Finished Abstruse Adolescence II Solo

Post Train Ride

Pericles & Isaac Dralt

July 1st, 2022

The end of Pericles' third year ended not with a bang, but in sullen, silent solitude. The budding investigator had bitten off more than he could chew- or rather, been force-fed one too many traumas by an unkind world. The terror group known as SCAR had waged a horrific war on wizard kind, while hags had inflicted his peers with a fatal blood curse. Thirteen was meant to be an age of growth, triumph, and self-discovery. Yet Pericles had never felt so adrift. As the many horrors unfolded around Hogwarts students, he drew in on himself, latching onto the distractions of studies, duels, choir, and prefect duties. Childish curiosity turned to tired paranoia. All of those morbid stressors came to a head when he faced his boggart: a gruesome take on his father's image, distorted with failed experimentation, cursing Pericles for mutilating their family legacy... his father, who now waited with open arms at Platform 9^3/4.

A vampire was not difficult to spot if one knew what to look for. Isaac Dralt was comically overdressed for the start of summer, with every inch of him hidden by fine clothing, complete with gloves, a wide-brimmed hat, and a set of sunglasses. A pointed smile spread beneath his scarf once his son strolled into sight, Athena- his Siamese- weaving between his boots. "My, how you've grown." Pericles felt his heart shrink at the warmth in his father's voice. Isaac reached out with those eerily long hands of his, gently gracing his jaw and drawing up his freckled face. Something had changed in those gray eyes: more mature, yes, but with a hint of... was that shadowy bags? Pericles pulled away. His father always had a knack for staring into souls, and he feared that if he looked too long, he would find that hidden reservoir of guilt. While part of him wanted to melt into a parent's arms and unload all of his worries, the young wizard carried himself with a stiff upper lip, unyielding all the way to the Coupé.

So much had changed over the school year, it seemed. Pericles was not only taller, he was altogether different from the boy who had sat across from Isaac last year. Back then, he'd gone on about his clubs and duels, but now he sat quietly, respectfully, glancing often to the window. He didn't spout any enthusiastic plans for the summer, save a rather mature remark about attending the International Summer Duelling Tournament. "Of course, we'll make arrangements," his father assured, "but what of your year? The third year is such a formative time for any young wix." Pericles felt his stomach tighten. Every year was the same song and dance, hiding his near-death experiences from his father, only ever sharing the tame developments. Yet even in that area of his attendance, things weren't looking bright. He braced himself for disappointment. Best to get this done quickly.

"I stepped down from Prefect." Behind the safety of tinted windows, Isaac had started to doff his protection, starting with the hat and sunglasses. He was just unwinding his scarf, but stopped at the statement with wide eyes and arched eyebrows. ""... and, duelling co-captain." He forced himself to meet Isaac's silvery gaze, but where Peri had steeled himself for disappointment, he found instead surprise and concern. "Oh...? But you seemed so invested in your duties. Lamb." Worry resonated in his deep mid-baritone, and he reached across the divide to touch his son's shoulder, murmuring "has something happened?" What could he say about the decision to step down? That the main reason he'd become a prefect was because dad had been one as a Slytherin student? That he let go of it so that he wouldn't feel as pressed to follow rules? That he was studying something in secret, and needed more time to tinker with his potions? That he couldn't keep his peers safe just because he had a badge, or that he couldn't face his boggart- that damn boggart, wearing a bastardization of his father's face, with its horrible teeth and eyes and-

"I needed more time to prepare for the Hexwizard tournament. I made the Hogwarts team," Peri blurted. The resulting tension was palpable. Then realization sunk in, and his father's lips peeled away into a gruesome grin, fangs shining, eyes flashing. "What extraordinary news! Well of course such a momentous development would take more of your time, lad. I understand entirely." Only, he didn't. Peri had made sure of that through omission. "I'm not the Champion," he added, trying to lessen the praise, "only a part of the team." "That hardly matters," Isaac brushed away, giving his son's shoulder a fond squeeze before sinking back into his seat, poised with all the contentedness of a well-fed lion. "Your mother and Mamo will be so proud." Pericles forced a smile, but he couldn't bear to meet Isaac's expression, practically glowing with faith that his son was honest, successful, and true. The shadowy-eyed Ravenclaw averted his gaze out the window, watching London blur by just as that awful year had.

(Semi continued in Growing Pains)