Chapter 3
Two hours of painfully long explanations later, Tommy was ready to pass out. So he did. After, of course, he took another Sleeping Draught from his lovely healer Miriam.
He awoke to Dumbledore at his bedside and Miriam wearing a cheery smile, still feeling oddly calm. She tapped her fingers together and smiled brightly at him. "You're free to go. Your bones are all healed, and they should have no problems at all. Your hands will twitch and shake for a while after this, but it'll wear off eventually."
Tommy offered her a comforting smile. "It's okay, miss. My hands always shake. It's nothing I can't handle."
With that, Tommy and Dumbledore were ushered out of the ward, and the two now stood in a hallway covered with doors and paintings. Tommy glanced at one and almost screamed when it winked at him. He backed away from the painting and Dumbledore chuckled, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. "I forgot to mention, paintings of wizards are magical. They move around and talk. We have many of them in Hogwarts, so you may as well get used to it now."
Tommy looked back at the painting in awe, nervously waving in its direction and lighting up when the witch took a deep bow in return. Some paintings were empty and one of Tommy’s favourites had exactly thirteen wizards crammed into one small frame, conversing jovially.
Dumbledore led Tommy down a stairway and the two descended towards the ground floor. Dumbledore was the first to speak. "So, Tommy. You have no place to go and no memory of where you are from, so you cannot go back until you remember." Tommy jerked to a stop. "I know where I'm from. I think I can remember most of it now."
Dumbledore paused and looked back at Tommy. "But do you want to go back?" Tommy slowly met his eyes. "I- Prime, no. I'll have to-" His breath faltered, and a white mask became far too clear. "Just...no. I don't think anyone there was- of the magical sort, anyways." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I can't stay here though, can I?"
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "Well, if you attended Hogwarts you could. It's a school for people like you and me, and I believe you're of the right age to attend as a fifth-year, though it would require a large amount of studying to catch you up to level. You're sixteen, correct?"
Tommy's eyes widened. "Yes, but- how'd you know?" Dumbledore smiled and shrugged. "It was a lucky guess. In that case, you'd be the same age as young Harry. You'll have a lot of catching up to do. I have a friend you can house with for the time being...you don't mind dogs, do you?"
-
The transportation there was...rough. Dumbledore had placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder, who had flinched in response, the two had apparated and Tommy nearly had a panic attack. He felt as if he was being forced into a cramped room, squeezed from all directions and jostled around until the two just teleported into a small, grassy patch, surrounded by darkened streetlights. Tommy fell to his knees and sucked in jagged breaths, ripping damp grass from the ground.
Dumbledore waited patiently before helping him up and leading him down a road. As they walked, Dumbledore flicked open a lighter and clicked the trigger. An eerie whistling noise sprouted from the tip and glowing orbs of light detached themselves from lamps down the whole street with a quiet pop, wriggling into the lighter.
They walked through this patch of darkness before stopping in front of a house that absolutely reeked, in Tommy's opinion, courtesy of the overflowing trash bags parked conveniently under his nose. Dumbledore flicked his wand - he'd taught the blonde all about those - and it emitted a soft, pulsing light, illuminating a small piece of parchment held delicately in the headmaster's free hand. Dumbledore looked down at Tommy. "Read it quickly and memorize it all. Do not repeat it."
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
Tommy gave him a curt nod and the paper immediately burst into flame, bright embers floating away into the night. Dumbledore pointed at the two houses, labelled 11 and 13. Tommy looked up at him quizzically. "There's no...it's not there?" Dumbledore nodded. "That's precisely what it's supposed to look like. Now, with what you've memorized, repeat that in your head."
Tommy did as he was told and gaped as a house slid out between 11 and 13, pushing the two aside. It wasn't the nicest-looking house; dark peeling paint coated the walls and the windows were stained black with grime and dirt, but Tommy supposed it couldn't be kept in pristine condition while staying hidden.
Dumbledore opened a scuffed door and it creaked eerily, introducing light for what seemed to be the first time in years onto a dusty hallway. Dirty paintings lined the corridor and Tommy stepped in carefully, almost pulling back when the hairs on the back of his neck raised and a sense of dread flowed over him. He fell back behind Dumbledore and skirted around the strangest umbrella holder he'd ever seen, climbing the stairs and opening a door into a dusty living room. His eyes flickered around the room by force of habit, analyzing potential weapons, methods of escape- and he caught himself because even with the heavy feeling pressing on his shoulders, he felt safer than he ever had.
A scruffy dog lay, panting, in front of a crackling fireplace and its head raised as it saw Dumbledore, tail thumping quietly against the floor. When Tommy met its eyes, its hackles rose and it growled quietly, slowly standing up. The headmaster led Tommy forward with a gentle hand, and the dog relaxed. "Sirius, I'd like you to meet Tommy. He's with me." Tommy waved nervously and the dog sat down, tilting his head.
"Yes, Sirius. He can be trusted." And in a graceful gesture, the dog's body grew upwards, shorter and thinner, and clothes burst out of its fur. Standing before the two was no longer a dog, but a man. He had curly shoulder-length brown hair, a trimmed moustache, and wore a green collared button-up shirt, black pants, and black shoes. Tommy thought that he almost matched the house in some strange way, though his cleanliness stood out against the dingy surroundings.
The man - Sirius - extended a hand towards Tommy and the blonde flinched, looking awkwardly at the man. His mind lit up with a gesture he'd seen before; Wilbur shaking Dream's hand with a bitter expression plastered on his face. Tommy shook Sirius's hand firmly and the man's eyebrows raised. "Strong grip you've got there."
Tommy retracted his hand, pulling it to his side. "I didn't mean to. Sorry." Sirius offered a reassuring smile and Dumbledore's hand was on Tommy's shoulder. "Sirius will show you to your room. I have matters to attend to back at the Ministry. Don't get into too much trouble, Mr. Innit." With that, a sweep of his robe, and a gentle slam of the door, Dumbledore was gone and Tommy was left half-gaping at the spot where he was standing.
How did he know my name?