Tom looked up as Harry stepped off the train.

"Hi," Harry said, coming to a stop next to him.

"Something wrong?" Tom asked.

Harry's brain was still whirling from everything that had happened in the past week. "They were…weird," he managed. "Very weird."

"Pureblood weird?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not like Lestrange or Black, like… They had the same sort of stuck-up act, but they hate…" Harry paused and glanced around. "C'mon, I'll tell you on the way."

Tom moved to fall in step with him, clearly sensing that Harry didn't want to be overheard.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Harry continued.

"They hate Dark wizards Tom, I mean they really truly hate them." He stared ahead somewhat blankly. "They think they—we're all awful, evil people who go around, I don't know, torturing and murdering…" He trailed off and looked over to his friend. Tom had been suspiciously quiet so far. "We've barely learned anything yet, we've only really scratched the surface. Do you think they're right? Do you think that the other stuff, the spells and potions and complex rituals are all…evil?"

"No," Tom said. "I don't think that."

"Dorea Potter, she married into the family. She's a Black, really, but she left because of the magic. She gave me this book—"

"Dark magic is power," Tom said, cutting him off.

Harry fell silent.

"Many people fear power," he continued. "And while power can often be used to wreak evil, it's not anything unless you make it so. We've been given a chance to use this magic to become better than what the rest of the world would have us be." He pulled Harry to a stop and spoke earnestly. "The purebloods think we're inferior to them because of how we were born, but that isn't true. We use their magic even better than they do. Think of all the things we could do with it!"

He caught Harry's conflicted look and continued without pausing. "Yes, there are some horrifying curses out there, but many of them aren't Dark at all. Dark magic comes from a special source, and that makes us stronger, more important, because we can wield it so well. Would you really give that up?"

Harry thought about all the times he had gotten locked in his cupboard for things that weren't his fault. "No," he said quietly. "I wouldn't."

Tom smiled then. It was a rare thing to see him genuinely smile. "Neither will I," he said. "We've cast our lot and we'll see it through to the end, won't we?"

"I suppose we will," Harry said. He tried to let Tom's delight at their magic reach him.

"I'll read that book you were given," Tom promised. "But I don't think it'll be much more than propaganda once we pick it apart. Come on, let's get inside."

They sloshed the rest of the way through the mud and spelled their shoes clean afterwards. Harry very slowly began to smile, too.