By the time Diagon Alley had woken up properly, Cai was sat on the front step of Blackwood & Sons with his folded letter in his pocket. He took it out every minute or so, not to read it (he knew it by heart), but to look at his name on it. Mr C. G. Blackwood it read in glittering green ink. Not Gareth, not Elowen, not the Blackwood boy but [C.G Blackwood. Him.
Mam had made him bathe and clean his fingernails and he was sure that even his eyelashes smelled faintly of lavender soap with all the scrubbing he'd done. He'd not made a fuss about it for a change because a boy getting a wand had to look the part.
The plan went like this: first, books and cauldrons, the dull stuff. Best get it done all cheerful-like and without complaining. Second, a stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Very important, even if only just to press his nose up against the display window and salivate over things he could never afford. Third, ice cream, also important, also worth salivating over. Fourth: robes, new ones, not a hand-me-down from Gareth. And then finally, saving the best for last, a wand, a real wand all of his own. That had to go last. You only get your wand once, see, and once you've got it, that's it. There's nothing left in the day bigger than it.
Father was away on business in Milan. That meant Uncle Gideon was coming for him instead, which was, if he was very honest, a relief. Uncle Gideon was Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts. Important, he was, and he would make sure that Cai got everything he needed.
He'd been told to wait on the step. He waited on the step for a bit, and then he waited on the low wall by the step, and then he waited on the top of the wall, which was better, because you could see all the way up to Gringotts from there and spot people coming.
And there they were, coming down past the apothecary: Uncle Gideon in his hat and swanky clothes flanked by Fiona.
Now, the trouble with Fiona was mathematical. She'd been eleven since April and he'd only been eleven since the sixteenth of the month, which put her four months up on him, and four months is ages. Worse than the months was the inches. Last Christmas she'd had a good two on him, and from where he was sat now it didn't look like the situation had improved any. The rule was: whoever is oldest or tallest gets to decide, and she was both. Because if there's ever a disagreement, you can say "because I'm older" and that settles it. Cai knew this because Elowen had been doing it to him for eleven years and had got very used to bossing him around. He wasn't about to let a cousin start up as well, four months or no.
Then uncle Gideon spotted him, or looked his way at the very least, and Cai forgot all about the arithmetic.
Off the wall he launched and straight down the alley at a dead run. "Uncle Gideon, uncle Gideon, I've been up since six!" Oomph! Like a monkey he had jumped up and flung his arms around Gideon's neck, his feet clear off the cobbles. "You came!" he said into his uncle's collar, "We'll go get books first and a cauldron and then, and then we'll have ice-cream and then robes and then we'll get our wands!" Breathless, he dropped down and landed gracefully square on his feet as though the whole ordeal had been perfectly dignified from start to finish.
He turned to Fiona. "Hiya Fiona," he said, his voice returning to its normal pitch. He was about to ask her about which house she thought she might get sorted into when he remembered a far more important question that had been on his mind. "How many cartwheels can you do? I managed eleven, in a row I mean, well twelve actually but then I had to throw up so Elowen said that didn't count. Oh and," he turned his head up toward Gideon now, "I've decided I will be a chaser, or a seeker, though I could be a keeper too... "
The morning had not begun well.
It had begun, in fact, with Teddy spitting up directly onto the front of her dress not ten minutes before they were meant to leave, which meant a change of clothes and her mother’s voice tight and distracted. Her mother’s attention had nothing to do with her of course, but everything to do with the baby which was how most things were lately. She hadn’t said anything about it. Fiona was very good at not saying anything about things.
Fiona was now in her second-best school shopping dress and walking two steps behind her father down Diagon Alley, which wasn’t where she wanted to be in relation to him. Normally she’d hold his hand proudly, not glowering behind him. But her arms were crossed and she was in a bit of a huff, trying to shake off the scolding her mother had given her for lecturing a two month old about ruining her dress. She was too distracted to hold her father’s hand.
She spotted Cai before her father did; he was on top of a wall, which told her everything she needed to know about the next several hours. He launched himself at her father with the sort of abandon that Fiona had decided sometime around her ninth birthday was not particularly dignified, and she stood back and watched the scene as her father’s face lit up and felt something she didn’t have a name for settle uncomfortably behind her sternum.
Fiona had done that once. The first Easter. She hadn’t thought about whether it looked undignified at the time.
“Hiya Fiona.”
“Hello, Cai,” she said in the most pleasant voice she could.
And then he asked about cartwheels.
Her mouth fell open before he was talking to her father about quidditch.
After a moment, she shut her mouth and looked at her little cousin with the expression of someone who had already been spit-up on once in the last twenty minutes, and did not care to witness Cai throw up due to cartwheels.
“I know which common room has the best biscuits,” she said instead, a hint of bragging in her voice. “And which staircases skip steps. And which professor takes the longest way ‘round so you have the most time.” Fiona’s arms were still crossed over her chest. She glanced at her father. “I’ve lived there for three years.” She stood a bit straighter. “I don’t do cartwheels.”
The morning had been full of tears, emotions, tantrums and exhaustion. And only one of those involved the infant. Gideon loved everything about being a father, but suddenly being a family of four was harder than he could have imagined.
Fiona loved her brother. He was sure of it. Mostly.
And then mornings like today, where Teddy decided his big sister’s dress was a target for bodily fluids, and he wondered if he was cut out for the job of father. Now uncle, that was a job he was proficient in. Top marks. First prize every year. He had been excelling as an uncle for over a decade and loved every minute of it.
Even in his darkest times, after the war, after Elizabeth’s death. The kids that called him Uncle were the only people able to pull him out of his depression. They were his light.
"Uncle Gideon, uncle Gideon, I've been up since six!" The sight of a young boy hurtling toward him at full speed would have caused most men to brace for impact.
Gideon merely chuckled.
"There he is," he murmured, just before Cai launched himself into his arms.
The force rocked him back half a step, a laugh escaping before he could stop it. One arm wrapped securely around the boy to keep him from falling backward.
"Easy there, sport," Gideon laughed, ruffling the dark hair beneath his hand before pressing a quick kiss to the top of Cai's head. "You're getting entirely too big for that."
Not that he'd ever complain.
"You came!" Cai said, causing Gideon to smile at him his enthusiasm.
"I did," Gideon nodded with a serious face, a small smirk fighting though. "It seems you have the whole day planned out. From what you have planned, we may be here well into the evening.”
Books. Cauldron. Ice cream. Robes. Wand.
It probably would have been wise to take down notes, but he was sure Cai would keep them on the straight and narrow for the rest of the day.
"I suppose we'd best stick to your schedule then."
Lowering Cai to the ground, Gideon rested a hand on the boy's shoulder while listening to the rapid-fire discussion about biscuits and cartwheels.
His attention shifted to his daughter. Fiona wasn’t herself today, arms crossed, a serious look on her face. Standing a few steps farther than her normal.
Most people who knew Gideon, thought he only had one expression. Stern. Reserved. Intimidating in his glare. The students at Hogwarts certainly believed it. They knew the Deputy, the Professor, the man who assigned detentions at a rapid rate.
Very few ever met Uncle Gideon, even fewer knew him as dad. He smiled more, laughed a lot, and could often be found sitting on the floor playing with blocks or tag in the back yard.
In all his versions, Gideon noticed far more than people realized. And at that moment, he noticed his daughter in a foul mood.
"I don't do cartwheels." Gideon’s eyebrow raised in question. "No? That's interesting."
He said, his lips twitched.
"Because two weeks ago, in Grandma and Grandpa’s garden, I seem to remember a little girl insisting she could do fifteen in a row."
He paused, watching his daughter’s reaction.
"I’m pretty sure she managed thirteen."
Stepping closer, he reached out and straightened the ribbon that had come loose in Fiona's hair. Squatting down in front of her, he smiled while he took in her sour expression. ”And for some reason, today you have decided that you’re too old for cartwheels.”
Sighing, he tapped the end of her nose lightly. "Try having a better attitude, sweetheart. Today is meant to be fun.” He said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
Standing up, he looked between the two children. One was bouncing with enough energy to rocket to the moon, while the other was acting far older than her years.
"Now then," he said, offering a hand to each. "Our mission, if you choose to accept it, is simple. Read the list. Buy the things. Don’t get lost. And maybe, along the way, we have some fun.”
He glanced down at his nephew, and then over to his daughter. "And after that… Ice cream." Because everything was better with ice cream.
The hand came down on his hair before he could dodge it.
"Ahh!" Cai ducked out from under it and set about putting his hair back, which made very little difference. He'd had that done to him about ten thousand times in his life. Mam did it, Elowen used to do it, Gareth still did it, and his Father's friends did it sometimes on their way down to the basement. No one ever once asked first. He supposed he should be glad they weren't pinching his cheeks too, now that would be truly embarassing.
Then the kiss landed on the top of his head and both his stubby hands froze.
"You're getting entirely too big for that."
Well now, there was a thing worth hearing. "Do you think I've grown?" he said, sounding hopeful as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "I did, didn't I?" Nobody ever said he was too big for anything, not once in his whole life. "Best keep him out of strong winds", he'd heard one of his father's friends say years ago, and he'd never forgotten it. He was always too small, too little, not old enough, not big enough, not good enough. He gave the top of his head a wipe with his sleeve, brushing the thoughts off like dust while he came up to Fiona's side and locked into step with her.
"I know which common room has the best biscuits."
"Do you really?" he sounded truly impressed. "So which house is it then?" She wasn't going to get away with skipping the important details. "Is it true that you can get lost in the hallways? Gareth said they're haunted by ghosts, and Elowen said- she said if you're not on time to class, you get thrown in the dungeons!" He gave her a wide-eyed look and thought she looked a bit like the haughty children that came to his dad's shop, the sort that combed their hair and cleaned their fingernails and held their chin up slightly as though everyone else was beneath them.
Last time he'd seen her she'd been pleasant enough, but he sensed something different in her now, something that faintly reminded him of Elowen. But how could that be? Fiona wasn't a real Blackwood. Somedays he wasn't sure he was either.
"I don't do cartwheels."
Cai shrugged, quick and easy as breathing, and said nothing, sensing she wasn't in the mood to have a cartwheeling contest at the moment. So he slipped back around to the other side of Gideon and, without asking or hesitating, grabbed his uncle's hand. "Ice cream is third," Cai reminded him, "Not last. We have to get our wands last..." Something shone in his eyes then as he turned to look up at his uncle, "Of course, we could get ice-cream again after the wands, or scones, I love scones with cream and hot cherries and tea. They should have that instead of biscuits."
Soon enough Perchance a page came into view, nestled between two other shops. Cai let go of his uncle's hand and eagerly pushed the door open. A soft bell chimed and inside, the shelves went up to the rafters and the aisles ran narrow and dark, with the shelves leaning over all crooked like. Up on a ladder on a rail was a dumpy witch in lilac rooms with several volumes under her arm.
"I'll be with you in a moment!" she called down.
Cai had already raced toward the Quidditch section of the book shop, his eyes scanning over gilded bookspines. Maybe books weren't so boring after all. "Look, Fi! This one's all glittery! Oh and there's Hendrich Hammel, he's a top player from Austria, he's really good..."
Avery had convinced his mother - not without extensive effort - that he did in fact need new robes, and that he had in fact grown an extra two inches, and that those two inches did infact require additional fabric to appropriately cover his now lanky legs. His mother had fought him at every turn, insisting that he hadn't grown as much as he'd thought he had, but Avery had measured himself sixteen times and a seventeenth in front of her, just to prove the point that he had. By the time he'd stood against her measuring tape, a smug smile gracing his lips, he'd gained an additional 1/8th of an inch.
Served her right for doubting him, and now here he was, new robes wrapped in paper, floating beside him as he wandered down Diagon Alley. His mother had stopped in at Gringotts again - same as last year - still perturbed about the idea of her son requiring his own vault at the age of twelve, but she was a muggle, and Avery was finding that muggles had a difficult time wrapping their minds around this sort of stuff, no matter how intelligent they were.
His mother was a wicked smart woman, but this was all a bit beyond her, understandably.
With a galleon left to spend on whatever he wanted, because his mother certainly didn't understand wizard economics, the boy gladly window-shopped as he wandered, musing he might like a new cauldron this term after all. He had poisons to make, and after so many, certainly his old cauldron would start to...disintegrate a bit if his calculations were correct. He'd keep the new one as back-up for when Laura and Dorothy needed a good reminder that he wasn't the one to mess with.
Instead, it was the bookstore that had caught his eye, and while the Hogwarts library had nearly everything he could possibly want to read, there was no harm in looking for a little something to keep for his own.
The Ravenclaw scoured the various sections, stopping near the sports medicine section, his eyes drifting over the titles. He'd read that one. That one twice. That one wasn't worth a first read, he'd heard. No, no. Not that one. He'd checked it out multiple times last term until Professor Barlowe - the lady one - had told him no more. It wasn't that he was interested in sports, but all the worst calamities seemed to happen around Quidditch and -
Avery stopped short, eyes wide. Was that Professor Blackwood - the man one? What was he doing out of the castle? He lived there. It was where he belonged. He wasn't...he shouldn't....no this was wrong.
"What are you doing here, Professor?" Avery asked, casting his eyes to Fiona, whom he'd recognized as one of the castle little ones from last term and another boy he'd never seen before. "Why aren't you at the castle? There's books there, you know. I don't know if Professor Barlowe lets you in the library - " he'd certainly never seen the Slytherin Head in there before, "But you don't have to spend your money on books."
Did...Professor Blackwood not live at the castle? Why was he dressed in regular clothes? Avery didn't know he had regular non-professor clothes. "Do you have a house somewhere? Is that allowed?" He looked back at Fiona and the other boy and offered a smile. "Those are Quidditch books, and not nearly worth your time. If you want a good read, I suggest 'Modern Developments in Wizarding Orthopaedics, Volume III: Knees'. Volume II is mostly elbows, and frankly its a bit redundant, but it is elbows.”
As though that should explain everything they'd need to know. He smiled politely, glancing up at the professor again. "Do you eat outside the school?" A mystery he needed solved immediately.
"No? That's interesting. Because two weeks ago, in Grandma and Grandpa’s garden, I seem to remember a little girl insisting she could do fifteen in a row. I’m pretty sure she managed thirteen."
Her gaze snapped up to her father, her eyes narrowed. How could he betray her like that? How could he possibly think it was okay to contradict her in public? Sure, Cai was her cousin, but she had a reputation to uphold. There were Hogwarts students walking around; people who had seen her when she was eight. She couldn’t act like a child now, not when she was entering her first year in the fall.
Fiona kept her eyes locked onto her father’s face as he straightened the ribbon in her hair. In front of Cai. Her face turned red as he lowered himself to her level and smiled.
"And for some reason, today you have decided that you’re too old for cartwheels. Try having a better attitude, sweetheart. Today is meant to be fun."
He kissed her cheek and normally Fiona would have grinned, but this time she only felt a small stirring in her chest.
"Do you really? So which house is it then? Is it true that you can get lost in the hallways? Gareth said they're haunted by ghosts, and Elowen said- she said if you're not on time to class, you get thrown in the dungeons!"
She smirked. As her father stood and offered her his hand, she smirked. She finally uncrossed her arms and took his hand. “Yes, they do that all the time. In fact, there is a Hufflepuff still locked away down there. They’ve been down there for ages and I heard there’s a ghost of a girl who was never let out to even eat who starved to death.”
Nonsense, really. Her father’s hand felt warm and safe and besides, no one was looking anyways.
Perchance a Page was the first place they went. Fiona was still scowling when they entered the shop, dropping her father’s hand when they entered.
"Look, Fi! This one's all glittery! Oh and there's Hendrich Hammel, he's a top player from Austria, he's really good..."
Her blue eyes darted to the glittery book on Quidditch that Cai had pointed out, feeling immediately drawn to it. She loved glitter; the more glitter the better. Unfortunately her father didn’t feel the same way. She was banned from using glitter unless she had his permission. She touched the spine and then looked at her fingers, a smirk crossing her lips when she saw the transfer of some sparkly specks on her finger tips.
And then there was a boy.
He was older, twelve or so, she wasn’t sure, and held the sort of expression that said he was thoroughly taken aback by her father’s presence. He was speaking to him about whether professors were allowed to have houses, or leave Hogwarts at all. And there was something about knees and elbows, she wasn’t quite sure.
Fiona just knew that he was older, was from Hogwarts, knew of her existence, and knew that she had to stand taller now.
“We live there, but it’s not like we’re trapped.” She said it lightly, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “We have a whole house. My mother would have something to say about anyone who tried to keep her somewhere she didn’t want to be.” She then looked over at Cai. “This is my little cousin Cai. He will also start Hogwarts in the fall,” she said, attempting to sound older than the boy who had been a Blackwood much longer than she had.
"Ice cream is third. Not last. We have to get our wands last… Of course, we could get ice-cream again after the wands, or scones, I love scones with cream and hot cherries and tea. They should have that instead of biscuits." Gideon laughed at the boys insistence. He could guarantee that there would be only one ice cream in their future. No matter how hard they tried to get more.
Gideon watched the exchange between Fiona and Cai with amusement. The girl had finally uncrossed her arms, which he considered a victory, however small. Cai, meanwhile, had already disappeared into the Quidditch section as though drawn there by some invisible force.
It lasted all of three seconds before another familiar voice caught his attention.
"What are you doing here, Professor?"
Only Avery Hale could sound genuinely alarmed by the existence of his teacher outside the castle. Gideon looked at the Ravenclaw for a long moment.
"I was under the impression I was purchasing school supplies, but perhaps I've misunderstood the purpose of Diagon Alley."
The corner of his mouth twitched. His hands folded neatly behind his back. "No, Mr. Hale, I do not live exclusively at Hogwarts. I own a home in London with my wife, daughter and newborn son." Glancing down at Fiona with a smile. "We simply live at Hogwarts during term. And yes... I do, on occasion, eat outside the school. If you can believe it, sometimes I even cook."
Fiona stepped in to explain more about their living situation and then introduced Cai to Avery. ”“This is my little cousin Cai. He will also start Hogwarts in the fall.” Gideon covered his chuckle with a cough, not surprised at all that Fiona would tuck that little comment in.
It wasn’t uncommon for Gideon to see students outside of Hogwarts. Over the summer, he would often take a shift at the Diagon Alley location of Blackwood & Son’s. When his brother Wesley took a vacation, or they were conducting their quarterly inventory, it was typically all hands on deck. Even with a full time job at the castle, he was still part of the family.
Watching Cai go through the books in the Quidditch section, including one covered in glitter. Well THAT was a no. "Look, Fi! This one's all glittery! Oh and there's Hendrich Hammel, he's a top player from Austria, he's really good..."
His eyes going back to Avery he smiled. ”Shockingly, yes. I am allowed in the library at Hogwarts. I even return them on time. Although, if young Mr. Blackwood here has any say in it, we will walk away with every book available on Quidditch.”
Gideon reached out, absentmindedly tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. ”Have you found anything you’d like to get? Preferably something that isn’t covered in glitter?’ He asked with a chuckle.
Quiet enough that only she would hear. "And for the record..." He leaned slightly closer. "I only mentioned the cartwheels because I was proud of them." He said, kissing her on the top of her head.
Standing to his full height, Gideon decided now was as good a time as any to get this show on the road. Raising his voice slightly, "Cai." He said, trying to get his nephew's attention.
Not shouting. Just enough to get his attention. "If you intend to own every Quidditch book in the shop, your father may need to sell another suit, or three.”
Clapping his hands together, Gideon tried to get the attention of all three kids. It was like trying to wrangle a herd of feral cats. ”Ok, let's get this show on the road. We have books to get that are actually needed for school. Avery, are you coming along for the ride?”
Cai had his nose about an inch off the page of Art of the Chaser when an unfamiliar voice cut through the air. He glanced up and there was an older boy interrogating his uncle in a sort of pinched, nasally voice, asking did he have a house, was that allowed, did he eat outside the school.
Cai sniggered at that last question. For a second, he waited for the boy to laugh, because it had to be a joke. Only... the boy just went on and on and on. Uncle Gideon answered each obvious question with an obvious answer. Cai went back to his book, or tried to. It was hard going with the voice carrying on behind him. Was he allowed in the library. Did Professor Barlowe let him in.
Does he ever shut up?
"This is my little cousin Cai. He will also start Hogwarts in the fall."
Cai's head came up so fast out of the book that it nearly snapped loose. Little? LITTLE? In front of a Hogwarts boy and everything. Fiona and her rotten mouth. She only had four measly months and a couple of inches on him yet she talked like he was a little puppy that just so happened to be trailing after her. He shot her a look over the shelf that said you wait, furrowed brows and all, and decided there and then he would grow at least a foot before Christmas out of sheer spite.
"Those are Quidditch books, and not nearly worth your time."
The look fell right off his face. The book almost fell too, but he caught it just before it could drop to the floor, where his jaw was.
Cai gawked at the older boy. Then he looked down at the Hammel book in his hands, then back up again, in case there'd been some mistake and the boy had meant some other books entirely. There'd been no mistake. The boy was chatting away about knees now. A whole book about knees, and another one that was mostly elbows. That had to be a joke.
"Don't you like Quidditch?" Cai blurted out, stunned.
He hadn't meant it to come out so accusing, but honestly, he'd never met anyone who didn't like Quidditch. This boy went to Hogwarts. He'd have seen real matches from proper stands with the whole school in an uproar, and he was stood in front of the best shelf in the shop telling people to read about knees and elbows instead.
"Bu, but... you've seen it played, haven't you?" He held up the book up, cover toward the boy, where Hendrich Hammel's face smiled and winked at him. "This book is only about the greatest player who ever lived, thank you very much."
"If you intend to own every Quidditch book in the shop, your father may need to sell another suit, or three."
Cai looked down at the books stacked in the crook of his arm. He couldn't rightly say how they'd got there. They didn't even have any glitter on them. "Sorry..." he said, sounding defeated.
One by one they went back on the shelf. Slowly, mind. Agonizingly slow. Slow enough that anyone watching might see how much it cost him. He kept hold of the Hammel because that one was different, that one he'd put away last. He turned around, glitter Hammel book still in hand, a hopeful but foolish look on his face as he looked straight past Fiona, who he was still cross with. Little... he huffed in the privacy of his mind. He'd think of something to say about it, and it would be a good one, a real zinger, and he'd say it when she wasn't expecting it. That's how you do it, see. Just you wait...
But there was the other boy stood there with his parcel of new robes bobbing along behind him, still going on about books and whatnot, and Cai found he couldn't stay cross while there was this giant question mark in the room.
"Are you at Hogwarts too?" he asked as he dipped his chin towards the boy's new robes.
Avery didn't normally concern himself with the comings and going of those who weren't Ravenclaws, but the sheer thrill of seeing a professor out of its natural habitat had sparked a curiosity in the boy that he had no intention of tempering. If given the opportunity, he'd sit Professor Blackwood down for a full hour-long interview on the mechanisms of a professor's life and at what point they were considered evolved enough to leave the castle for little outings.
On some level, Avery knew that Kathryn's family probably didn't live at Hogwarts during the summer, but he'd never given it any thought and it had never come up in discussion. Assumptions were silly, he'd concede, but what else was there to do when he'd never had evidence to the contrary?
Until now, of course.
"I was under the impression I was purchasing school supplies, but perhaps I've misunderstood the purpose of Diagon Alley."
"Well...no...." Avery thought he probably had the right of it. Diagon Alley was purposed for that reason, along with regular daily wizarding needs, he supposed. His confusion mounted. Fiona and the younger boy would need school supplies, he supposed, but couldn't those be delivered to the castle? It was a...school. They had house elves and carrier owls and...
"No, Mr. Hale, I do not live exclusively at Hogwarts. I own a home in London with my wife, daughter and newborn son. We simply live at Hogwarts during term. And yes... I do, on occasion, eat outside the school. If you can believe it, sometimes I even cook."
Avery's expression turned from fascination to downright skepticism. "I'm open to many theories professor, but the suggestion that you cook isn't one I can get on board with." He'd heard of the disaster dishes that had come about the year before he'd started in Professor Blackwood's class. Were the man a competent chef, the boy doubted that so many of them would have come out as rubbery and burnt as he'd heard. "In any case, good for you, Professor. I'm glad they let you out of the castle now and then. It's good for the mind to get a change of scenery." He patted the man's arm lightly in approval.
“We live there, but it’s not like we’re trapped. We have a whole house. My mother would have something to say about anyone who tried to keep her somewhere she didn’t want to be. This is my little cousin Cai. He will also start Hogwarts in the fall,”
Interesting. Now that Avery was beginning to understand that the professors and their families weren't effectively held prisoner within the school's walls, he had infinitely more questions. "Hi Cai," he offered lightly, giving a slight wave of his hand before turning his attention back to Fiona. "I wonder then, Fiona, if when term starts you'll allow me to observe you in your...temporary habitat? I'm of the mind that environments affect growth and neurological development and I'd be inclined to see how spending so much of your life at Hogwarts has impacted that compared to say....someone like myself." He smiled tightly. "No bathrooms or anything like that, just in general. You won't even know I'm there. It'll only take one full school term."
"Don't you like Quidditch?"
Him? Quidditch? Did cats like water? What a silly question. "No." A simple answer.
"Bu, but... you've seen it played, haven't you?"
"I have," Avery answered, his smile tightening further. Did...did they not hear his book suggestion? It was far more educational and would service their minds in ways a bloody sports almanac never could. Didn't they want to increase their cognitive abilities? "And let me tell you, Cai. I worked on the Hospital Wing last term and the Quidditch injuries that came in were nothing short of horrific. Bones through skin and all. Nasty stuff. You won't catch me up there."
"This book is only about the greatest player who ever lived, thank you very much."
"Is he dead then? That checks out." He nodded, offering Cai a sympathetic nod of his head. "But don't fuss! If you decide to play, I'll be on the pitch waiting for you when you fall. I'll get you patched right up, as long as your brain doesn't sever from your spinal cord."
He smiled genuinely, as though he'd just made the nicest offer to anyone that had ever been extended.
”Ok, let's get this show on the road. We have books to get that are actually needed for school. Avery, are you coming along for the ride?”
Coming? Him? Where? He only had a tiny bit of money left, but he supposed he could regale all of them with his very studious summer if they really wanted him to. "Sure, Professor, thanks!" He grinned at both Fiona and Cai. "I'm a second year, or will be when school starts, since we're technically between terms," he answered the boy. "What house are you hoping for?"
He probably wasn't a Ravenclaw if Quidditch was his biggest interest.
Fiona could have done without the hair tuck in public, but the words spoken after by her father were quiet enough that only she heard them. She felt something loosen in her chest that she hadn’t realized was still tight.
She forgave him. Silently, and without telling him, because she had a reputation to maintain. She didn’t hide the smile she gave him though.
"I wonder then, Fiona, if when term starts you'll allow me to observe you in your...temporary habitat? I'm of the mind that environments affect growth and neurological development and I'd be inclined to see how spending so much of your life at Hogwarts has impacted that compared to say....someone like myself. No bathrooms or anything like that, just in general. You won't even know I'm there. It'll only take one full school term."
Her face went pink at the mention of bathrooms, which was extremely annoying, so she made sure her expression didn’t change at all while it did it.
“Neurological development,” she repeated, very seriously, as though she had that sort of thing all the time. “I suppose that would be fine.” A pause, in which she decided she was absolutely going to be aware of him there the entire time but wasn’t going to say so. “I’ve probably had quite a lot of it, living there. The neurological development.” She said the big words carefully, so as not to mispronounce them. But when she was done speaking, her tongue felt tired.
Fiona glanced at Cai, who was still putting books back with the energy of someone attending a funeral.
Then she looked back at her father when he invited the older boy to join them. Her eyes widened slightly, horrified, and nervous at the same time. It’s not that she liked Avery, it’s just that she knew Cai was going to embarrass her. And her father would too, because that’s what fathers did.
"What house are you hoping for?"
“I’m going to get Slytherin,” Fiona responded, unsure whether the question was directed towards her or not. The whole time she’d known her father, she wanted to be in his house. She saw the snakes as tough and cool. There was no way she’d end up anywhere else.
Gideon looked down at Fiona, one eyebrow lifting with amusement. "Slytherin, huh? Confident." His hand rested briefly against the back of her shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.
"Whatever house chooses you will be fortunate to have you." He knew exactly what answer she wanted, but he wondered if his house was truly where she belonged.
His attention drifted back toward Avery.
"I should warn you, Mr. Hale, that observing people without their knowledge is generally frowned upon." The corners of his mouth twitched. "Even if your intentions are purely academic."
Then, after a pause and a tip to his head. "Although I admit I'd be interested to read your findings."
Turning toward Cai, who still looked like he was mourning the loss of half the Quidditch shelf, Gideon reached over and plucked the Hendrich Hammel biography from the growing stack. He flipped through a few pages. "Ok, one book."
Closing it with a soft thump, he handed it back. "Every first year should have one book they simply wanted." School books were required, but everyone needed a hobby. And if Wesley was annoyed by the purchase, Gideon would foot the bill. Then smack his brother upside the head. Maybe a wet willie.
Brothers.
The book now in Cai’s hands Gideon smiled. He was such a sucker for his ’kids. He went through a time where there was only darkness. After the war and the loss of his first wife Elizabeth, there was no happiness. No light. Unless the kids were near. Gareth, Elowyn and Cai were the only people able to pull him out of his depression. And now, with Fiona and Teddy, he had never been happier.
He ruffled Cai's hair again before the boy could escape. Giving him a mischievous look he smiled. "Besides, your father survived buying books for Gareth and Elowyn. Compared to that, this is practically economical."
Looking toward Avery again, he couldn't resist. "And before you object… Reading about Quidditch is considerably safer than playing it."
That, at least, was difficult to argue with, but he was sure Avery would find a way.
"All right,” he said slightly louder, clapping once to get their attention. His voice took on the professor's voice that every student at Hogwarts was familiar with. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to break out the deputy voice, much less the soldier.
”Let's get this done. We will start at the front, and move around the store in an organized fashion. Mr. Hale, seeing as you have done this before, and dare I say know the shop better than most, why don’t you direct us to the first book we need.”
If he was along for the ride, he could help direct the troops.
”Lets get this done, we have other shops to visit and I’ve heard the ice cream shop has a new flavor. Something to do with dragons that leaves your tongue all red and tingly.”
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