Back Home Solo Closed

Catching up with family.

For the entire drive, Clifton told them about everything. Well. Almost everything. He skipped the pranks. And the dance. And his first through seventh-or-eigth kiss. But he talked about the snack bar in his dorm and about how food appeared out of nowhere and how empty armour could move and talk just like a person. He told them about his teachers and about what Hufflepuff was and about his friends.

All the time, he waited for his parents to react. Especially when he and Leo would go on a tangent about houses or Quidditch. But they just kept right on listening. Asking a few questions here and there, but otherwise staying quiet. He did notice his mom grip his dad’s hand, as if trying to reassure him, but otherwise they seemed content. It was a far cry from the hassle and tension and emotions that had gone into getting him there.

Clifton waited until dinner was ready and Leo had left to begin starting the real conversation.

“I...really like that school,” he said, setting his and Clover’s dishes on the counter. “It was kind of weird and I know I wasn’t supposed to like it, but…I mean, you guys don’t seem angry about it anymore.”

His real question was painfully obvious already: Can I go back? His parents exchanged brief glances before each stopped their kitchen clean-up chores and turned to him.

“Cliff,” his dad finally said, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Normally, when his dad wanted to have a serious talk, he would crouch down to Clifton’s level. But he didn’t this time. In fact, the all-business way his dad looked at him now made Clifton feel like he’d grown two feet over the course of the school year.

“I think your Mom and I finally decided that if you’re happy there, then we will be happy about it too. And you seem very happy. You’ve been talking a mile-a-minute all day.”

Clifton’s brows furrowed. “But...that easy?”

His mom laughed a little and walked over to them, crossing her arms and playfully nudging her husband with her hip. “Well. You didn’t see the behind the scenes of that decision, but yes. That easy.”

Then her voice quieted. “All we had to do was think of all the times you hated us for those doctor appointments. Pulling you from your sports games, sitting in all those waiting rooms, staying up with you when you were sick from the wrong medicine, watching you zone out when it was the ‘right’ medicine.”

Clifton’s gave fell to the floor. “I didn’t hate you.” He mumbled.

“I know, Sweetie,” she muttered, reaching out and brushing his bangs from his eyes. “But all of that compared to your first letter from your new school? We should’ve never put you through that, I think.”

There was a long moment where Clifton didn’t really know what to say. After shoving his frustrations down for so long, it was odd having them brought up and openly acknowledged. His parents had always been convincing him--and maybe themselves--why they should be doing it. They were always so confident in their decisions. It was new to learn that even his perfect, successful parents could mess something up.

“What do you think, Cliff?” his dad finally asked. “Reese’s puffs are forgiving, right?”

The corner of Clifton’s mouth perked up in a silent laugh. “It’s Hufflepuffs, Dad.”

He looked up to answer and was surprised at both of their earnest expressions. He wasn’t used to adults turning to him for things. He was starting to get the idea that being away on his own for so long--maybe even kissing Alina--had changed his standing with his parents. He had stepped into a world they didn’t know and had come back with his own stories. His own family. His own life.

At eleven-almost-twelve, he wasn’t sure what to do with all that. He wasn’t even sure that he liked it. But for now he just wanted their worry to go away.

“Yes. Of course. I mean, that was forever ago. I didn’t...I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about any of it, I just wanted to know if--”

His mom laughed again and pulled him into a hug. “And--that easy--our Cliff is back. You don’t need to apologize, love.”

Clifton felt his dad’s arm come around him, pulling them tighter together. “I think that’s a yes, you can go back. You know, this magic stuff...I think this part of your life is going to have to be your call, Son.”

Clifton nodded, realizing there was a whole new level to growing pains besides tripping over carpets and knocking his head on things. But, at the same time, there was something freeing to those words.

“Whatever you do,” his dad added with a chuckle. “Promise me you’ll work on your handwriting in those letters.”

Clifton laughed. “Promise.”

But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't 'that easy' after all. It couldn't be. This was all too...perfect. He didn't like to think it, but something in his gut said they weren't telling him everything.

Doubts and Suspisions

Leo came to visit a lot more often the days leading up to summer camp, which seemed to confirm some of Clifton’s suspicions. Leo lived far away from Rye and, before now, had really only come up every one or two years. So why stay?

But Clifton liked him being there. It made things a lot more fun because even though Leo was only a few years younger than Clifton’s parents, it sometimes felt like he was just another one of Clifton’s friends from school.

They played videogames, brushed up on his skills for football camp, joked around, tried out stupid stunts they’d found on the internet, hung out at the beach.

But it all seemed like it was meant to be a distraction. Clifton couldn’t remember when he’d become so cynical about everything and he didn’t like it. But he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling that this “family time” was staged. That, at any point, someone was going to tear aside the curtains to show what was going on behind the set. And that he wouldn’t like what he saw.

So, at least for now, Clifton soaked it all in. He stayed up late watching movies with Leo, looked at some new artifacts with his dad, and chatted with his mom over her attempt at cookies. He played with Clover and tried to reply to at least some of the hundreds of stupid text messages on his phone.

And wondered when magic had become more real than reality.

Maybe he was just adjusting to being back? Maybe he’d spent so much energy working himself up into his parents saying no that he was still expecting them to change their minds. Maybe a soccer ball would smack him in the head when he went to camp tomorrow and bring him back into his senses.

The start of football (soccer) camp

“So let me get this straight,” Arlo, the dark haired boy seated on the bus across from him rested his arm casually over the back of the seat. “In only a few months, you landed a girlfriend. You. Mr. Can’t-be-bothered-I’d-rather-bloody-my-nose-at-the-aquarium-gift-shop?”

Clifton laughed. “That one wasn’t my fault.”

“Might as well be. You had Sarah and Kate practically eating out of your hand and you’re over there wondering if triops are really dinosaurs? I think you deserved that spoiled kid popping you in the nose.”

“I only asked if you guys are doing anything after camp,” Clifton laughed again, trying to bring him back. “I haven’t had time to catch up yet.”

“Right, to show her off. I follow.”

Clifton rolled his eyes, reminded that it was impossible to hold a normal conversation with Arlo. “No. Because she… I think she comes from old money or something. You know, the big houses and fancy manners? And I--”

“Want to show her off. Continue.”

“And I want to show her what it’s like. You know, to just be a kid. I don't think she gets to do that very often.”

Arlo seemed to finally accept his answer and thought for a moment. “Fair enough, I guess. Well I know some of the group is hanging out at skate park Saturday. And there’s Leah’s party on Friday. I think some of the lot’s gotten to where they walk around the mall pretty often. Kind of dull, but it’s an option.”

Clifton tried to decide which one--if any--would suit Alina but Arlo interrupted before he could.

“Hold on. What’s she like? Because if she’s one of those stiff, nose-in-the-air type then I’m not telling you anything.”

“You already told me,” Clifton smiled, swinging his sneakers up onto the empty spot on Arlo’s seat. “Don’t worry. We met in detention and she kissed me first.”

Arlo looked genuinely surprised. “You? Mr.--”

“Knows-more-about-sandollars-than-celebrities? Yes.”

His friend grinned. “What do they teach you at that school, magic tricks?”

“Something like that.”

Still clumsy

There really wasn't much to write home about when it came to the first few days of football camp. It was much the same as the previous ones with the night pranks and the same obnoxious kids and at least one or two attempts by the directors to make things more creative.

Clifton's favorite part was when they actually got to play full games. He needed it. The running and sweating. The bruises and grass stains. Even the ugly gashes from someone else's cleats. It gave him something to put his focus and energy into, leaving him exhausted but better at the end of the day.

Or at least it had. Up until he'd tried to climb most of the way up his bunk to grab a quick change of shirt one day--the last prank had involved a lot of orange juice--and felt the ladder rung give way beneath his foot.

The distance wasn't far, but his foot had come down weird on someone's pile of junk, causing his ankle to rebel and give out. So Clifton had spent the next few minutes lying on the floor, laughing to himself between gritting his teeth and holding his stupid, swelling ankle. And hoping that no one would come in until he could stop feeling so pathetic.

So, naturally, Coach came in. Coach! Why was he in the dorms? And why this dorm?

"You alright, Troublefield?"

Clifton stared for a second. Then moved his hands up to his shin instead and pretended to finish counting. "...nineteen...twenty. Yep." He smiled up at coach and then straightened his leg back out before sitting up. "Just doing some stretches. Did you need something?"

The Coach cocked a brow and looked around. "In this mess?"

Clifton followed his around at the cluttery dorm, again wondering why the coach was here. "Well. The other group has the field right now, so I just thought--"

"Can you stand?"

Clifton frowned in defeat. Then, gripping the remaining rungs of the bunk-bed ladder, he gave it his best shot. He almost managed it to, hiding his injured foot behind one of the bags. But Coach, in his usual abrupt way, kicked the duffle and Clifton winced.

"Come on," the man nodded toward the door. "Let's get you to the nurse. And I don't want you playing on that foot, got it? Just because we have your parents sign those papers doesn't mean they don't come back to chew our heads off when one of you gets hurt. Especially if you make the injury worse."

"But my parents know I do this all the time. They wouldn't--" an especially sharp pain interrupted him and he stumbled. And Clifton honestly couldn't tell which hurt worse. His injury or the fact that Coach had to catch him. It was going to be a long rest of the week.


Injuries were never good for Clifton. They were originally why he'd gotten into video games because being forced to just sit there gave his brain no where to explore except his own head. But there were no video games here. Only a lunchroom of kids with an entire school year of inside jokes he wasn't savvy too.

He distracted himself from that reality by trying to interpret what was happening with his family. And distracted himself from that by trying to sort out what might happen to Alina. Especially after her last letter about the apparent possibility of moving to France. He honestly didn't know what he would do if that happened. He hoped it didn't mean she couldn't come to Hogwarts.

Clifton couldn't handle even considering that possibility, so he distracted himself again by trying to understand his friends' jokes. And around and around.

"Hey," Arlo finally nudged him out of it at the dinner table one night. "You're usually being annoying, what's wrong?"

"Annoying?" Clifton laughed.

"Yeah. Because you always have better jokes than me. Annoying. Now answer my question."

Clifton's usual smile found it's place and he shrugged. "Nothing. Just...stupid ankle, I guess. Not much point to camp if you can't do anything."

Arlo expression hardly changed. He clearly didn't buy it, but he didn't press any further. Instead, he whipped out his phone. "Change of plans, by the way. No mall. Riley has decided to hold a surprise party for Jack. Just at the school park. You should come. here's supposed to be lunch and a slip n' slide, I think." Then, looking over at him, he added: "And you should bring her."

Clifton nodded, grateful for his friend's effort to include him. Especially in the case of Arlo, who was practically allergic to being nice just for the sake of it. "Thanks. I'll ask her."

An unwelcome visitor

Clifton gave up on his staring contest with the ceiling. It was hard to sleep when all he’d done was sit around all day.

So when an ample amount of snores told him the rest of the boys were asleep, he ducked under his covers and turned on his phone screen for a light. He dug in his bag for a pen, popped a lemon drop in his mouth, and settled in to finish his letter to Alina.

He was beginning to pick up on her owl’s schedule and he was cutting it close. Since Clifton didn’t have an owl himself, hers would come by around lunch and then again a little while after lights out and peck on the dorm window to check for deliveries. He’d planned on having it done much sooner than now, but Coach had chosen that afternoon to lecture him and the other invalids about the real goal of camp or whatever.

So Clifton decided he’d keep it short, not wanting to interrupt their streak of one or two a day. He was just about to finish it when a sound from outside interrupted his train of thought. It was a pained, squawking sort of sound. Alarmed, he glanced at the time on his phone, then threw off his blanket.

Alina’s owl. Someone was hurting it.

Despite his ankle, he hurried down the bunk and slipped into his shoes, tugging his hoodie on as he stumbled through the messy dorm and out the door.

He rounded the corner of the cabin and clenched his fist, ready to give it to whatever idiot was tormenting--

A wide, thin hand clamped over his mouth. His entire body tensed in alarm and the letter dropped from his hand but before he could react, a second hand gripped his elbow, locking him back against someone tall and smelling of an awful, acidic cologne.

“Ah, young love,” a male voice muttered. “Don’t worry, boy. Cooperate and this won’t take long at all. You can get right back to playing Romeo.”

Clifton immediately tried to call out and, when that didn’t work, he clicked open the pen still in his clenched hand and jabbed it hard into the man’s leg.

It didn’t do much in the way of actual harm, but it caused enough of a surprise that he could slip out of the man’s grasp.

Almost.

The stranger’s boot knocked into Clifton’s injured ankle and he collapsed to the sidewalk, scratching up his hands and face. Before he could even scream for help, the thin silhouette leapt at him.

A hand pinned his shoulder to the sidewalk and the rounded end of of a stick--a wand--pressed uncomfortably against his forehead.

“Legilimens,” the man panted, as if he was already out of breath.

Clifton's senses reeled in fear of an unfamiliar spell, but he saw nothing flash or explode. Instead, he felt disturbing sensation that he wasn't alone in his head. Somehow, this creep was slithering his way in. Clifton grunted and squirmed under the man’s grip, trying to fight against it. But the attacker continued tearing through his mind. Sifting through his thoughts. Shoving his emotions into a confused pile. Rifling through his memories and--almost worse--tossing them aside. Scattered snippets of them filled Clifton's senses, like a terrible movie stuck on fast-forward.

Clifton sitting on another hospital bed, skinny and cold and awkward without his shirt. Needles. Parents arguing. Clover crying uncontrollably because his magic had scared her. Alec’s disturbing questions after he’d been bullied. Alina’s scream as she’d fallen out of the tree. The resounding smack of her grandmother hitting her.

Clifton kneed his attacker where it counted. The man growled, but he’d lost his focus and that gave Clifton the chance to knock the wand from his hand. The man lunged for it, still trying to hold the boy in place, at least until he got another pen-stab to the hand. And an angry, tormented owl to the face. The Rosier family pet seemed to have overcome whatever the man had done to it and was now clawing and nipping to get at Clifton’s dropped letter.

He cursed, trying to aim a few overkill curses at the creature. Grateful for the help, Clifton scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the other end of camp. He wanted to yell for help again, but now that he knew the man was a wizard he thought twice about it. Even big, burly Coach wouldn’t be able to stand up against some of the dark magic stuff he’d heard about at school.

And Clifton couldn’t handle the thought of this maniac hurting any of the staff. Maybe even killing them if they got too close. So he clenched his jaw against the pain in his ankle and ran.

Making an escape

The man must’ve done something to the camp because no one even took notice as Clifton dodged the spells exploding at his feet. He made it as far as the campus parking lot before two more figures emerged from the shadows. These ones weren’t wielding wands, but they didn’t need to at their size. Clifton backpedaled and darted toward the other end of the lot.

“Don’t let him off the premises!” The thin wizard wheezed. “Too many witnesses.”

That, of course, only encouraged Clifton to move faster. That was his only advantage. He was younger, smaller, and had been doing three days worth of insane running drills. Even with his ankle, he managed to climb up and over the chain link before the brutes could reach him.

There was a sound of a gunshot and the surprise caused him to stumble in his landing.

“Don’t kill him, idiots!” the man demanded before hunching over in a coughing fit. His cronies were definitely not magic because the next thing Clifton saw them do was run for their car.

Car. He couldn’t outrun a car! But Clifton got to his feet and forced himself to run anyway. Toward where there would be people and hiding places. It was his only chance. He tore down the sidewalk, taking sudden turns and climbing over fences whenever he could so that the car couldn’t follow him. But he couldn't stray too far from the main road because he'd lost track of his first attacker. And the last place Clifton wanted to find him again was in a dark alley.

He probably looked a sight to the college-aged kids and other night-life as he pushed his way through. A twelve-year old sprinting past shops and even across traffic in his pajama pants, hoodie, and sneakers. Especially with his face bleeding and his ankle swelling. But that was the idea. The more attention, the less risk.

Clifton threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see if his theory was working. But running slap bang into solid muscle answered the question for him. Clifton fell back onto the sidewalk again and a large hand gripped the collar of his shirt.

“Let go!” he shouted, throwing the rest of his energy into pulling himself free. The t-shirt tore, but the man grabbed him before he could get away and yanked him into what looked like an abandoned shop. Clifton kicked and shouted and swung his fists. He felt his knuckles connect with something and felt it crack. His hand came away wet and his kidnapper cursed.

“Merlin's beard, kid,” the man said, his voice muffled like he was covering his face. “I thought you said you were in Hufflepuff.”

Clifton’s heart continued to pound in his ears, but he stopped fighting. “L...Leo?”

“My fault for surprising you, I guess. Thought you saw me.” He lowered Clifton, but kept a firm hold on his arm. “I’ll explain when we get out of here.” He muttered some spell that Clifton didn’t recognize and--in a moment that was even more chaotic and confusing than the last few had been--they suddenly appeared somewhere outside the city.

When Clifton stopped feeling dizzy, he realized they were standing in the woods. On the side of a dirt road.

“Car’s this way,” Leo said. He clicked the remote in his hands and an antique looking sportsncar chirped and flashed it’s lights onto the surrounding pines. Clifton limped his way over and, in a daze, climbed into the passenger seat. Leo glanced over at him then started the car.

“I try not to drive into the town of my targets unless I have to,” Leo said by way of explanation, though it explained exactly nothing to Clifton.

The two sat in silence for a full half hour. Clifton had two thousand questions, but he was grateful for the chance to let his brain at least catch up to what he already knew had happened. And to think he'd been complaining about feeling bored.

At long last, Clifton said: “Your targets?”

“I’m an Auror. Of sorts. In our world, it’s something like a police officer.”

Our world. The phrase didn’t sit right with Clifton, but there were more pressing questions.

“And...are you checking me out of football camp or are they just going to have to start a manhunt tomorrow, because this for sure isn’t the way back.”

“Your Coach knows. Well. None of the details. Just to keep an eye on you. And that all the family emergency paperwork is filled out.”

“Is...that supposed to make me feel better? Because it sort of makes you sound like a stalker.”

Leo smiled. A crack in this unfamiliar, solemn mood that was making Clifton uneasy. But the smile faded and he sighed.

“I’m sorry, Cliff. It should've have talked your parents into letting you go to that school. It was supposed to help you blend in with the crowd.” Half of his smile returned when he looked over at Clifton again. “Guess I should’ve known who I was dealing with.”

“Well if you know, would you mind filling me in?” Clifton asked, the question coming out moody and terse, but after a night like his he didn’t care. "I hate all these secrets. And I’m tired of you guys pretending like nothing is wrong. Because obviously something is. And it seems like all of you know who--or what--I am more than I do. Even that creep that attacked me!”

Leo was silent for a long time. Then, as if finally making a decision, said: “You owe it to your parents to let them tell you most of it. But you’re right. I owe it to you to explain tonight. It’s actually pretty simple. Those people are cowards and you have something they want.”

It was an infuriatingly unclear answer, but Clifton tried to keep his attitude in check. “Like...my Switch? Because I’ve got nothing special when it comes to magic spells.”

“No, more like a memory. Some piece of information stored in your head. ”

“What memory? Nursery graduation? I think that’s as far back as he got before I let him have it.”

"You mean they actually..." Leo stopped. Then sighed and rubbed his forehead. “As I said, this will make a lot more sense when you talk to your parents. But to make it short, many of these people are desperate fanatics. They're treasure hunters. And they think you are their map.”

Normally, Clifton liked when one question led to more questions but not right now. It made him want to scream. “I'm their what? Look, I don’t want you to ‘make it short’. I want all of it. None of this makes sense.”

Leo gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. Sorry, kid. I’m never any good at this stuff, I get it all mixed up. I just never thought I'd be telling you. It’s exactly against what your parents--” Leo stopped short. Then finished with, “What your parents want for you.”

“Well, I knew that much,” Clifton grumbled. “I don’t think anyone’s parents sends their kid off to camp to get shot at and chased down four blocks in the middle of the night."

He knew he was blaming Leo for how he was feeling. And, though it his tone didn’t sound at all sincere, Clifton did his best to remedy it. “But...thanks for saving me.”

Leo was quiet again. Then, in a low mumble, he replied. "If I'd done my job right, you wouldn’t have needed it.”

He reached into the backseat and pulled out a traveling blanket. Then tossed it at him. “Here. Get some sleep, things will look better once you wake up in your own bed."

Clifton didn’t sleep. He turned to face the window, watching the dark forest pass by. But his nerves were still on edge and his body still ached. So his mind went to work trying to puzzle out a picture with all the oddly-shaped pieces Leo had given him.

Something about his parents. His parents knowing a secret about him. Why else would he have enemies that he didn't recognize, but that somehow knew him well enough to try and hijack his personal letters? And why else would these enemies want his memories? Memories he didn't even remember himself.

And they were apparently his deepest, most distant ones. He had just turned twelve so the deep end of his mental pool wasn’t much of a dive. It’d have to be a memory from when he was really young. Like, Clover young.

But why would magic people be looking for something like that when he was born to Muggles? He hadn’t even known what magic was until he was six.

Hadn’t he?

The idea that entered his mind was so ridiculous, he almost decided Leo was right and that he needed sleep. But it wouldn’t leave him alone. It fit too well into some of the other, smaller things he'd always sort of wondered about throughout his childhood, like his eye-color or difference in the amount of baby photos of Clover. He just hoped he was wrong.

It was around four a.m. when the porch light blinded him and his parents hurried him inside. His dad and Leo spoke in low, urgent tones. His mom took him into the bathroom and, almost angrily, began wrapping his ankle and dabbing his scratches.

“Mom?” Clifton asked, hardly looking up from the bathroom tiles as she finished up the scrapes along his the side of his face.

She flicked her bed-head pixie cut from her eyes and winced with him as she brushed at some of the dirt out his sidewalk-burn.“Yes?”

“What’s my real last name?”

Her hand slowly went from his face to her mouth. Tears came to her eyes, and Clifton felt himself mirror her reaction. But she didn’t answer him. Only pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Why would you ask something like that?” she said, pulling him even closer and kissing the uninjured side of his head. “You're ours, Cliff. We've told you, your magic doesn't change that. You belong here.” Then, after a long moment, she pulled away and glared up at the doorway. “Leo, on the other hand.”

She got up and stormed out of the bathroom. Clifton’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to get his friend in trouble and he knew how much of a mother-bear she could be.

He heard her start right in on the yelling, despite his dad’s efforts to remind her that Clover was asleep. Within moments, his sister began crying from the other room. Wishing he’d never opened his stupid mouth to begin with, Clifton hurried out of the bathroom, charged up the stairs, and threw himself onto his bed.

He hated that he was right. He wasn't supposed to be right. She was supposed to have laughed it off and then joked about one too many soccer balls to the head. Not all this. He didn’t know what it meant, and he was too exhausted to interpret. Maybe--hopefully--he was reading to deep into things again. All he knew was that, even after Hogwarts, he was still the reason for all the yelling and crying downstairs.

Clifton rolled over and tried to tune it out. Alina was supposed to be coming tomorrow late afternoon, after he would’ve come home from soccer camp. He wanted to talk to her. She would listen to him. She would hear him out without tossing a blanket at him or running out of the room. He wanted to hear her laugh and to hold her hand and to escape to another, happier adventure.

In short, this hurt a whole lot worse than a pixie bite. And he wanted badly for her to kiss it better.

But he reminded himself that Alina Rosier had enough on her plate, even without a crippled, confused boyfriend. He’d save the bigger questions until his parents and Leo were up to for talking about it.

For now, he just hoped they could all pull this mess together before it was time to pick her up at the station. Because Clifton was still determined to stick to his plan of making it one of the best weeks of her entire summer. And his ankle--just like his nerves before the dance--could kindly shove it.

Finally Arriving Home

Buckle up, it's a novel. I don't know what's with these solo ones.

Clifton was woken up the next day by a gentle knock on his door.

“Cliff?” his mom asked softly. Softly enough to remind Clifton that it hadn’t been just a bad dream. He was still in it. The thought made him want to roll over and go back to sleep, but he knew that would only mean waking up to it again.

“Are you up, Sweetie? It’s past lunch time.”

Clifton pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes. Then winced as some of last night’s injuries began to wake up too. “Yeah. I’m up.”

“Can we come in?” his dad muttered.

He didn’t care that it was after lunch, it was too early for this conversation. “...Yeah.”

The door opened and both his parents came in. The room filled with the smell of breakfast as his mom carried a tray past him and his dad ruffled his bedhead.

“It’s a pretty impressive battle scar,” his dad tried to smile while Clifton’s mom began balancing a precarious stack of pancakes on his bedside table. Clifton tried to smile back, but in reality he didn’t really need the reminder that he looked like he’d taken a cheese grader to the face.

“Thanks,” he said, grateful that they were going out of their way to help him feel better. It was something he never wanted to take for granted after what he’d seen of Alina’s grandmother.

His mom smiled over at him, but there was a sadness behind it. “My, that was a speech. So I guess the good old childhood days are over? All that talking about how you’re going break your pancake-eating record and asking for every topping in the cupboard.”

Clifton smiled a little. It wasn’t childhood, it was last year. When had things gotten so weird? She seemed to be asking herself the same question.

“That’s alright,” she said, pulling up his desk chair. Her voice softened and she reached out and touched his messy bangs again. “I guess you’ve kind of had to be the adult in the house lately, haven’t you.”

He didn't feel like much of one, hiding in his room from all the chaos he'd caused. Her brows furrowed and she brushed his bangs back a different direction with a frown. She was thinking he needed a haircut. Clifton bit back a smile. As ill-timed as it seemed, he liked how normal it felt.

Her attention came back and she sighed, letting her hand fall back into her lap. “I’m sorry, Clifton. I’m sorry about all of this. We never meant…”

Clifton’s mother wasn’t typically a very emotional person, at least in the weepy sense. So he was surprised when her voice faltered. His dad glanced over at her and then took over.

“We never meant for any of this. The doctors, the magic school, those b-- those idiots that attacked you. But most of all, we’ve hated hiding things. Especially once you came home. I almost gave up and told you anyways when you asked if we were angry.”

“So…” Clifton frowned. “Why didn’t you?”
“It didn't...I didn't know if it was the right thing just then.” His dad sighed. “But whatever you figured out last night. You’re...well, you were right, Cliff.” He rung his hands uncomfortably for a moment before finally looking directly at Clifton. “You are our son. In every sense of the word. But...you are not our biological child. You were given to us. Along with some strict instructions.”

“Well, then…” Clifton brought a hand to his head to try to keep it from hurting. It sounded just as crazy now, spoken out loud in the daylight, as it had in his mind on the dark drive home. “Who are my biological parents? And who gave the instructions? What were they? What were they for?”

His parents exchanged glances. Then his mom reached out again to place her hand on his leg. “Cliff...They never told us who your parents were. All we were told was that they couldn’t care for you and that the instructions came directly from them. They didn’t want you to know anything about the magic world or them. In fact, Leo told us that he had offered to care for you originally, but your parents wanted a family that would have nothing to do with the magic world.”

“Leo eventually told us that he suspected it was to protect you from some of their past enemies, and that scared us. That’s why when your magic showed up, we tried too hard to hide it. We knew it wasn’t fun, but we thought it had to be better than whatever those people would do. Because Leo doesn't go all dramatic like that unless he means it.”

“Besides,” his dad added. “Apparently your parents had reason to believe that you wouldn’t have magic at all, but...guess you beat the odds.”

Clifton was quiet for a long time. The emotional expanse that had just opened up was too big for him to venture for now, so he focused on getting more of the facts straight. “But...you sound like you already knew about magic.”

“We didn’t, at first,” his mom said, sitting back in her chair again. “We just wanted a kid. We met Leo when we were looking to adopt. We wanted one of our own, but there were too many complications. Your sister was a rare exception. That’s why that’s her name. We’re lucky she made it here."

That would also explain why everyone had been so excited for them. To the point that Clifton, even as an independent ten-year-old, had started to feel pushed aside. He smiled a little, glad to know the truth behind it. Because their family wasn’t complete without her.

“So...I guess no one knows where ‘Clifton Alexandar’ comes from then, huh.”

“Not true,” his father smiled. “We gave you that name. Alexandar was your great-grandfather’s--my grandfather's--name. A great man. And 'Clifton'...I don’t know, it just fit. It sounded strong. Steady. Just like you’ve turned out to be.”

Strong and steady. He looked over at the ankle he’d sprained climbing a bunk bed. And though of landing on his behind on the train, letting a chocolate frog loose in a girl’s hair, knocking over the sorting ceremony stool, introducing himself to Hufflepuff by spilling his drink, accidentally eating exploding bonbons, startling Alec and Leo with his enegetic chatter, dumping Clover’s glitter into his roommate’s face, being late again, jumbling up his words around Alina, and jumping off of tables after pixies.

But it was the same thing the wand shop guy had said. And the same thing the sorting hat had said.

“Turning twelve is hard, Cliff,” he chuckled, guessing his thoughts. “But you can trust us on that one. You’ve been our little anchor ever since Leo brought you.”

“You were so tiny.” His mom muttered. “Very newborn. And so happy, even then. But those big, brown eyes...” Her face softened into something Clifton was certain those in her cut-throat fashion world never saw. But it made her look so soft. So beautiful. “Cliff. I don’t know who your mother was, but I’ve always had a deep respect for her. I don’t know how she did it.”

Respect wasn’t exactly what Clifton was feeling, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. “So...telling me this. Is it going to get you in trouble?”

His dad shrugged. His mom smirked. “Don’t know. Nor do I particularly care. All I know is that, so far, we’ve followed orders. We tried to keep you hidden. Then we tried to let you go out. Then we let Leo hang around all week and do his security thing. And still you came home bleeding and your clothes all tore up. So now I think we’re just going to be your parents.”[/color]

“I think all your real mom and dad wanted was for you to be safe. That’s all we want too. But it’s hard to protect you when I can tell you feel walled off. And don’t say that you don’t, because I know you do. I’ve seen it, ever since you’ve gotten home.”

Clifton shrugged and ducked his head in acknowledgement, still not sure what to do with all this parents-telling-him-they'd-been-wrong stuff.

“So...where is Leo?”

“Investigating,” his mom answered curtly. “And getting your things from camp because I told him he’s not welcome back without them.”

“He took last night really hard,” his dad explained. “He wants to find out more about it.”

“Do you know who they were?”

His dad shook his head. “They don’t tell us that stuff, Cliff. You’d have to ask him.”

Clifton nodded. Maybe now that he knew, Leo would be more clear next time. The three of them then fell into a comfortable sort of silence and, for the first time since he’d been home, Clifton felt like he could breathe. He still had a whole new world of questions, but at least that world wasn’t spinning out of control. He was on the same page with his parents again--and they still were his parents as far he understood it. It would be okay. There would be time for the rest.

“Alright, birthday boy,” his mom said. “Pancakes and then a shower. We’ve got a classy little lady to pick up from the station.” She stood and kissed the top of his head. Then lifted his chin and gave him one of her mischievous smiles. “Let’s show your friend how to party like a muggle, yeah?”

Clifton laughed.

“I still think that sounds like a breed of dog,” his dad commented, climbing out of Clifton’s video game chair.

“Coming from the man who called his son a Reese’s puff,” his mom grinned. She went up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek and then gave Clifton a pointed look. “Hurry. But not plaid-with-stripes hurry, got it? No son of mine is going to show up looking like a panhandler when meeting a nice girl.”

“Mom, I don’t even own stripes,” Clifton said, sliding off his bed to help himself to some pancakes.

“You know what I mean. I’ll finish getting the guest room set up.”

She disappeared, leaving him and his dad. Clifton stopped on his way to find a plate and looked up at him. The historian looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t seem to know where to start. Finally, he just pulled Clifton into a hug and held him.

“I...I know being in two worlds is hard. That’s how I felt when I came here and...well, it doesn’t matter where you come from. It matters what you choose. What feels like home.”

Clifton screwed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms tightly around him. “I know.”

Life mostly went back to normal after Alina went home. His parents went back to work. Clover was back on her napping schedule. And there were no water parties, soccer camps, theme parks, escapades down secret passages, or even pretty French words to distract him.

Which was why he now sat on the floor of his room, headphones far louder than his mom allowed, blazing through video game levels. It wasn’t his typical route. Normally, he could escape his own world by exploring the actual one. Kicking the soccer ball around, strolling through Rye’s old towns, or combing the beach.

But these thoughts were so loud, that he hadn’t been able to enjoy any of that. He’d tried all morning, but it seemed that ignoring them for two days had only fed them.

He tried picturing his real parents. Forming them in his own mind in a different light, but Leo’s descriptions had left a lot wanting. The Dark Stuff. A right mess. Kicked out. Disowned. Wannabes. Not in her best interest. Through tears. Against his wishes. Thieves. Common criminals. Azkaban.

Found her dead.

He pressed a combination of controller buttons much harder than necessary and his character roundhouse-kicked the boss out of existence. Hardly phased, Clifton moved right on to the next level. He hadn’t even heard the knock on the door until he sensed someone else in the room. He lowered his headphones and looked up to see the large form of Leo standing over him.

“Hey,” he forced his usual smile, then turned back to his game. “Mom must be on a conference call.”

“You got it,” Leo chuckled. “I may be an Auror, but I know when to pick my fights.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but the tinny percussion coming from Clifton’s headphones and the sounds of the video game.

“Besides.” Leo finally said. He came over and sat down on the carpet, curling his large body up so that he could fit in between Clifton and his desk. “I wanted you to hear it from me. Without all of the other noise.”

“Hear what?” Clifton humored him, though still no taking his gaze from the screen. Outside of hurting Alina of course, he couldn’t really place why he was so angry at Leo. Clifton couldn’t remember ever feeling this pent up, and it wasn’t like it Leo’s fault that his biological parents had turned out to be a train wreck. If anything, the anger should’ve been reversed.

How could Leo stand to look at him? The child of the two people that had robbed him of his own family? And some reward Clifton was giving him right now for helping.

“An apology, first off,” Leo said. “I...shouldn’t have said that to your friend. I thought maybe she had something to do with why they were following you, but I was on the wrong trail. Turns out some kid from soccer camp has been ratting you out. He was at that birthday party too.”

Clifton’s brows furrowed. “...Arlo? But he doesn’t know anything about magic.”

“No, but he knows enough about you. Including how to get in your garage to borrow a skateboard. I think they bribed him, but I’m more willing to bet he was acting out of fear. That’s what I meant by what I said last night. Not that you shouldn’t have friends; they can be a good protection. Just that for right now you need to be careful. For yourself and for them.”

“...What about the rest of what you said?”

Leo shrugged with a sigh. “I can’t help who your parents were, Cliff. I know you were expecting something different. Something comforting or maybe heroic, but they were just people. People who made lots of mistakes. Like the rest of us, I suppose.”

Then, after a few moments of watching Clifton mow down enemies, he added. “I guess Josh and Esme were right, I could’ve explained it nicer. But I don’t think that would’ve helped you. You’re too much like them and I don’t want you falling for the same stuff.”

Clifton finally paused the game and turned to him. “The same stuff? Do you mean dark magic or do you mean punishing my friends? Or are you afraid I'll hide the ones I love from my family and ruin the lives of strangers? Or maybe I'll throw my problems onto other people? Or grow up and decide not be there for the birth of my own--”

“Slow down, Cliff, I never said your dad wasn't--"

“You never said he was!” Clifton felt tears leap to his eyes again and he blinked them away angrily. “When you were telling that part, you only talked about my mom. I’m not an idiot.”

Clifton shook his head and resumed the game. “And I am nothing like them.”

Leo was quiet for a long time. Finally, he cursed under his breath, muttered something about teenagers, and he began digging through the pockets in his jacket.

“Look, Cliff. I’m never any good at these conversations and I’m not going to pretend to be. I don’t know what to tell you. I care about you and so I protect you. Both of your parents cared about you and so they gave you away. All that stuff in between is just going to take some time.”

“Believe me,” Leo’s voice softened. “I know.”

He then pulled out what looked like two slightly crinkled pieces of paper. It wasn’t until Leo placed them down in front of him that Clifton realized they were photographs. Moving ones, like at school.

Clifton’s attention left the video game and he stared down at them. One was of a young woman in a summer dress. She giggled, as if nervous to have an audience, then twirled around. The dress billowed out and her long, dark-blonde hair shimmered in the sun. The other was of a rugged young man with shaggy dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a familiar smile. He laughed and jostled a few of the fellow students on the edges of the photo before winking at the photographer. They seemed so young and happy, nothing at all like the criminals Leo had described.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find one of them together as adults. Don’t think they were much for photos with their line of work.”

“...Thank you,” Clifton mumbled, suddenly wishing he hadn’t lashed out so much. He set down his controller and carefully picked the photos up, still studying them. “...Do you think I’ll ever meet them?”

Leo’s expression softened and he surprised Clifton by wrapping a thick, warm arm around his shoulders.

“I think you’ll just have to wait on that one. For now, I'd say just enjoy your summer. This stuff has always been here, you’ve just never known it. It will be fine, just like it always has been. The cowards after you wouldn’t dream of messing with a wealthy pureblood family like the Rosiers, so you’ll be safe while you’re there. And I’ll keep guard of home base all summer, so let it rest. I know you like to find all the answers, but you can’t explore this kind of stuff the same way you do your tunnels and whatnot. You just have to wait on it.”

Clifton nodded, grateful for permission to drop it for now. He hated feeling so unlike himself but with no one talking about it, Clifton had begun to feel like he'd never get answers. But Leo was right. The answers weren't going anywhere. He would figure it out. Just like how Alina was already sorting her own family's history out. Piece at a time.

“All of this was because of their choices, Cliff,” Leo added gruffly, pulling away. “Not yours. You don’t need to take it all on. That only hurts you more, which makes their poor decisions all the worse...Believe me. I know.”