Maybe Jemima was right. Why else would his mother have tried to write him if not to try and reconnect? In truth, what he wished for, deep down, was that he could reestablish a relationship with her, but the young Ravenclaw was too blinded by anger and sheer embarrassment to fully see the logic in it all. Perhaps, he was just too afraid to face the hurt his mother had left behind. That would mean he would have to navigate his emotions which were much too conflicting for him to even begin to unpack. And there was still the question as to why she was writing now when he had sent countless, unanswered letters that first year.

As the Hufflepuff continued on her tirade, Thomas could feel the heat building in his face, his quick fuse about to reach a boiling point. Why couldn't she stop speaking? This was what got her into trouble in the first place, sticking her nose where it didn't belong. His secrets and humiliations weren't the only ones leaked to the entire school.

"It's hard to have compassion for someone who has insulted dozens of her peers, or spilled their secrets for all the school to see."

His biting remark was said through clenched teeth. The dark haired boy wasn't sure when, but his wand had found its way into his right hand. Thomas wanted this conversation to be over. With a flash of impatience in his eyes, he aimed his wand at Jemima's forgotten school supplies and promptly turned them into a collection of tiny, white mice that skittered across the snow at their feet.

"Never talk about my mother again."