Chapter Text
Evening 2: Destiny is unescapable
Wool’s Orphanage, London, on the 29th of December of 1935
Outside the window, the snow is falling without pause. There’s already a thick coat of snow that nobody can escape but the rich people. Everyone else is forced to trudge through it, to endure the deep cold provoked by muddy wet shoes. It’s the season of his birthday but Tom hates it. He hates that his birthday is always forgotten, caught between the celebrations of Christmas and New Year. He hates the stupid other orphans who always get a gift on Christmas, even if second-handed, and then mocks him for not getting one. ‘Freaks,’ they say. ‘Devil’s son,’ approves the vile Mrs Cole who so enjoys giving him the worst chores. He hates Martha even more, the gentle but cowardly help. The one who pities him and know he’s only defending himself but never intervenes and always tell him’ to forgive Tom, you should be more kind and then the others would be too. The Lord says so.’ What a stupid drivel. He hates knowing he’s more intelligent than them but that he’ll get nowhere just because he’s not smiling sweetly to every prospective parent. Not that it did him any kind of favours when he used to do it, as he was always sent back to the orphanage for ‘terrifying unnatural displays’. Fools. Why can’t they understand that it’s what makes it better and special? Well, he doesn’t care, he’ll climb the ladder all by himself and it’ll make it all sweeter when he is able to lord it over them. Because he will. There are no other alternatives, he won’t accept any future except a brilliant and warm one.
If only he could trace back his family whether maternal or paternal…. He tried before but to no avail. Tom is such a common name, another thing he hates that without knowing his father’s family name it’s like seeking a needle in a hay stack. He has more clues for his mother’s side but it proves to be equally difficult for different reasons. Contrary to his gather’s side, the names are less common (he never met a Merope or a Marvolo) but without knowing more general things like the area they live, he’s getting nowhere. And finally, the more mysterious of the clues: his family pendant. The only possession he has for himself and quite a valuable one. It’s a delicate and finely carved piece, made with some of the more rare and pricier materials. Suspended to a thin silver chain, is a butterfly made of ebony. His wings are pale but vibrant emerald and are so finely crafted it seems the butterfly could fly anytime. Curling around the body of the butterfly is a silver snake with onyx as his eyes. This pendant has been with him since his birth according to Martha and since she couldn’t lie to save her life, he knows it’s true. Moreover, he can’t remember despite his superior memory skills even a moment when he didn’t have it around his neck. A reminder that he has a family that wants him somewhere because, according to Martha who received his mother’s dying words, it is a family heirloom specifically ordered for him. For him and no one else. It’s jewel worth a hefty sum of money, something he knows from the only time the matron tried to force him to sell him ‘for everyone to have better lives’. Ha! He knew he wasn’t included in that and that, even if the other children of Wool would get something, the majority would disappear into Mrs Cole pockets. Likely in alcohol bottles. Back to the jeweller, he estimated the necklace for an incredible 30 thousand pounds. Apparently, it’s nearly impossible to have precious stones and silver so pure. And it seems the work of a famous artisan whose work always beautifully represents animals but are so rare few have seen them. Mrs Cole eyes gleamed so greedily when she heard that. Not that the jeweller was any better, Tom knew looking at him he was already counting the profits he would get from selling it to some snotty noble. The royal family was even mentioned.
But Tom refused to be separate from the only heirloom he has, his only chance to find his family. He tried to run and when it didn’t work, he snarled and hit and kicked. But then, as the jeweller immobilised him and Mrs Cole tried to rip the necklace from him, the jewel proves to be as special as him. Because suddenly Mrs Cole yelped and shot away from him looking with terrified eyes at her hands. Hands on which were growing big blusters as if she put her hands through a fire for hours. And the jeweller suffered the same effects. Even now, she still has some which make him crows in delight every time he sees them. Serves her right for trying to steal from him while always lecturing him about lawfulness. After that, she never tried again to sell it. Even warned the other orphans no to touch it as it was a symbol of his evilness. The other orphans, always seeking someone lower to make their own situations better, readily got to bully him even more. So very jealous of him. Oh, oh he loves his necklace. Never too tight even if it’s growing and never too hot and cold. Never got broken even when Anna tried to destroy it by stomping on it. After he disfigured her, she never tried again and neither did the other orphans. So it’s mainly verbal insult and hits. It’s painful but he can deal with it. Twiddling the necklace is his favourite thing to do as it never fails to calm and relax him. He even sometimes feels like its get warm in his hands, as if to reassure him. And he needs it too in this dreadful period of the year. Especially since after the last mess, he has the feeling the matron is scheming something which will not do him any good. More unsettling is the strange gleam he now sees in Father John’s eyes whenever he passes the man on the way to school. His gut is telling him something dreadful is happening but he doesn’t know what. And if there’s something Tom hates above all others is feeling powerless. But whatever it is, he won’t go down without a fight.
That’s why, before going to the last mass of the year, he has hidden a small knife in his trousers. It’s not much but it may be sufficient to buy him some time to escape back to the streets. Of course, chances are that he will quickly be taken back to the orphanage by the useless policeman. Incapable of finding their own things and entirely too corrupted. He looks at the clock and he can’t help but feel dread pooling in his stomach. The mass is ending and it feels like the walls are trying to squash him. The urge to laugh hysterically is strong. God, salvation, what drivel! There is no god, it’s only an image for weak people to reassure themselves and justify their sins. Oh but look, God made us imperfect so it doesn’t matter if I do one (or two, or more) horrible things, I can all make it go away with some donation to the Church and I’ll go to heaven. So hypocrite. Don’t they remember that their precious Bible if filled with horrible and bloody tales? Rule of thumb, people? But no, it’s people like him who are just trying to survive that are the sinners. The time it took for Tom’s spirit to wander the Mass has concluded. But he hasn’t even twitched that Mrs Cole, who insisted on being seated at his side, gripped him so strongly that he has no chance of escaping.
‘Oh dear Tom, don’t tell me you forgot? This year it’s the orphanage turn to help Father John to clean after the ceremony. And you volunteered because you didn’t want the other orphans to miss the special dinner cook by the sisters of the nearby convent, such a kind child.’ She simpered with a wicked smile.
‘How wonderful, young Tom. Thank you so much, here, please’ directs Father John, with an answering smirk.
This definitely is a trap but with the eyes of lingering people, he has no chance to escape without appearing like a crazy child and going to the asylum.
So he obeys and begin cleaning the floor from the muddy tracks left by the people. And then he changes the candles. Mrs Cole is watching like a hawk. But the Father has disappeared God knows where and the dread comes back full force. What is he doing? What kind of trap is he preparing? A clang to his left is the only clue he has that he is in danger. But it’s too late. His skull hurts and then he’s meeting the floor while everything turns black.
Somewhere in London, the Same Day
Time. What a strange concept. Passing so fast but at the same time oh so agonising slow. Nearly 10 years. A decade, nothing compared to the billions of years the universe has stood. Nearly 10 years, around 3,600 days of pure agony. Of feeling as if your very soul was crying incessantly for a missing piece. Nearly ten years of missing what you knew made you feel whole and complete. And there is no one to blame but him and his arrogance. He thought Merope too weak and ignorant in the way of Magic to be able to escape. He was so, so wrong. She inherited some traits of her Slytherin ancestor after all. Otherwise, how could she have hatched such a risky plan and pulled it off? While appearing clueless, the observed and memorise the habits of his staff and used it to his advantage. She secretly made quite good sleeping potions and served them to his servants under the guise of trying to be a thankful guest by making Christmas drinks. She even manages to get the house elves, taking advantage of their need and desire to be helpful to most wizards, especially a pregnant witch. And when the potions took effect, she stole from Silver the key to his workshop and stole the pendant he just completed before running out, without even taking the clothes he gifted her. The fact she stole the pendant intended for Tom is the only solace Harry in this whole fiasco. No matter where his dear little soulmate is, he will be protected. He even could swear that the twin pendant he has around his neck reacted, which meant his little emperor was in danger. It was so hard feeling it, knowing the danger the other part of his soul was in but not being able to help as only a great danger and magical power would enact the special location spell he hid in the pendant. It seems, thankfully and at the same unfortunately the danger wasn’t great enough and he kept being unable to locate his errand soulmate. The pendant is, after all, also designed to hides its wearer from everyone but the person wearing the fully linked twin pendant. And Merope elope when the pendants were only half linked. Sufficient for him to feel whether the other wearer is in danger but not enough to locate them.
Since then,each passing year is more torturous than the last. Waiting while not knowing when his soulmate would be born was dreadful. But waiting while his soulmate is somewhere, probably closer to him than he thinks and not being able to see him is even more torturous. But there is nothing he can do other than patrol with his loyal friends slash servants in the hope of finding Merope and his soulmate by chance. He sights and decides that because of the late hour, it’s time to go to bed. He climbs the beautiful marble stairs of his dear Victorian house up till the second private floor. He pauses before the door facing his ensuite. The door to the room he prepared for his dear heart. The rooms that will be forever his, till he has a body in front of him and his soul telling him it’s not worth waiting anymore because Lord Death has taken his due. He slowly caresses the wood before turning on his heels and promptly walks into the door of his rooms.
He thinks he has broken his nose. But it doesn’t matter, not when his pendant is burning as a raging inferno straight out of Hell. His mind suddenly is assaulted with a strong feeling of terror and helplessness. And it stokes his own helplessness till he is able to link with his dear soulmate and push all the power he can into the other pendant. It takes some time, maybe a half hour before the pendant grows cold again. But Harry is smiling like he hasn’t in 9 years. This time, the peril was so grand that the localisation spells were able to override the ones designed to hide. He knows precisely in what neighbourhood, in what town his little emperor his. Of bloody course, he is in London, not too far from him, maybe 45 minutes by car. Only seconds with apparition. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much but once again, it doesn’t matter. He has some preparations to make and then, as he hopes he was able to transmit to his little one, ‘I am coming for you’.