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Chapter 4. Theft of Loneliness
"It's just morbid." Tom's introduction to the children he's supposed to befriend is a grumble on the other side of the door, presumably referring to him — or, at the very least, the godson he apparently murdered.
"Stop it, Ron. Dumbledore wouldn't ask us to do it if it wasn't important." A second voice — a female, firm, commanding — confirms what Tom was all but certain on: this attempt at a daycare is just another ploy by Dumbledore to get information out of him. The old man really has no shame. Using the children of his allies as pawns in a game of his own making. Tom wonders what Dumbledore told their parents.
"I'll go let them in." Remus says as he rises to his feet, likely wanting to ensure the others don't reveal too much more while unaware they're being listened in on. While Tom would trust Remus the most over his other four guards, that doesn't mean he trusts him completely. The fact he's sitting here means the man is still in Dumbledore's pocket. In fact, this could all just be another tactic. Lure him in with the false ally, lap up all the information he betrays.
"Master Black, Kreacher is glad to see you are well. Mistress will be pleased as well — oh yes she will." The small house elf proclaims as Remus opens the door to reveal a small group of teenagers around Tom's age.
"It's Lestrange, Kreacher." One boy to the side corrects, though it's easy to see why the house elf might be mistaken. The boy has all the features of a Black, from the mess of dark hair to the way he holds himself — as if he's better than everyone else. In fact, if Tom hadn't just heard him identify his name, he might have mistaken him for a relative of Sirius's. The only thing that betrays him is his clothes. Where every Black Tom has ever met has been well put together in fitted suits and dresses, this boy's t-shirt, flannel shirt and jeans all hang loosely from his body as if they're a size too big. There isn't enough severity in his eye, too kind as he looks upon the elf.
"Poor thing's confused." The girl, of whom Tom recognises the voice, says sympathetically.
"The mudblood dares to take pity on Kreacher–"
"Do not call her that." Lestrange snaps and the softness disappears from him in an instant. The elf bows his head in reverence, obeying with both reluctance and an overbearing desire to please the boy.
"Of course, whatever Master Black says, Kreacher will obey." The surname is clearly a losing battle, one Lestrange surrenders to with a roll of the eye and a huff. He's the first to make a move into the library, crossing the threshold with his hands shoved into his pockets. The others follow, greeted by Remus.
Alongside Lestrange and the muggleborn is a redhead Tom knows must be Ron because he's heard Mrs Weasley mention a son around his age in one of their many efforts to get him to warm up to them, a brunet who can't decide whether he wants to stare at Tom in near horror or look anywhere Tom isn't, and a girl with a shock of white hair and dazed look on her face. Aside from the two already identified, none of their heritage is easily identifiable, though Tom doubts Dumbledore would have left him in a room with anyone who had any chance of being his ally.
