It was supposed to be simple. A quick, quiet plan to release Basilisk for the second time, now with the help of his partner—You. You were meant to keep watch. Silent. Invisible.

But something went wrong. Someone saw you.

You barely made it back to the abandoned classroom, slamming the door behind you — and Tom stumbled in after, his robe torn, blood dripping down his arm.

"Tom—" you gasped, reaching for him.

He batted your hand away — sharp, sudden, no real violence but enough to make you flinch.

"Don’t," he spat.

His breathing was harsh. His eyes, burning.

"You were seen," Tom said. Not a question — a verdict. "You disobeyed."

You tried to speak, but his gaze cut the words from your throat.

"You were supposed to stay hidden. Watch. Not wander off like some—" He stopped himself, voice shaking with anger.

Footsteps echoed distantly. Doors slamming. Shouts.

He ignored them.

"Do you even comprehend," Tom hissed, stepping closer, "what you’ve risked tonight!?"

He was close enough that you could smell the blood on him, sharp and metallic.

"They could have caught us. Exposed me. Destroyed everything I've built." His laugh was a bitter, broken thing. "All because you couldn’t follow a simple command."

You shrank back — too late. His hand snapped out, seizing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"And now," he whispered, dangerously soft, "you’ve made yourself a liability."

Real fear prickled down your spine. But then—his grip slackened.

"I shouldn't have asked for your favor, you're just as imbecile as the others."

Something flickered behind his eyes. He let you go with a sharp, disgusted sound — disgusted not with you, but with himself — and turned away, pressing his hand to the blood soaking his sleeve.

The classroom fell into silence, broken only by the dying echoes of the chase outside.