Fanfic: Training Thomas by Antonie (Read for Free, 1,332,114 Clicks)

Description: 4th year. After his partner Salazar Slytherin got poisoned by Dumbledore which left him paralyzed, Gryffindor’s life had turned into a mess- and when some members of his inner circle drunkenly propose a bet for him to train Voldemort, who is forced to work in a shady pub in London after no orphanage wants him anymore, Gryffindor sees an opportunity to not only make Salazar happy by taking his heir in, but also win everyone’s admiration for doing what no one thinks is possible: Training the wild, undisciplined boy and turning him into a good boy. Unfortunately, training the boy turns out to be more difficult than expected, and Dumbledore is still pulling the strings in the background, ready to destroy everyone’s happiness once again. Father/ Son, H/C, WARNING: SPANKING/ CP

Characters: Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceGodric Gryffindor/Salazar SlytherinGodric Gryffindor Salazar Slytherin Tom Riddle | Voldemort Sirius Black Albus DumbledoreNon-Consensual Spanking Spanking Humiliation Public Humiliation Godric Gryffindor/ Sirius Black Father/ Son Godric Gryffindor/ Voldemort Father/ Son Father-Son Relationship Brother relationship Voldemort is not being a good boy corner time Degradation Emotional Hurt/Comfort Happy Ending (just not for Dumbledore) Fluff and Angst De-Aged Sirius Black Corporal Punishment Fluff

Summary: Summary:

4th year. After his partner Salazar Slytherin got poisoned by Dumbledore which left him paralyzed, Gryffindor’s life had turned into a mess- and when some members of his inner circle drunkenly propose a bet for him to train Voldemort, who is forced to work in a shady pub in London after no orphanage wants him anymore, Gryffindor sees an opportunity to not only make Salazar happy by taking his heir in, but also win everyone’s admiration for doing what no one thinks is possible: Training the wild, undisciplined boy and turning him into a good boy. Unfortunately, training the boy turns out to be more difficult than expected, and Dumbledore is still pulling the strings in the background, ready to destroy everyone’s happiness once again. Father/ Son, H/C, WARNING: SPANKING/ CP

Notes:

Chapter 1: Proposition

Chapter Text
Hey you all! 🙂 I am back with the next TT story 😀
Hope you like the beginning!
This story will have SPANKING/ CP in it, just putting that up here as a warning. I am planning to write 15 chapters 🙂
“More¡­Elderflower wine, Master Gryffindor?”, the hand of the small house elf was trembling as he offered the Founder another glass. Just like everyone else, he was scared to death of Godric Gryffindor, and the elf?hated?these events where they were forced to serve the Founder and his inner circle for hours and hours a night.
“Go ahead, elf”, Gryffindor casually held out his glass, barely looking at the house elf while he was listening to something one of the other men said. It seemed to have been funny because soon everyone was laughing and cheering, and the small elf, whose name was Sonny, gladly escaped back to the kitchen after he had finished pouring the Elderflower wine.
The kitchen was as busy as always, more than a dozen house elves were running around like crazy, and Sonny hurried to help cleaning the dishes from the main course which were piling up in the sink.
“Hurry, hurry!”, the elf in charge, Juniper, was screeching, and Sonny tried to work even faster- even though he was exhausted from running back and forth for more than three hours already.
As soon as he was done cleaning the dishes, he grabbed another bottle of wine and went back out to the party. Tonight, he and the other elves had to serve about thirty men, all members of Gryffindor’s inner circle. They met about once a month at the extravagant guest house Gryffindor owned, it was called?Gryffindor Mansion?and was part of Godric Gryffindor’s estate.
Sonny did not envy the house elves who had to work at?Gryffindor Castle,?or even worse,?Gryffindor Manor, where the Founder lived with his family, he had heard enough stories about the cruelty and mercilessness of Godric Gryffindor to stay far away from there.
It was almost time for the dessert, a chocolate mousse with an assortment of fresh berries, and Sonny’s mouth watered looking at the plates with dessert. To be as rich as Godric Gryffindor- what a dream come true that must be¡­
He did not have time to dawdle though, so he dutifully refilled the wine glasses, trying to be as quick and efficient as possible. House elves as these parties had gotten fired for the smallest, most ridiculous infractions, and Sonny was determined not to be one of them.
More laughter, most of the men were pretty drunk already, and since the alcohol was free, provided by Godric Gryffindor, almost all of the men drank more than they should.
Sonny helped serving the dessert, his glance moving to the abandoned chair at the head of the table- the chair next to Godric Gryffindor had been empty for the last couple of meetings, since Salazar Slytherin was unable to attend anymore.
The house elf stifled a sigh, remembering how much nicer these events used to be when Slytherin had been here, how kind and friendly he had been to the elves, always making sure they took breaks to drink water, and getting all of the leftovers to eat. Now, no one gave a damn if they ate or drank, and there were no breaks- he was lucky if the party was over before the early morning, but even then there was no time to relax, they had to clean up, wash the dishes, put the food away, organize the kitchen¡­he would probably not be able to sleep until noon.
“How is Master Slytherin doing, Sir?”, one of the men now asked respectfully, holding a glass of whiskey.
Sonny’s ears instantly perked up, and he moved closer with the dessert plates to be able to listen to the conversation.
Gryffindor frowned, “same as always”, he eventually replied curtly, “he is improving, and we are very grateful for that.”
It sounded memorized, but it was not Sonny’s place to make any comments like that- or?any?comments.
“Any¡­time frame by when he will be able to attend again?”, someone else asked, Sonny knew he was one of Gryffindor’s closer friends, therefore, he could use that kind of tone with the Founder. Most people could not, though.
“We are hoping he will be better soon”, Gryffindor responded vaguely, taking a sip of his wine, “my sons are¡­a big help in that matter.”
And right on cue, the door opened and in walked the two sons of Gryffindor- Aurelius, the oldest, who was sixteen years old, and behind him Sirius, the ten year old.
Sonny knew, just like everyone else did, that the Founders had adopted Sirius after he they deaged him to give him some kind of second chance- no one knew the details about that- and after Dumbledore had gotten arrested and sent to Azkaban for trying to kill Salazar Slytherin, they had taken Sirius out of Hogwarts, where he had just started, and he was now being home schooled.
Aurelius, dressed in an elegant dark red suit with a matching tie looked like the spitting image of his father- he was a serious, intelligent boy who did not care much for parties or any other celebration- Sonny was certain he had never seen the boy smile. Not once. Sirius was more outgoing, and he always had a glint of mischief in his hazelnut-brown eyes, but after his Dad had gotten ill from Dumbledore’s failed attempt to poison him, he had gotten a lot more subdued.
Both boys went straight to their father, and Gryffindor looked at them with obvious approval. They were both dressed elegantly, and they were ridiculously handsome with their aristocratic features, their golden- brown hair, and their perfectly white teeth.
“It is good to see you, Father”, Sonny heard Aurelius say, “have you had time to negotiate the amendments to Wilkins’ contract?”
Sonny knew that Aurelius had stepped up to take more responsibility after his dad had gotten sick, and the house elf often wondered if that was the reason why the boy always looked pale and overworked.
“I have- I will show you the revised contract tomorrow”, Gryffindor looked at his oldest, raising an eyebrow, “how has your brother been?”
Aurelius’ expression softened, “he has been good- I did not need to discipline him at all today”, and he gently raked a hand through Sirius’ hair, who was standing absolutely still, his head bowed down.
“What about his work?”
Aurelius hesitated for the fraction of a second, “everything is done, Father. He is right on track”, Sonny could tell the boy was lying, but Gryffindor either did not notice or did not care.
“Good- it is getting late. Make sure Sirius takes a bath tonight- and I want him to spend at least two hours on his arithmetic tomorrow.”
Aurelius nodded, “yes, Father.”
Sirius was still standing quietly next to his brother and father, and Sonny felt a rush of sympathy for the small boy. He was not allowed to talk out of turn, he always had to hold his brother’s hand when going somewhere, and Sonny knew he was forced to spend most of his time studying.
“Eyes up, Sirius.”
The boy obeyed instantly, looking right at his father.
“I have tickets for the Quidditch game this weekend- and I will take you if I do not hear any complaints from your brother until then. Do you know what that means, Sirius?”, his voice was calm, but had an edge to it.
“Yes, Father”, Sirius replied, “I have to¡­behave.”
“Precisely- and if I find out you have not, we’ll have another?discussion?about obedience- but I am certain that won’t be necessary, right, Sirius?”
The boy swallowed, and for a second, he looked terrified, “no, Father- I’ll be good. I would like to see the game this weekend.”
Gryffindor smiled, but it did not reach his eyes, “I know. You are my good boy, aren’t you, Sirius?”
“Yes, Father”, the boy answered, but to Sonny, it did not sound very convincing.

Poor kid.

“Well, as I said, it is getting late- I will see you both tomorrow. Have a good night, boys.”
“Good night, Father”, they answered in unison, and then Sonny watched them leave the room.
Some of the men had been listening to their interaction, and now one of them spoke up, “your sons are extremely well behaved, Sir”, he said in awe, “and very well mannered, if you allow me the comment.”
“I agree!”, another man chimed in, “how do you do it, Sir? I have a teenager, too- but he barely ever talks to me.”
Gryffindor leaned back, taking another sip of his wine, “it’s all about training them right- having a son who is rude, lazy, and stubborn simply won’t do- and they both know what I expect from them. They wouldn’t dare to?ever?disobey me.”

Poor boys.

Sonny kept his thoughts to himself though, busily serving more wine with the dessert.
Another man suddenly laughed, “you know, I know a boy who could do with a little bit of that training you are talking about, Sir.”
“And who would that be?”
“That Tom kid- the boy who used to be the Big, Bad Lord Voldemort.”
Some of the men who had been listening started to laugh, “him? You are out of your mind, Jones!”, one of them sneered, “that boy is more of an?animal?than a kid- last thing I heard is that he is living in some burnt out cottage, without any water or functioning furniture!”
“I heard he got kicked out of every orphanage in the country for being as insufferable as can be.”
“Heard the same thing- and he ran away from every foster family, too, the ungrateful little bastard.”
“It’s a shame he couldn’t be send to Azkaban- pulling that deaging stunt to get out of prison¡­what a cunning asshole.”
There were loud murmurs of agreement, and Gryffindor listened, absently playing with his wine glass. His expression did not betray any emotion.
“At least he won’t be able to perform any of his?magic?anymore”, Jones now said, sounding spiteful, “we have to thank you for that, Sir.”
Gryffindor smiled, “you are quite welcome”, his tone was arrogant, and Sonny who was busy cleaning some spilled whiskey on the floor, stiffened. He did not like the way Gryffindor treated everyone like they were below him.
He kept listening to their conversation, interested in where this was going. Like all house elves, he despised Voldemort- he had treated every one of them like dirt, way worse than Gryffindor ever had, and Sonny knew an elf who had been tortured almost to insanity simply for asking the same question twice- and of course, his own siblings¡­no, he was not going there right now.
He was grateful that Voldemort was not a threat anymore- after the Founders had allied with Dumbledore to win the war, most of the Death Eaters had been sent to Azkaban, some were dead, and some, like Snape and Lucius Malfoy, had arranged a deal with the Ministry. Voldemort had been clever enough to avoid Azkaban by deaging himself, and since Gryffindor had felt he needed some kind of punishment, he had taken his magical abilities from him- the boy was not even able to perform a?Lumos?spell anymore, which had effectively turned him into a Squib.
Sonny knew that Gryffindor had sent Voldemort to some orphanage somewhere by the coast, but the boy had run away from there after only one day- and since then, it was a running joke for the?Daily Prophet?to guess how long he would stay at the next one. No one felt sorry for the boy, but the mocking and the sneering when another foster family had kicked him out had increased over time, and since no orphanage and no family wanted him anymore, he was forced to work now so he could eat.
Last thing Sonny heard was that he was working as some kind of waiter in a shady pub in downtown London- if they had not kicked him to the curb as well by now. It would certainly not surprise him.
Jones raised his glass, he was clearly drunk, “as I’m saying- that rat of a boy could need some training, and it’s a damn shame he got off so easily.”
More murmurs of agreement, and some men actually cheered.
“Well, you certainly cannot expect Master Gryffindor to waste his time training that useless piece of shit”, another man added, a sly grin on his face, “it would be impossible anyways.”
Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, “would it now? You don’t think I could turn him into an obedient little boy like my sons are, Smith?”
Smith shrugged, his grin widening, “with all due respect, Sir- but there is no way this¡­brat?would ever be obedient. He’s too wild.”
“Why don’t we make it a bet?”, a man named Huntington suggested, “make it an official thing.”
Gryffindor actually laughed, “you want to make a bet? Fine- I’ll bet with you”, his dark blue eyes were sparkling with amusement, “give me one month- and the boy will worship the ground I am walking on, just like my sons do.”
Some men whistled, an air of excitement filling the room, “I’ll bet a hundred it’s impossible!”, Smith hollered, throwing a bill on the table, “there’s no way!”
Some men heartily agreed, and more money got pulled out.
“I’ll bet a hundred as well!”
“Two hundred!”
Jones smirked, “I am betting against you- I think Master Gryffindor can do whatever he plans to do- that boy better watches out!”, and he slammed a bill on the table, “two hundred in favor!”
Sonny’s eyes went wide, but he did not dare to say anything. He secretly thought that this was rather cruel- but then, it was against Voldemort, so…it was nothing but justice.
Huntington had gotten out a notepad and a pen and was busy writing the names and numbers down, “so, one month- which means you have to bring him to the next meeting, Sir, so we can see the miracle with our very own eyes.”
Some men laughed at that, and Gryffindor took a sip of his wine, looking completely unaffected, “very well- I shall bring him here for you to see- and he will obey every command I am giving him, you can be certain of that”, he took another sip, and then he got up, “I should probably go get my boy- time is ticking, right?”, he sounded sarcastic.
More laughter, “good luck with that, he’ll probably throw a fit when he sees you, Sir!”, Smith said, it did not sound very respectful, the alcohol made him talk more freely, “cannot wait for our next meeting!”
Everyone agreed, and Gryffindor just tilted his head, and then he left the room, quietly humming to himself as he walked down the enormous hallway. Gryffindor Mansion was significantly smaller than Gryffindor Manor- and by significantly, it meant it had about fifty rooms instead of two hundred- but it was a nice little place to use for dinners and parties like this one tonight.
He kept walking, secretly pleased with how this had turned out- Salazar had been bothering him for weeks to take the boy in, to help him, since he was his heir- but he had always refused. Why would he want to spend his time discipling a criminal? He had better things to do- like making sure Salazar got better, and keeping Hogwarts under control, and all the work at the Ministry, and his sons, and the trials against the Death Eaters¡­he really had enough on his plate, but he knew this would make Salazar happy, and since they had been arguing quite a lot lately, it was exactly what they needed.
It would be easy to bribe the boy into behaving for one night, to blackmail him- but Gryffindor planned to do this the right way. He would not take the risk of the boy suddenly changing his mind at the meeting, embarrassing him in front of his inner circle. No, he would make sure the boy was so terrified of him by then that it would not even cross his mind to disobey.
And after the meeting was over, he would get rid of him- maybe by sending him to some fancy boarding school, somewhere far, far away.
He smiled to himself, satisfied with his plan. He would win everyone’s admiration by turning the wild, obstinate Voldemort into an obedient little boy, Salazar would be pleased, and if he was being honest with himself, he would not mind showing the boy his place- he would be the perfect punching bag for all the crap that had been going on in his life lately- first Dumbledore’s betrayal and his attack on Salazar, Salazar’s illness, all the extra work he had now, the pressure from Fudge¡­and the list went on.
Obviously, he could not tell the boy about the bet- he had to trick him somehow into coming with him¡­maybe by telling him that Salazar wanted him to come home with him because he was his heir, and that was not even a lie. He could even offer the boy something in return, and once he had made him sign a magical contract, there would be no way back- he would be able to keep the boy for a month, doing whatever he wanted with him.
This would be easy.?Very?easy.
There was a soft whimper, followed by another, louder whimper.
“You hungry, Bacon?”
More whimpering.
“I know¡­”, the boy, who was about thirteen years old sighed, petting the dog gently on his head, “me too. It’s been raining, so most people stay home and don’t go out to eat. Sucks for us, cause it means even less food¡­and sometimes they only come in for a drink, those are the worst.”
Bacon whimpered in agreement, and the boy smiled, “I think I have another biscuit in the emergency can- let me look”, he slowly got up the filthy looking mattress he had been laying on, and walked over to a dusty shelf, “I knew it- one more biscuit!”, he took the biscuit out of the can, and then, after a second of hesitation, gave it to Bacon, “eat up- you need it. You’re all skin and bones.”
The dog merely sniffed at the stale biscuit, and then he looked up to the boy, whimpering again.
“Eat up, Bacon”, the boy repeated, but again, the dog made no attempt to eat.
“You wanna share again?”, the boy guessed, smiling broadly.
The puppy barked.
“Fine- we’ll share, but you get the bigger piece”, he kneeled down, breaking the biscuit into two pieces, “eat that, okay?”
Bacon barked again, and then he ate his half in one bite, while the boy took his time. He knew he had to eat slowly, his stomach was not used to big portions anymore, so if he ate too quickly, he would throw up.
“Hopefully, there won’t be no rain tomorrow”, the boy now said, walking back to the dirty mattress on the floor, “we need a little more, and then we’ll be able to leave and find a place on a farm or something. You could be a guard dog, or you could help herd the sheep maybe.”
Bacon listened intently, he enjoyed talking about the future- a future that did not involve this disgusting little room above the pub where his owner worked all night every night.
The pub belonged to a shady guy named Giles, he did not dare to let Tom work during the day because he was afraid to lose his license, but at night, when everyone was drunk and no one cared, he let him slave around in the kitchen. After the pub closed, Tom was responsible for mopping the floors, cleaning the tables, and scrubbing the bathrooms, and since Giles never bothered to help him, Tom often had to work until six or seven in the morning.
Giles was also cheap- he never shared the tips with Tom, and he paid him less than minimum wage, but he got the leftovers from the food the guests had not eaten, and he was allowed to keep Bacon in the room upstairs with him. Giles charged him rent for it, but Tom usually covered that by working overtime during the weekends.
He had been relieved to even find a place to sleep, after the last foster family had kicked him out, no one had wanted to take him in anymore- not that he cared, he liked being by himself. He did not need a family.
After sleeping on the streets of Muggle London for about a week, he had run into Bacon under a bridge, the black Labrador puppy in even worse shape than him- he had been malnourished, and there had been a wound on his leg, it had looked like someone had tried to stab the small animal. Tom had cleaned the wound as good as he could, and shared his food with the dog who he had named Bacon- after his favorite breakfast food, something he had not had in a very long time.
Bacon was loyal, always happy to see him, and he protected him- what more could he want? Tom had always liked animals, because they were easier than people, and they never judged him for what he had done.
He tried to sleep, but since his tummy was still mostly empty, it was hard- so after a while, he got back up, groaning. He did not have a clock, but he always counted when the church bell rang- so he knew it was close to midnight. The pub was still open, but Giles had sent him away, frustrated by the lack of customers.

Maybe someone came in the meantime- maybe there’s some leftovers now.

Tom longed for some meat- some protein, and some potatoes, something that would fill him up good, that would make him sleep at night¡­
He quietly went back downstairs, and Bacon howled in misery. He hated being alone in the small room, but Tom knew that Giles would fire him if he brought the dog down. Thankfully, there were some customers now, an elderly man drinking a beer at the bar, and a giggling group of three women at a table in the back, all of them clearly drunk.
Giles looked at him with his usual expression of contempt, “go make some burgers, boy”, he ordered, “and don’t even think of taking some like last time- I counted, you little thief.”
Tom swallowed hard, nodding, and then he took off to the kitchen. He had only taken something one time- he had been so hungry he had felt dizzy, so while he had cooked some burgers, he had taken some of the meat, and some vegetables¡­but Giles had found out, and beaten him to a pulp for it, he had not been able to walk for two days, and the pain had been agonizing.
Since then, he never dared to even touch a crump on the counter, he only ate the food of the plates that got returned to the kitchen, but since this was a pub, most customers did not order any food.
He hurried to cook the hamburgers, his stomach growling at the smell of the fresh meat, but he knew he had to control himself. Just a couple more weeks, and he would be able to leave- he had saved every penny of the money Giles had given him, and he had gotten a map, and most days, when he was not drawing, he sat on his mattress with Bacon next to him, studying the map.
One of the boys at the second orphanage had told him about this little town in Cornwall, it was right by the sea, and there were plenty of farms, and fields, and it was far away from here, and far away from all the people judging him, hating him, and mocking him. He would find work at one of the farms, he could work hard, and Bacon would be the perfect guard dog- and they would have a good life there. It would be a fresh start.
“Where are the burgers, boy?”, he heard Giles holler from the front, and he hastily placed the burgers on a plate, burning his fingers in the process.
Seconds later, he rushed out the door with the food, and Giles shot him an irritated look, “hurry up, kid!”, he hissed at him, and Tom went to the table with the group of giggling women to serve the burgers. He heard the door open behind him, and he heard Giles say something to the new customer, his tone suddenly sickly sweet.
“Anything to drink, Sir?”, Tom heard him say, while he was still busy making sure the women had everything they needed.
“I’ll take a bourbon on the rocks”, he replied casually, and Tom instantly stiffened. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Shit!

He turned around slowly, and there he was- Godric Gryffindor, the man who had taken his magical powers, who had arrested?every single one?of his Death Eaters, and had sent him to that awful orphanage in Scotland- only because he could not sent him to Azkaban.
Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, “it’s good to see you again, Thomas”, it sounded ironic, and Tom balled his hands into fists. Gryffindor was the only person in the world who called him?Thomas- another reason why he hated the Founder so much.
“Would you like to take a look at the menu? The hamburgers are pretty good”, he replied, determined not to engage into any kind of private conversation with Gryffindor.
“I’m sure they are”, and now he sounded amused, “sit down, Thomas. I need to talk to you.”

Hell, no.

“I have work to do, and I really don’t think¡­”
“Sit. down.”
Tom swallowed hard, and then he slowly walked over to Gryffindor’s table, taking a seat as far away from the Founder as possible, “what you want? Really gotta go back to the kitchen”, he did not bother to sound the slightest bit respectful- and why should he? Gryffindor had ruined him, he had ruined?everything.
“I have a proposition for you.”
Tom frowned, leaning back in the cheap, wooden chair, “oh yeah? Like there’s something you would want from me- you sure you got the right guy? Cause last time I saw you, you basically told me I should rot in Azkaban”, he scowled at the Founder, “or did Salazar sent you?”
“He did”, Gryffindor lied, grateful that the boy was making this so easy for him, “he’s been worried about you- and he has been asking me to come and get you.”
Tom blinked, “to come and get me? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m happy here, no need to send me to another shitty orphanage. Not that any of them would want me”, he hated how bitter he sounded, “just tell him I’m doing great.”
Gryffindor stayed silent for a while, examining the boy in front of him. He was thin, way too thin- and pale, with dark shadows underneath his eyes. His hair was a mess, it looked like it had not been combed for weeks, his hands were bruised, his teeth screaming for a toothbrush, and he was dressed in an oversized T- shirt with some stains on it that looked like some kind of sauce, and dirty looking jeans with several holes in them. He was not wearing any shoes or socks- even though it was quite chilly in the pub, and it was already November.
“You call?this?doing great, Thomas? Quite delusional, are you?”, he was mocking him, his tone biting, “when’s the last time you took a shower? Or washed your hair?”
The boy abruptly got up, “I think we’re done here!”, he spat out, “mind your own damn business in the future, I¡­”
“The boy bothering you, Sir?”, Giles interrupted, his voice still as submissive as it got, and he eagerly placed a glass with bourbon in front of the Founder, “kid needs a good lickin’ if you ask me- I apologize for the inconvenience.”
Tom turned his head, desperately forcing back the tears.

Inconvenience- that’s all I am to everybody.

He would not fucking cry in front of Gryffindor, he would just leave- and go back to Bacon who was waiting for him upstairs, and who actually?enjoyed?being around him.
“We are not done?at all, Thomas. Sit down”, Gryffindor’s voice had gotten cold, “you are not going to run away from me like some toddler having a tantrum.”
Tom snorted, “you’re wasting your time, Gryffindor.”
“No, you are wasting?my?time, Thomas- and if I have to ask you again to obey me, you won’t like the consequences”, and now he sounded dangerous, so Tom slowly walked back to the table, sitting down again.
Giles had been watching their interaction with an open mouth, but he closed it when Gryffindor addressed him again, “I’d like to order a hamburger- see that it gets here quickly”, and that seemed to draw Giles out of his stupor, because he stuttered something, and then he ran back to the kitchen.
Tom stared after him with contempt, “he never cooks- your burger’s gonna suck, Gryffindor.”
To his surprise, the Founder just smiled, “do you want to hear my proposition now?”
“Yeah, whatever”, the boy yawned without covering his mouth, “what’s up?”
Gryffindor had to stop himself from not pulling the boy across his lap right away- the lack of manners and respect was truly?infuriating, but he knew he had to be patient.

As soon as your mine, you won’t even dream of acting like that anymore.

“Well, as I said, I am here because Salazar is worried about you- and he would like you to live with us for a while, just until we can find you a good school who will take you”, he lied without blinking, not even feeling a bit remorseful about it, “you would have your own bedroom, and nice clothes, and you would not need to work anymore. How does that sound?”
“Sounds awful”, the boy replied flatly, “why would I wanna live with you? Salazar’s out of his mind if he thinks that’s a good idea. I don’t do family stuff, trust me, they all kicked me to the curb for a reason.”
“What if I give you something for coming with me? Something¡­you want?”
Now the boy was staring at him, his expression suspicious, “why would you wanna bribe me? You hate me.”

You have no idea.

Gryffindor decided to change tactics, “Salazar has not been doing well lately”, another lie, he had been improving actually, “and this is something that means a lot to him-?you?mean a lot to him, being his heir and everything. He’s been really worried about you and your¡­choices,?and I am afraid it will hinder his healing process.”
“So¡­you are doing this for him, not for me”, Tom stated, not knowing why he suddenly felt a pang of¡­was that?disappointment?

I guess I’m more tired than I thought I was.

“I love Salazar”, Gryffindor responded calmly, “I’d do anything for him.”
Before the boy could answer, Giles came rushing back with the hamburger, placing it in front of the Founder. It smelled delicious, and Tom could tell that the lazy pub owner spent a lot of effort in cooking it- which was telling, since he absolutely?hated?to cook.
“Your burger, Sir- is there anythi¡­”
“No, you can go”, Gryffindor interrupted him casually, and instead of getting angry at the rather impolite response, Giles bowed his head, mumbled something that sounded like an?apology, and took off.
Tom’s stomach grumbled at the sight and the smell, and he flushed when Gryffindor chuckled in amusement, “hungry, Thomas?”
“I¡­not really, I’m just¡­”
“Eat up, Thomas”, the Founder gently pushed the plate in front of him, “before it gets cold.”
“Wh¡­what?”
Gryffindor sighed, “did you really think I eat¡­hamburgers? In an establishment like?this?”
Tom bit his lips, “guess not”, he mumbled, the smell of the burger driving him crazy, “so you ordered this for me?”
“Makes it easier to negotiate if you are not almost unconscious from being starved.”
“I’m not starved”, Tom lied, picking up the burger with both hands, “you said you give me somethin’ if I go with you.”
“I did say that”, Gryffindor was watching him eat with raised eyebrows. He had never seen anyone eat in such a messy, quite?disgusting?way, “you do have a fork and a knife, Thomas.”
Tom merely grinned, “who eats their burger with a fork?”
Gryffindor had to stop himself from answering that, his irritation growing, “anyways, what would you like to have?”
Well, that one was easy, “I want my magic back- all of it.”
Gryffindor could not say he was surprised, “I cannot give you all of your magical abilities back- but some.”
“Right now?”, Tom looked at him, his mouth covered in ketchup.
“No, not right now- we will sign a contract, and then you will come home with me- and if you do what I tell you for one month, I’ll give you some of it back in a month.”
Tom tilted his head, clearly thinking hard, “doing what you tell me? What would that be? I don’t need a¡­father or some shit.”
Gryffindor had to laugh, “believe me, I have no interest in being your¡­father”, and that was not even a lie, “all I am asking you is being considerate while you are at my home, and maybe spend some time with Salazar. He would enjoy that.”
He deliberately left out the part where he would train and discipline the boy- he would figure that part out by himself soon enough.
Tom wiped his greasy hands on his jeans, ignoring the napkin in front of him, “I guess I could do that- hanging out with Salazar and stuff. He’s always been nice to me. Dumbledore is a piece of shit for trying to kill him.”
Gryffindor could not disagree with that, “we have a deal then?”, he asked the boy, forcing his voice to be even.
Tom took another bite of his hamburger, “what about Bacon, though?”
The Founder blinked, not following, “bacon?”
The boy smiled at him, his whole face a mess out of ketchup, sauce, and grease, “he’s my dog. Found him under a bridge. I think someone wanted to stab him, he had this nasty lookin’ wound on his leg, but it’s almost healed now.”
“Your¡­dog”, Gryffindor repeated, and for the first time, he was at loss for words.
“A black Labrador”, Tom explained, “and he won’t be no trouble- he’s a puppy, but he’s¡­housebroken or whatever that’s called. He won’t pee on your expensive stuff. He’s a good dog, he listens.”

Unlike you, hmm?

“Very well- you can bring¡­the?dog?with you, but if he is acting destructive, he has to go.”
“He won’t destructive anything.”
“Destruct?you mean”, Gryffindor corrected mildly, and then he waved his hand, and a neatly looking paper appeared in front of him- the contract.
“All you have to do is sign right?here¡­and?here”, he pointed at the paper, handing the boy a pen.
“What do we need a contract for?”, Tom asked, holding the pen with open reluctance.
“Well, since I am not your guardian, or parent, I do not want to be accused of simply kidnapping you, Thomas”, Gryffindor stated, sounding convincing, “this is a standard procedure.”
It was not, but he was not planning to tell the boy that.
Tom blinked, he

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