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Chapter 24 - A Summer Holiday
🕑 Added 2022-02-21 20:00:01 +0000 UTCStats as of last chapter:
Aubrey Hawthorne
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Level 20
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Age - 12
Race - Human
Sex - Female
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SP - 6,404
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Str - 32
Agi - 52
Dex - 39
Con - 39
Int - 51
Wis - 43
Luc - 38 (66)
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Skill Points - 20
Stat Points - 70
Perk Points - 2
A Shorter chapter - after first round of edits. We're considering how to make it longer so it's more in-line with the other chapters. If you have an idea, let me know!
I sit in my bedroom, ignoring Adam’s whining from down the hall. I had been trying to study our Family Magic books together, only for him to first throw a fit about studying, then the place we were studying, then how much he has to study in general. At that point I’d asked if he didn’t want to study with me, to which he claimed he did… only to go back to complaining about every little thing moments later.
My punishment for that was to remove myself from the situation, so now he’s complaining about me not studying with him.
He’s a wonderful boy but I only have so much patience for any child.
In the week and a half since my birthday where I received the book, I’ve done a massive amount of studying. Every other Skill has been as good as abandoned while I do this, but I’ve put rules on it, like I only study in the afternoon for less than four hours, for instance, and after being sent to bed. That way, I’ve had time to start taking Adam and Jasmine to the local Muggle park every day after lunch, go on walks, cook with Mum, and all the other fun things I want to do. It’s the only balance I was able to come to that allowed me to mostly focus on my family.
The first thing I’d done in my journey to studying the book was a basic Observation.
The Book of Hawthorne Family Magic (Primer)
Apprentice Level book on the Hawthorne Family Magic
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This Skill Book is tied to the Hawthorne Family magic. It focus’ on basic, low Mana spells from multiple branches of magic
Having read the three inch thick, miniature font, handwritten book once already, I’ve noticed it has focused primarily on theory. Many years ago, places like Hogwarts taught young Wizards and Witches an allrounder education while family’s taught their offspring far more specific magics. As such, much of the book’s on theory as it’s just a primer for the actual magic that comes later.
That’s not to say there aren’t spells and a few potions within which I've spent the time memorising and learning already, but they’re not more than notes from my ancestors on the development of the basics. There’s a lot of sections of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes which I’m finding really interesting, but when I asked Adam about it he said him and Dad hadn’t gotten that far with their tutoring yet.
One of the concepts the book talks about is based on the idea that there’s no perfect creation. There’s always a way to improve, and there are three simple methods to check new spells, those being written out in great detail. It talks about power, but of course it’s even similar to someone like me who knows about Mana. The first is simply checking Mana ratios: if a spell can’t take as much Mana as you can give it without falling apart, it’s not perfect. I suppose that relates to spells like Lumos where it can only get so bright before it just stops working all together and other spells need to take its place.
The second area is spell control. If the spell can’t be controlled, such as directing where the spell goes or enforcing the casters will over the spell, it’s not perfect. Most combat spells on the lower levels fail this test as they don’t allow the caster to control where it goes, while many higher power spells need a very strong will to be enforced over it if the spell allows it at all. That’s where a lot of Dark Magic loses its charm, according to the book.
The third, and least likely to be passed, is something I need to work on. It’s the arithmetical simplification: “Has the spell been reduced to its minimum required components while still performing at its most optimum?” I assume there’s a runic test somewhere, but it’s not in this book.
Even with all of this information, everything in the book seems rather open-ended, so I suspect it’s yet another area where there’s going to be much more information in further books.
The most interesting theory in the book is on how ineffective glamour is compared to how they could be, and that subject includes beautification spells and potions so it catches my interest. There’s a short modification to the text where the handwriting changes style, so I decide to send Biscuit with a letter to Grandfather, asking for more information on it. Now, three hours later, I hear him land on my windowsill.
Rushing, I let him in and read the rolled up letter.
“Dear Aubrey,
You are correct that the section you are writing to me about has been recently added, though admittedly it was around the time I was still a boy. The most important theory is within the Primer you possess, however my mothers research books are in the Hawthorne Manor library. If you wish to read them, please owl me so I can arrange a time for you to come over before you leave for Greece.
As for most information, I remember some of my mothers notes. The topic is in relation to the simplification of glamour spells, arithmetical code, and their runic equations. Much of the spells are easily seen through by people who are particularly powerful (think: your Headmaster) or can be easily removed because many of them were badly created by either young Witches with little knowledge or very quickly to meet the high demand.
I also have my mothers personal journals on the topic, but as she was a Master of both Arithmetic and Runic Equations, I don’t imagine you’re quite ready for that.
Though your lack of specific wordage or reference was appropriate and considerate, do note that if you have other questions, please ask me about them in person in case your owl is intercepted. It’s generally not wise to attempt this in any way but via direct, person-to-person methods. Please visit after your holiday.
Sincerely,
Your Grandfather”
It’s irritating that I can't send more letters on the topic, but I will at least send the message to have the books he mentioned sent over so I can start to look into it more. I expect he’ll send an Elf with them.
Due to a mess up in administration, my Healers appointment to assess my magical core growth has to be this evening, the night before we leave for Greece, so after sending the message to Grandfather to send the books, I have to leave. It’s the same result as before, with me being in the very top one percentile of people my age, and nothing to worry about from a Healer's standpoint. There’s a comment about Harry Potter, of course, as he’s been in the papers practically every day over speculation and the exact items he was noted buying at various shops - Madam Malkin’s is one of the few places that had refused to answer questions about anything, including his measurements, which apparently some people are interested in. The craze has my brother even more excited about the boy than normal, which hasn’t been great for me.
Come the next morning, I drop Tala off with Grandma and Grandpa to look after, before returning home for travel. I have my shrunken school trunk in my pocket for easy travel, I’m ready and helping my Mum finish up cleaning the house in time to leave. It hits eight forty-five and we take the Floo to the Manchester Piccadilly Station.
I’ve been here before when travelling to the mainland of Europe. It’s much like with Kings Cross, where there are magical barriers to keep the much needed segregation between Muggles and Wizardingkind, though I’ve never been through them as this magical station is more modern by five or so hundred years, so they have adequate Floo connections.
We come out one at a time in Piccadilly European Station for the Magical, a large trainstation with room for six trains to come to a final destination in. I believe they have a few for long hauls around the country and between England, Wales, Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland, with Kings Cross platform eight and one quarter the usual train platform to Scotland.
I feel there must be an easier answer to travel in the Wizarding World, but this is how it is currently.
Jasmine comes out of the fire with a skip and runs to hold my hand.
“I’m so excited!” She squeaks, jumping up and down on the spot.
I smile. “Hold my hand, okay, it’s really busy today.”
She nods. “I know, Aubrey, I know. Uh, Mama’s taking ages!”
I don’t say anything, just wait for her to come. Mum is through in only a few moments, which is when she begins to herd us along to our train. It’s already here, so we have our tickets checked by a guard and then get to our carriage to wait.
We are entertained by card games and a last minute Greek lesson by our parents. It’s a two and a half train ride to southern France, where we switch trains to take a local to the Station de Transport Sud de la France, which is the South of France Transport Station in English. Here, we gather our things and go quickly to the outdoor carriages where the Pegasi are stopping the gravel and trainers are finishing the preparations.
We arrive with only seconds to spare.
The carriage is full of families, about thirty other people or so. The carriage is magically made to be expanded on the inside and is common in mainland Europe to use carriages as the train stations are packed with Muggles and it became necessary after a time to find a way to make more direct travel routes throughout Europe. Pegasi aren’t the only creatures used, but are one of the most common to find in France.
“Sit still,” Mum mutters to Adam, who keeps fidgeting.
He groans quietly and begins kicking his legs.
“Adam.”
He looks away and I turn my eyes back to my book - Mum’s Common Home Healing Skills for New Mothers - as I know what’s going to happen. The book itself is really nice and I didn’t read it before now as Mum has a small collection of personal books in her room I rarely see, which is entirely fair. It includes basic first aid with a wand, how to transport sick and injured children, common illnesses and how to brew all the fast brewing potions at home. It’s not great, per say, but it’s a nice little beginning while I wait for my owl orders to come through.
Mum leans into Adam as he continues to kick his legs. “Adam, please stop kicking your legs and fidgeting or you’ll be missing dessert on the first night of our holiday.”
His stillness lasts from the heading on how to identify harmless insect bites from poisonous ones down to the third paragraph within the second, which is perhaps twenty seconds.
I sense others starting to look as Dad steps in and attempts to encourage Adam to be still, but it has to be hard for the boy as he’s had nothing to do all day but learn Greek and card games, and now he has to be still and quiet on the silent carriage full of adults for the next few hours. I close my book and put it into my large across the body bag, pulling out my chess kit. It’s not meant to be easily travel sized, but it’s small enough I can still keep it in this large bag.
“Do you want to play a game?” I ask in the middle of Dad getting angry.
Adam looks at the chess set. “Not really.”
Grouchy too, then. “Come on, we can do a tournament! It’ll be fun, like a few days ago.”
My enthusiasm does little as I can tell he’s about to kick up enough fuss to make Mum upset, when Jasmine points between us to the window. “Look! There’s an owl!”
I look where she’s pointing and see it’s not an owl at all, but a large Eurasian Griffon, a type of Old World vulture, with a scroll held in its massive claws.
Dad gets up and walks between the aisle past the nosy onlookers and waves his hand over the window, turning it to a sheen.
The massive creature passes through and lands on his expectant arm, it’s massive claws wrapping all the way around. Dad takes the offered scroll, which I can see is perfect despite it surely having been crushed in its talons, and lets the bird out before turning the window back to glass.
Dad comes back to sit with us and Adam is finally still as he all looks to see what it’s about. He unrolls it, reads it, and puts it in his inner coat pocket.
“What’s it about?” Jasmine asks boldly.
He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you when we touchdown.”
Incredibly irritating. It takes some effort to fake my enthusiasm over the chess game, but I can at least distract Adam enough that he doesn’t get in trouble, and Jasmine plays a bit too around reading a book of her own. We arrive in Greece at just past four in the afternoon London time, which is just past six here. The air is hot, around twenty-seven degrees, and the scent in the air is incredible.
I love to travel! Maybe a bit too much, but old habits don’t die, it seems.
Everyone is quiet as we disembark, hungry and tired of sitting. Adam sighs and gets ignored, right up until we’ve left the transport station and go out directly to the Muggle world.
“How long is it now?” Adam moans.
“Just a short car ride,” Mum smiles. “And then we can have dinner on the beach!”
“Ah, honey,” Dad says, slowing Mum on the street as some Muggles go past us laughing in Greek. “Work owled me…”
“Mark…”
“You know it’s not my fault.”
We all stop in the street, my heart sinking.
“This is our family holiday-”
“This is a big thing at my work, honey,” he says quietly, trying to move us into an alley. None of us follow him. “I don’t have a choice, I could lose my job if I don’t follow up.”
“Then send an owl,” Mum says. She must be really upset as she never says anything Magical related in Muggle public. “This is our holiday, your boss can’t just call you away for months at a time. It’s illegal.”
“Angie,” Dad mutters, giving her a smile. “It’ll only be a week or-”
“A week?” She cries. “We’re only here for sixteen days!”
“I swear, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll help you to the hotel-”
“No.” Mum puts her hand up and her face morphs to one of anger. “If you’re leaving, you can go now. And apologise to the children.”
There’s a moment of silence where every eye in the street has to be on us. Dad slowly turns to us, sighing softly. “I’m sorry, kids. Come here.” He opens his arms, which Jasmine and Adam go to. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay? I’m sorry I have to do this, but it can’t be helped. I love you, okay?”
I watch silently. After a last squeeze, he lets them go and he turns to me, opening his arms. “I’m sorry, honey. Come here.”
“Just leave.”
He blinks and lowers his arms. “Aubrey?”
I take Mum’s hand and tug until she follows, and she pulls the others along. Together, we walk down the street, leaving Dad behind.
.*****.
Greece is an utterly beautiful country, which we waste no time in searching. The Natural Magical History Museum is incredible, so much so that Mum allows me to spend several hours pouring over every little thing and looking up the meaning in English on my booklet bought at the front desk. Everything about the place is incredible, and raises my Wizarding History Skill several times in the relatively short visit.
The kids much prefer the beach, which we visit every morning after breakfast before going in for showers and then out for lunch and afternoon sightseeing. Dinner is taken out each night and we go for walks or go to Wizarding entertainment places like the opera or ballet in the evenings. It’s very relaxing, incredibly interesting, and doesn’t involve nearly as much time in museums or tombs learning about the Greek gods as I wish.
It isn’t until the fourteenth day of our holiday that Dad turns up.
Mum is the one to open the door, dressed in a gorgeous cream dress down to her ankles that makes her look angelic, as I told her the last time she wore it. I know instantly it’s Dad by the gasp and crinkle of the wrapping that goes around flowers.
I put down the book I’d been sharing with Jasmine and go out to the living area of our rented villa, watching him hand the massive bouquet to Mum.
“Hey, Aub,” he smiles.
I take him in, from his purple bruised eyes to his sunken cheeks, his dirty clothes and shoes that look as if they’ve been stuck back together with weak magic, and his dishevelled hair. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing honey,” he laughs. “There was just a mishap with the job. A spot of trouble where a Transylvanian Wizard came in with an inquiry and got upset. I got hit with a spell that made me sick. It’s all worn off now though so I’ll be better soon.”
Hearing his voice, Jasmine comes running into the room and jumps into his arms, her accidental magic helping her literally fly through the air.
“Oh, Mark,” Mum instantly fusses, pulling him over to the sofa. Jasmine is settled onto his lap. “Let me get you something to eat from the service Elves.”
Adam comes in from his shower as Mum’s ordering us all lunch using the fire, running over to Dad. I’ve, once more, had lots of time to calm down from what I feel was still a betrayal of all our trusts, yet feel my certainty fades in light of how my father looks. I take a seat on an armchair.
“Where did you go?” I ask quietly as Adam takes a seat besides Dad and Jasmine squirms lightly in his lap.
“I was sent to the Albanian Ministry to help with an emergency in my department,” he says simply. “I’m okay now, okay? Let’s not talk about my work anymore, how’s the holiday been?”
Jasmine and Adam talk his ears off while I sit on the opposite sofa with my book in my lap, anxiously turning all my feelings over. This is one of the times being a child is a true disadvantage as it’s hard to pick out what feelings are the appropriate adult ones and which are my child-self emotions that should be disregarded as usually immature and not nearly as thoughtful as they should be. In a normal child they’d be valid, but as I am who I am, I’d rather pick out the response I won’t regret in the future.
It takes mere minutes for the House-elves to send up our room service, which isn’t like at Hogwarts - nothing is normal at Hogwarts after all. Rather, an old, rather tall Elf walks it up to our room in his stained dress.
Mum ordered us a shared choriatiki with keftethes on rice with ellinikos - which is all greek for a salad seen at practically every meal we’ve had in the past two weeks, a type of meatball with a tomato sauce, and coffee for me and her. Other drinks are served for the other three. I spy five bowls of loukoumades for after, which are doughnut balls with syrup, walnuts and cinnamon.
I try to stay quiet, uncertain of my choice, while it’s clear the rest of my family has forgiven him, or else is willing to let it go. My silence lasts all through dinner, until Mum turns to me with annoyance and tells me if I’m not ready to talk then it’s best I go to my room for a time.
I do just that, even if I think it’s not very good parenting for her to punish me for not being happy he’s back.
I ponder things over until a gentle knock at my door makes me look up, where I see Dad is standing.
“Hey, Aub,” he sighs, coming in. “How are you?”
Honesty is best, so I shrug. “I don’t know. Upset.”
He takes the thin chair from the desk and sets it in front of me, before sitting on it. “Let’s talk about it. Is it because I left when I said I would be here?”
I swallow and bite the bullet. “Not just that. I know you’re lying about always being at work, and you never talk about what you do, which I get but it’s annoying when I don’t even know what you’re doing when you leave us constantly to go do it. And you never talked to me about not picking me for Expected Heir, and it was really mean how you did it, and then you told your parents I’m avoiding you when I’ve been asking to spend time with you for ages.”
He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay. Calm down. I have been working a lot, and sometimes I spend time with your grandparents doing my paperwork but that’s still work. I have never said to your grandparents you’re avoiding me, I told them that you didn’t talk to me for a while after Yuletide. Does this make sense?”
I think it over in a prolonged silence. Making him suffer while I mull it over. “It makes sense,” I say slowly. ‘But I don’t know what I should believe…’
He sighs again and leans his elbows on his knees. “We’ve spoken about why I don’t talk about work before. I like to keep it seperate from my homelife. It’s nice to have a break, because I do a lot at work and it’s stressful and I, as you know, do a lot of it. If I told you about it and then got asked questions about my work all day at home, I wouldn’t really be getting a rest. Just know that when I say I’m working then that’s what I’m doing and I’m not leaving you or the others on purpose.”
I nod.
“The reason I left this time was for an emergency that would never normally happen. It was just all really accidental and sudden, and I was the only one for it. I promise I didn’t do it on purpose.”
I wring my hands. “This does nothing to help how it has been making me feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.” I say calmly, giving him a direct look, of what I hope comes across as a bit angry.
He’s already shaking his head. “Of course not. I’ve just been very busy with my work this summer as there’s been a lot of changeover and I’ve had to do a lot of extra work because of it. Nothing more.”
There’s a short pause. “So why did you pick Adam over me?”
“Because I feel he will be a good Head one day,” he says shortly. “Don’t think about it too much, it doesn’t change anything.”
I frown. “That’s not fair, Papa, I deserve to know-”
“There is no entitlement to understand this,” he cuts me off. “This is about the gods and things you don’t understand. You are not entitled to understand this. End of.”
That upsets me. “That’s not what I meant, and I know you’re the one to decide. The gods don’t decide who’s the Expected Heir.”
“Look, I know this is a tough thing for you to understand-”
“It’s not hard for me to understand, it’s that you won’t explain your reasoning, and we both know it makes no sense for you to choose him when I make the most sense to choose! You could have just not chosen, so there has to be a reason!”
“Do not raise your voice at me.”
I make an effort to lower my voice, but it just makes it come out even angrier, far colder, almost hiss. “I deserve an explanation from you.”
“This isn’t a choice you have any say in.” He stubbornly maintains.
“I still deserve to know!” I growl. Not explaining something which impacts not just my life - but literally the whole of the wizarding political landscape of the Isles is a very childish thing to do. He must know this. Even saying I’m not old enough is better than just telling me I don’t get anything.
“You will stop acting like this or you’ll be in trouble, do you understand?”
I grind my teeth. Some moments go by as he sits there, watching me intently, waiting for me to snap, and I try to keep my temper. It’s moments like these I truly despise my parents ability to parent - they’re not great at the punishing aspect whatsoever. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But I don’t think you’ve been reading my letters home, and I know you picked Adam because you’re sexist and you prefer him-”
He scoffs. “That’s completely ridiculous!”
“You’re a liar, and I’m not calling you my Papa until you start being fair again! I don’t even care, I'm not Expected Heir, I just hate how you’ve been ignoring me!”
“That’s incredibly rude of you,” he states, standing. “You can stay here until you’ve calmed down.”
“Then I won’t be coming out!”
It takes a few hours of seething on my bed before I can admit that, perhaps, I had let the child-self emotions take over slightly.
