First Wind
First Wind
**
Mandrake, Daphne and Ron were heading toward the right side of the garden, where it had been decided the children would play; the adults enjoying a grown up party next to the labyrinth on the left side.
On the way Daphne, curious as to what the importance of the rat was, had questioned the redhead. Alas she had found nothing of major interest and lacked, as one does, knowledge on the animal for any form of comparison. When her interrogation finished, she let Ronald drone about various stories of his older brothers.
She knew hers. He would speak fast and well, confuse and inform, be absurd and true. He didn't care for the world, going as far as panic when forced to deal with it as if the whole thing was a dragon nest. Yet he had cared to ask for that rat.
The fact that he knew of the pest name should have alarmed her but Daphne would have been more alarmed if he didn't know the names of pets yet to come. The question was why ? It couldn't have been something that terrible. She had also taken notice of surprise soon passed to let his usual boredom reign upon his face.
As if to prove her point Daphne left Weasley's side, in the middle of his retelling of one of brother four and five pranks, to tuck on her brother's sleeve.
"You miss the turn Mandrake. The others are this way."
She said when he had looked back at her after leaving whatever though he had to the side. Gears loudly turned in his head for two whole seconds before he asked in honest confusion.
"The others ?"
Unsure of the situation, Mandrake was a bit frustrated. Unknowingly pouting even. Daphne took the time to send him a strange look he couldn't interpret, adding to his frustration. She was thankfully short to giggle and answer.
"The other kids. You know ? Our guests." She said, the devil in her smile.
"Ah." Recognition. "Is it truly required ?" Confusion.
"Yes."
Without a word Mandrake turned his back to a battle he was bound to lose and toward the 'playground'.
Used to host musical and theatrical representation for centuries, its prestigious past was nowhere shown.. No place for tasteful scenes and lights, row after row of seats and an orchestra in times of war. England magicals had yet to see the end of those times. The playground as it was now called, could mainly be described as a large plane surface of grass without trees. Or as Mandrake had said, again and again, to Daphne, a stain of grease on a canvas of wonders.
She knew one of his few worldly interests was to change the place into his own addition to the garden. The Blooming Thorn, the emblem of their house, predominates all his visions. The girl understood her brother's love for the plant. Thin vines, gently curling around all who trespassed in their field, passive and caring. Its flowers, not unlike large big roses, wore the same blue the Greengrass were known for, clear water toward the surface, dark unreachable depth in their center.
It was a strange form of parasite had explained her brother. The vines will never cease to expand. However wildlife and civilized alike tended to not only ignore but encouraged its presence in their midst. This was due to the unique property of their flowers, had he said moving the book he was reading aside.
Once bloomed, after the plant had nourished itself from numerous kinds of sources thanks to many different processes, the flowers would enhance the magic around them. More precisely they would, as trees do with carbon if she remembered well, transform the excess unneeded for their growth. Vegetals, animals and men benefited from its proximity and the vines benefited from them in return.
But few would ever truly profit. For the flowers were delicate. Easy was their fall, quick were the thorns; said a proverb. Records of wizards having survived after meeting the blades of the thornless plant were scarce.
Alas, as most pureblood magical heritage tend to do nowadays, the last Blooming Thorn had withered and died long before their birth.
As it was, the space offered was practical and large enough to let a good chunk of the pureblood next generation run around. Even if they were currently amassing near the entrance most certainly waiting for the cake and prank items they would be allowed tonight.
Ron was ready to simply jump into the lot when Mandrake hand grabbed him by the opposite shoulder, one dramatic swoop of his free arm outlining the scene.
"Behold Ronald Weasley. Be in awe before my pathetic kingdom." He declaimed, indifferent.
Ronald looked confused.
"Uh...Can I..." He tried to articulate but was interrupted by a glare from Daphne.
"Speechless ? I know how you feel." Said Mandrake unperturbed as he started to guide the redhead among the crowd. "In fact you see..."
Letting poor Ronald be swayed into her brother's nonsense, Daphne decided she had some time before 'interesting' could qualify said nonsense. She took in the assembled crowd.
Most if not all the pureblood children destined to share the discovery of Hogwarts were present.
Draco, toward whom Mandrake was taking the Weasley boy, was with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The close relationship*Vassalage, mom had said* between their two families and Draco's surely at play here. The boys were each in turn asking when the cake would arrive to an increasingly frustrated Malfoy, undoubtedly forced to repeat what his parents had given him for his birthday.
Tracey Davis, whose father was a competent businessman and partner with their mother, had sent a tentative smile when Daphne had returned. Behind her, Hannah Abbott was distracted by something in a bush; Susan Bones trying to get her to pay attention to Ernest Macmillan. The latter had just tripped into his cup of pumpkin juice.
Millicent Bulstrode was brushing cousin Pansy Parkinson's hair under the scrutinizing gaze of Lavender Brown and Morag MacDougal.
Finally, apart from the others, on the left a few steps from Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom looked scared and undecided on where to intricate himself. The Nott Heir was reading a book. It wasn't one of the big old unhealthily large books Mandrake fancied. It was slim, new and red.
She made a note to ask the boy about it as it seemed more at her level and thus of possible enjoyment. She also decided that trying to befriend Travis wouldn't be a terrible idea but could not reflect further upon it before Mandrake's return.
"There's something I've always wondered." He simply stated. He was looking at a watch which had been safely tucked in one of his pockets.
1 minute, 27 secondes…
If you asked Mandrake, what happened was bound to happen. Truly it was the parents fault.
Introducing and forcing to interact for more than a minute, two children of families on opposing sides of a, recently confirmed, Oath of Feud stayed unadvised.
Before Daphne could ask for a bit of clarity out of him, Weasley punched Malfoy right on the nose.
Crabbe and Goyle, having grown up in close proximity to the Malfoys and unhinged by the lack of cake, had clumsily tried to return the assault. The three, Weasley included, tripped with all their weight on Parkinson and Bulstrode, only to face a glaring MacDougal and shrieking Brown.
Malfoy had done much the same. Poor Macmillan's face was just out of the juice, it met it again. This time under Malfoy's butt, paroxysm of Bones' hilarity.
Soon those concerned were locked in a brawl.
Davis, who had paid attention to the twin, had the time to step back toward Nott, the latter unperturbed.
Hannah was nowhere to be seen and Neville was fleeing toward the exit. Or more precisely toward and in Percy's legs.
The eight year old was handling with great seriousness the responsibility of bringing a cake and Zonko's bundles for the children to enjoy.
Sadly, he just failed at it.
The feather charmed items had kept their cap after the impact and elegantly fell onto the children. Or float to be precise, floatfall. For it did not hover, glide or levitate.
The wixen vocabulary can be extremely lacking when describing anything magic
Malfoy noticed in-between two slaps and nearly defused the whole situation by shooting "Zonko's !", Crabbe and Goyle exclaiming a booming "The cake !!" in chorus.
A good diversion, too good. Weasley the youngest had all but climbed on Macmillan and Malfoy to seize a bundle and the first prank item inside. Said prank item (the wizard kid friendly version of a firework) flew right into the cake flesh and exploded in blows of blue, orange, red, cake's guts and pink.
A war cry came from Crabbe and Goyle and complete utter chaos ensued.
Hand in hand, the twin had left Percy to deal with the consequences of his actions.
Once at a reasonable distance from the pandemonium, Mandrake had contemplated a surprising sight. Daphne, without letting go of his hand, had somehow brought three more heads with them.
He had no clue who those kids were supposed to be. His short term memory recognizes them as : the courageous and intrepid fellow who had glorified his experiment; the girl who had the mind to step back and the only other man of taste at this dreadful party. They were, all things considered, the more sound minded of the lot.
Daphne was still absorbed in the commotion they've just witnessed, gaze toward the flickering lights, cracking sounds and high pitch yells. Meaning useless since he wouldn't interrupt her. He refocused on the three extras.
They were four. *Do kids spontaneously multiply ?* Blond pigtails was new, of that he was fairly certain. Then again maybe he was mistaken. The three he had begun with were the courageous fellow, the man of taste and the girl pestering pigtails. The intruder was the girl who had stepped back, wait it didn't sound right. There were five now.
Has the effect of the charm leaked ? Are those kids attracted by happy feelings ?
He had learned it after the third rebuttal by the wizengamot of his father's concern on the curriculum. Not that he knew nor cared for their content, nor fathom why his parents were so strange about the whole thing.
He had been less than two weeks old when he accepted this bonkers world of theirs. Sure, let's transform a whole zoo to put the table for dinner and then we'll meet our bank accountant who hates us because he should and don't forget to take the syrup to grow back the bones you broke going 100 miles per hour on your broom during sport ! But wonder what's a dementor's boggart or try to acquire one of them and you're a loon.
Anyhow, those rebuttals, and the next, had all been sources of many frowns from the couple and, by extension, Daphne.
Good old Albus had apparently decided the Greengrass family, renowned for their immovable neutrality, had the most problematic political agenda. For his father mentioned how draining the constant effort must be in resources shall he continue in the long run.
Mandrake was honestly sorry for the guy. Bored to death he must be. He too, understood how boring life could be from one dark lord to the next. The calm before the tempest is an asshole. However, unlike the nominee to the greatest wizard ever period, Mandrake was reasonable. Instead of harassing attempts at education, he had learned and applied his knowledge.
The cheering charm, beyond mind control, was a true wonder. Knight in shining armor in an unrelenting quest against depression, the charm was active since he learned it and powered up since the Weasleys’ arrival.
Now the boy was concerned as to who it affected. It wouldn't do to use magical prozac and leave side effects unchecked. All the more if said side effects included 'beware attract kids'.
"Who're you all ?"
"I'm Hannah Abbot", said Pigtails, "and this is Susan Bones !" way too exhilarated. The boy took a step back..
That drew Daphne out of her trance as she slowly turned her head in his direction. On her lips was the most beautiful and demented smile she had ever shown to him, eyes alight with sparkling pride, joy and mischief.
"Are you making friends ? ~"
"No."
She frowned but was quick to recover.
"Alright." She moved closer to the three unidentified gremlins. "This is Tracey Davis, her dad's mom's friend. On her left is Neville Longbottom, on the right Theodore Nott."
Who had yet to look up from his book. Mandrake envied him.
"SooooOOO What are we doing next !?" Asked Hannah.
*Was she bouncing ?*
Too much energy to be sanely dealt with. He should coordinate answering and strategic retreat.
"Do as you want. I've forbidden books to found." Swift quarter right turn and on he go to the manor.
And to the manor the twin had gone. Five kids on their heels.
An hour, Was it two ? , was lost astray along long stoned corridors. The walls were covered by portraits of the twin's ancestors, magical landscapes depicting otherworldly creatures and plants, armories and banners. The rare occurrences where a part of the walls was visible always resulted in carvings and detailed ornaments. Black stone curled into thin vines and thorns encaging the halls as they crossed and intertwined, almost alive.
The discovery had been shared by guests and hosts alike. All had wondered at the sight, Theodore had even looked up. They had wandered in semi silence until Mandrake's abrupt stop in front of two massive dark oak doors encased by two vines covered trees sculpted in black marble.
"It's there."
"Yup"
"How do you know ?" Asked Tracey.
"The mansion doesn't want me to go in there." Answered Mandrake.
"Probably mom's fault." Chirped Daphne.
"B-but if we're not supposed to be here... How did we made it to this point?" Wondered Neville.
"Only the door must be enchanted." Suggest Susan.
"For the twin then, I don't feel anything." Added Hannah. Theodore nodded.
"Good observation skills Neville." observed Mandrake. He hesitated then added "Hannah and Theo aren't far ether but Susan you're too quick to jump to conclusions. No goblin will ever leave a vault with his doors for unique sentinel. Furthermore the location must be taken into consideration."
He approaches the pillar on the left gently caressing the thorns. A million needles sharp like blades, and not one drop of blood.
"I see ! You purposefully took the 'wrong' turns !" Exclaimed Susan connecting the dots.
"No ?" Answered Mandrake taken aback. "I actually forgot what we were doing here until I saw the door, guess that's either part of the defense mechanism or why we got through." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Something must have been in place, for me, anyhow. In your case, I suppose, you're lucky to be with us"
His hand slid, fingers taking their time one each and every thorn. What a beautiful and fascinating magic trick, no wonder they've met no one on their escapade. The kids paled a bit at his comment. Mandrake chuckled.
In practiced motion the boy made a cup of his small hands for Daphne to climb upon. The girl did so without hesitation and made use of the added high to reach the handle. Her small hand pulled it down then back. The door did not budge. It did not squeak. It did not quiver. Daphne jumped down, dusting her robe then her brother's.
Mandrake stared at the obstacle. His fingers absentmindedly searching for the pocket watch in his robe. There it was. A beautiful object which belonged to the twin’s great grandfather. Father had confided its guard to Mandrake as the first of the legacies he would one day be the protector, and ruler.
Anyway, the boy smashed it into the ground, kneel and cautiously extracted one of the biggest shards of glass sticking to the cadran. Left palm open he cut deep and smeared his blood on the wood. A thud sounded on the floor to his right. Hand still on the door he declared.
"Iustificus, in vita, in morte."
The doors opened in an unnatural silence.
Had he given to their parents more credit than deserved ? Iustificus, in Vita, in Morte or in the queen's english : ‘Fair, in life, in death’; was the creed of the Greengrass Family. He had known thanks to his reading on the family and his father and him had had their talk about symbols and heritage not two months ago. For the lock to be a blood offering and pledge to the family was disappointing. It looked more like an identity check all considered but as long as books were on the other side, Mandrake judged he lacked the care to spare.
Daphne seemed, as always, more curious than anything else but her regular stares toward his bloody hand betrayed her concern for the injury. It did hurt, maybe, he wasn't sure... Probably an effect of the magical prozac.
Be it because of the boy or the door, if not the two. Tracey looked astonished while Neville appeared more scared and impressed ?, both were frozen in place. Theodore was in similar dispositions, book on the ground, an unreadable expression fixated on Mandrake. Only Hannah had moved.
She had joined his side and begun bandaging the wound with a tissue. Susan's attention was jumping from one to the other then back again. Five loops in she threw her arms in the air and exclaimed.
"Merlin ! You're worse than her ! She would take Boggart for a pet but you... You..."
"You are using blood magic !" Completed Tracey, more thrilled than she should.
"Publicly." Theodore added, his face locked in too grave an expression for a child to present without serious reasons.
"I know, isn't he the best !?" It didn't sound like a question.
Susan, considering Hannah and Mandrake lost causes, had chastised the two girls in a convincing imitation, she believed, of her aunt. Tracey's embarrassed apology, bonus a sudden interest in the ground, were a striking contrast when compared with Daphne. The latter was looking at Susan like she had grown two heads. The girl's sight. It was less than half a victory. She'll need to keep Tracey in check while she works on the other three, lest the group's common sense end up outnumbered.
Theodore's focus hadn't shifted for the good five minutes of Susan's lesson. Fixate on the blond boy staring blankly at the now open space.
"I'm confused." Were Mandrake first words after his display of arcane knowledge.
It was his first mind, no more no less. Mere blood and creed splatter on wood. No runes, no wand, he barely moved his hands.
"You don't know what blood magic is ?" Was Nott skeptical retort.
"I know blood magic, at least basic concepts, nothing fancy really. Tomes like 'Varieties of Magic', 'Family Magic; How and Why' or 'Focus Points, how to concentrate one’s magic' mention those but never in depth. My use is mostly deductive to be frank. Blood, being often used as key in the spell or enchantment matrix, it's rare for its use to be more complex than that of a focus point, sacrifice or print. This means you can't just bleed in the first cases, you need magic. However, and I can't get why wizards seem so blind to it, your body is obviously one's primary circuit, from this point onward it isn't really difficult to apply the same process to blood. Keeping my hand on the door was a way to maintain the connection, *and try to blow the damn things down*, I’ll hardly call that magic. Furthermore, it wasn’t necessary.” The boy frowned. "I'm more concerned by the level of security of this mansion. Which led me to the more pressing topic : I'm confused."
"What's an old coot doing in our library ?"
"Thank sister mine, you are, as always, the brightest of the bunch." Mandrake sends her a pleased smile before returning to his usual inexpressive self. "So who are you and what are you doing to our book ?"
The others had turned in sync. Indeed, to their shock, an old wixen sat at a desk twenty feet from their position. He wore a long high collared dark green robe with an ash gray outline and motifs, long white hair held tight in a ponytail by a black ribbon. Hundreds of minuscule wrinkles mapped a life story where scars were lost among the years. One of two dark blue skies magnified by an eyeglass on his eagle-like nose. Said skies were silent, their black clouds ignited by the rumbling thunder.
The boy was brought back to reality by a powerful surge of magic. The sensation coming from within and around sadly couldn't be contemplated. A second wave came crashing down.
Shit
** Daniel Rosier **
The last time the doors had been open was thirsty years ago.
He, Lord Rosier at the time, and Periwinkle Greengrass, Lord Greengrass had the time, had drunk more than advised. In their inebriated state they had, both with less tact than a troll, let transpired their lust for some of the tomes in each other's collections. Not the family collection, the lord's. Indelicate as it was on their part it enabled the idea of a contract most wizards would rightfully spit on.
On the most basic level, they would get access once to the other library. No book would leave and once out the doors would close not to reopen. Needless to say, if the whole was more detailed and thought through, a big loophole was left untouched.
Those kinds of underhand share of ressources was legion among purebloods but suffered from bad publicity. Thankfully for their reputation should the deed be discovered, all they had to do was add a more traditional trade implying a new or renewed closeness. Suffice the latter took twice the space of the former once put on parchment, nobody will care to shout.
Anyhow, the same night he was in the library with a bag full of an unrealistic amount of provisions.
One year later the mansion was put to rest. Frozen in layers upon layers of wards meant to protect its blood. The wards, if not the most ancient and thick, dated from ages of wands and daggers. Vicious, ruthless, double edge swords with unpredictable loyalties.
A wizard death trap and he; at the center of it.
He never dared set foot in the crossfire. He couldn't open the door anyway, not with the strength of the blood wards and the enchantments linked to them.
Thirty years under lumos light and tight regime spent reading and rereading and rerereading and rererereading the same books !
You'll understand his stupor and delayed immediate reaction when witnessing the doors open on a tiny Periwinkle demanding who *he* was and *his* book return. The man snapped.
A swift gesture of his wand and a dozen ice spikes, two meters long each, lunge forward onto the children. Wide terrified eyes had gone from him to their impending doom. They wouldn't make it, not at this speed and while recovering from their shock. Maybe one or two on the side could jump out of the way... In any case it was overkilled.
It didn't matter. The wards were fast. The moment the spell had left the tip of his wand, the vines were around him. Hundred of strands cutting his flesh with their thousand blades. Not deep, just on the surface, tracing thin twirling patterns. The embrace of death was delicate in its horror for the blood had yet to perl; inescapable for to move meant falling apart.
He would die before his brain could make sense of what happened, what he had done.
But he didn't.
Instead of death what the old wizard met was the resounding cackle of a mad laugh. The sound was made all the more unnatural and chilling by the high pitch of the child it was coming from. Blond wavy hair lightly floating as if electrified around a face literally split by a sinister crescent difficult to call smile. Two black holes circled in barely visible glints of blue and orange fixated on him when the boy wasn't half bend, hand on stomach, trying to reined in his laughter.
The boy, simply couldn't stop laughing, was encircled by the pale petrified forms of his peers. The children were still finding their bearing after the chaos as now they were right next to the epicenter of erratic waves of magic. And the more he laughed, the less they looked frightened. The more he laughs, the more they smile.
For a moment, nothing else happened. The wizard could not act in any way lest the vines cut him in slices. Only the boy, the one he wrongly thought Periwinkle, continued the disturbing scene. Though the children seemed less afraid and nearly wearing smiles on their own, he thought it too unreal to be believable.
Then the laugh finally died down. The smile stayed and ringed in the words he pronounced.
"We almost got impaled !" He chuckled. "Wow, what a blast !"
And like that, without a care, he closed the doors.
"See, that what I mean when I say our world was mad as a hat. I don't even know the dude ! AHahno later. Hum, anyhow, you lot look terrible what happened to you ? Oh yeah nearly impaled, right... Sorry ? Daphne !? You're alright ?! My ya all way more cheerful than I’d believed ! Ya know what let's get some cak - wait, the cake's blown up... I know ! We're rich ! There's surely ways money will get us cakes. After all aren't we all proud nepotist ? I am sure..."
** Crocus Greengrass **
Crocus was on his way back from the 'playground', as the horror was called, having just resolved the last dispute between clan Malfoy and clan Weasley. The patriarchs had both disappeared from the party and been found in a muggle fight under the raging acclamations of their sons and a mesmerized audience. Kids, he might add, who were half the right number, two peculiarly striking his mind.
He was heading directly to the mansion when Tylli appeared with a pop to his left. The elf bowed before saying.
"Tylli is sorry to have interrupted Lord Greengrass but Albus Dumbledore is requesting access to the floo. Shall Tylli..."
Crocus began to regret his decision to be a polite human being and let the elf finish. The pause was short and what followed cracked a serious dent in his mask.
"Can Young Lord Mandrake access the wards ?"
Ama is going to kill me.
** Albus Dumbledore **
This could not be allowed to continue any longer. Albus was unable to fathom how the renowned neutral house of Greengrass had become so present and off chart in their bills. The content of most of them had horrified the members of the wizengamot; even he shivered but more at the idea of the troubled mind behind the concepts tackled.
He first thought he had land affront to their name. The bill on the Cheering Charm but a, original to say the least, proof of displeasure by touching on Hogwarts affairs. Now he feared, again mostly due to the disturbing contents, the Greengrass had fallen to the dark. A pity. If only he could discover why. Merlin let it not be Tom’s influence, they weren’t ready for his return.
That and the content of the last bill he just read, were reasons for his sudden intrusion (barré) visit to the gathering. Attempt to visit. The damn elf was surprisingly educated and good with his words. Enough that the wizard lost five good minutes before realizing he was conversing with an elf. He knew of course he was conversing with an elf but those tended to say "What can me do for Sir wizard", not talk in circles.
Anyhow the elf could not refuse his demand to be put in contact with its master, if not pre instructed, in doubt it would harm said owner. Whether he be left at the floo or invited in, it'll be Crocus' decision.
Taking a bit of floo powder, he re-established the recently cut connection. It was not unlike banging at the door but Albus was peeved.
Pleasantly surprised too, his request meeting this time an immediate green light.
Without wasting a grain of time in case it was a mistake the old man stepped inside the fireplace to step out of another. In his fabulous bright red robe and hat, deflating a bit toward the left under the weight of a white pompom, the set adorned with borders in ice owlbear fur. He was superb. Shame no one was to witness his entrance admits the flames.
The old man sighs. Refocusing on the task ahead, he made his way out of the parlor toward the corridor he knew led to the garden. Funny how much younger he was last he visited. The mansion had closed its door a bit more than a decade before the war with Tom officially began. Yes, he certainly was younger then.
Nobody ever knew what happened to Lord Periwinkle Greengrass. He simply disappeared into thin air. Same for Lord Rosier, if he remembered right. Difficult to say with the delayed response inherent to the pureblood affairs. Disappearances were many among those in pursuit of magical might but shall they have happened at the exact same time... Maybe Tom had a hand in it. He was already reinforcing his ranks after all.
Casting aside the nostalgia and darker thoughts, Albus had just opened the door to the garden when he was met by the falling body of a child. His mind had to pause, then panic when he realized he was too late to act.
The body did not break on the ground. He rebounded in a fit of giggle.
Albus took a second to observe the boy, by curiosity as well as for any sign of injuries. Nothing they could not fix but a pureblood child armed in any way with a pack of parents rift next to their location was a pain in the making.
The child, a boy, not that Albus knew much of children under 11, was promptly on his feet. Messy fields of wheat surviving through winter fall down his head in every direction. One too careless could, when following their trail, fall down up to two holes. Two damp black lakes hidden in the high grasses.
Quickly, unconsciously, the headmaster tore his gaze apart. Before he could question, notice or act on the abnormality of what transpired a voice barely alerted him of a second charge.
"Wiiiii !"
*Wiiiii ?*
And not one but soon six children were raining down from one of the first floor windows. Not that he was prepared for this precise situation, however the absence of the wizard's initial shock certainly played a part in his ability to stop each one of them wandlessly and non-verbally.
Yet then again, he had only a moment to notice the summer golden wheat and characteristic blue eyes of the first, recognizing the two twins on their description and to suspect the identity of the rest of the group, his attention was stolen by who he guessed was Mandrake Greengrass.
"Sup' professor, you're not in possession of any lemon drop per chance ?" Asked the boy with utmost seriousness, if for the permanent creepy smile and fit of laughter that followed.
"My yes, my boy," Begun the wizard in his grandfatherly demeanor, taking a sweet out of his pocket. "If you don't mind an old wizard's curiosity, how come you fell from the upper floor ?"
"It was quicker than the stairs." Answered the child as if it was saying the sun rose from the East.
"Were you not afraid ?" Was the polite way for Albus to ask if he was an idiot.
"Accidental magic." and the sun goes down the East.
A moment of silence where Albus hesitated, *Is that brilliant or plainly stupid ?* , was all the encouragement the kid needed to seem to come to his own conclusion.
"Surely you are aware." A tinged of worry and pity were mixed in his tone. The feeling at odds with the smile and prompt to be replaced by excitement. At least what sounded like it, the bare changes in tones and unmoving expression made the child as spooky as he was hard to read.
There was more to it that met the ey- What did the boy just ask ?!
"Pardon me my boy but could you repeat your question. Sometimes my mind wanders and alas it seems I miss a part of it." Said Albus, showing nothing of how the whole situation made him feel.
"That’s to be expected, you're old. I said :" He quotes in the air. "What are you doing in my home ?"
“That’s a sharp tongue you have my boy. Though I tend to appreciate such spirit, being led by brashness is most often unwise.” Sweet tone and grandfatherly smile.
“Said the dude who’s harassing the floo. Unless it is yule already, then please forgive Santa. May I offer you some milk and cookies ?” Sweet tone and creepy smile.