Secret Spaces 3

And even longer.
"Born to Make (Hogwarts A) History" | Hogwarts!AU/Prelude | Hogwarts!AU | Hogwarts!AU (continued) | Hogwarts!AU (continued 2) | Hogwarts!AU Meta
== Bird Watching ==
Summary: Chuck's birthday brings a parliament of owls and brings tensions in the extended Hansen family to the surface.
14 August 2017; (7 days 'til transformation); County Armagh, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom
Chuck sighs into his palm, turns the page of /Arithmancy for the Quantum Era, cajoles his eyes into focusing on the words.
The bell beside the door jingles.
He looks to it.
A European eagle-owl glares at him through the glass.
Chuck stomps a bubble of excitement, strolls over, opens up. "Yea?"
"/oohu." Owl nudges a rectangular parcel resting on the post shelf. "/oohu."
"Thanks." Takes the package, closes—
"/oohu!"
—turns back. "You're gonna wait for an answer, ay?"
"/oohu."
Chuck huffs. "Lemme go get a pen and paper. Be right back."
"/oohu."
He ducks inside, grabs his note-taking gear from the table, zips back, plunks down on the stoop, tears into the wrapping on the package, uncovering /The Desolation of Sanndraigh by Teàrlach MacIver, a couple of owl treats, and a note, which Chuck unfolds.
- Dear Chuck,
Happy birthday!
Give Avion the treats and she'll stop giving you The Look™. -
""/oohu!""
"Here." Chuck offers them on his flattened palm.
Avion grabs hold of his thumb with her talons, noms.
Chuck snorts, reads.
- I spotted this in a bookshop on our way to visit my Mémé and thought of you right away. Hope you don't mind (too much) that I read it first. -
Chuck rolls his eyes.
- See you in a few weeks to compare notes!
Yours,
Raleigh B. -
"Well, isn't that nice of him," murmurs Chuck. He grabs his pen, scribbles a 'thank you', straps it to the owl's leg. "Take that back to Raleigh, please."
"/oohu!" Avion throws herself into the air, flaps quickly out of sight.
Chuck sighs, straightens—
"/kyoot!"
—locks eyes with a little brown scops owl wearing bright orange jesses perched on the shelf. "'ey, Phost. What's—oh, uh, thanks." Chuck accepts the tube-shaped package.
"/kyoot!" Phost shoots off.
The text on the wrapping reads:
- Happy birthday, Chuck! Please re-size to fit! —Fegan -
"Oookaaay." He tears off the paper and shakes out a /tiny orange Armagh GAA junior squad football jersey.
A /short-sleeved jersey.
Chuck frowns at his covered arms, then squints at the bright morning sun. He pulls out his wand, taps the shirt, announces, "/Quantivaria."
The top blooms to Chuck-sized.
He grins, tucks it under his arm next to the book, slips around to the back of the house, scampers up the rose trellis to the roof, then scuttles across it to the comfy spot beside the chimney. A quick yank has his top off—he nearly purrs at the touch of the sun on his skin, soothing at the aches which'd started last night—and he, grudgingly, pulls on the jersey. He lies back on the thatch, using the other shirt as a pillow.
Chuck closes his eyes and sighs, content.
""/shhrreeeeeee.""
Chuck starts awake, blinks rapidly at the barn owl peering down at him from the TV aerial. "Uh, hi?"
Titus bobs his head. "/shhrreeeee."
Chuck sits up, follows the owl's gaze to a little pouch caught on the thatch, which he picks up, opens, upends, and shakes.
A note and three Galleons tumble out.
- Happy birthday, lad! Treat yourself next time you're in the city. 
—Martin and Harri Vince -
Chuck grins, stuffs the coins and the note in a trouser pocket, jots a 'thank you' on a sheet of notepaper, rolls it up, and attaches it to Titus' leg. "Head back to your people, boy."
"/sshhrreeee!" Titus stretches his wings, soars off.
Chuck allows himself a tiny squee, opens Raleigh's gift to the introduction.
Turns out Teàrlach's quite a writer and the pages fly by.
A /pop and a bit of skittering.
Chuck pries his eyes from the text, blinks at the ... rooster?!
Ten-/kun blinks at him.
"How'd you get here?"
"/plep-plep-plep."
"You're a bloody /chicken, mate, no way in Hell you flew!"
Ten-/kun serves up an offended glare.
Chuck rolls his eyes. "What're you sitting on, anyway?" Tugs the package from under the bird—
A parcel addressed in Mako's precise handwriting.
Chuck's heart skips, just a little, as he eases it open, uncovering a note on delicate pink paper.
- Dear Chuck,
Happy birthday!
May this day find you in the sun and happy.
The vial is my first attempt at an anti-nausea potion. I hope it will help you; Obāsan swears by this formula and says I brewed it perfectly.
That may or may not help, but the /other gift certainly will. ☺
Love,
Mako ♥ -
Chuck paws through the tissue in the box, uncovers a vial of liquid the colour of pink lemonade and a box of Tim Tams. 
His mouth waters at the sight of the sweets and he fumbles badly trying to tear into them.
"/plep-plep-plep?"
"You can't have any."
Dejected coo from Ten-/kun.
Chuck snorts, stuffs a cookie in his mouth, reads the postscript.
- Please return Ten-/kun to the room in the picture. -
—flips the note to see the taped-on photo of a neatly-kept front room.
"Aha! You were /teleported here," Chuck smugs at the bird.
"/plep-plep."
"You want to hang out a bit or go straight back?"
Ten-/kun ruffles himself comfortable on the thatch, closes his eyes.
"Cool, cool." Chuck bites into another Tim Tam, reopens the book, digs back into events in Outer Hebrides of the nineteen-thirties.
The writing's so evocative Chuck can /smell smoldering ruins.
He jerks back to himself as his eyes burn.
Smoke puffs from the chimney.
"So much for a quiet day," Chuck sighs.
Motion in his peripheral.
Bruce glides by at shoulder level on a path to the cowshed—
"'ey! Bruce! C'mere!"
—banks, vanishes behind the building.
"Lazy bastard," grumps Chuck, turning back to his book and nabbing a third Tim Tam.
He's on chapter and biscuit four, when something tugs his sleeve.
"It time for you to go home?"
"/plep."
"Gimme a moment." He writes—
- Mako!
Thanks! These are great! I'm already halfway through the biscuits and will /definitely try the potion afterward.
Can't wait to see you in a couple weeks.
Love,
Chuck -
—beckons Ten-/kun closer. 
He struts over, sticks out his leg.
Chuck attaches the note.
Ten-/kun puffs up, shakes his feathers into order.
Chuck takes out his wand, puts his shoulders back, fills his lungs. Soaks every detail of the picture into his mind. Divides his vision between the photo and Ten-/kun, points his wand, orders, "/Eo."
A /pop and Ten-/kun's spot is empty.
Chuck grunts satisfaction, tucks away his wand, turns a page, focuses—
Something flashes—
/crump!
—slides—
—snags the skidding packets of Tim Tams with his fingertips before they can make their escape.
"/hoowuu!" snickers the tawny owl who's landed beside Chuck's book.
"You're a proper little asshole, ay?"
"/hoowu!"
"Don't be so proud, yea?"
"/hoowuuu."
Chuck unties the bright blue ribbon holding the two packets of biscuits and a scrap of paper together.
- Hey, kiddo,
I know it's not much of a gift, but I'm not much of an uncle, missing your birthday because of a girl, right? -
Chuck snorts.
- That said, I know you're crazy for these things, so don't you /dare let your dad have any. He'll deny it, but he loves them, too. 
See you next week!
—Scott -
"/hoowuu!"
Chuck scrawls—
- Thanks! They're good as gone. -
—attaches the reply to the tawny smartass's leg, waves them off.
The owl takes a running start into the air, then heads roughly north.
Chuck shakes his head, noms another Tim Tam, tucks back into his reading.
Two chapters and the rest of the packet of biscuits later, a feathery head pokes into Chuck's line of sight, orange eyes wide, and a flat envelope in his beak.
"You, too?"
Zoidberg nods with enthusiasm.
Chuck plucks the envelope. "Thanks."
"/treemp!"
Chuck opens—
A rustle, a joyful squeak, a crunch—
"Oi! Chocolate's—"
Zoidberg flings himself off the roof, Tim Tam in his beak, flaps madly away.
"—bad for you!" Chuck huffs, "Crazy bird," peers into the gift from the Hughes: a phoenix feather quill.
- May this help you channel your brilliance onto the page.
Best regards,
Verity, Willoughby, & Modesty Hughes -
Chuck frowns, mumbles, "Who's Modesty? Haven't met a Modesty, have I?" He shrugs, makes a mental note to write the Hughes a 'thank you' with the new quill when he gets to his inkwell, eyes the next packet of Tim Tams.
""Chuck!"" hollers the Old Man.
"What!"
""The Hell're you?!""
"Roof!"
""Get down!""
"Why?"
""The cousins are here!""
Chuck rolls his eyes, gathers his things, wraps them in his spare shirt, scoots to the edge of the thatch, drops to the ground, straightens, dusts off his bum.
The Old Man double-takes his bare arms. "What're you—"
"They /know, so what's the point hiding?"
"The kids /don't and they /can't 'coz they might talk."
Chuck crouches, empties the bundle, tugs the shirt over his head. "Happy?"
"Fix your collar."
Chuck frees the jersey collar, straightens the points, grumping.
"That's better," huffs the Old Man. "Where'd you get that kit, anyway?"
Chuck picks up the book, biscuits, and the rest. "Rory sent it."
Old Man grunts.
"He's not gonna stop with the football shit 'til I join the summer league or tell him /exactly why I can't, ye know."
"I know," he sighs. "Did Bruce, uh, bring anything?"
"No, and he ignored me when I called."
The Old Man slumps.
"What?"
"Nothin'." Bobs his chin toward Chuck's cache of gifts. "Got a bit of a haul, ay?"
Chuck shrugs. "Little things from everyone in the neighbourhood, Mako, Raleigh, and Scott."
"Huh." Old Man turns away. "C'mon, Debra and hers are waiting inside."
A deep breath and Chuck follows him through the back door, stows his stuff on the nearest clear flat spot.
"Chuck!" shrieks Lucy, glomping onto his middle.
"Chuck!" echoes Ollie, limpeting onto his other side.
Chuck pat-pats their backs.
The kids kinda jerk themselves away, eye Chuck suspiciously.
He tries for 'no threat'.
They look sorta relieved.
Debra steps up, wraps him in a loose hug, backs off as soon as polite, says, "You're looking good! You've even got a tan!"
Chuck shrugs, tugs at his sleeve.
Debra's eyes flick to the spot and she doesn't quite control a shiver.
"'m not contagious," he mumbles.
She /does shiver at that.
Craig jumps into the gap, offers a hand—
Chuck shakes.
—and a "You've grown a bit, yea?"
Another shrug and "Couple centimeters, probably."
"You'll be tall as your dad in no time."
"Maybe."
Ollie bounces on his toes. "This's the country, right?"
"Yea?" answers the Old Man.
"Are there any animals?"
For some reason, everyone looks to Chuck.
"We've only got Bruce and he's hiding, but I think the Vinces' sheep were down by the fence?"
"Show us show us show us!" Ollie grabs Chuck's hand—
"I'll tag along," offers Craig.
—drags him out the back door and down the garden hill to the fence-line.
The flock of black sheep've moved on up the hill, grazing with their backs turned.
Ollie heaves a spectacular sigh, climbs onto the fence anyway.
"Welcome to the country, kid," laughs Craig.
Chuck snorts.
"Oo! Kitty!"
"Mind you don't get scratched!"
Chuck does. not. cringe.
"Hello, kitty~!" coos Lucy.
The black and white cat perched on a fencepost headbutts Lucy's hand.
"What a sweetie~!" Lucy looks to Chuck as she scritches. "What's her name?"
"I think the Hughes call her Mo."
"Hello, Mo. Aren't you a pretty kitty? Yes you are!"
"/mrrowow."
Chuck leans on the fence, listens to grass being munched.
"So ...," ventures Craig, sliding himself between Chuck and Ollie, "you liking the country life?"
"'s'alright, I guess."
"Gotta be boring here, compared to Sydney or Hogwarts."
"I manage."
"Chuck?" quavers Ollie.
"Yea?"
"What's wrong with that sheep?" Ollie points to one of the bigger woolies.
"Tricia's got an extra horn. Scott says it happens sometimes with this kind."
"That's really /weird."
"How's a three-horned sheep any weirder than Danny Donnelly's pet clabbert?"
"Clabberts're /normal magical creatures, Dad," scoffs Ollie. "A sheep like that's not normal, magically or Muggle-wise."
"Is that so?"
"Uh huh. /Everyone knows that."
"Except your cousin Scott and that thing's owners, 'parently."
Chuck sets his teeth—
""Snacktime~!"" yells Debra.
The kids shoot off up the garden, Craig in immediate pursuit.
Chuck trails, nearly goes down when something furry contacts his shins.
"/prew?" Mo weaves around his legs.
"Fuckin' cat. Sod off."
Mo flicks her tail, minces off toward the big tree on the property line.
Chuck jogs to catch up, determined not to let the anklebiters get all the food.
There's giggling in the front room from Debra and the kids; the Old Man and Craig are missing.
Chuck gathers his new stuff, trudges to his bedroom—past the closed guest room door—takes his sweet time stowing things and getting his temper on a leash. He rolls his shoulders, makes for from, tries /really hard not to listen, but— 
""—have to police him, yea? He's no danger until ... you know. He even keeps his nails down to the quick so he can't accidentally scratch someone,"" pleads the Old Man.
Craig replies, ""Rationally, I know that, but I can't relax with something like—""
""He's still your little cousin; it's a sickness.""
""I /know, but I'm not taking any chances. These're my /kids we're—""
Chuck stops outside the door, clears his throat.
Dead silence.
He huffs, plods to the front room, helps himself to a can of lemonade and a handful of apple and cheese slices, sets to munching.
Kids and Debra do likewise, chattering about 'weird' sheep and nonsense.
Chuck keeps his mouth shut except to stuff in more calories.
"You eat a /lot," says Lucy.
"I'm growing," huffs Chuck.
"It's just how teenage boys are, sweetheart," adds Debra. "They suck up food like Hoovers."
Lucy giggles, "So Ollie's gonna eat like that, too, someday?"
"Yep!"
Craig saunters in, plunks down next to Debra—and between her and Chuck, of course.
Chuck doesn't roll his eyes.
The Old Man shows up with more apples and now some crisps, drops them on the coffee table, jaw working in that 'I'm not gonna kill this fucker' way—
Chuck stifles a little bubble of pride.
—claims his favourite chair next to the fire.
"Scott coming in for the celebrations?" asks Craig.
"He's on holiday with his girl."
"Figures. Always did fancy himself a ladies' man."
"Yea," shrugs the Old Man, "but he seems pretty serious about this one."
"He sent an owl this morning," puts in Chuck.
"Thoughtful."
"Where's he at?"
"Uh, Dornoch, was it?" The Old Man looks to—
Chuck nods.
"He'll be back next week."
"Just in time to miss us completely," drawls Debra.
Craig snickers, "Sounds almost like he's avoiding us."
"Can ye blame him?" mutters Chuck.
"What was that?"
The Old Man shoots Chuck a look.
"Nothing," he grumbles. "I, uh, think I left something outside. Be right back." Shoves to his feet and out the door, lets his feet lead him to the property line and the climbing tree, hauls himself up to his perch.
Mo the cat watches him suspiciously from the next branch over.
"What're you looking at, furball?"
Mo gives him nothing.
"Stupid cat," sighs Chuck. "Don't suppose you have any advice for dealing with asshole relatives, ay?"
She closes her eyes.
"Yea, wish I /could just ignore 'em, but ...." Sits a little straighter. "Suppose I could just /leave ...." He pictures the room he'd sent Ten-/kun to, squares—sighs, "Fuck it. I'll just splinch myself." Slouches against the trunk. "Might as well do something useful." He takes out his wand, centers himself, points to a cluster of dying leaves, pronounces. "/Anthus pratensis duo."
A pair of meadow pipits form, tweet a 'thank you', and head off to be happy together.
Mo watches the action with interest.
"/Motacilla cinerea duo."
Two grey wagtails.
"/Linaria flavirostris duo."
Twites.
"/Saxicola rubetra duo."
Whinchats.
"/Emberiza citrinella duo."
Yellowhammers.
"/Turdus torquatus duo."
Three ring ouzels blink at him.
"Huh. Where'd you come from?"
Six beady little eyes gleam from cocked heads.
"Go on you." Shoos.
The trio flutter off to wherever new ring ouzels go.
Chuck tucks his wand under his arm, braces his chin in his hand, and sighs into his palm.
== Family Way ==
Summary: A visit from Uncle Scott and his girlfriend brings Chuck some unexpected information.
23 August 2017; (2 days after transformation); County Armagh, Northern Ireland, United Kingdom
Chuck wobbles awake and blinks at the ceiling.
Laughter from down the hall.
A /woman's laughter.
Chuck throws himself out of bed,  but his balance is fucked and his bones are missing and the floor rushes up to meet his face.
The Old Man says from the doorway, "I heard—" A sigh then, closer, "Let's get you—"
"I can do it!" snaps Chuck.
Old Man backs off.
Chuck heaves himself to sitting and sways there, glaring.
Old Man looks away, says, "Was just about to start making breakkie. You feeling up to food?"
Chuck interrogates his stomach. "Maybe some toast."
"I'll get it started." Stands—
""Everything alright?"" hollers Scott.
"Yea!" answers the Old Man. "I'll be right back!"
"His girl's here?" asks Chuck.
"Yea. I mentioned she was gonna tag along?"
Chuck eases to his feet, manages the upright thing. "Gimme a jumper."
Old Man—
"Please."
—comes back from the wardrobe, offers—
Chuck accepts. "Thanks."
—hovers. "'welcome." Rubs his neck. "I'll, uh ...."
"Go toast," mumbles Chuck through wool. "I'll manage on my own."
Old Man grunts, shuffles off.
Chuck settles his clothes, leans against the bed to get his strength and equilibrium sorted, pushes off for the dining room, shuffles his way there.
"'ey, Chuck!" greets Scott, waving the hand not resting on the shoulder of a /tiny woman with hair redder than any of theirs.
Chuck grunts, folds into a chair across the table. "You're the girlfriend, yea?"
The Old Man makes a strangled noise, almost drops toast in Chuck's lap.
"I suppose I am," she drawls.
"Chuck, this's Fella, my girl—"
"/Partner."
"—partner."
Chuck pokes his toast. "You're not what I was expecting."
"Figured on something less elfin and more harpy, yea?"
"Uh, kinda?"
"Chuck!"
Scott doubles over laughing.
Fella grins, waves it all off. "I like my boys honest."
"Which explains how she puts up with me."
"Indeed it does." She sips from a glass of orange juice, wrinkles her nose.
"Something wrong?" asks the Old Man.
"I miss coffee," she sighs, "/and tea."
/tunk-tunk-tunk!
Everyone looks to the door.
Bruce, a dead thing in his beak, peers in.
Scott snorks.
"Great. Another 'gift'."
"Looks like he nabbed you a mouse this time, since you didn't like the vole so well."
"Th' Hell's going on?" grumbles Chuck.
"Bruce's trying to make sure she eats right, we think," explains Scott, patting Fella's stomach.
She smacks his hand away.
/tunk. /tunk. /tunk.
Chuck makes a face.
"I'm with you, kid. Raw rodent ain't my pleasure."
Something niggles at Chuck's groggy brain.
"'course, at least he's not droppin' 'em down my shirt like Luath used to."
"Live or dead?"
"Depended on his mood."
Scott laughs, even the Old Man cracks a smile.
Chuck sits straighter. "You're a witch?"
"Yea, but not /that kind." Fella grins. "My brother got a tawny when he started his teaching job and the li'l fucker decided it would be funny to include his own 'deliveries' with the post."
"What's your brother teach?"
"Astronomy."
Chuck blinks, confused. "But—"
"He works at a Muggle uni?" asks the Old Man.
"Nah, at—" and she burrs some Scottish-sounding tongue-twister which leaves the Old Man blinking hard.
Scott says, "Herc, I know what—"
"There's another school for wizards in Scotland?" blurts Chuck.
"Yea," says Fella, looking dead at the Old Man, "yours just tries to forget it exists."
Chuck queries the Old Man.
He glares at Scott.
Chuck turns to /him.
"Listen, I know what Mum said about the Scottish School—"
"What'd she say?" prompts Chuck.
"They train /cowards," sneers the Old Man.
Scott rolls his eyes. "You're /still on that?"
"Yea, they /totally do," growls Fella. "Which's why what the Death Eaters left of Ailsa McTavish and Beathan McEwan is buried beside the path to the dorm."
"How do /you know—"
"They were still there—no surprise, seeing they fuckin' /died /fighting—when we visited last week and—'fore you ask—I knew 'em when all their atoms were still in this reality."
Old Man glowers at her.
"While we're on the topic, you ever ask your neighbours what /they did?"
"They stood by—"
"Outside the School, Herc."
"Wha?"
"Will and Verity rounded up every underage Muggle-born wizard in Ulster—"
"Northern Ireland."
"—got them to the School, and stood guard. Martin and Harri ran Death Eaters looking for 'em in circles the entire fuckin' war. /Both wars, actually."
The Old Man makes like a fish—
"Every one of those kids lived and came back to their parents."
—closes his mouth with a snap, shoves to his feet, stomps out the door, and slams it behind.
Chuck turns back to Scott. "Th' fuck?"
He sighs, ruffles the hair on the back of his head. "Our mum—your granny—never forgive the Vinces and Hughes for not going to the front lines to fight. She got it in her head that if they'd been there, your gramps would've lived and never let go of the idea." A weak smile. "I guess your dad still believes what she told him."
"Why don't you?"
"'cause Ailsa McTavish saved my reckless ass fighting more times than I want to think about."
"I suspect it was 'coz she thought you were good looking."
"Actually, it's 'coz McEwan told her he'd throw her out on her ear if she let my reckless ass die."
Fella laughs. "That sounds like them. And you."
Chuck nibbles toast.
Fella leans across the table, eyes mischievous. "'fore your spoilsport dad comes back, there's something else you should know 'bout—" The tongue-twister again. "—they actually /want were-people to study there."
Chuck drops his toast, chilled to the bone, and whirls on Scott. "Wha'did you tell her?!"
"He said /nothin'. You've got eyeshine, sonny-boy, /and ye look like someone's been bent outta shape pretty recently."
Chuck slumps back, swallows the lump in his throat.
"She's right, Chuck. They have free Wolfsbane potion for the werewolves, pain potions for everyone, counseling, tutoring to make up the missed days, the whole works."
"I'm not leaving Hogwarts." Crosses his arms.
Scott gestures for calm. "I know. Just wanted to make sure you know it's not the only school in these parts."
Chuck huffs.
/tunk. /tunk. /tunk.
"I do believe that's a /hare," snickers Scott.
"Oh fer fuck's—I don't want your bloody presents, ye crazy feathered hellbeast!" yells Fella.
Chuck smiles, reclaims his breakkie, gnaws off another bit.
The Old Man huffs back in, locks eyes with Scott.
He raises an eyebrow.
"Anyone wanna tell me why there's a /pile of dead things on my post shelf?"
Scott breaks out in a slow smile. "Like I said, Bruce's trying to make sure Fella eats right. She's gotta keep her iron levels up, ye know."
Old Man's eyebrow rises.
"My nutrition's important 'coz your brother knocked me up."
"Because you asked me to, sweetheart."
Chuck strips mental gears.
"Wha?" squeaks the Old Man.
Scott howls, "The looks on yer faces!", nearly tips off his chair.
Fella smirks at the Old Man. "You're a bit old and /experienced—" Bobs her head toward Chuck. "—to need it explained, ain't ye?"
"But—"
"I'm settlin' for 'good enough' before my ovaries pack it in."
Scott rolls his eyes. "Thanks, /dear."
"You're welcome, /dear."
They giggle at some inside joke.
Like how the Old Man and ....
Chuck shoves to his feet—
"Where're you going?"
"Bed."
"Sweet dreams, kid~!" 
Chuck makes it to his bedroom, goes starfish on the mattress, and's out instantly.
.
== House Specialties ==
Summary: Mako, Raleigh, and Chuck reunite at King's Cross after the summer holidays
1 September 2017; (20 days 'til transformation); King's Cross, London, England, United Kingdom
Mako cranes her neck—
"He'll be here," assures Raleigh.
"I know, but ...." She chews her lip.
"I still can't believe you couldn't visit him all break."
"You couldn't, either."
"True, but—" He offers a crooked smile. "—it's not /quite the same for me and him as /you and him."
Mako sighs, "At least we could exchange post."
"Yea, there's that." Raleigh shrugs. "But what's the point of connecting to the Floo Network if you won't let folks /use it?"
"Professor Hansen is very worried for Chuck's safety," Mako recites. She shifts her feet, checks again for sight of him. "I'm happy he was allowed to spend most of the summer away from Hogwarts."
Raleigh cringes a little. "He /did seem to like the country, even though he sounded kinda lonely."
"What he said about the neighbours made them sound friendly." Peers about. "Kind, as well."
"It's too bad—"
"Of course it is, but he promised his father and we promised him."
"Well," sighs Raleigh, "at least now we can see him pretty much whenever we want."
Mako smiles.
A burst of activity near the entrance: a picture-postcard family of brunets and a flash of coppery—
"Chuck!"
""Watch—!""
""Look—!""
"/Oi!" Chuck stumbles backward from the force of her hug, but keeps them on their feet and squishes back. "Good t'see ye again," he mumbles against her ear.
"Same," croaks Mako.
"Can I cut—"
"No."
Raleigh huffs.
Someone else clears their throat.
Chuck tenses in her arms, then takes a deep breath, pulls away, and squares up, resettling his rucksack. "Mako, Raleigh, these're my cousins, Debra—"
The brunet woman just behind Chuck smiles.
"—Lucy—"
The First Year girl waves.
"—Ollie—"
The little boy grins.
"—and Craig."
The man bobs his head and his eyes lock onto Raleigh's prefect pin. "These're your friends."
"Yea."
"We're pleased to meet you. Chuck's told us a bit," says Debra.
Raleigh shifts, sliding into his 'teacher's pet' act, nearly as fluffy and friendly as Plasma. "All good, I hope?"
Debra laughs, assures, "All good. If you'll excuse us, we have a /mountain of stuff to get arranged." She gestures toward a stacked luggage trolley topped with a rufous screech owl in a little brass cage.
"Would you like some help?" asks Raleigh.
"We've got it handled, thanks," replies Craig and the whole family shuffles off toward the porters in Hogwarts livery.
Chuck lets his shoulders drop.
Raleigh nods toward Chuck's rucksack. "So ... where's the rest of your stuff?"
"Already at Hogwarts with my old man. All I've got with me's my wand, three Galleons, and some snacks from Martin and Harri." Chuck shrugs.
"Snacks?"
"Hungry already, Ray?"
Raleigh shrugs. "I'm growing." Pats Chuck's—
Chuck smacks at his hand away from his hair.
—laughs. "You'll probably catch up someday. Anyway, what sorta snacks?"
"Pasties. Belfast-style."
"Huh?"
"Fried, not baked."
Raleigh's eyes get big and eager. "I've never had those before."
"I'll save you a bit."
"Thank you~!" Raleigh grins.
Chuck looks away, mumbles what might be 'you're welcome'.
Mako nudges his foot with hers. "You look good."
"Uh, thanks?" He clears his throat. "Think the extra sunshine helped."
"The countryside certainly seems to agree with you."
Chuck tosses a look at his cousins. "Unlike some things."
"Couldn't help but notice some, um, tension?"
"Brilliant observation, Becket. They can just /barely stand me."
"Because of something you did?"
Chuck gives Raleigh a Look.
"You have to admit—"
"Don't piss me off, Ray."
Raleigh snorks.
Mako smiles.
"So ... yea, anyway—" Chuck scuffs a foot. "—can we, um, share a compartment?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't we?"
"I don't ...." He takes a deep breath. "I sorta had to promise Debra and Craig that one or both of you would be with Lucy and me the whole trip—" He voice drops to a growl. "—or they we gonna apparate me to the station."
"And leave Lucy on her own?"
"I don't understand," says Mako, heart sinking.
"They're /scared of her being alone with me." Chuck looks to Raleigh. "Probably be happiest if /you stuck around, seeing as /you're the prefect."
Contempt drips off that last word: so much of it that Mako winces.
Raleigh ducks his head. "I'm supposed to sit with the other prefects up front, but ... they can wait for me until everybody gets settled in."
"Thanks," murmurs Chuck.
"'least I can do," reassures Raleigh.
A call goes up and the crowd presses toward the train.
"Let's get this over with." Chuck forces a path across the tide to Lucy and her parents.
She bounces on her toes; Craig nearly has to pry Debra's fingers from her sleeve.
Lucy darts into the nearest car, dragging Chuck behind.
"Are you excited about starting at Hogwarts?" calls Raleigh.
Lucy slows the barest bit. "/Definitely! I won't have to /hide what I am anymore and I'll meet more people like me and it'll be so great!"
The line of Chuck's shoulders goes tight.
"You hoping for any House in particular?"
"Mhmm! Ravenclaw!" Lucy smiles over her shoulder at them. "Hansens and Hanlons are /always Ravenclaws."
"But, Chuck, isn't your—"
"'Always except for my old man, my uncle, and their dad: they got Sorted Gryffindor."
Lucy laughs.
"What's funny?"
"The family portraits were so /relieved when Chuck made it into Raveclaw."
Chuck grunts, digs in his heels, steers Lucy into an empty compartment, claims a window seat, tucks his bag between his feet.
Mako slides in beside him, arm brushing his.
He doesn't seem to notice: his eyes focus on the crowd on the platform.
Raleigh folds himself in across from Chuck.
Lucy stops hovering, drops her rucksack on the floor, takes the spot next to him, nearly vibrating with excitement.
Mako shuts the compartment door as the train jerks, then glides into motion.
Lucy squeals, flutters.
"It's so sad," says Raleigh, fighting a grin and nudging Lucy with an elbow, "but next year this'll be old hat for you."
"Never! I've been waiting for this my /whole /life."
Chuck keeps staring out the window.
Raleigh teases, "You sound like you might already know a few spells."
Lucy preens, digs a rather short wand from her rucksack, intones, "/Lumos."
The tip of her wand glows white.
"Cool!" cheers Raleigh.
"Very well done," adds Mako, kicking Chuck's foot.
"Good job," he mumbles.
"Thank you~! /Nox!"
The light winks out.
Lucy kisses her wand, cradles it to her chest.
"That's a really pretty wood. I don't think I've ever seen it before?"
"/Alnus incana," says Mako, quiet.
Lucy raises an eyebrow. "Mr Ollivander said it was alder."
Mako smiles (trying very hard not to smirk). "So did I."
Chuck side-eyes her, but his lips twitch up.
"Oh, uh ...."
"Mako can tell tree species by looking at the colour and grain of wood," explains Raleigh.
"Really?"
Mako nods.
"So ... I should ask you for help with Herbology?"
"Actually, you would do better to ask Chuck. I may be able to identify wood, but I have trouble convincing it to grow." Mako grimaces.
Chuck rolls his eyes. "You do fine."
"You do /better."
He shrugs.
"What's your specialty, then?"
"Potions."
"And dueling," chorus Raleigh and Chuck.
Lucy blinks at them.
"She's Hufflepuff's leading scorer."
"Kicks /both our butts. A /lot," adds Raleigh.
"O-okay." Lucy looks to Chuck. "So, I ask you about Herbology and ...."
"Becket's the guy to ask for Transfiguration help."
Lucy sparkles at Raleigh. "Can you change hair colour like that boy on the platform kept doing?"
He laughs. "Not /quite. Teddy does it without /thinking, really. I need a wand, like this." Aims at his head. "/Colorvaria."
His hair turns an eye-watering chartreuse.
"Whoa," breathes Lucy.
"If you think /that's cool—" Leans over, whispers something in Lucy's ear.
She whispers back.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," mumbles Chuck.
Mako elbows him.
Chuck sighs, goes back to watching the world outside the glass.
"Ready?"
"Ready~!" sings Lucy. 
"/Colorvaria!"
Lucy's dark hair turns a perfect Ravenclaw blue and sprouts bronze tips.
"How do I look?"
"Great!" declares Raleigh.
"It's lovely," agrees Mako.
Chuck shrugs.
"Your turn~!" Raleigh points—
"Wait! What—"
—at Mako, orders, "/Colorvaria—"
She looks at her reflection in the window—
"—and /Colorvaria!"
—just in time to see Chuck's hair shift to a blue-black ... like hers /used to be.
Mako and Chuck turn together, glower at Raleigh.
He bites his lip against laughter and Lucy's doubled over and absolutely /howling.
"Put. it. back," spits Chuck.
"I dunno—" Raleigh giggles. "—I think the dark really makes your eyes stand out." Nudges Lucy. "Whad'ye think?"
Lucy, wiping away tears, nods. "Ginger's pretty on you, Mako, too."
"No, 's'not," mumbles Chuck.
Mako flinches.
"It, um, washes you out." He offers Mako a weak smile. "You look sick with it like that. Kinda green."
Mako's head fizzes, warm.
"So turn it back, Becket."
"Fiiine." He flicks his wand. "/Colovaria."
Mako scalps tickles with charmwork and her reflection returns to something more typical.
"Thank you."
"'welcome. Chuck?"
"Fix. it."
"You're no fun. /Colorvaria," sighs Raleigh.
Chuck is ginger again.
"What about yours?" prompts Lucy.
"Oh, riiight~!" Pokes himself in the temple. "/Colovaria."
Raleigh's familiar blond returns.
Lucy sits straighter, bounces in place. "Anyone want sweets? Mum gave me some money!"
"Sure."
"You don't have to—"
"But I /want to!"
"I'll walk with you," offers Raleigh, standing. "I have a meeting up near the front I /probably shouldn't miss."
"But you'll come back, right?"
"Soon as I can," he reassures.
"Great! Let's go!" She grabs Raleigh's hand, flings open the door, drags—
"'bye!" he squeaks.
—him out into the corridor, leaving the door wide open behind them.
"An' she's s'posed to be the one with /manners," grumps Chuck, pushing to his feet, and moving to the door.
""So High-and-Mighty Hansen's traveling with us mortals this year,"" says a smug-sounding Owen Cooper.
""You think he'll lower himself to join the feast, too?"" sniffs Niamh Rose.
""We'll have to wait and see, I suppose.""
Chuck puts his shoulders back, leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You want an answer or do you just wanna hear yourselves talk?"
""Let's hear it, Hansen. What did you have going on last year that was more important than welcoming the First Years?""
Chunk straightens, yanks—
Mako lunges—
—fends her off with one hand, pulls up the hems of his jumper and shirt with the other. "/That's what I was doing."
—digs (/wand /wand /wand!) in her bag, gathers—
Owen stammers, ""Got into your dad's razors?""
"More like got jumped by a—"
—aims, yells, "/Silencio!"
Chuck clutches at his throat, whirls on Mako, eyes green and blazing.
"You promised you wouldn't," she hisses.
""Ooo~! Trouble's a brewin'~!""
Chuck's fury rattles nearby fixtures.
""We should probably leave them to their little domestic.""
""/Definitely. Wouldn't want to get caught in the crossfire.""
Owen and Niamh's laughter recedes.
Chuck slams the door, then waits, tapping his foot with annoyance.
"/Finite," commands Mako.
Chuck yelps, "Wha'did ye do /that for?!"
"You were about to get yourself expelled."
"I was gonna tell 'em it was acromantulas, fer fu—"
"Which would have those idiots heading into the Forest to prove themselves—" Folds her arms. "—and where'd they'd likely be hurt or killed."
Chuck blinks and the fire drains out of him. "I—" Huffs. "I wasn't thinking and I'm so /sick and /tired of hiding. I wanna be /normal again." He oozes down onto the cushions, mumbles, "I could go around outside in /short /sleeves, Mako. Feel sunshine. Not fuckin' worry about anyone noticing. I was /this close—" Holds his thumb and forefinger less than an inch part. "—to feeling normal again."
Mako chews her lip, sits, presses against his side.
Chuck picks at his jumper cuff.
"Maybe the Sashas will have something for you soon," she offers quietly.
"It's been six months since we heard from 'em. Think they've given up."
"I don't think you can be a dragonologist if you give up after six months."
"Maybe." He takes a deep breath, finally meets her eyes. "But, right now, it's /really hard to want to stay on this train all the way back to Hogwarts."
Mako swallows, rasps, "But what would you do instead?"
"Let the neighbours and Scott teach me at home, maybe?" He shrugs. "Or maybe just be a shepherd?"
"You've fallen for the sheep, too?"
"They /are pretty cute."
Mako frowns.
Chuck rests his head against hers. "But not nearly cute as you, so I'll stick it out." 
"I'm pleased I still outrank the sheep—" She nestles closer, but digs her elbow into his side. "—but that was a poor compliment if it was meant as one."
"Oh, uh, right." He shifts. "I really, /really missed you and I want to stay close as long as I can."
"That's better and I feel the same."
"Sweet," sighs Chuck.
Mako closes her eyes, listens to their heartbeats, mingling with the rumble of the train.
.
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