Nefarious {t.r}

Chapter 1

A BIRD NAMED HADES 

24th August, 1938.

"I can talk to snakes too." The young, raven haired boy blurted out before the elderly man had the chance to disappear through his door. He watched anxiously as the man stopped completely in his tracks and seemed to freeze with hesitation.

His head inclined and turned subtly so that Tom was in his view, but not facing him completely. His feathery brows knit together as he waited for the boy to continue. "They find me. Whisper things." He added.

The man hesitantly turned to face the young boy with an unreadable expression which quickly caused confusion and regret to overrun his small bewildered mind.

"Is that normal for someone like me?"

Tom replayed the conversation in his head obsessively. The strange man who had visited him by the name of 'Albus Dumbledore' had made some rather odd claims - claims, that should've been ruled out as ridiculous and coming from the mouth of a madman. But the punch line never came, and Tom quickly realised that he had been completely and utterly serious.

Once Dumbledore had left them room, a chill seemed to settle and nip at his fingertips, it could've just been the weather but Tom thought better of it as it was August and the summer weather was still very-much present.

Surprisingly, he'd only been alone in his bedroom for around thirty minutes following Dumbledore's departure. It had felt a lot less to Tom, like seconds had ticked by when he was finally called down for supper along with the other children in the orphanage.

He was still understandingly awe-struck from the news he had been given, not quite able to grasp the concept that he wasn't a freak or unstable, he was so much more.

A wizard.

He rolled the weightless word around his tongue softly to himself as he sauntered down one of the never ending, depressing corridors of Wools Orphanage. The ceilings were unnecessarily high and draped in cobwebs, dust was thick and suffocating in the air while the repellent scent of dampness plagued his nose.

The stairs were steep and creaky as he descended them, his footsteps only faltering when he noticed the small crowd at the bottom of the stairwell. A group of boys, all a lot older and taller than Tom lounged around the bottom, most likely waiting for the next child they could back into a corner and terrorise into giving up their shrapnel or nick-nacks.

He always thought that if he timed his departures from his room well enough he could avoid them, but today he had not been so fortunate.

"Tooommmmyyy." One of the older boys taunted as he moved to block his path.

Tom looked up at the lad, coming face to face with a permanent snarl and crooked teeth. His head was shaved all the way down, practically a skinhead and his malicious grin seemed to widen at Tom's expression.

His thick cockney accent invaded Tom's ears as he looked for a possible way of avoiding them. He was pretty much cornered as their broad shoulders closed in, barricading him, with no route left to escape. "What've ye got for me t'day then?"

He huffed in defeat as he knew better than to challenge the boy, quickly stuffing his hand into one of the pockets of his shorts. One day he wouldn't be so easily intimidated and would stick up for himself, he reminded himself as he dug out the shilling he had found amongst the cobbles a few days prior when they were let out on to the street to play.

The boys dark eyes seemed to light up at the sight of the shining coin in his small hand and he patted him annoyingly harsh on the back. "God save the King, ay?" He whispered to Tom as he eyed the figure of King George engraved onto one of it's sides.