Brooks was ready to go back to Hogwarts.
A year ago, that had been the last thing he wanted. Now, headed into his sixth year at the cold, drafty stone monstrosity they somehow called a castle, he found himself looking forward to it.
There was one very obvious reason why.
Morgan Barlowe.
Just thinking about her made a smirk creep across his face. Funny how that worked.
Home wasn't bad, not by a long shot.
Baby Kinley wasn't much of a baby anymore, having turned one on the first of June. A holy terror with blond curls, dimples, and absolutely no respect for personal space. Brooks loved her beyond reason, but he wouldn't miss waking up at sunrise with a twenty-five-pound missile of pure enthusiasm launching herself onto his chest.
She adored her big "bru-er" with alarming levels of violence. All summer he would hear ”Roooooooooks! PLAY!” And play he would.
Hair pulling. Cheek grabbing. Face slapping whenever she got excited.
She'd discovered that blocks could double as projectiles, and Brooks had become her favorite target. He had bruises, that if anyone asked, he got in a bar fight in Kent.
Worth it.
Every single one.
With his mum picking up every extra shift she could over the summer, Brooks had become Kinley's daytime entertainment, jungle gym, snack provider, and occasional victim. Once term began again, Elizabeth would leave Kinley with Mrs. Abernathy, the elderly witch down the hall who loved the little girl almost as much as Brooks did.
Knowing Kinley would be safe made leaving easier.
Not easy. Just… easier.
Besides… There was a certain Gryffindor waiting somewhere aboard the Hogwarts Express, and somehow that thought made saying goodbye feel a little less like leaving home, and a little more like heading toward another one.
When they moved to London from Boston, he had been devastated.
Those feelings were gone now.
Settling into one of the compartments, Brooks dropped his satchel onto the seat beside him. It wasn't staying empty for long. He'd already claimed it for a certain Lion.
While the train slowly filled with students, Brooks passed the time with a book resting open across his lap. His eyes moved steadily from page to page, turning each one with practiced ease.
If anyone asked, he'd probably finish it before they reached Hogwarts.
Truth be told, he'd read the same paragraph three times.
Every few moments his eyes lifted toward the compartment door before returning to the page, listening for a familiar voice somewhere beyond the growing noise of the train.
He'd never admit it… but he was waiting. For his Mysty.
A year ago, that had been the last thing he wanted. Now, headed into his sixth year at the cold, drafty stone monstrosity they somehow called a castle, he found himself looking forward to it.
There was one very obvious reason why.
Morgan Barlowe.
Just thinking about her made a smirk creep across his face. Funny how that worked.
Home wasn't bad, not by a long shot.
Baby Kinley wasn't much of a baby anymore, having turned one on the first of June. A holy terror with blond curls, dimples, and absolutely no respect for personal space. Brooks loved her beyond reason, but he wouldn't miss waking up at sunrise with a twenty-five-pound missile of pure enthusiasm launching herself onto his chest.
She adored her big "bru-er" with alarming levels of violence. All summer he would hear ”Roooooooooks! PLAY!” And play he would.
Hair pulling. Cheek grabbing. Face slapping whenever she got excited.
She'd discovered that blocks could double as projectiles, and Brooks had become her favorite target. He had bruises, that if anyone asked, he got in a bar fight in Kent.
Worth it.
Every single one.
With his mum picking up every extra shift she could over the summer, Brooks had become Kinley's daytime entertainment, jungle gym, snack provider, and occasional victim. Once term began again, Elizabeth would leave Kinley with Mrs. Abernathy, the elderly witch down the hall who loved the little girl almost as much as Brooks did.
Knowing Kinley would be safe made leaving easier.
Not easy. Just… easier.
Besides… There was a certain Gryffindor waiting somewhere aboard the Hogwarts Express, and somehow that thought made saying goodbye feel a little less like leaving home, and a little more like heading toward another one.
When they moved to London from Boston, he had been devastated.
Those feelings were gone now.
Settling into one of the compartments, Brooks dropped his satchel onto the seat beside him. It wasn't staying empty for long. He'd already claimed it for a certain Lion.
While the train slowly filled with students, Brooks passed the time with a book resting open across his lap. His eyes moved steadily from page to page, turning each one with practiced ease.
If anyone asked, he'd probably finish it before they reached Hogwarts.
Truth be told, he'd read the same paragraph three times.
Every few moments his eyes lifted toward the compartment door before returning to the page, listening for a familiar voice somewhere beyond the growing noise of the train.
He'd never admit it… but he was waiting. For his Mysty.
