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── IN WHICH THERE'S BRIEF INVESTIGATION
. . .
"THEY WANT ME TO ASK IF IT WAS YOU."
The knock had come to his door in the middle of the afternoon. In the mix of August, the world outside was a downpour of rain, courtesy of the lakes, with short moments of worshipped sunlight. He never bothered to venture out for the precious breaks from the thunder, and hardly looked up when she asked.
She was the same age as him, although most would never know, assuming him to be older from height or the opposite from how she carried herself, shoulders firmly back and posture straight in the sage gingham summer dress, or the way she wore her hair sometimes, the small pout on her lips evidence of a longer-lived life.
Or perhaps it were because she settled with the weight of having to deal with him, because he made her mother nervous and that angered her father a great deal.
"I'd rather you explain what you're talking about than just stand there. It's impolite, you know." He still hasn't looked up at her, focus trained on the book balanced upon his knees.
She didn't move from the doorway.
"Matthew's Rememberall. He saved two Christmases of the Sinclairs' donation money for that." She replied. He didn't say anything. "Tom?" She asked, her voice sugary sweet in the same tone that she used when asking her father for something new. "Did you take Matthew's Rememberall?"
"My memory works plenty fine, Lena." He looked up then, when he said her name. "Why would I need Matthew's Rememberall?"
"I don't believe they you think you need a reason," Lena replied. "My mother, she...."
"Does not like me." Tom finished the sentence for her. "Is she aware that mistreating me under the circumstance of simply not liking me is against her contract? Forgive me, Lena, but I was under the guise that being a carer was unconditional."
"And when has she mistreated you, exactly?" She countered, a particular harshness to her tone that could be forgiven; he was insulting her mother after all; an entirely unusual pursuit that didn't befit her persona in the slightest. "Today she was simply too preoccupied to come and ask you herself."
"Is she asking the other older children?"
"Yes. However, you are the only recluse amongst us, and appear to need special treatment." He looked at her again and she fell into meekness, eyes avoiding his. "When Headmaster Dippet arranged for you to stay here, he made the staff aware of your previous behaviours and-"
Tom sighed, sliding a slip of paper between the pages of his book and closing it. "And it is believed a person is unable to change and progress?" He asked, coming to stand up, leaving his book on his bed. "Would you too like to mirror Professor Dumbledore and search my belongings?"
