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July 21, 2025 at 6:00 PM
It was… painful.
If Voldemort thought about it, he called it just "painful". Like a splinter in the toe. It was easier to name it that way.
And back then, it was considered pretty normal. Just a punishment for a naughty kid.
And he was naughty sometimes, wasn’t he? Filch always used to say that.
Voldemort remembered it all.
“You know you deserved it, Tom.”
Filch’s words filled the darkness around them.
Did he deserve it?
Tom didn’t know.
It was too hard to think about anything when your thumbs felt like they were being torn from your hands.
The pain was unbearable.
The spinning in his head.
The earsplitting screams.
His screams.
“Take it like a man!” shouted Filch with disgust.
The “man” was eleven years old.
And it was a very long evening.
“Although… I actually like your screams,”
Now Filch’s voice was just a whisper in Tom’s ear.
“I’ll miss them tonight, you know.”
His breath brushed Tom’s skin.
Tom almost threw up, but he managed to hold it back.
He was sure he would vomit the whole night.
But not here.
The torture was humiliating enough.
His whole body hurt.
His head felt like it was being squeezed by a burning hoop.
This will pass, of course.
He would heal.
The adults didn’t mean to cripple him.
Sometimes, the unruly ones just had to feel pain, didn’t they?
Tom would remember this lesson.
Wizards were wise.
They knew better than he did.
“I’ll miss your sweet screams, Tom,”
said Filch, a strange glint in his eyes.
Tom couldn’t take it anymore.
He threw up.
No one would ever call him that name again.
Never.
Ever.
Again.
