the Professor’s table.
“She isn’t going to handle this well.” Edmund spoke first, his words quiet and low.
“We knew Elodie,” Raphael joined the conversation with significantly less concern. He began to load his plate with food. “She was in our Runes class.”
Edmund thought for a moment. “Which one was she?”
Raphael snorted. “Do you not pay attention to any other girls?” The tip of Edmund’s ears pinkened again. Tom wasn’t sure if he should kick Raphael or Edmund under the table. He went with neither. “Short, tan, on the Ravenclaw quidditch team as a keeper despite how fuckin’ tiny she was, dark brown hair. Does any of that ring a bell?”
“Oh!” Edmund sat up straighter. “She sat at the table behind us, right?”
“Yes, you idiot.” Raphael shook his head.
“I heard about her death,” Abraxas spoke up. He had kept quiet longer than usual. Him and Hermione had been working hard together. She seemed determined that Malfoy was a good kid, just spoiled. If he spoke up at the right times instead of constantly, she insisted he would be a wonderful addition to their team with time. Tom didn’t bother. “Father told me it was a mess because she died in Denmark of all fucking places.”
“Denmark?” Tom repeated. “How the fuck did she manage to get to Denmark?”
“One detail I might have forgotten,” Raphael piped up, a smirk shaping his lips. “She was a muggleborn.”
“It appeared her parents and her went to holiday in Denmark, skirting the international travel ban unintentionally by traveling by muggle means.” Abraxas looked at the older boys. “Which would’ve been fine if she made it back alive, but she didn’t. It was a mess for the Ministry. First, they couldn’t figure out what departments’ jurisdiction it fell under. Was it International Magical Cooperation because she died in another country? Was it Magical Transportation because they’re overseeing anything involved in the travel ban? Was it Magical Law Enforcement because she was clearly murdered? Were they just to leave it to the muggles, who were struggling to handle the situation at all. They were just another family lost to the war. No muggles were going to go searching for them.”
It was moments like the current that Tom was grateful that his peers had in-depth knowledge of the Wizarding World. He would’ve never considered the Ministry had a legal obligation to the girl, muggleborn or not. He was glad they did; the idea of any witch or wizard left to rot due to what might’ve been a muggle incited death was disturbing.
“Did they eventually recover her body?” Tom asked. His dark eyes locked onto Abraxas. It was rare he found the youngest of the boys to be of such use.
Abraxas set down his utensils. “They did, but not her parents. There are too many International Magical Laws about the handling of muggle bodies after some horrifying underground trade rings in the 1800s. That’s all of what my father shared with me.”
Tom assessed the boy for a moment. He gave him a nod of approval and Abraxas’s whole body relaxed. Malfoy picked back up his utensils and returned to eating his dinner.
Finally, Tom turned to his own meal. Hermione would want to know everything he had learned. She would presently be busy choosing the next Slytherin girl to pass on house rules. Vincent had already chosen Abraxas, the most logical choice Tom could think of. Vincent had taken the time to get Tom’s input that summer–yet another sign of respect that Tom basked in.
“I think Pierce’s death does leave a lingering question.” Raphael’s voice had a haunted edge to it. They all glanced up at the one to interrupt their quiet eating. “Did she die from an accident, from the muggle war, or was it related to Grindelwald? If it’s the latter, how much of a fire has been lit under Dumbledore’s ass?” Raphael let the question hang in the air. He returned back to his roast, a smug smile vaguely shaping his lips.
No one responded to Raphael’s statement. No matter the answer, Elodie’s death–a girl Tom wasn’t sure he had ever met–gave the start of their year a somber tone.
–
September 5th, 1941, Slytherin Common Room
It was well past curfew when Tom settled into their usual area of the Common Room. He sat on one of the couches with Edmund, Hermione tucked between them. She always seemed the most pleased when they weren’t fighting for her attention, but sharing it equally. Tom did his best not to focus on that fact. There was no reason to ruin their evening.
The first of their friends to join them was Verity. She was the most out of the loop. Her family had actually wanted her full attention all of summer. Even with the travel ban, they had found ways to enjoy their time together. Tom was rather certain Verity’s mother was smart enough to not send her daughter alone to a manor filled with all boys and a man, minus one young witch who wasn’t raised in society. Verity spending any break with them was at low odds. It irritated Tom—she should be at his disposal just like the others—but her being a girl made things out of his control.
“Hello,” Verity said with a smile as she situated herself in her usual armchair. It was most definitely to avoid being too close to any of the obnoxious boys. She always thought ahead.
“I feel like I haven’t had a chance to catch up with you,” Edmund spoke first. His prefect duties had left him far busier than usual. “How was your summer?”
Verity rolled her eyes. “Absolutely dreadful. My mother demanded both my brothers return home from their jobs abroad for the foreseeable future. They, of course, listened and came back home. They found jobs quickly, but it’s been horrific having them home.” She shook her head. “They’re busying themselves by poking around my life. They always wanted to know what book I was reading, who I was writing an owl to, what I was thinking about. They’re absolutely annoying.”
Tom snorted, which only earned him a lethal glare. “It’s been horrendous. I’m grateful to be back at Hogwarts. I was afraid to ask about updates on the project with them being so nosy.” She glanced around. The common room had emptied half an hour prior. The fire still burned, but it was mostly coals. It was the first Friday night of the year, but the first week of term tended to exhaust the student populace.
“I appreciate the discretion.” Tom had originally been indifferent—if not outright against—a girl joining in their meetings, but it was a point he supported now. A girl could go places he couldn’t. Gwendolen and Verity had Hermione’s back in the dorm where he couldn’t protect her. He hated having to take his lack of access to Hermione into consideration.
Verity nodded in acknowledgement of him. They didn’t hold many conversations together, her and Tom. Moreover, they had a quiet, mutual agreement of coexistence as long as they both held Hermione in such high importance in their lives. It helped that she was wicked smart, likely the smartest witch of their age besides Hermione.
“We’ve gotten a lot of work done over the summer,” Hermione caught Verity up. It had saddened her to not have any of her girl friends with her, but Verity’s situation now made sense.
Hermione gave a brief summary of some of their individual projects to Verity without giving too much away in a public space. As she did so, their two blond boys exited the boy dormitory hallway. Vincent and Abraxas joined them all, sitting on the free couch at opposite ends. Both of them were in fancy pajamas, Vincent’s a green flannel set and Abraxas’ a gray satin set.
“Glad you joined us, beauty queens,” Tom greeted them flippantly. Abraxas turned pink instantaneously while Vincent only rolled his eyes.
“Good job getting that map.” Verity cut through their bullshit and tossed her rare compliment to Abraxas. He smiled at her proudly.
“I’ll be spending my prefect rounds this week investigating a few spots we’ve narrowed in on.” Edmund couldn’t hide the pride in his voice if he had wanted to. Tom fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“I would say we should be able to start lessons by the end of September.” Hermione sounded so eager. She looked at Vincent. “How has it been going with the wards?”
Vincent sat up straighter. His eye contact moved quickly from Hermione to Tom and back. He was smart; he never looked at Hermione too long without deferring to Tom or Edmund. “I found the best suited wards,” Vincent spoke quietly, but confidently. “If you have time this upcoming week, I’d like to go over them with any of you. I know for a fact that I cannot perform them alone—some require multiple casters.”
Tom nodded once. “Perfect. I have some free time after lunch Monday, if you’d like to show me your findings.”
“Absolutely,” Vincent replied quickly.
“I’ll make sure you have those extra copies of the map before your rounds start next week,” Abraxas told Edmund. “We blew up a few areas that you mentioned had the best potential.”
“Thank you.” Edmund smiled at Abraxas.
Verity looked at Hermione. “You told me about everyone else’s task. What were you working on?” The playful look on Hermione’s face said more than enough. None of them could imagine Hermione not assigning herself any work.
A devious glint flickered in her honey eyes. “It’ll be a surprise for everyone,” was all Hermione said. She grinned wickedly at her friend, who matched her expressional quickly. Tom wasn’t certain how Hermione completed the task he had assigned her, but he was sure it would be the most excitement they had had since the cave.
—
September 12th, 1941, Dark Tower
Tom let his eyes close for a moment. He took a slow, deep breath in. The large room still smelled of mothballs and dust despite all the cleaning he had the boys do the past two days. The air was stale, but their eagerness was palpable. He could feel his own zeal vibrating through his body.
In his three years at Hogwarts, Tom had pieced together some life plans. They weren’t concrete, but the final stage would lead him and Hermione to a great place of power. To achieve that, knowledge was the most important resource. Access to knowledge he couldn’t access in Hogwarts and the space to practice such skills were key elements in making it to his end goals.
He opened his eyes slowly. Before him stood the foundations of those first steps. The Dark Tower had seemed to be their best bet for a place to gather. It was an abandoned tower that hadn’t been touched in decades if the inches of dust were any giveaway. They could access it through a hallway in the Transfiguration Courtyard. It had originally been a prison, with multiple cells on the top most floor. All they had had to do to gain access was leave Tom alone with the locked door for a few minutes. It was easy.
Post-cleaning, the first floor of the Dark Tower looked excellent. There were two floors above they would tackle at later dates, but they were empty of any creature infestations. That was all Tom truly cared about. Their pureblood colleagues were put off by the dust, dirt, and occasional rat corpses, but Hermione and him had both seen so much worse.
Standing in a circle together, Tom faced a small group of his peers. Hermione, Edmund, Verity, Vincent, and Abraxas stood before him, all ready to take the plunge into his endeavour. The hunger in their eyes rivaled his. It heightened his confidence in all the choices they had made to get there.
Earlier that morning, before the cleaning, Vincent, Edmund, and himself had come to the Dark Tower. They had set some basic wards. Tom and Edmund had to do the more advanced ones—though there were limits to what they could do. They managed an Imperturbable charm as well as a barrier charm and some sort of alarm charm that would warn them if any one messed with the door. Overall, it would keep their noise in and everyone else out. With time and their skills increasing, Tom hoped to add more wards to the room. It brought him so much joy knowing there was a place in the castle Dumbledore couldn’t touch.
“Thank you all for joining us.” Tom’s genuine take on a smile shaped his lips. “Today, we take the first real steps to being important.” He made a point to look at each pureblood before him. “Regardless of who we were born into this world as, we have a responsibility to be better than any of our ancestors. We are nothing if we don’t stand above the rest of our families.”
Tom stepped into the middle of the circle his peers formed. He started to walk through the space, making sure to acknowledge each one of his friends. “In a world surrounded by idiots, by neanderthals that accidentally end up in places of power, we owe the world a better outcome.” He shook his head. “People like Albus Dumbledore cannot be left to shape our society, allowed to censor our libraries and risk our youth.”
His mention of Dumbledore earned a cheer from his small crowd. Abraxas threw his fist up in the air and shook it angrily. Tom loved how deeply the Malfoys already hated Dumbledore. It made him consider rethinking his harassment of Abraxas.
Maybe.
“People like Leonard Spencer-Moon cannot be left to be Minister of Magic when they leave our magical youth exposed to the dangers of muggles!” Tom continued with more anger. He spun in the group to find everyone furious alongside him. “How are we letting filthy muggles kill magical children? We’re letting them drop bombs, fight a war with kids in the middle of it? That’s not a minister I want running our government.”
The group jeered together. Hermione’s eyes locked with Tom’s for a fraction of a second. All he could see with searing pride. It was everything he needed to continue.
“Today, we form the Society of Walpurgis. We are the wizards and witches our society should be. We’re the ones that gather to do what no one else will do. We will be the rebirth of wizarding society!” His friends cheered again, all around them. Tom’s heart began to pound harder in his chest, his blood pumping through his veins. Adrenaline was racing through him. It felt like a drug. “Together, we will be the most powerful group of wizards this world has ever seen. Today is the start of forever!”
The circle closed in around Tom. Hands slapped on his back, cheering continued around him. A hand held his; he recognized it instantly as Hermione’s. Another hand squeezed his opposite arm. He turned to find it belonged to a grinning Edmund. Power rushed through Tom’s veins and, in that moment, an addiction began.
Once they all settled, his friends backed up. Tom’s grin didn’t face. He cracked his neck before turning to Hermione. “I believe you’re running the next segment?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up with pure mischief. She took a few steps back from the group. Their friends turned and gave her their attention. Verity sent her a subtle thumbs up. Once again, Tom was pleased with the decision to keep her around. Hermione was more than talented enough to do anything she set her mind to, but if she needed a friend to tell her that, he was happy to keep Verity around. Plus, her family library apparently had a nice section on wards. Tom was looking forward to exploring that.
“Hello, everyone,” Hermione started awkwardly. A faint blush covered her cheeks, mixing with her freckles. It only made her look prettier. Tom quickly shook his head, chasing off the irrelevant thought.
She held up a lapel pin to show the room. It was made out of silver, accented in black. The pin was a intertwined snake whose tail was in its own mouth. “This is an ouroboros. It comes in many forms, but always shows a snake eating its own tail.” She handed the one she held to Vincent. “It is meant to represent the cyclicality of society. human nature is a cycle of power struggles, of empires rising and falling.”
Tom looked over at the pin in Vincent’s hand. It was his first time seeing or hearing about Hemrione’s project. She had been just as tight lipped about it with him as she had been with everyone else. The pride in her expression mixed dangerously with the mischief. The lapel pin looked like a nice piece of jewelry any Slytherin student would get as a gift from a friend or parent. It would stand out as a gift a pureblood would get, but not enough for everyone to question them.
“Right now, we are at the start of empires falling.” Hermione’s voice had a new, hard tone to it. Tom looked up from the pin. “Dumbledore is busy with Grindelwald. Odds are, Grindelwald won’t last forever; he’s already beginning to fall. Once his empire collapses, they’ll be a vacuum for another.” A sharp smile shaped her soft lips. “If we do this right, if we work as hard as we can, we can be a force of change–an empire. But we need to want it.”
Hermione reached into her bag and began passing out more lapel pins. Each of the boys before Tom thanked her for the gift, beaming at her. Before Verity, she paused and put a ring in her friend’s hand. It was a matching piece to the one currently on Hermione’s own hand, a snake encircling their finger, consuming its own tail. “I thought it might look weird if we matched all the boys,” Hermione explained with a shrug. That and lapel pins weren’t the most fashionable for girls.
She continued on to the last of the group. Hermione stopped in front of Tom, who smirked at her. She gently sat the lapel pin in his hand.
“Thank you.” He made eye contact with her, excited to find the mischief still spinning in her honey colored eyes. She smirked at him and moved to stand before everyone.
“These pins are your responsibility. There is no replacement.” She spoke as if she was teaching a class. Each of the boys straightened their backs. Verity had already been standing at attention the entire time.
“My task was to assure loyalty.” Hermione grinned. “If the snake begins to slither on your pin or ring, it means we’ve set a meeting date. It’ll warm to the touch. A date will show on the back of the pin.”
She paused, allowing time for everyone to look at their gifts one more time. “If at any point you decide to discuss the details of The Society of Walpurgis to someone not in the group after you have accepted this token, your tongue will blacken and fall out of your mouth.”
Hermione smiled as Vincent and Abraxas shouted, the pins falling out of their hands. Tom watched with pride as she watched fear take over their expressions.
“You didn’t warn us before giving them to us!” Abraxas whined.
“You knew we would be demanding loyalty and you chose to attend the meeting,” Hermione snapped at the youngest of the group. “If you weren’t willing to do this, you shouldn’t have spent the summer researching, you absolutely dipshit.”
“But–”
“Abraxas,” Tom spoke, his voice firm but quiet. “Do you or do you not want to be part of this?” He slowly turned his attention to the palest wizard he had ever laid eyes on.
Abraxas gulped hard. “I do want to be part of this. I–”
“Then there should be no issues,” Tom snapped. “As long as you keep your prat mouth shut, there isn’t a problem.” Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll add the others soon once we get a rhythm to this. How can you be a part of anything groundbreaking if you can’t keep a secret? If you can’t manage this, you don’t deserve a tongue anyways.”
“Pick up your pin.” Edmund spoke next. His voice was quiet, like Tom’s, but harder than Tom was used to hearing it. He glanced over to see Edmund’s expression set just as tense. When Abraxas hesitated, Edmund raised his voice. “Pick up the damn lapel pin. Hermione worked hard on those.” Abraxas scrambled, picking it up off the floor.
“Good.” Edmund shook his head before turning to Hermione. “These are brilliant, Hermione. Thank you.” He gave her a smile, his entire expression changing. “Nice curse-work as well. That’s dark magic, correct?”
A blush spread across Hermione’s face again. Tom wasn’t surprised by her use of dark magic. She had been itching to get her hands on more knowledge since they had learned it existed. Maybe she didn’t see it, but Tom could see a bit of surprise in Edmund’s expression.
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I found it in one of the books Abraxas brought over, actually.”
Edmund turned back to the youngest. “Well, look at that. You broke even today. Good job.”
Abraxas shot Hermione a grateful look. She just smiled and shook her head at him. “No more bullying Malfoy this evening. I don’t know how much more he can handle.” She looked over the group. “I think it’d be best if we wore the pins or rings as often as possible. We may not have much power now, but I want this symbol to begin meaning something. I want it associated with us sooner than later.”
“I agree,” Tom stated. The group nodded, as if he had made it law.
Edmund glanced at his watch before cringing. “We should start heading back. It’ll be curfew soon.”
“I’m not ready to attempt sneaking back yet,” Hermione sighed. “For now, I’d like us to head back before curfew.”
“I’ve only been a prefect for two weeks. I’d hate for them to take the title this quickly. It’d be a record.”
Tom chuckled at Edmund before agreeing. “Let’s head back. We’ll start lessons in the next few weeks.
–
September 23rd, 1941, Dining Hall
Tom sat next to Edmund at the Slytherin table. They sat in a pleasant silence, side by side, as they finished up their dinner. Hermione had rushed off to the library right after class. She had been so fast that neither of them had time to scold her about skipping dinner. While Tom was annoyed with her lack of care for herself, he didn’t mind the time alone with Edmund. If he had to exist near anyone besides Hermione, he’d choose the older Slytherin. He was the only other person whom’s existence didn’t grate against his skin.
Suddenly, their peace was destroyed as a boisterous crowd entered the Dining Hall. Tom didn’t need long to assess the situation. The first Slytherin quidditch practice of the year had just wrapped up. Their housemates held themselves a degree above the Gryffindor team; they weren’t jumping off of each other and shouting. That was about the only difference between the teams. The boys were patting each other on the back, retelling plays as some of them collapsed on the benches around Tom and Edmund. Tom’s body immediately tensed. Edmund nudged his shoulder with his own once. Tom sent the older boy a glare, but did his best to relax and not look standoffish.
The older two team members still stood around the table. Tom recognized all of them. He wasn’t a fan of quidditch, but it was hard to ignore the power being on the team held in their house.
“You missed a fantastic practice!” Oswald all but shouted as he dropped into the seat across from Tom. He liked to keep Tom updated on the politics of quidditch–as if it impacted him–but Tom had yet told him to stop. He appreciated the mindset that he should always be in the loop.
Antonin sat on one side of Oswald, Raphael on the other. Tom had never seen Raphael look so disheveled, but he didn’t point it out.
“It was the new guy’s first day,” Antonin grunted. He didn’t elaborate. He simply began to fill his plate with as much food as could fit on it. If any of their families could see their behavior, he was certain they’d stroke out.
The ‘new guy’ in reference sat on the other side of Edmund. It was the brat from last year, Orion Black. He didn’t speak. Instead, he stared at his empty plate with an expression of exhaustion Tom only assumed men in battle could feel. He held back the urge to laugh. He had no doubt Antonin would use practice as a space to level out the social playing field.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try out, Nott.” The teenager that spoke was Elwood Travers. He was the captain of the Slytherin team as well as their seventh year prefect. “I heard you got a new broom this summer.”
Edmund shot a look at Raphael that screamed ‘snitch’. Oswald quickly turned his attention back to his plate.
“I plan on focusing on my studies this year,” Edmund explained politely. Elwood eyed him curiously before nodding.
Travers was the heartthrob of his year. Most of the girls his age spent their time chasing him around. Tom could see why. Elwood stood above six feet with blue eyes. His features were unique. He had a wide set nose and dimples. He’d even heard Gwen talk about him a few times. They hadn’t talked much, but maybe he was someone to cultivate. Tom made a mental note to start a list of people he should accrue.
“What about you, Riddle?” The other older teen was Cyril Rowle. He wasn’t a prefect in their house, but he was one of the best players their house had seen in decades. Oswald had disclosed that his father’s team was already scouting Cyril, which Tom assumed was impressive.
Tom shrugged. “I’ve never been one for sports.” He could still vividly recall Dennis Bishop using football at the orphanage as a way to accidentally shove him to the ground. It was a quick recipe that led to him losing his temper.
Cyril shook his head. “That’s a shame.” Rowle sent him a wicked smile. “I heard you’re a genius or some shite. That’d be great for the team.” Tom could see the crooked, rugged handsomeness the older boy had to him. Was that how the two were always seen with a new girl with them? It looked exhausting, but maybe it was effortless. Tom couldn’t tell which seemed worse.
“You’ve got yourself a stacked team this year, you’ll do fine.” Tom shrugged him off.
“He’s right,” Antonin said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed before continuing. “Those other teams are fucked. Did you hear about Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?”
The boy next to Antonin–Winky Crockett–let out a laugh that ought to belong to a hag. He was the only one on the Slytherin team that wasn’t public-appropriate, in Tom’s opinion. Crockett was in the same year as Raphael and Edmund. He was a pale, lanky fellow with a nose that had been broken five too many times from quidditch. Tom thought he looked like a creature fresh out of a dungeon in a muggle book, but making the reference might set him back farther than he wanted.
“Not only are they letting girls on their teams, but they both have a girl as their captain !” Winky laughed again. It made Tom want to strangle the weird boy. “Could you imagine? They’ve decided to lose the entire season already.” Winky shoveled more food into his mouth, still chuckling.
Tom could just imagine how furious Hermione would be at the conversation. She played her role as a good pureblood girl, but the idea that women couldn’t play a sport because of their gender would outrage her. She’d scare that idea right out of Raphael and Antonin. The lack of luster in Oswald’s laugh put him in the clear in Tom’s book.
Tom looked at the two older boys. Cyril looked amused by Winky, but Elwood wore an expression of disgust. “If you go about the season with that attitude,” Elwood started, “you’re just going to drag us down.” He smacked Crockett on the back of his head. The boy choked for a second before sitting upright again.
“As amusing as this all is,” Tom began to stand. He shot a look to Edmund, who quickly followed his lead. “We’ve got some homework we planned on working on in the library.”
“Congrats on finishing the first practice of the year.” Edmund smiled at the team around him. “It’s bound to be a great year.”
“Enjoy your supper, gentlemen,” Tom glanced at Winky, “and whatever you are.” With a nod, Tom began to walk toward the dining hall exit with Edmund, the team roaring with laughter behind him.
Once they were out of the dining hall, Tom relaxed his shoulders. He knew Edmund cared about quidditch, but put it on hold for his and Hermione’s sake. Boys their age didn’t do that. Tom would always respect Edmund for that.
“I had no clue how to get out of that,” Edmund admitted. “If we stayed until they finished dinner, they’d follow us to wherever we went.” They began climbing the grand staircase.
Tom shook his head. “I wouldn’t allow that.” Tom snorted. “You said you had news about the maps, correct?”
Edmund’s face split into a grin. “I did. I want to save it until we have Hermione with us as well. It already feels risky talking about this outside of our…space?”
Tom glanced sideways at Edmund with raised eyebrows. Edmund sighed. “What would you call the tower? Homebase? Our tower? That all sounds so childlike.”
Silence took over as they climbed up the next flight of stairs. Edmund had a fair point. “We’ll come up with something,” Tom muttered.
“See!” Edmund laughed. “Point being, it’ll be easier to tell you both at once. It always is.”
He had a good point. With their inner group being the three of them, Tom was sure it was easier for Edmund to wait until he found both of them. Tom wasn’t sure when it changed from just being him and Hermione to their inner group being the three of them. Maybe it was the living with Edmund, the loss of summertime leaving Tom and Hermione alone. They lost their alone time. It was the three of them or everyone. Smaller moments were fleeting. As long as Hermione still looked happy with the choices, Tom did his best to support the group arrangement.
It didn’t stop him missing their moments. Tom missed having her full, undivided attention, even if it meant the sweltering summer nights back at Wool’s. He understood the trade he made of those for her wellbeing, but he was a selfish person. He did his best to not be when it came to her, but Tom couldn’t remember the last time he had her sole attention. He craved it.
The library was moderately busy when they arrived. The front tables were full with students attempting to do better in the present school year, having promised their parents to actually study. Most of them quietly socialized, sharing notes and copying assignments.
Tom took the lead as they made their way through the aisles. Hermione preferred the farther back tables. She loved the seclusion, to be surrounded by the smell of parchment and the creaking of old shelves.
Edmund grabbed Tom’s shoulder and yanked him to a sudden stop. Tom was about to turn around and hiss at Edmund before two voices registered. They share a glance before diving down the nearest aisle.
“Wow, I never see you alone anymore.” The voice belonged to Bulstrode. It was nasally and grated against Tom’s nerves. Tom moved down the aisle and quietly moved some books aside. He was able to see above a few, past the aisle and into the small sitting area past it. Edmund moved to his side, trying to catch a glance as well.
Hermione was set up at a table alone, her planner and notes spread out. She had a quill still in her hand, mid-sentence. Tom could see the irritation radiating from her eyes, the twitch in her right eyelid as Bulstrode took a step closer to her table.
“I know friends happen to be a foreign concept to you, but the rest of us do have them.” Hermione gave her a pity smile. “I’d recommend talking to a prefect about clubs you can join. I hear they’re a good place to start.”
Edmund had to physically stifle his laugh with both of his hands. Tom shot him a halfhearted glare. He took a moment to appreciate that they rarely pissed off Hermione. He wasn’t sure they could handle it often.
Bridget slammed her palms flat against the table, standing with her back mostly toward them. “Has no one ever taught you manners, bitch?”
Hermione blinked twice, unmoved. “Did your mother ever teach you when to hold your tongue? You talk an awful lot for a pig.”
A sound left Bridget that was somewhere between a muted sob and scream. Without looking at each other, Tom and Edmund both sprinted out from the aisle. They entered the open area, wands drawn and pointed at Bulstrode. She, too, had her wand out and drawn at Hermione. Hermione still sat with her quill in her hand. The only difference was the widening of her eyes.
“Of course you let your boyfriends clean up your fucking mess,” Bridget snapped. She eyed Tom and Edmund before lowering her wand. Somehow, she wasn’t always an idiot. With a roll of her eyes, she stepped away from Hermione’s table. “Have fun with your slag.”
With that, Bulstrode began to walk back the way Tom and Edmund had arrived. Tom began to lunge after her, but Edmund grabbed his arm to stop him. It earned him a furious glare.
“She’ll get hers soon,” Edmund murmured. “For now, you’ll only end up in trouble. Leave it.”
Tom shook Edmund’s grip off of him before turning back to Hermione. “What was that?” He snapped. “You didn’t even react.” He tried to tamper down the rage boiling over inside him.
Hermione snorted. “You two aren’t very quiet. I could hear you both behind that row of books. I wasn’t worried.” She finally set down her quill. “Were you planning on letting Bridget beat me up?”
Edmund ran a hand over his face and let out a quiet, yet dramatic groan. He sat at the table on one side of Hermione. Tom sat at her other side, glaring at the both of them.
“You’re impossible,” Edmund murmured. Tom looked up to watch the older boy simply staring at Hermione. She was smiling, obviously pleased with herself.
“Have you eaten anything since lunch?” Tom broke the moment, a scold shaping his face. He watched as her honey eyes widened, guilt sweeping over her expression. He smirked.
“What was it you wanted to show us?” Hermione turned to Edmund. Tom chuckled quietly as she dodged his question. “You were very vague earlier.”
Edmund grinned and reached into his cloak. He pulled out one of his newer copies of the Hogwarts map. Abraxas had gotten very talented with blowing up certain parts of the map, making it easier for Edmund to read the small font. With the new copy, he pulled out the copy of the older map they had as well. The other members of The Society of Walpurgis weren’t aware that the maps were also being used to find the Chambers of Secrets. Tom wasn’t quite ready to share their big plan.
“I’ve been able to narrow down the possible entry locations.” Edmund looked to both of the orphans, extreme pride in his eyes. The smiles that broke out on Tom and Hermione’s faces were nothing but genuine. Tom knew it was rare for Hermione to earn one of those smiles, but it was almost impossible for Edmund to see a genuine Tom smile.
“Edmund, that’s incredible,” the words came out as an exhale for Hermione. She was shaking her head in disbelief.
“When we find it,” Tom looked at them both, “I want us to inform the others. They have a right to know what they helped find.”
Edmund’s eyes widened before he nodded. “I think that will mean a lot to Abraxas. This might’ve taken me an entire year without his help on the maps. Possibly years, if he hadn’t provided the map at all.”
Tom nodded in agreement. Then, he turned his attention to the maps on the table. “What are we narrowed down to?”
Slowly, Edmund let out a calming breath. “It looks like the entrance was moved out of the dungeons. It is, with certainty, on the second or third floor.” His eyes jumped from Hermione to Tom. “I know that leaves a lot of ground left, but I think it’s a huge step forward.” The uncertainty of his success was audible in his tone.
“Edmund, that reduces our search significantly.” Tom looked at his friend seriously. “We could find this soon. Before, I wasn’t sure we could find it within our time here.”
“You did it, Edmund.” Hermione smiled at Edmund. Tom could see his whole body relax. It made him want to scream, which wasn’t a thought he wanted to deal with.
“I can’t get much more from the maps,” Edmund admitted. “The rest will be up to you two and your…skills.” They avoided talk of their parseltongue ever since the Dumbledore incident.
“I’ll start on the second floor,” Hermione offered. She looked at Tom. “You can start on the third. Once we finish ours, we’ll switch in case we missed anything.” She paused and fidgeted with her quill. Tom knew she was concerned her parseltongue wouldn’t be enough to open whatever doorway existed.
“That sounds like a good plan,” Tom agreed.
“I’ll get the prefect round schedules and make copies for you both. That should help.” Edmund put both of the maps back in the inside pocket of his cloak.
“We’re getting so close,” Tom murmured, staring down at his own open palms. It was as if he could feel power in the air, could feel the world preparing itself for him–for them–to be the next empire.”