Thomas Cloverleigh Echos of the Past (Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Chapter 2 - Thomas

With a loud curse, little Thomas was found that morning. Cuddle in a red blanket, in a little basket. Looking out on the world with his black eyes, his faced pinched, and his mouth quivered. Not a tear broke loose from the babies eyes. Only a little whimper came from his lips as the balding man brought him into the manor. Time flew, and one way or another ten years flew by. Inside the manor, things remained worn, but it was a charming home.

A dozen children called the manor home. The floor board squeak with age, but this didn't stop the girls from running around. Playing hide-and-seek, or the boys from battling imaginary armies in the large waiting room. In the summer the drafts from the window were refreshing. The thick carpets lining the floors became a hot maze of worlds for the children to play on. It also did a fine job covering the lifting floorboards.

Mrs. Row was humming in the kitchen, making cookies with the help of the older girls. They all wore simple dresses made by Mrs. Row. They were of modest cut, and in cute flower patterns. Perfect for the summer, and suitable for their small town roots. Like hers. Their hair was all similar fashion, Mrs. Row taught all the girls the beauty of a braided bun. They looked just like her daughters despite their very different looks.

Even the boys clothes were made by Mrs. Row. She took great pride into turning old bedding into dress shirts. Shrinking down men's pants to fit a growing boy. Mr. Row was a carpenter by trade, and did all the maintenance. Mr. Row, who despite is evolving waist size. Wore tight brown work pants, and stretched black suspenders over his gut. They appeared like they would pop.

None of the boys could be convinced to wear a pair themselves. The horror of them ingrained in their heads by no one other than Mr. Row. Today Mr. Row had the boys helping him fix the outside. Taking off peeling paint, pulling on towering weeds. Not the short ones, or they would have balding spot in the grass. Why all the effort for a man that would rather lay down a rug than repair a floor board?

For this afternoon a couple, a rich couple was coming to visit, with every attention of adopting a child. The insides were all ready. The stair well swept, lining the walls were the picture off all the children of the orphanage. Both past and present. Brenda, Marty with those curls, Linda, Lulu, on and on they went until you reached the top of the stairs. Missing from this lot was one little boy. Missing from activities in both the kitchen and outside. Even among the toddlers who ran around playing games.

There was still one missing. Thomas, he couldn't be found on the walls in any room. Not once had his picture been taken. No proud photo of his new clothes, or school awards could be seen. Not in the hall or dining room, if you checked. Not even the bathroom held a picture.

Really, you were left wondering if he lived there at all. Thomas did live there though, it was no fault of his own. In all honesty he wouldn't mind being anywhere else but here. While the others played and got ready for the afternoon. Thomas spent the time alone in his attic room. He liked it that way, and so did the Rows. Even the other children preferred not to see Thomas around.

The rares times Thomas did show himself it never ended well. Boys would gang together to push Thomas around. It didn't help that for his age, Thomas was rather small. The other boys his age were a good five inches taller, and were meaner and stronger than Thomas ever good be. The girls were not much better, ever time they see him they would scream and shout. Throwing hurting names, instead of fists, yet thinking they were much better than the boys.

Thomas always found that to be funny. Words or fist? They bother hurt the same, over the years he became immune to the worst of it, but what about others? Thomas couldn't image what kind of adults they would become. They turn out like the Rows, who acted with same way. They were sneakier with their ways, but they acted the same as the children.