Of Monsters, Of Men

Chapter 24

February 8, 1942 (continued)

Inside the arena, Tom watched with a stony face as the crowd fell into a sullen silence, the Queen's silencing charm working wonders. He didn't dare glance at Malfoy's unconscious body. If he did, Tom didn't know if he'd be able to keep himself from killing the boy.

Ten steps stood between him and the arena exit. Realistically, Tom knew it was nothing more than a series of mechanical actions performed by his body that brought him from point A to point B, but these ten steps were more than a series of steps. These ten steps marked the beginning of the end; Tom the Muggleborn stood at step one, while Tom the Mudblood stood at step ten.

But, Tom reflected bitterly, I suppose I was always 'the mudblood' to them.

Ten steps.

How naive I was for thinking that I could change them.

His posture straight and face stony, Tom stepped forward, reminding himself to put one foot in front of the other in smooth, relaxed movements. One jerky movement, one flick of the eyebrow, or one scowl would amount to political suicide.

As soon as his left foot stepped over the boundary of the arena, he felt the protective ward disappear. Utter silence greeted him. Most were glaring hatefully at him, bitter hatred casting a harsh light upon their faces, full scowls and snarls marring their lips. Others simply looked at him with cold eyes, disappointed.

Tom wanted to scream and rage. He made sure that not one of those emotions came onto his face. He had never despised the wizarding world and its institutions and values so much. He wanted to burn it to the ground.

From the corner of his eye, Harry was desperately flashing his eyes at him, trying to get his attention.

Tom ignored Harry and made his sentiment clear as he marched through the aisle, those closest to him craning their heads to gawk and glare at the newest circus freak. A part of him was tempted to summon the anaconda again and have it strangle the crowd, starting with Evander Rosier.

Any other day, Tom would have lavished the attention of Slytherin House focused solely on him.

However, I never thought it would be like this.

A few long strides later, he was away from the throngs of people and at the hallway to the fourth year dormitories. The light tap tap tap behind him indicated that Harry had caught up to him and was quietly trailing behind him. Tom ignored him and kept walking until he was standing in front of their dorm room.

"Tom—"

Tom shook his head subtly. He disabled the safety and protection charms with a swish of his wand and opened the door. Marching in stiffly, he sat down in his chair, adopting an unaffected impression by leaning back into the wooden backing that dug into his spine. He smoothed his stiff facial features, commanding himself to relax his brows and unclench his jaw. Harry entered, closed the door behind him, and recast the medley of charms, as well as a silencing charm.

Harry turned around slowly, and both stared steadily at each other. Tom raised an eyebrow, acutely aware that his lips were twitching. He was struggling to keep himself in check.

Unacceptable.

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly.

His anger flared, an overpowered wave that briefly blinded him until he saw nothing but red. "Shut up!" Tom snarled, slashing a hand through the air. He already knew what Harry had to say, and he didn't particularly want to hear it.