13th August 2018, 9:10 pm
The Harringtom Household
Nottingham, England

Adam could barely contain his excitement as he rummaged through his suitcase, checking one last time to make sure that everything he could possibly need in the next week was properly stored. Clothes, a toothbrush, and other commonplace necessities were pushed to the side to reveal the young boy’s most valuable possessions, safely buried: the chess board he’d received from best friend Eris Fawley, his glass Remembrall, and his wand. Smiling to himself, Adam replaced his belongings and zipped the bag closed, hauling it off of his bed and turning to the door. It was finally time: Adam was going to Paris.

Technically, it wasn’t a real vacation. The only reason they were traveling was Mr. Harringtom’s growing participation in the Muggle community. It had been two years since the boy’s grandmother had died, and the loss had struck his father in an unanticipated way. Unable to cope with his grief, Mr. Harringtom had begun to remove himself from the English wizard populace. He’d taken up a job in retail despite a lack of any qualifications and found more and more excuses to skip out on visits to Diagon Alley or Platform 9 ¾ every year. Perhaps the most disruptive change had come at the beginning of July; while Adam was still away at summer camp, older brother Dean had been sat down and told that he was expected to attend a Muggle university after the close of his magical education. The Gryffindor boy had been furious, arguing that he had already learned everything that he needed to know, but their father had remained steadfast. It wasn’t long after that arrangements were made and suitcases were packed — despite every complaint, the day had come, and departure to France’s capital city was imminent.

Adam jogged down the stairs with suitcase in tow, setting a clunking rhythm behind him as the living room came into view below. His family was already clustered around the fireplace, the smiles of his parents counteracting the angry glare painted on his brother’s face. A small fire was burning steadily, and though it didn’t look like much, it would suffice, wouldn’t it? He’d never traveled through the Floo network long-distance before, and he didn’t know if the rules changed. What if they needed a bigger blaze? What if he ended up in the wrong house by mistake? What if they emerged in the fireplace of some building on the border and they were arrested for entering the countrty illegally? It was all very possible, and though the excitement of the trip outweighed the fear of its potential slip-ups, that balance was starting to shift. Nervously, he watched his father take a small box off of the mantle and scoop out a portion of the green powder. Adam bit his lip as the flames turned green, not wanting to ask a stupid question, but not wanting to get in trouble more. “Are you sure this is legal?”

A small laugh escaped his mother’s lips at his question, and she answered before closing the distance between them to wrap him in a hug. “Of course, Adam. What kind of parents would we be if we smuggled our children into France every time we went on vacation?" He giggled into her shoulder and felt the hug tighten before she pulled away, looking down at him with a smile. “Don’t forget, no magic, no matter how much Dean taunts you. Now, you make sure these two don’t get in any trouble, okay, mister? I don’t trust them very much.” Waving her hand at Dean and her husband, Kristine winked at her son conspiratorially. “And take lots of pictures for me! I want to see everything that you get up to over there.”

Much to Adam’s dismay, he’d found out shortly after hearing about the vacation that his mother would not be accompanying them. He’d been looking forward to enjoying sights like the Eiffel Tower and the River Seine with his entire family, and in the living room of the Nottingham estate, he asked her once more to change her mind. “Are you sure you can’t come with us, Mom?”

“Trust me, Adam, your mom’s going to have a nice vacation of her own with the house empty for a week." Dusting his hands off, the boy’s father rose turned from the fireplace to look over the room in a final sweep as he interjected with a smile. “Ready to go, you two?” Nodding eagerly, Adam looked to Dean, who sighed and shrugged his own bag onto his shoulder, unceremoniously taking his place in the flames and calling out their destination in a bored voice. He disappeared almost instantly, and all of a sudden it was Adam’s turn. The boy stepped up to the fireplace as the thrilling fear of the experience started to take hold. “Don’t forget the rules. Eyes closed, elbows in, and —"

“Stay still. I got it, Dad.” The older man raised an eyebrow as he was cut off, and Adam started to feel embarrassed. “I mean…I remember. I’ll be careful.” Taking a deep breath, he put his foot forward into the fire, feeling almost like a superhero at the lack of heat from below. Stepping fully into flames, he looked upwards into the chimney and felt his eyes start to water as the smoke reached for his face. Squeezing them shut, he lowered his head and smiled in what he thought was his parents’ direction. Adam racked his brain for the address he’d been repeatedly reminded of — it was a tough one to remember, but if he didn’t say it right, he could end up across the country. Running it through his mind one final time, just to be certain, Adam nodded and called it out confidently.

“22 Avenue du Maréchal Joffre, La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France!”

The next few minutes were a blur of light behind Adam’s eyelids. This was the part that he had never understood about the Floo network: if you had to keep your eyes closed for safety’s sake, how would you ever know when to leap out of the fire? Surely it was a problem that many others had experienced, and he hadn’t heard any stories of people getting lost in the network….right? Adam himself had always ended up where he had meant to be, but this was the first time he had attempted a journey so lengthy. Forcing his eyes open to squint through the smoke, Adam watched glimpses of different parlors and living rooms soar by like a real estate slideshow. Finally, when he feared that he could look no longer or the smoke would devour his vision, a familiar figure appeared before him.

“Adam, you idiot, get out of the fire!”

Coughing, the boy threw himself forward and out of the carousel of flames. He stumbled a little as his feet made contact with a carpet beneath him, feeling guilty as he saw the sooty footprints he was leaving behind. Hopefully, the owner of the house wouldn’t mind; they had been expected, after all. When he had finally returned to his senses Adam looked up and smiled at Dean, who was shaking his head pitifully.

“You have used Floo powder before, haven’t you? Because that was just —”

“Dean.” The warning came firmly in his father’s voice, and the boys jerked their heads up to see the man descend professionally from the stone fireplace, face lit eerily by the poison-green flames from beneath. Adam shivered despite himself — in that moment, with his practiced posture making him look almost regal as he strode into the room, fire burning bright and reverting to its harsh natural color behind him, his dad was the closest thing to a Disney villain that Adam had ever seen. “Be nice to your brother. He’s still learning.”

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, flicking a dusting of ash from his shoulder and setting his bag down on the floor at his feet. In silence, the three Harringtoms took in their surroundings for the first time. They were standing in a living room that seemed to be trying to pass itself off as an arboretum. Hanging plants descended from the ceiling like living chandeliers, while vines of ivy and who-knows-what-else decorated the walls, framing the artwork and newspaper clippings exhibited in ornate frames and curling towards the fireplace itself. In the far corner of the room, Adam saw a desk littered with flower petals, gardening equipment, and leafs of notebook paper. The desk drawers themselves were tagged with little labels illegible from this distance, and the entire collection made the room smell like a rainforest. It was surprisingly warm for the evening, even in August, and Adam found himself wishing he had dressed in something lighter for their arrival. The real centerpiece of the room, however, was an enormous bay window that spanned the majority of the far wall, flower pots resting on the ledge and cushions placed in the empty spaces to make the whole thing appear as if it came right from the pages of a children’s book. The vibrant colors of the sunset outside highlighted Adam’s awed expression as he tried to make sense of what was happening around him. “Where are we?”

Suddenly, a pair of doors on the north wall swung open with a soft wooden creak, and Adam’s father’s face lit up as a woman stepped emerged into the indoor garden. Looking to his dad in utter confusion, Adam watched him let his luggage fall to the floor as he grinned at the stranger in front of them, calling out her name happily. “Jen!”

With a smile of her own quickly blooming, the woman crossed the room quickly and embraced their father. Having given up on figuring out what was going on, Adam tried to make sense of the situation by checking the expression on his brother’s face. Dean’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously and trained on the hugging couple, though Adam couldn’t tell what had happened to upset him. Finally, the woman pulled away from his father, and she looked between all three family members before she spoke.

“David, it’s been so long! I was so glad to get your call, and I feel awful that I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived! Bit of an emergency with my neighbors — but that’s not important! These must be your boys!”

Nodding, Adam’s father stepped back to stand between his sons, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “Jen, this is Dean and Adam. Adam, Dean, this is Jennifer Gagneux. She’s an old friend from before I moved to London for school. She’s also an herbologist, as you can probably tell.”

“Bienvenue, boys. Welcome to France.” Reaching forward to shake both of their hands, Jennifer laughed. “Some herbologist I am. This place is in shambles, but I tend to let the plants do what they do, as long as you can still tell you’re indoors. Now, why don’t I let you get settled? There’s two spare rooms upstairs, and I’ll have something for dessert ready in just a bit.” Turning back to the doors, she stopped briefly to look back at her guests. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again, David. You three are going to love the city.”

Just like that, she was gone. Adam was overwhelmed by this unnatural destination, by the woman that inhabited it, and most prominently, the fact that his father hadn’t told them about any of it. He could tell that Dean was just as frustrated as he was, and he wondered if he should say something. After all, wasn’t this their vacation? He and Dean had a right to know what was happening during it. As he made up his mind and turned to his dad, Adam found himself interrupted yet again. “Boys, how about you go unpack? I’m going to go talk to Jen and catch up a little bit. Then we’ll talk about what we want to do tomorrow.” Picking his bags back up, David smiled at his sons. “Sound good?” Of course, he wasn’t really waiting on an answer, and before he got one, he retreated through the same pair of doors that Jennifer had. Adam was left with only Dean to talk with, and he was pretty sure that his brother was just as confused as he was.

“Dean?” he asked tentatively, not wanting to be snapped at. “Are we staying here? What’s going on?”

“I think so, Adam,” came the tired reply. Dean looked annoyed, but for once, Adam didn’t feel like it was his fault. “Come on, let’s go see where we’re sleeping. I’m sure it’ll all make more sense in the morning.”

14th August, 9:00 am
The Gagneux Home
La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France

Surprisingly, Dean had been right: as Adam sat at a large kitchen table awaiting breakfast, the situation began to clear up through conversation with the new woman, Jennifer. In the clear light of the French morning, free from the disconcerting aftereffects of Floo powder and the general confusion of the previous night, Adam could inspect his father’s alleged best friend. Jennifer Gagneux had black hair hanging just past her shoulders and green eyes that always made her look excited, as if she was about to embark on some thrilling adventure. She was shorter than his father, and his mother too, although he supposed that made her about average height — Adam’s whole family was unusually tall. The woman smiled a lot; it made Adam feel more comfortable around her, a necessary part of living in someone’s house for a week. All in all, she came off as a generous host and a perfectly kind person. Sitting at her table as she carried over a plate of waffles, Adam couldn’t tell for the life of him what had made Dean regard her with such a hostile look upon their arrival. He grinned and thanked her before helping himself to the plate, piling waffles in front of him and dousing them with maple syrup.

“You know, I was going to make French toast, but that seemed a little tacky.” Sliding into the chair opposite Adam, Jennifer winked at him and laughed. “I hope waffles are an okay subsitute.” Mouth full and unable to agree, Adam simply nodded his head energetically in response. “Alright, so that’s an enthusiastic yes. Good to know.” Watching the boy as he cut into his breakfast happily, she slid a small container of butter across the table to him before standing again, busying herself with dishes at the kitchen sink. “Your dad’s out for a quick walk around the neighborhood, but he told me to tell you that he’d be back soon. As for your brother, he seems to be M.I.A. Any ideas where I can find him?”

Adam knew exactly where his brother would be at this time of morning, and he offered an answer after swallowing his bite of waffle. “He’s still in bed, probably. Dean sleeps a lot. And he never wakes up before 9:30, not in the summer, anyways.” His dad always called it the Teenage Hibernation, but Adam was pretty sure that it was just laziness. Setting his fork down, he pushed his seat out from the table and offered, “I can go get him if you want.”

“No, no, let him sleep. Just make sure to save him some waffles, or I’ll have to make a whole new batch,” Jen teased, directing cups and plates into cabinets with a flick of her wand. Satisfied with the arrangement of her dishes, the woman stowed her wand and returned to the table, folding her hands and letting her head rest on them. “So, Adam, first year at Hogwarts, huh? Tell me all about it.”

Staring up at the masterfully-carved surface of the Arc de Triomphe, Adam found it hard to believe that his conversation with his father’s friend had been only this morning. Once he had started describing the events of the previous year, time had flown by. First Dean, then David had taken places at the table, and plans were drawn up at the speed of light. As the clock struck eleven, Adam had been shephered into the back of the beat-up car parked in Jen’s driveway and the drive to France’s capital had begun. Here at the end of the Champs-Élysées, he could finally catch his breath and ready himself for the afternoon ahead.

Paris was a hub of activity, from the hordes of tourists flooding the city streets to the movement of the boats on the serene River Seine to the avenue-adjacent cafes and shops that pronounced their wares to the world outside. Adam hardly knew where to look, and he couldn’t imagine that simply one week would be enough to take in everything around him. This was a city you could get lost in merely by glancing around, and he wanted to see it all: the iron giant of the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre’s glass pyramids and the extensive collection they guarded, the infamous Notre Dame cathedral, and whatever else they happened to pass by.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the family shared the sentiment. As he followed his father down the avenue’s wide expanse, Adam heard Dean sigh behind him. He couldn’t believe that his brother was still in such a bad mood, especially in a place as captivating as this. Dean had seemed on edge since the beginning of the month, and it was worrying Adam more every day the feeling persisted. At school, Dean had always had something to say, at least when Adam was around to hear it. From the moment he had heard about their trip, however, the older boy had been quiet and brooding. How could someone look at one of the greatest pieces of architecture in the world and not crack a smile? It might have just been the stress of his impending final year, or it may have been something else entirely, but whatever it was, Adam didn’t like it. Dropping back to walk side by side with Dean, he asked, “Are you going to be like this the entire vacation?”

“It’s not a vacation. And why the hell do you care?” The bitter reply was expected and prepared for, and Adam ignored its cold edge pointedly.

“Well, Dad says that you’ll get over it, but it’s been a while, and you haven’t.”

“God, will you shut up about Dad? I don’t care what he says, Adam. He’s the whole reason I’m ‘like this’ in the first place.” Glancing down frustratedly in time to catch his brother’s surprised face, Dean’s expression softened and he began to apologize. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s just that Dad’s been making a lot of decisions for me, and they’re terrible ones. He doesn’t ask me about anything.” Nodding automatically, Adam replied with a half-hearted “yeah” and picked up his pace to reclaim his old spot next to his father. He’d have to remember not to ask Dean about...well, anything, in the near future. He didn’t understand the way his brother thought, and after the sudden outburst he’d just witnessed, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Despite what everyone kept saying, Adam was determined to enjoy this trip as the vacation it was, and he couldn’t do that if he was fretting over troubles that didn’t belong to him.

A few final minutes of walking placed the Harringtoms outside of a small café advertising lunch specialties, and it didn’t take much effort to convince their dad that it would be worth it to stop in. Adam scanned the menu with hungry eyes, and when the time came to place his order, he was still uncertain of exactly what to choose. He didn’t know much about French food; from what he had heard, it was mostly bread, cheese, wine, and to finish it off, a crêpe or two for dessert. Unfortunately, Adam didn’t think he could get away with any of those options, and he was finally forced to turn to his experienced father for guidance. Laughing, David asked the waiter for something with a French name, causing another thread of fear to shoot through his son. What exactly would he be eating? The “croak-monsieur” didn’t sound appealing, but he was promised that it was essentially a supreme grilled cheese. Nervously, Adam awaited the reveal as the three of them started to make plans for the rest of the afternoon.

9:55. It was almost time for Adam to head upstairs to his bedroom, but he wasn’t quite done with his project. Bent over a sheet of paper, he jotted down a set of last sentences and signed his name, a newly-received letter from his best friend by his side. Anyway, the food turned out to be some fancy type of grilled cheese. Good thing, right? We spent the rest of the day walking around and visiting tourist places — you know, Notre Dame and the Luxembourg Gardens and that stuff. Hope your summer is just as exciting! He had been overjoyed to find the letter waiting for him when he had gotten back to Jen’s house, and though he didn’t have too much to tell Eris yet, he hoped she’d still like hearing back from him.

Stifling a yawn, Adam sealed his letter into a fresh new envelope and copied down the Fawley’s address on the outside. He’d send it out with his dad’s owl first thing in the morning, but for now, it was time for him to get to bed. Rising from the armchair he had settled himself on after dinner, Adam bid goodnight to Jen and his dad, both seated on the couch and looking through a pile of old letters fondly. He was glad that the two of them could still be such great friends, even after so many years apart. It made him hope that he and Eris could be like that some day, when they were both adults. Jogging up the stairs, Adam slipped into his temporary bedroom and got changed quickly, crawling into his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Today hadn’t been quite as exciting as yesterday, but in hindsight, that was probably a good thing. It had given him a chance to register and respond to all the new things he was learning about his family, and his introduction to the city had been incredible. First days always started off slow, but things would get more exciting in no time. He was sure of it.

15th August, 3:00 pm
Square René Viviani
Paris, France

It was Wednesday afternoon, and Adam was back in the bustling city. Today was all about business — Dean and David had disappeared off to a nearby college to take a tour, leaving the third Harringtom behind with Jen at a park by the bank of the Seine. It was a small place, but peaceful, surrounded by a ring of trees and watched over by the austere presence of the Notre Dame cathedral just across the river. The public garden was a wonderful spot to wait for his family to finish up in whatever school they were in, and Adam wandered across it with wide eyes, making sure that he saw every part of the square before he returned to the stairs where his father’s friend waited. Sitting down at her side, he thankfully accepted the bottle of limonade she held out to him and twisted the cap off. “This place is cool.”

“Isn’t it?” she agreed, surveying the scene in front of them with a smile. “I’ve always loved this park. Did you know that the oldest tree in Paris grows right around here?” Adam shook his head, surprised. “David — your dad — and I used to visit this park all the time during the summers. We could spend all day wandering up and down the Seine, talking about whatever silly things were on our minds.” Adam turned to find her looking lost in thought, and he wondered yet again why he had never heard of Jennifer Gagneux before. Ever since the day he had met Eris, Kaegen, and even Anatole, stories about them had been commonplace every time he wrote a letter home. Hell, he’d even invited the Gryffindor girl to stay over for Christmas, just months after meeting her. For twelve years of his life, however, there had been no mention of the French woman that was supposed to be the key part of his dad’s childhood. Adam looked up at Jen cuiously as she took a sip from her own bottle.

“When did you meet my dad? What was he like?” he asked, setting down his drink and regarding her with curious eyes. Jen raised an eyebrow, putting aside the limonade after finishing the swig.

“He never told you?” She sounded genuinely confused, and he saw her face fall a little bit when he shrugged. “Oh. Well, we have some time…you really want to hear the story?” Adam nodded, and the woman smiled, letting her gaze return to the square laid out in front of them before she began.

“David and I were often together. We didn’t have much of a choice: our mothers were friends, and as a result, he and I were constantly accompanying one another. At first, we didn’t talk to each other very much. He’s older than I am, only by a year, but back then it was enough to make hanging around each other seem incredibly awkward. No ten year-old-boy wanted to be seen with a nine-year-old girl tailing him around, and I certainly wasn’t about to talk to my mother’s friend’s son if he wasn’t talking to me. Anyway, I’ve always considered the day that I really met your dad to be in the middle of July, almost two months after we saw each other for the first time. My father had just returned home from some piece of Ministry business that had taken him off to Marseilles, and to celebrate, my mother planned a family excursion to the Luxour cinema. I was so excited — we rarely got to see films when I was little, and the chance to do it in such a luxurious setting was practically unbelievable. Then, I found out that my mother had invited the Harringtoms, and I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want my delight at my father’s return to be tainted by the discomfort I always felt around David, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction of ruining my day.

“Our families met at the theater, my parents greeting Elizabeth and her son merely giving me a little nod of acknowledgment. We collected our tickets from the box office and found our seats in front of the silver screen. Before long, music began to stream from the speakers and the opening scene roared into life. I was in heaven watching that movie, and I hardly remember what it was about. It must have been some sort of mystery, because about halfway through, David leaned over to whisper the most ridiculous prediction to me. He was so wrong I started to laugh, and of course I had to correct him. He gave me the strangest look, like I was the one mixing everything up, and then tried to explain his hopeless theory. I realized later that he had just been joking, but we spent the rest of the film coming up with more and more counterarguments for each other and trying not to laugh out loud. Oh, our parents were furious at our misbehavior…but I didn’t care. That was the first day David really became my friend.

“After that, we did nearly everything together. Holidays became a shared affair, and visits to the cinema were much more frequent with him around. We both came from wizard families, so we could spend entire afternoons discussing Quidditch teams, all the different types of magical creatures we’d heard about, or what spells we were learn how to cast together. We were both eager to start our education at Beauxbatons, if only just to experience the school for ourselves. For a year, everything was perfect. Then came June; David was about to turn eleven, I had just turned ten, and his mother was at our house for lunch when she broke the terrible news. Apparently, she had moved to Paris from the United Kingdom to escape the reign of the Dark Lord, who was reaching the height of his power when she had her son. Having grown comfortable with the city, she decided to stay and raise her son there, at least until he was old enough to receive his Hogwarts acceptance letter. I was torn apart when I found out that she was taking him back to Nottingham, and even more so when I learned that he’d be at that damn English school for the next seven years. He moved before I really had enough time to process it fully, and it didn’t take very long for us to lose touch.”

Sighing, Jen sat back and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I might have gotten a little carried away there. On a happier note, your father and I did reconnect after we both graduated, and I was so excited when he asked me if I had extra room for you three to stay!” Adam laughed at her sudden enthusiasm, and she started to laugh with him before a buzzing noise sounded from her pocket. “Hey, speak of the devil — text from your dad. He says the tour’s running a little late, which is odd, considering that your brother has no qualifications whatsoever. Looks like you’re stuck with me just a little longer, kid.” Turning off her cell phone, Jen’s eyes lit up mischievously and she grinned at Adam. “You know what, we’ve got some time to kill. How about we do something special? Come on.”

On a small dock not far from the square, Adam hurried down the gangplank of a sleek glass riverboat to the stone walkway bordering the Seine. The cruise had only taken an hour, but it had been amazing. He’d stood on the upper deck of the boat the whole time, listening to the tour guide as she’d narrated their journey past Paris’s more notable landmarks. The Eiffel Tower was still stunning no matter how many times he saw it, and France’s miniaturized version of the Statue of Liberty had been an unexpected presence breaking from the water’s depths — Adam had forgotten that Paris housed its own model, and apparently so had the American tourists next to him on the boat, made clear by their scrambling to take a picture and awed comments about its diminuitive size.

The other two Harringtom men were waiting to greet Adam and Jen as they disembarked, and the blond boy raced to his father’s side energetically. “Dad! We went on a river cruise while you were gone, and it was awesome! Did you know that there’s over one *thousand* steps on the Eiffel Tower?”

“Really?” David asked, smiling brightly at Adam and then up at Jen. “Sounds like you two learned a lot! I’m glad you got to have some fun together while Dean and I were busy.” At the mention of his name, Adam’s brother muttered something inaudible under his breath and David shot him a warning look before continuing. “Well, I hope you’re hungry, because I heard there’s a delicious restaurant just down the street for dinner. Want to try it out?” Adam agreed enthusiastically, and as David and Jen led the way down the Quai de Montebello, Dean sent him an angry glare. What had he done wrong this time?! Returning the look, Adam turned his attention instead to the buildings that they slowly passed by. He didn’t understand his brother’s irrational dislike of their hostess, because Jen had been nothing but nice to all three of them since they had arrived in her living room. He couldn’t wait to describe everything he had seen on the river cruise, and he wanted to ask his dad what growing up in Paris had really been like. Adam couldn’t imagine living in a city as busy as this one, though he supposed that it probably wasn’t much different than London.

Only a few minutes more of walking placed the group outside of Comme Chai Toi, distinguishable only by the glass entrance that jutted out from the elegant stone building behind it and the white lettering above the doors. Though it didn’t look like much, the food inside was delicious, and after Adam had finished he thought that he might never eat again. He followed his family happily back out onto the street two hours later to the first signs of fading light in the city, content with the activities of the day. He was disappointed to be leaving Paris again, but he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he returned the next day. Slowly but surely, the four of them made their way back to Jen’s car, hesitant to return to La Celle-Saint-Cloud but worn out from the busy afternoon.

The half-hour drive was over in the blink of an eye, and Jen’s house seemed comfortably inviting as the sky outside was tinted different hues of pink and orange. Adam stood at the bay window of the woman’s living-room-slash-garden watching the sunset in awe, the unobstructed view unlike anything he could see back in Nottingham. It was crazy to think that the start of his second year was only weeks away, especially while he was in such a drastically different place. Paris had become his sweet escape from school, shopping, and figuring out whatever discordant relationship was growing between his dad and his brother. In the city, with company like Jen, he could forget about his twelve-year-old problems. All he had to do was get through the rest of the week unscathed. And after today….how hard could that be?

17th August, 1:35 am
The Gagneux Home
La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France

Adam ran his hand along the wall to guide his path, struggling to navigate through the upstairs hallway in the darkness of the late night. He didn’t know what time it was, but it had to be past midnight. He had been restlessly tossing and turning in his bed for hours after wishing the rest of his family a good night, and after realizing that he wasn’t falling asleep any time soon, Adam had slipped out of the bedroom and began to wander.

Something felt off about this vacation. The quiet of the early hours had stirred his mind, and as his hands found the railing of the staircase and he took a seat on the top step, he realized that he had been acting horribly naive the entire week. There was so much to worry about, so many things that had been sprung on him without any semblance of a warning. Why had he let it all fall away at the first glimpse of the glimmering city? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Leaning back until his head smacked against the wall, Adam pulled at his hair as he scolded himself. This was supposed to be a fun end of summer, one of his first international voyages, and instead it had turned out like a mystery book, where everyone was hiding secrets and dark feelings and he didn’t know what to think.

There was the woman to deal with. Jen Gagneux, his father’s disappeared best friend that had been a complete and utter stranger to Adam until he fell into her living room. She was one of the nicest people he had ever met, for an adult, at least, and clearly his dad thought so too. She knew her way around the city, she had taken Adam on that amazing boat tour of the Seine, and she had been totally willing to talk about her past with his dad without much questioning at all. Jen was open about herself, one of the only people that Adam felt really had been honest with him, even though she was a stranger. Her eccentric indoor garden and way of living made her extra cool in the eyes of such an excitable twelve-year-old — yet for some uncomprehensible reason, his brother regarded her with wariness that bordered on hostility. He trusted Dean, he always had, and the way that the older boy actively avoided contact with the French woman worried Adam to no end. Was he doing the wrong thing, being friendly with her? Or was his brother the one acting out, in the midst of some teenage rebellion? Adam had always been taught to be nice, to be kind, even to strangers, but he didn’t know if he could trust that teaching anymore, because it didn’t feel like anyone else was. What was wrong with everyone? When had life turned into this minefield, where you had to watch exactly where you stepped, because a misplaced stride could blow the entire thing up?

Of course, even if they had stayed somewhere completely different, even if the Harringtoms had never laid eyes on Jennifer, it wouldn’t have been enough. He knew that the trip was destined to be a trainwreck, because the reason for it was just as messed up as anything. His brother had no interest in higher education, but his protests fell on deaf ears, and they’d been dragged to Paris regardless. It was all so ridiculous, and as the negativities came crashing down on him like tidal waves. Adam couldn’t stop them, not anymore; he may have just been sleep-deprived, but it was starting to feel like he had seen the ugly truths of his family for the first time. Maybe he had just finally reached that point, just now in the quiet hours of the morning, where your parents stopped seeming like gods, and you realized that they could make just as many mistakes as you could. He was starting on his second year at Hogwarts, and he wasn’t a kid anymore. He had punched someone! The rose-colored glasses had fallen away, and he didn’t think they’d be going back on.

Adam was scared. He had never thought like this before. Really, at the center of things, he was the problem. He was the one that was lost, that didn’t know what he was supposed to do next, and he just wanted someone to explain it to him. Why didn’t anyone tell him anything anymore? He couldn’t figure it out on his own! Besides, you weren’t supposed to figure out your own family. You were supposed to know them, to know almost everything about them. They were your family!

Stop it, he yelled at himself internally. Stop thinking that! You’re tired, and you’re not acting right. It’s always better in the morning. Making a frustrated noise, Adam pushed himself up and shook his head to clear it off those scary new thoughts. He probably just needed sleep, yes, sleep, and a glass of water too. Trudging down the stairs, he focused on that glass of water alone, and as a result nearly passed the people that he’d thought he had left upstairs.

“Adam?” asked his father’s voice from behind him, sounding concerned. “Are you okay, buddy? It’s really late for you to be up.” Startled, he turned quickly and found his dad sitting on the edge of the couch, an old album sitting open on his lap. Jen was next to him, close enough to see the pictures they were staring down at, and looking at the two of them made him feel...weird. He didn’t know another word for it, but it didn’t sit right in his stomach, like when he had an exam that he didn’t think he was at all prepared for. Somehow, they no longer looked like two best friends in his eyes. It was more uncomfortable than that.

“I….I’m okay. I was just going to get water but I don’t think I’m thirsty anymore.” Standing awkwardly by the entrance to the kitchen, Adam fidgeted in place as he felt his face start to turn red. “Sorry. Good night.” Walking quickly back to the staircase, turning his head from the adults, Adam dashed up without looking back. He was thinking too much, too early, and he knew that nothing good ever came from that. He found the door to his room without much trouble, now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he was huddled under the covers of his bed in no time. He didn’t suspect that it would be any easier to get to sleep than it had been only five minutes ago, but he didn’t have any other options. He was in the midst of a mental breakdown, at much too young of an age, and he wasn’t going to be able to look at Jen, Dean, or his dad the same way after tonight. If only he’d never come to this stupid country.

17th August, 5:15 pm
The Gagneux Home
La Celle-Saint-Cloud, France

Departure. All things came to an end, and Adam’s whirlwind visit to the land of love was no exception. As he shoved the last of his shirts deep into his suitcase, scanning the newly-tidied bedroom to make sure nothing small had been left behind, memories from the tumultuous week flooded his mind. From the very beginning, it had been a trip like no other. With only an address and a suitcase in hand, Adam had stepped back into the emerald fires of the Floo network for the first time in two years. He’d been unceremoniously dumped out into the house of a stranger, in a living room that could have been a rainforest, with no one there to greet him but the plants. When his father had arrived, Adam had been relieved, counting on the man to be able to clear up the situation. In fact, he had done the opposite — pausing only to berate his older son, David was quickly wrapped up in a hug with a woman that Adam had never seen before. Little introduction had been offered, no more than a name, a career, before the adults were sending them off to their room to unpack. It had overwhelmed him, and when he’d turned to the last person he could think of that might be able to make sense of the bizarre Monday night, his strong, confident older brother had given him only helpless reassurances. Nothing was happening as it should, and yet there was nothing that the twelve-year-old could do about it but pray that it would all get better in the daylight.

And like a miracle, it had. The smell of waffles was a tool not to be underestimated, and it had swept the troubled thoughts from Adam’s mind the minute he’d entered the kitchen. A pleasant breakfast conversation had further introduced him to the owner of their temporary home. Jennifer Gagneux had turned out to be a perfectly nice woman, complete with a sense of humor and an exceptional skill in making waffles. They’d talked for hours about Adam’s first year at Hogwarts, and with every passing minute, he began to feel more and more at home in the house on the Avenue du Marechal-Joffre. Over the next three days, his journey of meals and monuments in the big city had continued. He’d tried his first croque-monsieur at a café with his dad, seen the Eiffel Tower from the middle of the Seine, and watched a magnificent sunset unlike any back in Nottingham. The boy’s worries about all that could go wrong were swept away before they could ruin the week, and through Thursday, Adam had known nothing but pure joy.

Sixteen hours ago, it had all come crashing down. Woken in the earliest of hours, Adam had tossed and turned in his bed, trying to fall back to sleep before he could fully wake up. His mind and body had other plans, however, and the struggle was pointless — he was awake, and like a monster from a children’s story, the fear came for him in the night. Was he ignoring what was right in front of his face? Was this vacation all a sham? Was his family imploding before his eyes? Following him to the staircase, the questions tormented him, poking at futures he didn’t want to explore. Adam was happy. He always had been, and though he knew there were troubles in the world, it had been so easy to put a bubble around his family, to imagine that all four of them were content with their lives. Imagining anything less than that was nearly impossible for the mind of the naive twelve-year-old. Close to succumbing to the silence of the empty staircase, Adam had gone searching for a cure in the form of a glass of water, hoping that something simple would be able to calm him and send him back to sleep. When he’d reached the kitchen, there had been one final complication. His father and Jen together, closer than they should be, stirring up a nauseous feeling in Adam’s stomach and chasing him from the ground floor all the way back to his blankets. It couldn’t be possible, for it had no reason to be possible. But at last, he knew it was happening.

The bubble had popped.

Breakfast had passed, and lunch, though for these final meals in France the conversation had been steered primarily by the adults. It was harder to talk to his father now, harder to look at him, even. What did you say to someone you thought you knew? Yet to be a teenager, Adam still didn’t fully understand the things he was or should be feeling about his dad. He didn’t live in a utopia, but the Nottingham household was perhaps the closest thing to perfection that he knew. How could his dad not be happy living there? What could this place possibly have to offer that the Harringtoms didn’t own, or couldn’t get? It was a battle to process his warring emotions, and though the secret was killing him, confrontation was out of the picture. He could never work up the courage to say something.

That was the reason why everyone was still playing pretend as Adam came thundering down the staircase with his suitcase pounding the wood in a rhythm behind him. It was a scene matching their arrival five days ago, but it couldn’t have been more different. There was Jennifer, smiling at him warmly as she leaned against a vine-covered wall, like she wasn’t in love with a married man. His dad next to her, closing the small jar of Floo powder and dusting the green off of his hands, looking stunningly normal even though he was going home to a wife he no longer cared about. Dean was across from them, closer to the fireplace, probably just as desperate to get back as Adam was. It had taken Adam the entire week to figure out the truth about the two grown-ups, but Dean was older, and smarter. He’d probably guessed it the first night.

Goodbyes were made quickly, with the typical promises to visit soon or write often or any of that crap. Before long, it was just the Harringtoms left in the living room, as Jen had ducked out with some excuse about having to check on her dinner-in-progress. Adam’s dad seemed to remember where he was as soon as she was out of sight, and smiled at his sons, reminding Dean of the rules of Floo travel as the three of them prepared to return home once more. Dean cut him off coldly, not needing or wanting a reminder, and Adam saw his dad frown slightly.

“I think I left something in the kitchen. You two go on through and tell your mom I’ll be right there, okay? Don’t let Adam get lost.” David interrupted their departure rather suddenly, and as he turned back to the doors, Adam’s eyes narrowed. His father never forgot anything, even if it was as insignificant as an extra fork when they packed a lunch to-go. He certainly didn’t slip up when he was packing his bags, and the risk of losing something valuable was especially high now that they were crossing country lines. A quick look at his brother’s face showed an equally-concerned expression. As displayed by their houses, however, Dean was a much braver soul than Adam thought he would ever be — and he took the extra step that the younger boy could not.

“Are you cheating on Mom?”

The question came quiet, but angry, expected but still a surprise all the same. The words had been spoken at last, and yet they did nothing to relieve the pressure Adam was feeling. He couldn’t believe it had really been asked, that Dean hadn’t even waited for them to get back home to do it. What was he thinking? Adam wanted to hit him, to cross the room and make him be quiet before he provoked an answer that neither of them wanted to hear. But he was frozen to the spot, waiting, listening. It was all up to their dad now.

“What?” he responded, shock tainting his voice as he turned quickly. The man’s face was painted with horror, paling as his firstborn fought to force the truth from him. “Dean, what would make you —”

“Are you?”

The tone in Adam’s brother’s voice was not quite like anything he’d ever heard before. Though it wasn’t loud, wasn’t even particularly angry, it was scary all the same; in fact, the lack of evident rage was probably the thing making it so intimidating, replaced with disappointment, disbelief and just a hint of stoic fear. It was a tone that the boy had thought only adults were capable of wielding, and for a moment, it seemed to reverse their roles, turning David into the teenager sneaking around in the dark as Dean demanded an alibi. Even the full force of the young man’s bravado wasn’t enough to completely unseat their father, however, and he sprung back into authority within a moment.

“Dean David Harringtom, I don’t know where this question came from, but I will not have it asked so bluntly. I am still your father; you will still respect me. Do you understand?” David’s response came without any smoke and mirrors, only unmasked anger. Adam’s head darted back and forth as the two of them sparred, equal parts eager and terrified to see how the other would react. It had been an even battle to this point, but Dean had lost the high ground. No longer fueled by the prospect of confrontation, he was quickly turning white, as realization rushed over him, confirming the worst of his suspicions. Adam had never seen his brother like this. He hated watching him break.

“Oh my god. You are. Y-you…..you are.” He moved like he had been shot, staggering back a step in the direction of the fireplace, instinctively moving towards the way back home. “I knew it, but I didn’t think….I didn’t want to think…why, Dad?” Dean was just repeating things by now, like a record player that had been knocked just out of place, voice tainted with tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “Why? W-was...was it not enough? Did you not have enough? Was living with us really such a hell that you had to escape to France? And y-you thought you could just come here and pretend everything was normal, right in front of us?” As with all arguments between members of the Harringtom paternal line, sadness was giving birth to blinding ire, and Dean was shaking not just from blatant betrayal but from the hatred boiling within. All the while, he’d been distancing himself from his father, and as his foot hit the stone of the fireplace, Adam watched as he seemed to remember where he was, and where he could go.

He stepped deliberately up into the green embers of the Floo-powered fire, and now the feelings that had been warring across his face had been struck down, contempt proudly standing over them, the bloodied victor. Dean hauled his suitcase up next to him, gripping the handle tightly as David began to call his name, asking him to take a deep breath and to take his time, but it fell on deaf ears. The older boy only had one thing to say before he muttered their home address under his breath and the flames whisked him away:

”Mom’s going to kill you.”

Just like that, the room quieted and practically darkened, the spitfire having retreated back to Nottingham and leaving rot and ruin in his wake. Adam gazed at his father with quiet trepidation as David stared at the floor, unable to speak a word. Adam had been ready for this. Not this exactly, but he’d suspected just as much as Dean, known just as much when the truth finally burst free. Despite it all, he was still untethered, shoved backwards into the unknown. He couldn’t comprehend a life without his dad involved, without two parents watching proudly from the sidelines or waiting to greet him as he ran through the door. He didn’t want to imagine it. He shouldn’t have to imagine it. Birthdays, Christmases, vacations just like this one, seemed impossible without a family of four. His father was going to disappear — vanish from the couch in the living room, his oversized coats missing from the back of the front door, his spot in the family portraits left empty. After all of that, would they even still be a family? From the living room in La Celle-Saint-Cloud, Adam didn’t see a way that they could.

“Adam?” His name shook him from the sullen stupor, and he looked up to see his dad kneeling in front of him. They were at eye level at this position, and David looked thoroughly extinguished. There was a haunted quality to his eyes now, the look of a man that had had all of his secrets exposed and was facing death row. There was no coming back from the reveal, but David Harringtom was a father above all, and there was no way in hell that he would let his youngest son face the traumas of adolescence unguided. “It’s going to be okay, buddy. It’s going to be okay.”

His strong older brother, the brave lion Dean, was gone, and without his fire Adam had no backbone, had no strength. He fell into his dad’s arms like a lifeless machine, broken down and sobbing openly. “D-dad….I don’t w-want….want….”

“Shh, Adam,” David whispered back, holding his son close and letting a few tears fall from his own eyes as he punished himself for tearing into his children’s lives for his own happiness. He had put himself in front of his sons, and he was a deserving parent no longer. But in this moment, he could be nothing else. “It’s okay, Adam. Everything’s going to be okay. We’re going to get home and explain this whole thing, and it’s going to work out in the end. It’s going to be okay.”

It wouldn’t be okay, nor did the possibility exist. For as his beloved son wept over his darkest betrayal, David saw the future of his broken family. The Harringtom line would continue, and he had no doubt that his wife would raise their sons to be leaders of the next generation. But because of his mindless mistakes, David was guaranteed to see no part of it. It was no less than befitting. As he let his head rest on Adam’s shoulder, David cried with him, mourning what he had thrown away — and though the sun hadn’t set, a final darkness fell over the city of light.