The Attempt
To Tom’s credit, he almost took Schofield’s advice, even if the other boy had been a total prat about it. He really didn’t like the idea of seeing that thing again, especially by himself. But at the same time, there was the feeling that he needed to go back, lodged under his skin like a splinter. Sometimes you just had to face your fears, and wasn’t that what being a Gryffindor was all about, really? Could he still call himself a Lion if he shied away from this? Tom wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to find out. So once he was sure all his dormmates were fast asleep – once it was either late enough or early enough that only the stars could be seen – he crept out of the Gryffindor common room and made his way to the Defense classroom.
And nearly jumped out of his skin upon seeing none other than Schofield leaning against the wall, as casual as if it were between classes, looking extraordinarily unimpressed.
“You bloody idiot,” he said. “I wish I were surprised. Typical Gryffindor.”
Tom blinked. He was not entirely sure he was not having a very peculiar dream. “I – Schofield?”
“Unfortunately,” Schofield said flatly.
“You – what are you –”
“Facing a boggart alone is ill-advised to start with,” Schofield said, his tone quiet but acidic. “In your case, it is the height of stupidity. I’d hoped you’d bring along some of your Housemates, at least – but that would have been too sensible for you, I suppose.”
Tom opened his mouth and closed it again.
Schofield sighed heavily. “Let’s get on with it, then.”
He pointed his wand at the door to the Defense classroom and it swung open silently. Tom goggled at it, then at him. “How did you –”
“I got through the wards while I was waiting for you,” Schofield said briskly. “Did you really think MacKenzie keeps his door unlocked?”
He rolled his eyes and went into the classroom without looking back at Tom, who followed him in, still a bit shell-shocked. Once the two were inside, Schofield pointed his wand at the door again, and it swung shut. The air around them seemed to distort oddly, as if it were very hot, though the classroom was as cold as Tom would expect. He shivered.
“One-way Silencing Charm,” Schofield said unprompted. “So nobody outside hears.”
That was – really clever, actually. “Why aren’t you in Ravenclaw?” Tom asked without thinking.
Schofield gave him a dark look.
“Because I’m a bloody idiot,” he said. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”
There were a lot of things Tom wanted to say to that, but he bit his tongue and shook his head. “Let’s just – get it over with,” he muttered.
Schofield nodded and pointed his wand at the wardrobe. “I’ll go first,” he said, and his tone brooked no argument.
The door to the wardrobe flew open and Tom took a step back as the boggart shot out. It landed in front of Schofield, once again a shapeless, colorless blob, before turning into –
Tom grimaced. The body of a young girl lay sprawled in front of Schofield, her neck at a horrific angle and her pale eyes wide and unseeing. Her dirty blonde hair fanned out around her head like a makeshift halo.
Schofield’s knuckles were white as they gripped his wand. His gaze darted toward Tom before going back to the corpse. “R-Riddikulus,” he spat, and the body transformed into a cheap fluorescent skeleton, the kind Muggles used to decorate for Halloween. Schofield scowled darkly at the pile of green, faintly glowing bones, then stepped back and looked at Tom.
“Now you,” he said.
Tom nodded and swallowed hard. He took a step forward and tried to steady himself as the boggart began to swirl and change. He was not afraid. He was not.
But then he was staring at that thing again, all white and wriggling and somehow staring at him without any eyes, and for a breathless moment he forgot everything except fear. He couldn’t move, or speak, or even breathe; he could only watch the thing as it came closer to him, slowly and inexorably.
It was going to get him. It was going to get him and all he could do was stand there, too frightened to run, even to scream –
Then Schofield was stepping in front of him and the boggart was the dead girl again, only this time it was far worse than just a broken neck. Tom thought he might be sick at the sight. He heard someone make a noise like a wounded animal, and then a voice said “Riddikulus” and the girl was whole again and laughing, before turning back into the colorless blob and rocketing back into the wardrobe with a loud bang.
Tom stood frozen, staring at where the thing had been and hyperventilating. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Schofield turning back to look at him.
“Blake?”
Tom took a shaky step backward – or tried to. His legs weren’t quite working, and folded underneath him like a house of cards. He found himself sitting on the cold stone floor with his legs splayed out in front of him and his head bent. His head ached and his eyes stung.
“You’re okay,” someone was saying. “You’re okay. Breathe, Blake. Just breathe.”
When Tom looked up it was to see Schofield sitting on the floor next to him.
“Here.” The other boy held out something wrapped in paper. Tom looked at it dazedly.
“Chocolate,” said Schofield. There was something oddly gentle in his face. “It’ll help.”
Tom’s face burned, and he shoved the chocolate away and buried his face in his arms.
Merlin, he probably looked a mess, shaking and crying like he was an effing first-year. And over what? A boggart? It was pathetic.
“Are you sure?” Schofield asked. Tom heard the paper rustling. “It’s good. Honeyduke’s.”
“Fuck off,” Tom muttered. Now the bastard was trying to be nice?
He heard Schofield hum. “Let’s make sure you can breathe on your own, first,” he said casually, sounding like his mouth was full. “Last chance for the chocolate.”
Tom squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, then sighed and reluctantly held out a hand. He felt cool fingers place a square of chocolate onto his palm.
“Thanks,” he muttered sullenly. He popped it into his mouth and was simultaneously relieved and dismayed to find that it was good.
“I – I tried making notes on how it looked,” Schofield said beside him. “Didn’t get much, but we can go off that first.” He sounded oddly subdued.
“Hmm.” Tom couldn’t find the energy for more of a response. His whole body felt immensely heavy, like it took all his effort just to keep from sinking into the floor. Christ, but he was pathetic.
He heard Schofield clear his throat. When he glanced up it was to see Schofield looking down at him with a hand outstretched.
“Come on,” the other boy said impatiently. “I know what will help.”
---
Schofield wouldn’t let Tom see which barrel he tapped in the hallway – “it’s a secret, Blake, that’s the point –“ but Tom’s annoyance was forgotten when he saw the Hufflepuff common room for the first time. It was a wide, round room with a low ceiling and an abundance of overstuffed, black-and-yellow couches. The view outside the round windows was studded with stars, and copper lamps cast everything in a warm, golden light. Nearly every flat surface was covered with plants. It reminded him of the Hobbit holes from The Lord of the Rings movies. It made him feel – safe. There were no wardrobes here, no dark corners, no misshapen white bundles. Tom let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
He was so busy looking around that the sudden pressure of something moving against his legs took him quite off guard, and he almost fell over – again.
A large, skinny cat was curled around his ankles and looking up at him. It was short-haired with sleek, silvery-blue fur and two different colored eyes – one a deep, vivid green, the other a bright, icy blue. Around its neck was a black collar with a silver pendant in the middle, though Tom could not make out the markings on it.
The cat looked at Tom suspiciously, its tail whipping back and forth. He had the feeling he was being – evaluated, perhaps.
“This is Tenny,” Schofield said. “My reason for being, if you asked her.” His dry tone was belied by the fond look on his face as he crouched down to scoop up the cat. Watching him, Tom realized with a jolt that it was the first time he had seen Schofield smile. Then in one smooth movement Schofield had placed the cat on his shoulders, and she balanced there with the ease of long practice, purring loudly.
“Tenny?”
“Short for – Hortensia,” Schofield said, looking faintly embarrassed. “Not my idea.”
“No, it’s a good name,” Tom said. “Um. D’you mind if I –?”
Schofield sent him a brief, evaluating gaze, looking much like Tenny had. Then he nodded, and said, “Be careful.”
Tom nodded and stepped a bit closer to Schofield, while Tenny, having apparently got over her initial suspicion of him, was leaning out from Schofield’s shoulder with a paw outstretched.
She batted him lightly on the head, and he heard Schofield make a little noise. It took a moment for him to realize it was a chuckle. Tom let Tenny sniff his hand delicately before she pushed her face against it, still purring loudly and with her eyes half-lidded.
“She likes you,” Schofield said. His eyes, when they looked at Tenny, were warm. “Would you like to hold her?”
Tom blinked. “You – are you sure?”
Schofield looked at him with narrowed eyes. “What, you don’t want to?”
“Didn’t say that,” Tom said quickly. “Um – sure. Yeah.”
Schofield nodded and took Tenny from his shoulders, cradling her in his arms like a baby.
“Make sure you support her back legs,” he said as he handed the cat to Tom.
Tom nodded and accepted the armful of cat, supporting her back legs with one arm while the other petted her.
“You can sit, if you’d like,” Schofield said, taking a seat himself on one of the overstuffed couches. He held himself stiffly, with his hands folded in his lap.
After a moment of awkward consideration, Tom took a seat on a chair facing Schofield. Tenny quickly made herself comfortable on his lap and curled up with her eyes closed. He continued to pet her, gently, and saw that the silver pendant around her neck was stamped with the image of a hydrangea. It seemed appropriate.
“Is she your only pet?” he asked softly, looking back up at Schofield. Schofield watched him for a moment, then shook his head.
“I’ve an owl as well,” he said quietly. “Evinrude. He lives in the Owlery with the others.”
Tom nodded and pushed aside the brief swell of envy at the thought of having two pets at Hogwarts – he only had the one, and she was a hand-me-down at that.
“I’ve an owl too,” he said. “Her name’s Myrtle. She was Joe’s first, and now she’s mine. Bit slow, but she gets the job done.”
Schofield nodded. “It’s a good name,” he said. “Is Joe your – brother?”
Tom blinked. “Joseph Blake,” he said, watching Schofield’s face for a sign of recognition. “Um. Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for six years? Head Boy? Top of, like, every class?”
Schofield’s face was blank. “I – I don’t really keep up with Quidditch,” he said awkwardly. “Um. Do you two – get on, then?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tom said, nodding. “I mean – we mess around a bit, but, y’know. He’s my brother.”
Schofield nodded, still looking a bit lost. “Is – is he like you?”
“A bit,” Tom said offhandedly. “But I mean – he got NEWTs in everything, so. Boggarts were probably a walk in the park for him.”
The words came out more bitter than he’d intended. He could feel Schofield watching him, so he ducked his head down and petted Tenny for a long while.
After a moment he heard Schofield clear his throat.
“I, um,” he said, and his voice was uncertain in a way it had not been before. “I know – it can be hard when other people have – expectations for you.”
Tom glanced up, but Schofield was no longer looking at him.
“Yeah,” he eventually said. “It can be.”
“He,” Schofield added, “he might have a simpler boggart, too. Clowns or something – not whatever the fuck that was.”
Tom snorted. “I do recall a birthday clown that scared the piss out of him,” he said contemplatively. “Poor judgment on my mum’s part. He was eight, to be fair.”
Schofield chuckled again, and the sound was surprisingly pleasant.
The two of them sat there for what felt like a long time, in a comfortable silence. The only sound that could be heard was Tenny purring as she lay in Tom’s lap.
Finally, however, Tom stifled a yawn.
“I should probably get back,” he said, a bit reluctantly. He did not fancy the thought of sneaking back through the dark and labyrinthine castle, but he shuddered at what might happen if he were caught in the ‘Puff common room. “I – thanks, for this. Really.”
Schofield glanced over at him. His expression was unreadable.
“It’s nothing,” he said, but his voice lacked bite. “Tenny’s good at – helping.”
So are you, Tom abruptly wanted to say. But he stayed quiet. Perhaps he was more of a coward than he’d thought.
“She is,” he said instead, carefully gathering the cat into his arms and standing up. He handed Tenny over to Schofield, who took her with a look of relief on his face. The cat let out a sleepy mrrp and opened one eye, looking irritably at the two of them.
“Just me again, sorry,” Schofield told her. His voice was soft, as were his eyes. And this time, when he looked up at Tom, they remained so.
“Good luck getting back,” he said. “And get some sleep. Morgana knows you need it.”
Tom couldn’t help the small smile. “Alright, mum,” he muttered, just to see Schofield roll his eyes. “See you later.”
At the entrance to the common room he looked back once. Schofield was still on the couch, but he had curled up against one end, his eyes fixed on Tenny. In the dim light, and without his usual sour expression, he looked very young.
Tom’s gut twisted when he remembered the form the other boy’s boggart had taken.
“Hey, Scho?” he said, without thinking.
Schofield startled and sat straight up. Wariness battled with exhaustion in his face.
“What is it?”
Tom hesitated, then swallowed what he’d wanted to say and managed a smile. “Goodnight.”
As he turned to leave, he heard a faint reply: “Goodnight, Blake.”
Then he crept out of the common room and made his slow, silent way back to the Fat Lady.