Twin of the Red Wolf PV Ruka closed

Like a hawk, Calvon’s eyes surveyed the courtyard. His emerald eyes weren’t looking for anything in particular; they were just doing what they always do. Sweeping, scanning, surveying, and most importantly, observing. It had become a habit that he had no recollection of ever starting, but truthfully--like everything--there was a start. That start was his earliest memory. At the age of five, Calvon remembers being in his room and catching a sound--shushes and whispers...along with hints of crying.

The tiny boy would jump off his bed, ever so slightly, land on the balls of his feet and slowly tip-toe his way through the hallway and to the wall outside of his parents’ room. The door was cracked, and in front of their door was the staircase that led downstairs. A very strong impulse to hide on the staircase would overtake the boy but through fighting off this whim, Calvon would make the smart decision to stay where he was. That staircase was extremely creaky--and his parents extremely perceptive. If they so much as heard a creaking through the open crack of their door, they’d reprimand Calvon, close up shop, and immediately end their conversation. And that was something the five year old didn’t want to risk. It was fun being a spy.

The green eyed child would slowly lower himself onto his butt and place his back against the wall. His heart was thumping through his body, and a chill tickled his small frame. There was a mix of fear and excitement that was spreading throughout his system, and the look in his eyes only confirmed it. He loved the thrill; it was captivating.. Closer to the door now, his parents’ voices were much clearer. Lots of the words and phrases they were saying didn’t make a lot of sense to the boy, but he listened nonetheless.

Infertile. Succession. For the greater good.

Nothing made sense to the boy, but one thing he didn’t have to decode were the expressions of his mother. Obstreperous sobbing-- soon followed by a-

THUD!

The five year old, as expected, couldn’t control himself this time. His body taking command of the wheel and moving by itself, Calvon found himself right outside parents’ door--bright emerald green eye shining through. He saw his mother on her knees, hands collapsed over her eyes and head, bawling. His father tried his best comforting her; he squatted, rubbed her back, kissed her forehead, and held her close. But there was nothing he could really do. She was inconsolable, and it was through her sorrow that she came to a realization. Through a weak, shaky voice, she’d whisper--a whisper that Calvon could only hear through his intent focus--

“Calvon’s our only hope…”

The words not only hit his ears; they hit his heart. They’d hit home and hard. And unable to continue to see his mother in such a vulnerable state, in addition to having some type of understanding of what his mother’s words meant, the five year old crawled away from the door. Put his back against the wall. And silently cried. And cried. And cried.

And cried.

Eventually, he’d make it to his bed. Sleep and wake up the next morning. His parents continued on as if nothing was wrong, and for the next couple of days, they didn’t add any increased pressure onto the boy. They didn’t love him any less. They treated him exactly the same as before, as perfect as they could be. In their situation, most parents would have taken out their frustrations on their children, or pushed them towards some unrealistic expectation or ideal...but Calvon’s parents didn’t believe in that. They believed in love and unfathomable selflessness. So they treated their child with those two core values in mind. And it was because of that love that Calvon, still essentially a toddler with the added benefits of a couple more years, promised himself that he’d do anything and everything to make their dreams come true. His parents were worth any sacrifice, and he’d do everything in his power to put himself in a position that would be of undeniable use to them. But he also realized one very important thing. One aspect of that night that would change his perspective on viewing the world.

He’d have never know what his parents were going through--the burden they were carrying, and the sorrow it caused them--if he wasn’t observant and attentive. So it was these qualities that he swore to sharpen. Which led him to where he was currently--in the courtyard.

Sweeping, scanning, surveying, and most importantly, observing.

And it was due to this, that he caught the eye of something extremely interesting. There was another boy in the courtyard with hair not only similar to Jack Burnett but with the same fiery demeanor. But unlike Jack, this boy’s fiery hair matched the heated red color of his robes--his Gryffindor robes. Another house the boy was not a part of. Another house where he could not rely on solely himself. Another house here he needed eyes.

And if not only because he looked like Jack Burnett, Calvon would approach this boy to attempt to fulfill this goal.

And so, the eleven year old approached the redhead, and with a hint of a smile on his face, said, “Hey, I’m Calvon Faux, and did anyone ever tell you that you looked like my dormmate Jack Burnett?”