Splitting One's Soul

Hogwarts

Half-expected that Tom would simply apparate into your home, it was a big surprise when he actually knocked at your door the next morning and waited for you to open it.

"I'll show you my home," he said upon entering. "As an apology for blowing you off yesterday."

"I appreciate it," you replied. "And the knocking."

Tom shot you a wide smile, even his eyes seemed to twinkle and your heart quickened. You offered him a cup of tea but he declined.

"My plan was to take you right now actually. If you feel well enough, of course."

"How far away is it?"

"We can walk, don't worry about that."

"Then I'm well enough," you said and grabbed your coat after downing the last sip of tea in your cup.

The weather outside was getting worse and you regretted agreeing to walking. By the time you turned around the next corner into a road lined with detached houses you were already soaked but at house number three Tom stopped, pushed open the front gate and led you around the house to the back yard.

"This really isn't far," you remarked. "And you couldn't be bothered to tell me beforehand that you live this close?"

"Would it matter?"

You thought on it while Tom opened the back door and showed you inside a sparsely furnished home.

"No, I suppose not," you finally replied, looking at the blank walls of the hallway.

Nothing about it indicated that someone was living here. Tom passed you and led you to the first room, the living room, here he hasn't decorated either but there was no room on the walls for it anyways, they were lined with shelves filled with books over books and the occasional interesting artifact you'd expect someone like him to have. A whirring object looking like the solar system was placed on top of the farthest shelf, a glass box containing an ornate dagger functioned as a bookend, here and there the books where even placed in two rows in front of each other. Only one part of the wall was free, if it wasn't for the fireplace it would probably be stuffed with books too. In front of it was a single armchair, a small table and a lamp.

"You don't receive many guests, do you?," you asked, still eyeing the curious objects on his shelves with great interest.

"Not in here at least." Tom stepped closer and you felt his arm brush against yours. "It's not actually my house."

"Whose is it? You do live here though, right?"

"Yes, I do live here. A friend was so kind to offer me to live here after finishing school, he had more luck with his parents than I did and has amassed quite the fortune, obviously I gratefully accepted his generosity."

"What about your parents?"

You looked back to him, catching him watching you. A deep sigh escaped him.

"I have none."

"What do you mean, you don't have parents?"

"Exactly what it means," he said but your puzzled expression made him elaborate. "My mother died giving birth to me, my father wasn't in the picture so I grew up in an orphanage. During the war of all times."

"And your father never came to get you?"

"Not sure he knew about me, it was only much later when I knew about him but he was killed, him and his parents, by some lunatic from the neighborhood."

"Merlin, I'm so sorry..."

"Why? Did you kill them?," he asked, his tone rather smug.

And then he laughed, a real laugh coming out of his mouth, and it was like music to you. Yet, you gave him a playful punch against the shoulder.