Chapter 1
Age Eleven
October 1970
The day starts with a bang as Barty tries to convince Winky that he doesn’t need a birthday cake. She argued and argued with him, but Barty was stubborn. Yes, technically today was his Eleventh birthday. But Barty didn't have birthdays anymore.
All birthdays did was remind him that his father had forgotten once again, and how little he cared for him. Instead, he would go to James’ house. James refused to not acknowledge Barty’ birthday and it had become a habit for Barty to go to his house.
His mother didn’t like him skipping hos birthdays,
James always got him a present. Instead of saying happy birthday he would just say to enjoy whatever age he was.
‘Winky, can you bring me to the Potters’?’
Winky wordlessy held out her arm. Barty held it and they apparate outside of the Potters’ house.
Barty loved the Potters and often wished he was one of them. They’re such a happy family and James has such devoted parents that it's hard not to get a little jealous. James was like an older brother to him, he was always at the Potters when his father was at work. Or when he just couldn’t be bothered looking after Barty.
Barty found James in the kitchen with a mouth full of chocolate hoops.
‘Hi Barty. Happy non-birthday! How are you?’
‘Ok, I know I said I don’t want birthdays anymore but its hard not to think about why,’ Barty murmured and James hugged him. Then James’ eyes lit up with excitement.
‘I have a present for you,’ he said excitedly. Barty smiled a real, genuine smile this time.
You didn’t have to. Thank you so much.’ Barty gave James a hug.
He followed James up to his bedroom. James’ room was massive and almost completely red. Barty wasn’t sure if it was James’ favourite colour or because it was the gryffindor colours. James grabbed a gift bag sitting on his bedside locker and handed it to Barty, watching expectantly as he took the gift out of the bag.
It was a small silver rectangle. Barty turned it over in his hands for any indication of what it could be.
‘Umm… What is it?’ he asked sheepishly. James laughed his head looking up at the ceiling.
‘Sorry, I forgot your dad isn’t too fussed on muggle inventions. It’s a phone. You use it to communicate with people when you aren’t with them. It usually doesn’t work for wizards because, you know, magic interferes with technology but I updated this one. I’ve already added my number on it.’
‘Oh my God. This is the best present I have EVER gotten,’ Barty squealed, throwing his arms around James once more.
‘Just keep it hidden from your dad alright? He doesn't seem like the type for muggle technology.’
Barty just smiled and looked at the tiny screen on the phone.
Barty was beaming the whole day long, even when they got home and his father shouted at him for bumping into him. That night, he and James talked for almost an hour on the phone, laughing and talking about Hogwarts, where James would be going next year.
He fell promptly asleep after ending the call with James, all woes forgotten. Well, nearly.
Age Eleven
September 1971
‘Let’s play truth or dare,’ suggested one of the girls standing beside Barty.
‘I’m in,’ replied Barty.
A chorus of ‘me too’ came from the other children. They were sitting in the back garden on the grass in one of the children’ house. Barty’ father was visiting some wizard nearby and since he had nobody to take care of Barty, and still didn’t trust him on his own. He ended up going with him.
That’s how Barty ended up on the lawn of a muggle , who lived beside the person his father was visiting (the wizard in question lived in a muggle town. Something his father tended to frown upon), with a group of children that saw him standing on the sidewalk and decided to invite him over.
‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’ a girl with curly black hair and sepia-brown skin asked. Barty realized he was daydreaming and that the game had already started.
‘Barty,’ he replied.
‘Ok Barty. Truth or dare?’ she asked. Barty only knew the game because James had taught him it during the summer in preparation for Hogwarts. Apparently, they play a lot of truth or dare there.
‘Dare,’ he grinned, loving the chaos a good dare brings.
‘Dump an entire bucket of ice cold water on to your head’
‘Easy. Can somebody fill a bucket up with ice for me please?’ A kid rushed off and returned a few minutes later with a bucket of water with ice. He held the bucket in the air
and tipped it over himself. It stung a bit, and both he and his clothes were soaked, but he felt great.
‘Your turn Barty,’ a boy sitting beside him said. He looked around the group of five children.
‘Truth or dare?’ he said to another girl sitting across from him.
‘Truth,’ she replied. Too bad because Barty had a really good dare.
‘What is the worst thing you’ve done that you're glad your parents don’t know about?’ He asked, reckoning that was a good enough question.
‘I smoked a cigarette once. Just one. Ada gave it to me,’ the other kids seemed to know who Ada was and Barty was too curious not to ask.
‘Who’s Ada?’
The girl who had given him his dare replied, ‘She’s my sister.’
‘Oh right. What’s your name again?,’ he grinned at her.
‘Amara,’ she replied, grinning back at him.
Just then a girl who looked two or three years older than him walked into the garden. She had the same sepia brown skin as Amara and dyed crimson hair that was in braids.
‘Barty, this is Ada,’ Amara said, pointing to Ada. Ada nodded at him before turning to face the whole group.
‘Any of you have a lighter?’ she asked.
‘Most of us haven’t even tried a cigarette, let alone own a lighter,’ replied Amara, staring up at her sister.
‘Do you want to try one?’ Ada asked suddenly, staring around at the five of them.
A few of the children said no but Barty kept his mouth shut, waiting to see Amara’ reply.
‘Aren’t they dangerous?’ Amara asked.
‘Yes, sort of. They are brilliant though, and doctors used to recommend them,’ replied Ada.
‘Sure, I’ll try one. You only live once right?’ Amara decided.
‘Aren’t we’re too young, Amara, you’re only ten,’ the boy sitting beside Barty tried to convince her not to.
"We're all pretty messed up ten year olds,’ Amara replied steadily. She looked at Barty. ‘I don’t know about you but our homelife isn’t great. None of us.’ A few of the children seemed to nod in agreement.
‘Me neither,’ he said. He turned to face Ada. ‘I’ll try a cigarette.’
‘That’s it, new boy. Hold up though, until I get my lighter.’ Ada ran into the house.The other children left, not wanting to participate, quickly mumbling their goodbyes. Ada came out a few moments later, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in hand. She must have had the cigarettes in her bag.
She handed Barty one of the cigarettes and gave Amara one too before pulling out one for herself. She lit her own first, before handing the lighter to Barty. He took it in his hand. It was bright pink. His hands were shaking as he flicked the cap and a flame came flickering to life.
He put the flame up to the cigarette (which he had put in his mouth) and lit it. He held the cigarette between his forefinger and middle finger. He inhaled and immediately began coughing. Ada laughed at him and Amara took the lighter from him and lit her own cigarette. She started coughing as well.
‘It’s like that the first time.Try again,’ Ada said, taking a long drag of her cigarette.
He inhaled again, this time more carefully. The taste was sweet and rather disgusting. However, it came along with a sort of buzz. He exhaled and watched the smoke go up in the air. He saw Amara do the same. He inhaled again and started to relax.
Barty felt slightly nauseous and very dizzy but he could handle that. Soon the three of them were chatting and smoking, sitting on the grass. Soon their cigarettes were almost down to the filter and Barty saw Ada go into the house. She returned with an ashtray and she quickly distinguished the cigarette by pressing it and turning it on the ashtray.
Barty did the same and Amara followed suit. ‘So your parents smoke then?’ he asked them.
‘Yep. Although I don't take the cigarettes from them, they would definitely notice. I pay a friend, he’s sixteen so he’s able to buy them, to get them for me.
Barty thought about how it felt to smoke and what his father would do if he found out. The thought made him smile. His own little act of rebellion. He didn’t really care that it was unhealthy, by the time his health became a problem, they probably would have made a cure for whatever health problems he may acquire.
‘Could I pay you to get some for me?’ he asked, the idea growing in his mind.
‘Sure. You live around here?’ she asked.
‘No but my father doesn’t really care where I go so I can come over sometimes. Can I just ask, why did you let us smoke them if they are costing you money?’
‘All of us have a rough time. This is my small act of rebellion, something to show for the fact that I can't be controlled, and I am my own person. It’s my escapism. It helps me relax. So although it's unhealthy, I offered them to all of you because we all need that tiny bit of rebellion, of escapism.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem kiddo,’ she stood up. ‘Do you want the first pack now?’
‘I don’t have any money.’
She handed him the packet they had been using. ‘No problem. You can have this one for free, as an apology to your lungs and your bank account.’
‘Thank you so much,’ he took the packet and slipped it into his pocket. ‘Wait. won’t my father smell the smoke off me?’
‘That's the advantage of having parents who smoke. They smell like it so they don’t realise you do too.’
‘What will I do?’
We’re outside and it's a little windy so you should be ok with the smell. Your breath will smell though. Amara brought him and got him some mouthwash,’ Ada ordered.
Amara gestured him inside and he followed. She led him through a messy kitchen and down a hall into a bathroom. She handed him a bottle of purple mouthwash and he swished it around his mouth before spitting in the sink.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘No problem. You’ll have to hang out with the rest of us when you come for cigarettes,’ she said with a shy smile.
She brought him back out and Barty wrote his phone number down on a piece of paper. He handed it to Ada.
‘I’ll tell you when I'm over.’
‘Ok. I’ll tell Amara when you’re coming over because she doesn’t have a phone.’
‘Great. Thank you so much.’
Just then he heard someone shouting his name. His father was standing on the pavement with an irritated look about him. Barty rushed over.
‘I’m here,’ he shouted.
‘About time. What on earth have you been doing?’
Nothing,’ Barty replied easily, smiling to himself.
Later, when Barty got back home, he realised he had to hide the cigarettes somewhere. He didn’t know where he could hide them that Winky wouldn’t clean. He ended up sellotaping it to the roof of one of his clothes drawers. He debated just hiding it at the bottom of the drawer, but Winky might pull clothes out of there to reorganise the drawer or something like that. He just couldn’t take the risk.
That night he sat on the windowsill of the room, smoking a cigarette out the window. It was a fire escape window so it opened up the full way and there was no barrier between him and the cold night air. He still got nauseous and at one point he had to step off the windowsill for fear he might fall, he was that dizzy. It gave him a buzz though, and it eased the tension in his body and made him relax.
He got a text on his phone midway through his cigarette. It was James.
Hi. Just wanted to let you know Hogwarts is great. I thought the phone might not work but it turns out it does since it's part magic. Phones aren’t allowed though, so I have to be careful. I have made so many friends. You’re going to love it here. :)
He wondered what James would think of his new habit. He would probably hate it. Barty decided he wouldn’t tell him then. He knew what he was doing, James would probably only lecture him.
He quickly texted back.
It's good that you’ve made friends. I can't wait until i join you next year. Maybe we’ll be in the same house! That would be great. I know you must have gotten into Gryffindor. Tell me what all the classes are like.
After that he finished his cigarette. He didn’t have an ashtray so he threw it out the window. Their house had anti-fire wards so it would be fine. The wards would extinguish it and he didn’t have to worry about it. He got into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.