Tom Has To Deal With Yet Another Shrink
Tom did not care that Hermione had not shown up in a week. That is what he told himself, at least. His reaction to Hermione that day was rational. This was just how he behaved— he was protective of all his property. He never cared that he hurt others because of his overprotectiveness, anger, or anything, but strangely, when Hermione looked confused, and her brown eyes widened with shock— he wanted to explain himself. He felt the urge to understand her reaction, and he had wanted to understand his own as well.
But that was in the past, and Tom did not dwell on the past.
One day, a very tedious and long day, a letter slipped beneath his door. It was from none other than Hermione Jean Granger. Tom spared no time tearing it open and spilling the contents on the floor; there was a bookmark, stamps, and a slip of paper. He scanned the letter with a bored expression, not surprised at Hermione’s lackluster apology.
Tom decided he would not write back and let her stew instead. She would return either way— whether it be for her puppy love or yearning for knowledge. He could tell the effect he had, not only on her but on other girls. It was attraction. They glanced at him many times, believing their stares were inconspicuous, but Tom could feel his body setting alight from the holes they burned in his head. He let them, but only because he had no idea how to react. Was he supposed to swat them away like flies? Or let them continue basking in his glory?
True to his word, Tom never wrote back, expecting Hermione to appear outside his room one day and resume their hangouts as usual, like he had not spurned her for the entire month. When Mrs. Cole knocked on his door and told him he had a visitor, he was ashamed of how he dashed to the door, hoping that behind it stood a girl with rat nest hair, prepared to deliver a tirade about her private school or another rich person problem.
Instead, he was sorely disappointed to find a shrink. Tom had seen enough doctors and psychologists to last a lifetime. They were all the same, always finding an excuse to leave when they could not store him away in the abandonment and trauma folder they used for all the other orphans. He only had one fond memory of a shrink. As one of his psychologists left his room after a one-hour session of silence, Tom split the behind of his pants, having them tear down the center and showing tighty-whities ten times too small for him. He fell down the stairs trying to hide it and, from what he gathered, broke a hip along the way. It served the lump right for getting paid to sit on his ass.
When Tom saw the shrink he had to deal with now, he was mildly surprised. He looked like he was about to perform a magic show, not discuss depression. The man wore a flamboyantly cut suit colored between velvet and plum. It looked like he had gotten dressed in the dark. Maybe he was blind? Tom could believe it with his old age and pale eyes.
There was something else about the man Tom noticed, even more than his horrid fashion sense. It emanated from him in waves, something he doubted Mrs. Cole, or any other ordinary person, would catch. But Tom did. It was powerful and strange.
“How do you do, Tom?” the man asked. The door closed behind him as he entered the room. Tom let him sit on his bed while he sat at his desk chair.
“You’re the doctor, aren’t you?” He replied, already knowing the answer. What else could he be?
“No.” Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man would say he was a psychologist then.
“I’m a professor.” His eyebrows raised. Tom's professors never dressed like this. They wore boring gray suits and babbled for hours with their jowls flapping.
"I don’t believe you.” He replied. “She wants me looked at. They think I’m... Different.” He expected the man to try to pick his brain and ask if he felt abandoned or alone now.
“Well, perhaps they’re right.” At first, he was surprised by the response but quickly lapped back in retaliation.
“I’m not mad.” He spoke, unable to hide his annoyance and not caring too.
“Hogwarts is not a place for mad people.” The man said. Tom went from annoyed to confused. Hogwarts? What was Hogwarts?
“Hogwarts is a school. A school for magic.” The professor responded as if reading his mind, and his eyes widened. How was it possible this stranger knew he had magic? He jutted his chin, examining the man and his strange outfit. Now that he thought about it, he was the textbook definition of a wizard.
“You can do things, can’t you Tom? Things other children can’t.” He felt a bit of pride when he said that, as if he was confirming his superiority.
“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them.” He paused.
“I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt... If I want.” The man only stared— in surprise or amusement— he did not know.
“Who are you?” He questioned.
“Well, I’m like you Tom. I’m different.” Tom was aiming for a name, but this would suffice.
“Prove it.”
And he did. Tom’s wardrobe was set ablaze in orange and yellow, the entire body consumed with fire. He was in awe— Tom had sensed this man was powerful, and he was right.
“I think there’s something in your wardrobe trying to get out, Tom.” Tom strode to the furniture and opened its door, knowing the flame would not hurt him. Inside was his box of trinkets filled with stolen children's toys. They were untouched, tucked away for safekeeping. They were little spoils of war. When the wardrobe closed, the fire went out like a bulb.
“Stealing is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom. At Hogwarts, you will not only be taught how to use magic, but how to control it. Do you understand me?” Tom stared at him with a mix of awe, fear, and irritation. When he did not respond, the man began to leave.
“I can speak to snakes too.” He said as the man was halfway through the door. It was a last-minute thought, almost unimportant.
“They find me, whisper things. Is that normal for someone like me?” This time, the man seemed to be the one in shock. He paused, smoothing his features.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He nodded with a twinkle in his eye before leaving and filling the room with silence.
Nobody could tell by his appearance, but Tom was over the moon.