Wands and Fireguns

Wool's orphanage- the blasted end of the skrewt. A world set in 1938, where there's a big chance you'll die of chickenpox, end up without a career or join the military forces! But that doesn't count for our female protagonist, Patsy Walters. Stuck in a house of misfits, life full ahead of her, what could possibly go wrong?

I'll give you a hint:

Tom Marvolo Riddle.


Warning: use of sailor mouths (Pat)

All rights reserved 24.04.2017.

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2. 02. Lavatory Exploits.

‘Get out.’

My mouth dropped open. I had expected him be angry. Boiling mad, even. Perhaps the lightning saved myself from the horror onto his chiselled face. But there he was, as cool as a cucumber. Throwing commands like he was the queen of England!

A mental image popped into my head of mister get-out-of-my-sight Riddle in a frilly off-the-shoulders ball gown with a big hoop skirt and a paper fan in his hand. I had to work hard to keep from laughing. His tone told me that wouldn’t have been a good idea. He didn’t seem the person who appreciated mirth, to put it mildly.

So instead of laughing at him, I did the next best thing; keeping my ground. I averted my eyes onto the open doorway, the sound of the cold wind rang through the corridor. Outside? Did a brick fall onto his head or something? That he was lucky to be made out of granite didn’t also count for the rest of the population of London. It was bloody Antarctica outside! Or at least, as I’ve heard a pedestrian complain about the siberian climate changes in the city. I shuddered slightly, only thinking about it made my hairs stand straight up.

Be sensible, I chided myself. A moment ago you were worried about getting killed by a figurative monster. Now you’ve been proven wrong. Problem solved.

‘Well?’ he said, after two or three seconds of silence. ‘I believe I already told you to get out.’

A pair of dark cold eyes were still directed my way, yanking me out of my rambunctious thoughts. I tried to look elsewhere, but that was harder than I thought. The only light that emerged from outside, now entirely lit up the face that I was trying to avoid. Damn window!  Blast the moon and her lunar cycle!

‘Actually, no,’ I blurted out, my voice coming out sharper than I had intended. ‘I was here first!’ 

‘I can see that,’ A few seconds of hesitation were implanted in the awkward silence. Then: ‘Walters… was it?’

My eyes grew wider. I was holding a bloody cloth to cover my body, and he wanted to hold a tea-party after scaring the death out of me!? The nerve of him! A source of blood rose to my cheeks. I was now only beginning to realise that I was practically naked. Naked! Infront of the other sex! If our father heard of this these sinfull actions, I would have to pray for forgiveness until I was on the brink of death. Like thirty. Thirty!

Unconciously I held the cloth like my life depended on it. And in some words, it did.

‘Why haven’t you left yet!?’

He regarded me with a raised eyebrow. ‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘Well,’ I felt more heat rising to my cheeks, if that was physically possible. I looked down at myself, trying to implicate I’m kind of under-dressed. ‘I uh… I mean, the amount of fabrics covering my body is preventing me from doing so.’

To my surprise I saw him not where he had been a moment ago. He had re-treated a few steps. The ice had gone out of his eyes, and he was standing in a slightly awkward position, his hands tugged into the pockets of his trousers as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

‘Um… here,’ he muttered. Pulling one of his hands out of the pocket, he grabbed something that had been lying onto the floor, unfortunately I couldn’t make out what the object was. He stepped forward. I stepped back.

‘Why were you here in the first place? It’s the middle of the night!’ One point for miss know-it-all! I bet he could make out the time, he wasn’t that daft. Okay. Perhaps he was a little smarter than that. Just a tiny little bit. Very tiny! Chauvinists hadn’t had a high capacity of braincells in their brains, which included every single male on the planet. If I could, I would walk over to the palace of Westminster and spray-paint with big words onto the doors: ‘Feminism forever!’ Only Mrs Cole wouldn’t let us roam the city around freely. I’d have to sneak out.. but if I left this house of misfits, I am very sure the bobbies would get their hands onto me in no time. And my legs don’t exactly run like an ascot horse…

To my surprise, I took in Tom Riddle holding out my nightdress towards me. His mouth formed an irritated scowl on his face, as I, had not yet taken it from him.

I should have been scared of him. Cowering in a corner, or fleeing the lavatories in a whip! The stories about Riddle, which ironically himself was a riddle too, lacked the words: ‘courageous’ and ‘gritty’ not for nothing. After little Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop stopped talking, Rikkard swore he had something to do with it. And I did not try to shove this thought aside and see the bright side of life, as our teacher Mr Meisner insists, because I wasn’t entirely sure if Tom Riddle even owned one.

‘If you are concerned about my intentions, do not worry. I have no desire to ruin a girl’s reputation, especially the reputation of a “Lady” who is not right in the head.’

If I had the right mind-set at the moment, I would have made a comment about female equality and that ruing others’ lives wasn’t something that should be on your bucket list. Only I didn’t. I was still too busy processing the ‘not-right-in-the-head’ comment. Not right in the head? Why? Because I take showers in the middle of the night? Because I wanted a say in the government of my country?

I’ll give him not right in the head!

‘Do you think Mrs Cole won’t throw you out? After this whole “epidemic” comes out?’ Okay. That was a little low, I admit it! But if Tom Riddle was going to threaten me out of my moment of peace, wasn’t I allowed to use the same ingredients?

His eyes, having perused line after line on the tiled flooring, froze. Then they snapped up to me. His face seemed not quite as expressionless as before. Silence hovered over the two of us, thick and heavy.

Finally he said: ‘She won’t.’

I arched my brows, since every time I tried to use one, the other one lifts up too. ‘How can you be so sure about that?’

‘Because if you don’t fancy learning how to swim face down in the Thames tonight, you’re not telling anyone. Not a living soul.’

All right… that answered my question pretty succinctly. My whole body felt cold all of the sudden, and not just because I wasn’t wearing any clothes. Darn! Was he being serious?

I looked into his eyes.

Yes, he was. Absolutely serious.

‘You… you wouldn’t dare!’ I managed to whisper.

‘Really?’ Raising his hand, he counted dispassionately. ‘Firstly, nobody knows what really happend except for you. The prove that this has occurred, does not exist.’

His lips didn’t curve into a derisive smile, but even without that I could hear the cold venom he put into that sentence.

He extended a second finger. ‘Secondly, I have very discreet-‘ It seemed as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind at the last moment. ‘…associates. It would be a marvel if your body was even found.’

Another finger. He caught my gaze with his, and held it. ‘Thirdly, look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me again I would not dare to get rid of you.’

Well, at least now I knew one thing. The rumors about the cause of Benson and Bishop’s silence, was now confirmed in my mind. He had done it. He didn’t spoke like someone who seemed to have trouble saying these words to someone, no, he was something else entirely.

‘Now as I said before,’ He said in a voice so low I almost didn’t catch it, ‘get out! Last chance, Walters.’

‘I…I…’ Dammit, what was happening to me? I could feel my whole body beginning to shake, and my eyes felt strange. They felt as if they were… wet. Oh no! No, no, no and no again! I was not going to cry like some little girl! Not in front of him. Not now. I was going to be brave and prove to him that I was just as good as he was and… and…

I started to cry.

I admit it, all right? I started to cry.

‘I.. I can’t,’ I sniffled, lowering my head and searching desperately for my nightgown. But they weren’t next to me anymore, no, they were still in the hands of the boy infront of me. Hurriedly, I tried to wipe away the tears with my arm before he could see them. ‘I’m not even dressed!’

I blinked up at him, breathing heavily. What was he going to do now?

My dress was thrown into my pretty little face, answering my question immediately. ‘Get on with it then!’

I nearly choked.

‘Err… Tom?’

A snarl escaped his lips. ‘What is it now?’

‘Um… I’m a girl.’

His gaze travelled up and down my figure, taking in the brown mob of hair that ended on top of my shoulders and various parts of my anatomy pushed together as I tried to conceil myself.

‘The fact is rather hard to overlook. Your point?’

I  bit my bottom-lip. Tyring very hard not to burst out laughing. ‘I wanted to ask- have you been paying attention during any of our classes?’

‘No. I detest Mr Meisner. Ever since I’ve figured out half the material they teach us is something I already knew. I’ve been far too busy with other business, anyway. Why?’

‘Because you seem a bit behind on human anatomy. You see... I told you that I’m female. And well, I know you think different of this matter, Tom, but I think you’ll might disagree once I let this towel drop down.’

There was a loud snap. When I looked, I saw that Tom was holding a bar of soap which now had been snapped in half under the sudden pressure of his fingers.

‘Then,’ he said in a very measured, calm voice, ‘please do not do it here.’

I nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘Why don’t you just do it somewhere else, then?’ Tom Riddle’s voice wasn’t quite as calm and collected as usual anymore. My, my. Was the great Tom Riddle at a loss? I had to hide my smirk.

‘Well, Tom, I checked, but to prevent showing god’s creations to rest of the orphanage, there’s only one solution.’

‘I can see your point.’

I cleared my throat. And again.

‘Do you have a cough, Walters?’ He asked uninterested.

I made an impolite gesture towards the boy down the sinks, as I grabbed my dress up from the floor. ‘Well what are you waiting for? Turn around!’

His eyes looked up sharply, reflecting through the mirrors. ‘Be quick about it.’ he muttered coldly, and finally, turned his back to me.

‘I shall do my very best,’ I answered sardonically.

I had just reached the last button of my dress when out of the corridor, on the opposite side of the children’s rooms, stepped a figure into the bathroom I remembered all too well: Martha, the orphanage worker stopped straight in her tracks at the sight that was revealed. Staring at Tom, and then at me, her mouth stood agape in shock.

Oh, and did I happen to mention she hadn’t known anything about my tonight’s leaving, until now?

Blast, blast, blast!

My dear wizards, witches and night-breakers,

What a situation Pat has worked herself into… :_)

I hope you are exited for the upcoming chapters, as much as I enjoyed writing them!

My apologies for not updating in the earlier appointed time, I simply hadn’t had my mind focused on writing at the moment.

But I will be back for more!

Yours truly,

Lady Dominique.

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