The Phoenix and the Serpent

Chapter Nine - Penseive and Memories

As it turned out, though, matters weren't quite so simple. Extracting the confession from Kenneth turned out to be far more difficult than Tom had anticipated.

Tom's first try was a dismal failure. After morning classes, he had noticed Kenneth heading back to the dorm instead of going directly to the Great Hall for lunch. Tom had followed silently, careful to keep his distance so that Kenneth wouldn't notice him.

As Kenneth approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room and gave the password, Tom hurried to catch up, and he slipped through the opening just before it closed. Kenneth turned around, and when he saw that it was Tom who was behind him, he took a step back.

"Why did you accuse Medusa of threatening you?" Tom demanded.

A flash of fear showed in Kenneth's eyes, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Kenneth said coolly, and turned around to head to their dorm.

"Don't try to pretend it wasn't you!" Tom said, his temper flaring. "You're the only one in our room who's scared of Medusa, and you'd love to make my life miserable!"

"I am not scared of your snake!" Kenneth said, whirling around to face Tom, his hands clenched into fists.

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Tom said contemptuously. "You avoid Medusa as though she's been contaminated by a deadly potion! But that doesn't mean you can accuse Medusa of attacking you and get away with it. Medusa wouldn't go near you!"

Kenneth's eyes flashed in obvious anger. "I am not scared of snakes!" he said again. "And I - " He stopped in mid-sentence and clamped his mouth shut. With one last furious glare at Tom, he spun around and stomped off.

A second attempt, later that day, was met by a similar failure. Tom cornered Kenneth the next morning to try yet again, but this time Kenneth interrupted him before Tom even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Kenneth said angrily. "I know you're trying to get me to confess to something - but I haven't done anything wrong." And for the rest of the day, he ignored Tom completely.

While this had its definite benefits - the lack of snide insults was certainly a relief - this new development only increased Tom's frustration and anxiety. Clearly, Kenneth was too clever to be goaded into admitting what he'd done. Now what?

By the next day, Tom could no longer concentrate properly on his classes. There were only three days left to the term, and proving Medusa's innocence seemed impossible.

At lunch, Tom glumly pushed his meat around on his plate and tried to imagine what Hogwarts would be like without Medusa. He sat alone; Jennifer was sitting with Adam at the Hufflepuff table, but today Tom was in no mood for being surrounded by cheerful chatter.

Halfway through the meal, Julian slid into the sit across from Tom, his breathing labored. "Snape made me stay behind to clean up the explosion I made in Potions," he explained ruefully. "Without magic, of course - not that I know the proper spells yet anyway."

Tom mustered up a sympathetic expression. "At least he didn't give you detention."

"This was just as bad." Julian grimaced. "The potion had already been absorbed into the desks and floor; I had to scrub it out. My hands are all red." He held up them out to demonstrate. "They hurt, too." Julian gingerly flexed his hands. "Do you know how long it will take to heal? Should I go to Madam Pomfrey?"

Despite his gloom, Tom almost laughed. "Your hands will be fine in a few minutes, or at most a few hours - don't worry."

"If you say so...." Julian looked doubtful, but he pulled a nearby platter next to his plate and served himself.

They ate in silence for several minutes, and Tom quickly withdrew again into his unhappy thoughts.

"What's wrong?" Julian asked suddenly.

Tom looked up, startled.

"I noticed that you weren't taking notes in class," Julian explained, "and you look upset about something."

Tom met Julian's eyes. Julian looked honestly curious, and a bit concerned, but Tom hesitated, unsure whether it was safe to confide in him. Julian and Kenneth still weren't speaking to each other, but they'd been friends for so long....

"Never mind," Julian said stiffly, and turned away from Tom, his face closed off. "I didn't mean to be intrusive."

Tom felt a rush of guilt. Could Kenneth tell that Tom still didn't really trust him? "Medusa is going to be sent home," he blurted out before he had a chance to think about it.

Julian looked back at Tom, clearly surprised. "Didn't you say that McGonagall gave you permission to bring her?"

"She did. But Kenneth went to McGonagall and accused Medusa of threatening him, so now McGonagall says she can't stay."

Julian looked puzzled. "Why did Medusa threaten Kenneth?"

"She didn't!" Tom stabbed his fork into his meat. "Kenneth was trying to poke around in my trunk, and Medusa just scared him away, but Kenneth's claiming that Medusa has been trying to attack him! Kenneth hates me, and he hates Medusa - he's terrified of her - so he figures that this is the perfect way to get back at me and get rid of Medusa. But McGonagall doesn't believe me. She gave me just until the Holidays to prove that Medusa is innocent, and I still haven't come up with a solution that will actually work!"

"Why don't you just slip him some sort of truth potion?" Julian asked, and to Tom's surprise, he seemed genuinely sympathetic.

"Against the rules," Tom said glumly. "And using a truth serum would only prove Medusa's innocence if he admitted what he did in front of Professor McGonagall, and there's no truth potion that I could've made in such a short amount of time that wouldn't make it very obvious that the victim was under some sort of compulsion to tell the truth. Same for hexes. McGonagall would've been furious that I'd broken the rules, and she probably would've sent Medusa home anyway."

"Then how can McGonagall possibly expect you to prove that Medusa didn't do anything wrong?" Julian said indignantly. "That isn't fair!"

"Of course it isn't." Tom stabbed another piece of meat. "McGonagall was acting really strange. At first she seemed nice, and sympathetic, but by the time she sent me out of her office, she was treating me almost as if I had been the one threatening Kenneth!"

"Never expect a Gryffindor to be fair to a Slytherin," Julian said darkly.

Tom immediately felt defensive. "That's because no Slytherin would be fair to a Gryffindor," he protested. "And besides, according to my father, when McGonagall was the Transfiguration Professor, she actually was very fair, even to Slytherins. Unlike Professor Snape, who definitely favors Slytherins and hates Gryffindors."

"That's what your father says - of course he'd think well of his Head of House," Julian pointed out. "And she's not being fair now, is she?"

"But Kenneth is also a Slytherin," Tom protested. "Why would she favor him? If anything, she'd favor me, because my family is all Gryffindor!"

"Well, what happened to change her mood, then?" Julian asked, frowning.

Tom opened his mouth, about to explain the strange conversation he'd overheard, but just in time he realized that there was no way he could explain without revealing to Julian that he had Dumbledore's portrait - and Tom had promised to keep that a secret. Dad always said that Dumbledore had ways of knowing everything about everyone - and Tom didn't want to risk Dumbledore's finding out that he'd already broken his promise.

"I'm not sure," Tom said instead, and hurried to change the subject. "My aunt Hermione gave me a really brilliant idea, though - I just wish I could make it work!"

"What was the idea?"

"Well, McGonagall has a Pensieve, so my aunt suggested that I somehow goad Kenneth into admitting what he did - just to me, with no one else around to hear him - and then show McGonagall my memory of his admission. But Kenneth is too suspicious of me to fall for that. The more I try, the more he clams up - which makes sense, of course - but by now he's certain that I'm up to something, so there's no chance that he'll admit anything to me." Tom sawed at his meat, cutting it into ever-smaller pieces. "That means that my aunt's idea is useless, so unless I come up with a brilliant idea of my own within the next day or so, Medusa will be sent back home." He jabbed his fork into a potato, his fingers clenched so tightly around the metal that it dug into the palm of his hand. "He may have the advantage now, backed by so many Slytherins who hate me, but someday, somehow, Kenneth will regret making me his enemy." His voice sounded strange to his own ears - almost vicious - and he made a conscious effort to relax, to take a deep breath and loosen his grip on his fork.

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Julian said approvingly. "I must admit I had my doubts about you, but no one can possibly deny that you belong with us here."

Tom closed his eyes, his stomach clenching in dismay and shame. His father would be horrified to hear him sounding so vindictive - so Slytherin - and Julian's words felt like a condemnation, not praise. How many times had he heard Uncle Ron, and Fred and George - and even Mum and Dad - speaking bitterly of Slytherins? Of Deatheaters, and of Voldemort, and even of the more ordinary spite of Slytherin students?

Misery welled up in place of his anger, overwhelming him. When he came back from the Holidays, Medusa would no longer be here, leaving him to face his hostile Housemates alone. Professor Snape, his Head of House, was still ignoring him completely, and McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, seemed to dislike him now as well. And in the future was the all-too likely possibility that eventually, living among Slytherins for so long, he might become a Slytherin himself. Had he already started to change without realizing it? Would Mum and Dad notice over the Holidays?

An old memory resurfaced, vivid as ever despite all he had done to try to forget it. It had been two years ago - when he was only nine - but he could still remember every moment of that awful day. And it had begun so well....

"Excellent work," Professor Lupin said, smiling a rare smile as he looked up from grading Tom's essay. "That will be all for today. I promised Jamie that we'd do some maths today; he's quite eager to know how to calculate Quidditch-related statistics, it seems."

Tom, who had been waiting all morning for the end of their session, let the news spill from him in an excited rush. "I finished the project!" he said. "Dad said he'd charm it for me so that it doesn't ever get ruined, but I need you to look at it first, and tell me if there's anything I need to fix."

"Wonderful!" Professor Lupin said. "I have been impatiently awaiting the unveiling. Would you like to go fetch it now?"

Tom nodded, and dashed off to his room, his excitement and anticipation building, overflowing. He had been working on this project for almost half a year now, spending countless nights researching, using any text he could find about the famous, ancient buildings he had chosen to focus on - and then countless further nights shaping a miniature, accurate replica for each building. And meanwhile, of course, he'd been researching the potions and spells needed to make the buildings come to life. He'd made the potions himself, under Professor Lupin's supervision, and Mum had done the spells for him, since he didn't have a wand. But he had had to know exactly what spells to use, and tell Mum exactly what to do; she had only done exactly as he'd told her, even when she knew he was messing up. Tom winced, remembering one particularly loud and messy mistake. But now he was finally - finally! - finished.

Tom dashed up the last few steps and ran down the hall. He skidded to a halt outside his bedroom door, noticing his open bedroom door with only a bit of surprise; on occasion he did forget to close it, after all, and it was always possible that for some reason Dobby had entered his room by means of the door instead of with magic.

Heart beating in excitement, Tom hurried through the door - and stopped short in dismay. The door to his work area was ajar - and Tom clearly remembered closing it securely just before he'd gone downstairs to breakfast and lessons. Anxiety mounting, Tom rushed across the rest of the room and thrust the door open - but nothing could have prepared him for the scene that met his eyes.

The project was completely ruined. Mashed lumps of clay were everywhere, broken glass littered the floor, and the miniature plants had all been uprooted, their dirt and leaves mixed in with the rest of the debris. Several shards of wood and glass were flailing weakly, but the rest lay perfectly inert. The destruction was far beyond the power of a Reparo to fix, and for several interminable moments, Tom stared at the ruins of his project, his stomach clenching in utter disbelief and horror.

A flash of red hair bolted across the edge of his vision, and Tom swung around to find his five year old sister, Lily, fleeing towards the door. Dirt and clay covered her clothing, and she looked terrified and guilty.

Tom darted after Lily and grabbed her by the arm, gripping her tightly. "You?" he said in shock.

"You never let me help," Lily wailed. "I always ask you, an' you always say, maybe another day, but you never let me! An' you ruined my dollhouse to use for your stupid buildings, an' you always yell at me, an' Mummy sent me to my room all morning cause I hit you, an' I didn't get to play with Molly! An' you're the meanest brother!

Rage flared up so strongly in Tom that he could barely speak. "You - you -" he sputtered, and he shook her so hard that that she burst into tears.

"You're hurting me! Let me go!" Lily wailed, but as Tom swung around again to survey the damage, his anger only flared up more strongly.

"You ruined it!" Tom said furiously, shaking her again. "I worked on this for months! MONTHS!"

"It's your fault!" Lily shouted. "You shouldn't be so mean! An' you ruined my dollhouse!"

"Who cares about your stupid dollhouse!" Tom said angrily. "Mum can get you a new one, I needed the parts, and you never play with it, anyway! And that's not a good reason to ruin all my hard work!"

"Yes it is!" Lily shouted, and Tom slapped her, hard, across her face.

Lily stared at him in shock, her cheek white and her lower lip trembling, and then she rushed at him, pummeling him with her fists.

Tom grabbed her arms and pinned them together, then hit her again with his free hand, and then again. "You're a little monster," he snarled, so angry he could barely think. "I hate you!" Lily was kicking him, twisting and crying, and he tightened his grip on her. "Don't ever come near my room again! You're the worst sister in the world! You deserve to be fed to a dragon!"

"Muuuumyyyy!" Lily shrieked, redoubling her efforts to break free. Somehow she managed to get her hands loose, and suddenly she was flailing her arms and legs, kicking him and yelling at the top of her lungs.

Tom clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her, still struggling, to the doorway of his room. "Stay out!" he said, through clenched teeth. "And if you tell Mum I hit you, I'll show her what you did to my project - she'll ground you for a month! You won't be able to play with any of your friends! Not with Molly, or with Jane, or with Gabrielle! And Mummy will tell everyone what a bad girl you are!"

He dropped Lily to the ground outside his room, but instead of running away, she scrambled to her feet and attacked him, punching and kicking. "You're the meanest brother!" she shouted. "I hate you! And I am so going to tell Mummy that you hit me!" She turned and dashed down the hallway, yelling "Mummy! Mummy!" with ear-splitting shrieks.

Alarmed, Tom dashed after his sister and grabbed her, clamping his hand over her mouth yet again. "No you won't!" he said, and looked around desperately, trying to come up with some way of keeping her quiet. His eyes lit upon the staircase down the hall, the old, rickety staircase which led upstairs to the never-used, windowless attic. It was full of old furniture and clothes and mounds of boxes, but it was also the residence of a particularly loud ghoul - and so Mum and Dad had cast a very thorough silencing charm on the entire attic.

"Perfect," Tom said aloud, grimly, and with no further hesitation, he dragged Lily down the hall, one hand still clamped over her mouth, and then up the stairs, bumping and clattering with each step as Lily desperately tried to escape.

To Tom's relief, he reached the attic door without anyone coming to see what the noise was all about. Dad was away at work, of course, and Jamie was outdoors, flying, and Mum was probably downstairs, with the baby, too far away to hear much of anything. Dobby was the only one to worry about - but he was probably out on an errand for Mum, or cleaning up somewhere downstairs.

Tom turned the key in the lock and shoved open the door, revealing the dusty, cluttered gloom of the attic. Lily's attempts to escape were growing even more frantic now, but Tom ignored her, and dragged her through the dark to the opposite end of the attic, where an old, half-broken wardrobe stood, filled with old, musty clothes. Tom looked around uncertainly, trying to decide exactly what to do with his sister, when suddenly she bit down, hard, on the hand that was covering her mouth.

"OW!" Tom yelled, and he hastily pulled his hand away. Immediately her screams burst forth.

"Let me go let me go let me go!" she shrieked. "I'm going to tell Mummy!"

"Just try it!" Tom said, flush with renewed anger and vindictive triumph. "I'm locking you up in here and leaving you in the dark, all alone except for the spiders and the ghoul! And no one will know you're missing for hours and hours, because it's past lunchtime! And you're safe here, and you're not even lost, because I know where you are, so Mum's watch won't even beep!"

Lily's eyes widened in terror, and even in the dark, Tom could see that her face had turned pale. "You're leaving me here?" she said, in horror-struck tones.

"You deserve it!" Tom said. "You broke my project! You ruined all my work!"

Lily stared at him in horror for a moment, then suddenly burst forth again with her yelling. "Mummy! Daddy! Dobby!" she yelled.

Tom dashed across the attic towards the door. He reached it and swung around to slam it behind him. Lily was running desperately towards him, yelling, her eyes wide in fear, but he slammed the door in her face and turned the key in the lock, and immediately, total silence descended upon the narrow staircase. He saw the door shaking, and he could almost see Lily throwing herself against it, freckles stark against her white face. But another image was stronger - the image of her standing defiantly among the rubble of his project - and with another surge of anger, he turned away from the door and sprinted down the staircase, back into the sunlight and the comfort of the main house. Outside his bedroom door he paused, dreading the idea of even looking at the wreckage, but he forced himself to enter, hoping against all hope that some small part of it would be salvageable.

But the destruction was complete, entirely beyond repair. Now that Lily was no longer present, his anger could not sustain itself, and as it faded, his stomach clenched into a tight knot, so tight that he felt sick. Five and a half months... weeks and weeks... days and nights of patient, careful work, of research and sculpting and building and asking Mum and Dad for help with the magic, weeks of mixing potions to create the right effects and colors.... And it was all gone.

Tom shut the door to his room and stood just outside it for several long minutes, leaning against the wall, furiously blinking his eyes against the burning. When he had composed himself at last, he gathered his resolve and plodded back downstairs to Professor Lupin.

"Is something wrong?" Professor Lupin asked, a look of alarm on his face, as soon as he saw Tom. He stood up from behind his desk, dropping his quill and leaving a smear of ink all across his papers, and took a step towards Tom. "Did something happen? Where's your project?"

"It's - it's not ready yet," Tom said, avoiding Professor Lupin's eyes. "I'll go get Jamie, for his lesson - he's been outside on his broom all morning." And without giving Professor Lupin a chance to protest, he hurried out of the room and down the hall.

"Tom?" Mum called from the kitchen. "I heard Lily yelling just now. Can you go check up on her? She isn't in any danger - it's probably just a temper tantrum, she's been upset all morning - but she sounded like she was calling for me."

Tom desperately tried to keep his voice steady. "She's fine," he called back. "She was...." His mind raced, trying to come up with a story that would keep Mum from becoming suspicious, a story that would give him some sort of excuse.... Suddenly, he was hit with inspiration. "She wanted to play in the attic," he said in rush. "But I told her it was too dangerous, and she got angry at me. Should I go up and lock the attic door, to make sure she can't get in?"

"Thanks so much, Tom," Mum said gratefully.

Feeling only a twinge of shame at misleading his mum, Tom sprinted down the hallway and up the stairs to the first floor and then to the attic. He paused outside the attic door for just a moment - the door was motionless now, Lily must have given up - and then hurriedly clattered back downstairs. Outside his room he paused, and after a moment's hesitation, he darted inside to grab a book, averting his eyes from the still-open door to his workroom. Clutching the book in his hand, he ran down the hall to the steep, narrow staircase which led directly to the back-door entryway. He walked down these stairs slowly and cautiously, doing his best to make no noise at all; the very last thing he wanted was Mum asking him more questions about Lily.

To Tom's relief, he made it outside into the gardens safely. "Jamie!" he called to the broomstick hovering high above. "Professor Lupin's waiting for you!"

He watched to be sure that Jamie had heard him, to see that the broomstick was descending, and then - with a sudden return of misery and wretchedness as his adrenaline began to wear off - he stumbled across the yard towards the forest, still clutching his book. From a distance, he heard Jamie calling in bewilderment, "Tom? Where did you go?" and he broke into a run, cracking off twigs and leaves as he fled his brother and the bright sunlight and the cheerful house and his wreckage-littered room.

When Tom at last reached the rocky outcropping, he was out of breath. He had no desire to venture out into the clearing, to sit on the sun-warmed boulders or patches of grassy dirt. Instead, he turned off the path and circled around to the other side of the clearing, to a half-hidden crevice in the stony ground which opened up into a small, dimly lit cave. It was Medusa who had shown it to him - she had lived here, in this rocky outcropping, before Dad had found her - and she had promised not to tell Dad about it. This was where Tom went when he wanted to be alone, and as Tom lowered himself down into the chilly cave and then curled up in a corner of the cave with his book, he tried to forget everything that had happened, to force his mind to concentrate on the words in front of him. It helped that the book was really interesting, about the origins of the Decree Against the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and some of the funnier stories made Tom wonder if Fred and George had gotten hold of this book when they were still kids....

When Tom reached the end of the book at last and snapped it shut, he found himself jerked back to reality. His neck and back hurt, and his hands and feet were chilled through. Worse, though, was the knot of misery that was growing again in his stomach. It almost seemed like a bad dream, a nightmare, but he knew it was real - that his models were gone forever, and that Lily - he forced down another flash of fury - was still locked up in the attic.....

But he couldn't stay in this cave any longer. He had to go back to the house, to pretend to find Lily, to convince his mum and dad that locking her up had been an accident.... If only he could do a memory charm on Lily!

Tom groped his way across the little cave and hauled himself up, out into the open. The daylight was a welcome relief, and Tom hurriedly checked his watch. Half-past one; that meant he'd been gone for nearly two hours! Had Mum already realized that Lily was missing? Alarmed, Tom set off at a run through the trees.

When Tom reached the yard, the house looming before him, he slowed down. He was suddenly afraid. If Mum and Dad believed Lily instead of him.... But he couldn't stay outdoors forever. Gripping his book tightly, he opened the back door of the house and walked inside.

The house was eerily quiet. No baby crying, no shouts, no voices.... Somewhat surprised, Tom padded through the house, checking all the main rooms. No one in the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the office, the library.... As Tom headed upstairs, he tried to quash his feelings of unease.

When he reached the top of the main staircase, Tom heard a muffled voice coming from down the hall. He frowned. It sounded like Dad's voice - but Dad was still at work!

Tom hurried in the direction of the voice, following it to the closed door of Lily's room - and now Dad's voice was unmistakable, though Tom couldn't quite make out what he was saying. Tom's throat suddenly felt dry. Why was Dad home in middle of the day?

Tom paused, his anxiety mounting. He was half-ready to bolt back outdoors - but Dad called through the door, "Tom? Is that you?"

Dad's voice was as serious as Tom had ever heard it, and Tom's nerve almost broke - but running away now would just prove that he was guilty. He took a deep breath and tried to sound as normal as possible. "Yes, Dad?" Tom called, and pushed open the door to Lily's room.

The sight that met his eyes boded him no good. Lily was sitting between Mum and Dad on her bed, her face blotchy with tears, still hiccupping. Mom and Dad were looking at him with expressions as grave as Tom had ever seen. Tom swallowed, and tried not to let his anxiety show on his face.

"Mum, Dad? What's wrong? Why is Lily crying?"

Mum and Dad exchanged quick, unreadable glances, and then Dad turned back to Tom. "We were hoping to hear your explanation, Tom," Dad said quietly.

"I... I have no idea why she's crying!" Tom said, mustering up an expression of confusion; the worry came naturally. "I've been out of the house, reading, for hours!" He held up his book for emphasis.

At this, Lily burst out into another round of tears. "He's - he's lying!" she sobbed. "He l-l-locked me up in'a attic!"

Mum quickly drew her into her lap and hugged her. "Shhh," she said. "Don't worry, we're going to find out what really happened."

Dad picked up Lily's hand and squeezed it, then turned to Tom, his expression grim. "We discovered that Lily was missing an hour ago, Tom," he said. "We've only just found her. We didn't look in the attic until the very end, because it was locked from the outside, and Mum told me that you had so responsibly locked it for her. When we did look in the attic at last, and found Lily, at first we assumed that Lily must have snuck in without you realizing it, and that you had locked her inside accidentally. But Lily has been telling us a very different - and very disturbing - story."

"You hit me!" Lily declared, twisting around to glare at Tom, her face still red and wet from tears. "An' then you dragged me up t' the attic an' locked me up! An' I shouted an' shouted, an' nobody h-h-heard me!"

"Is that true, Tom?" Dad asked quietly, pinning him with his gaze. "When we searched the house, we found your destroyed project in your room, and Lily has admitted that she was the one who did it - and that it was because she ruined your project that you hit her and locked her up. Is that true, Tom?"

Tom desperately tried to come up with something, anything, some way to extricate himself from this mess, but still trapped by his father's gaze, he floundered. "She smashed it!" he burst out at last. "On purpose! For no reason! And I worked on it for months and months! And she wasn't even sorry!"

"And so you hit your sister?" Dad stood up, his mouth tightening dangerously. "Your five-year-old sister, Tom? You locked her up in attic, all alone, terrifying her so badly that when we found her she was in hysterics, and couldn't be comforted for a good half hour?"

"But she smashed my project!" Tom defended himself, desperately. "She smashed it to pieces, and she didn't care! She ruined it! She deserved it!"

Mum stood up as well, holding Lily. She looked at him for several long moments, expression grave. "Your sister is only five years old, Tom! I understand that you must have been terribly upset - and you had very good reason to be - but even that is not an excuse for terrifying her so badly. And you deliberately deceived me, lied to me, in order to prevent Lily from being found! This might very well give Lily nightmares for months. Can you expect us to trust you anymore?"

"Your privileges as the oldest child are hereby revoked," Dad said, his jaw set and his mouth a tight line. "Your bedtime will be at seven, like Jamie's. No allowance. You will no longer be allowed to visit the cousins on your own. You must ask Mum before you go outside. And you will stay home with the rest of the children when we go to the Halloween party next week."

"When you have proven to us that you can be trusted again, we will reconsider whether you deserve these privileges," Mum added, her expression still severe.

Tom looked from Mum to Dad and then back to Mum. It was the disappointment in their eyes that made Tom suddenly turn and bolt away, desperate to escape.

Tom expected Mum or Dad to call after him, to tell him to stop, but no voice came, and he dashed to his room and shut the door behind him. He noticed, dully, that his workroom had been cleaned, and with quick steps he hurried to the open door and pulled it shut, unable to bear the sight of the empty table in the middle of the room. He threw himself on his bed and pulled his pillow over his head, and tried his best to think of absolutely nothing at all.

Tom could get no sense of how much time was passing - but later, much later, he heard footsteps outside his room, and his parents voices, and he pulled the blanket up over him and lay as still as possible. His parents pushed open the door and came in.

"He's sleeping," Mum whispered. Footsteps approached his bed, and a cool hand - Mum's - stroked his hair.

"I hope we made an impression on him," Dad said, his voice low and grave.

"For all we know we've just made things worse," Mum said, and she drew a great shuddering gasp.

"Ginny?" Dad said, sounding alarmed and worried, and suddenly Mum was sobbing.

Tom felt his stomach clench. Mum was crying? Because of him? He couldn't remember ever seeing his Mum cry before.

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Dad asked softly.

"Tom was - he was such a Slytherin, today!"

"Tom will be just fine," Dad said quietly. "I trust him. He's still young; he hasn't yet learned self-control. But he's a good boy. As he gets older, I'm sure he'll learn to subdue his Slytherin impulses. He knows we love him."

"I hope you're right," Mum said, her voice wavering. "It was just - such a shock! Tom is so mature, and such a big help, usually! And I'm worried about Lily - I'm sure she'll have nightmares, Harry! - but I'm even more worried about Tom. About his... his Slytherin impulses. He's so quiet... sometimes I wonder what's going through his head. You don't think he'll be Sorted into Slytherin, do you?"

"It's too soon to worry about that," Dad said firmly. "And even if he is Sorted into Slytherin, I'm sure he'll be fine. Tom will know better than to let himself be influenced by his surroundings. Today he let his temper get the better of him, but he's still young. He knows the difference between right and wrong."

"I hope you're right, Harry," Mum said softly, and then the bed creaked and Tom felt her kiss him on the forehead. Her face was wet - from tears, Tom realized another clench of his stomach.

Several long minutes passed before Mum and Dad rose from the bed, and Tom listened as their footsteps made their way across the floor and the door swung shut behind them.

"Are you okay?" Julian's alarmed voice broke into Tom's thoughts. "You look really pale, and you - your eyes looked all funny for a while there. Are you sick?"

Disoriented, Tom stared at Julian for several moments in confusion before vigorously shaking his head. "Just a bad memory," he mumbled, and stared down at the shredded food on his plate.

"Are you sure there's nothing else you can do to try to prove that Medusa didn't do anything wrong?" Julian ventured after a minute or two.

It was a moment before Tom could remember what they had been talking about, but then he shook his head. "The Penseive idea is the only one that has any chance of working," he said, listlessly. "And Kenneth is too suspicious of me to be tricked into confessing." Tom closed his eyes, wishing he could stay in bed for the rest of the day and pretend he was still at home.

"Maybe... maybe I can help," Julian said hesitantly.

Tom opened his eyes, startled and disbelieving. "How?"

"Kenneth might confess what he did to me, if I manage to convince him that I've changed my mind about you...."

Tom stared at Julian, sudden hope budding. "Would you really do that for me?" he said, astonished.

Julian quickly glanced up and down the long table, then turned to Tom and nodded. "I can try," he said. "It might a day or two.... I don't want Kenneth to get suspicious of me, too. There are only a few days left until the Holidays, though... Maybe I can make it seem like I've reconsidered where my loyalties lie, now that I'm about to go home. Ignore me - or act like you're angry at me. Kenneth will believe me, I think."

"He will, definitely," Tom said, smiling in relief. "Kenneth's not nearly as clever as he likes to think he is." Tom hesitated. "But why - I mean, aren't you worried about the other Slytherins? Kenneth already has one of the Prefects on his side, and most of the House hates me. I -"

"The others won't dare give me trouble," Julian said, looking as stiff as he had when Tom had first met him. "Father is a powerful man, and our family is among the last of the Pure-bloods."

"Yes, but...." Tom trailed off. He'd been trying to get Julian on his side for weeks now - so why was he suddenly worrying about Julian's willingness to help him? It was just that... did Julian had some hidden reason for helping him out? Did he want something from him? Julian was unquestionably a Slytherin, as nice as he sometimes seemed....

"If you'd rather not have my help, of course -"

"No, of course I want your help!" Tom said hastily. "I just wanted to make sure you won't be making too much trouble for yourself by helping me. But if you're sure that you don't mind...."

"I'm sure," Julian said firmly.

Across the room, Tom saw Kenneth entering the Great Hall and walking towards the Slytherin table. "Kenneth's here," he said quickly. "Good luck - and thanks!" Tom gathered up his things, abandoning his half-eaten breakfast, and headed towards the Hufflepuff table. Halfway there, Kenneth caught his eye and sneered; Tom resisted the urge to smirk at him, and instead hurried towards Jennifer and Adam and the rest of the group, feeling more cheerful than he had in a long while.