Morning came early, and a faint, thin ray of light slipped through the curtains, striking Extimum's face directly.
An insignificant thing, but enough to disturb the calm of his closed eyelids, until they finally opened.
Two purple nebulae, each with a sharp black hole at its center, drifted briefly in confusion before suddenly clearing, reflecting calm and reminiscence.
Pushing aside the sheet that covered him, Extimum sprang from bed almost in a single motion, and with a smooth, practiced flick of his wrist, a fleeting mist covered him before vanishing, leaving him suddenly fresher.
He stretched briefly, then picked up the wand resting on the nightstand beside his bed. In one motion, he waved it toward his bulky trunk, and several garments immediately flew out, dancing around him.
Reaching out a hand here and there, his sleepwear fell away in an instant, while a clean new outfit swiftly took its place.
Once he'd confirmed his attire was properly arranged, at least as far as he could tell, he waved the wand to pack his scattered belongings into his case.
Taking one last look to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, he drew Bloom, whom he'd been carrying in one of his tails until then, into his coat pocket, where she could continue sleeping.
Turning, he stepped forward to head into the bathroom and look in the mirror, except he noticed... there was nothing there but a wall in that direction.
'Oh, right. There's no en-suite bathroom here... How do ordinary people just leave their rooms without checking themselves in a mirror first? Do they really walk out looking a mess? Should I look into whether there's some charm for conjuring a mirror for situations like this? Hmm... though it would seem a bit vain to spend study time learning something like that...'
Reaching out a hand, he rubbed his temples lightly, feeling a certain discomfort from lack of sleep. Normally, when he slept little, he tended to make up for it by sleeping for a long stretch, or simply put up with it, but today he felt particularly unwell.
'It must be the lasagna...'
Clearing his thoughts, he stepped forward and opened the bedroom door to head out into the hallway.
More than having gone to bed late, the problem was that he'd barely slept at all.
After dinner and «cleaning up» the traces of the meal, the rest of the night had gone by almost like a sleepover. Talking about all sorts of things with Hermione and looking over several of the non-magical devices she'd shown him so enthusiastically.
Some had struck him as oddly familiar, and he'd even known how to use some of them, much to Hermione's surprise.
But others had left him utterly blank, not even knowing how to hold them, easing the puzzled look Hermione had been giving him.
The feeling of knowing something without truly knowing it was, beyond words, genuinely mysterious. It was like an amnesiac patient handling something they'd once used in the past.
He had to admit that such a sensation struck him as more interesting than frightening. After all, in the magical world almost nothing ever gave him that feeling, and while it wasn't especially common in the non-magical world either, at least it existed there.
A glimpse into a past, into a world he'd once known and, at the same time, had never known.
That was precisely why he found the experience so intriguing.
After that, they'd watched a film on the television in the living room. Mrs. Granger had complained a little about how late it was, but in the end Mr. Granger had won her over, and they'd even joined the kids to watch it.
It had been an action film, though Extimum hadn't paid attention to the title. More than the film itself, he'd found the television far more interesting. It was the first time he'd seen one, or at least the first time he'd paid it any real attention.
Vague memories of something similar drifted through his mind, though those objects had been much flatter and thinner by comparison.
That filled his mind with ideas that distracted him almost completely from the film. In the end, though, he hadn't gotten much out of it, since he didn't fully know how to put it to use with his current knowledge.
The only unpleasant part of the night had been, perhaps, that Mrs. Granger had brought out some late-night snacks. In any other situation that would have been fine, but this time it had been nothing short of torture.
He'd had to make his excuses, saying he was full from dinner and didn't want to eat anything so late, until they'd finally stopped pressing him.
If he did nothing, the nauseating smell made him ill, and if he limited his senses to those of a human, the scent made his empty stomach growl faintly.
Even now, his palate still held a bitter, unpleasant aftertaste at the back of his throat.
The lasagna had been incomparable to the hot dog he'd eaten that other time. The feeling reminded him of when he'd made his first potion at home and drunk it to test its effect.
The potion had worked, but he'd overdone it a little when he added the acacia leaves, causing a slight reaction that made the taste incredibly bitter, so much so that he couldn't eat anything all day without a terrible bitterness in his mouth.
By comparison, this had been several levels worse. Forcing himself to eat hadn't been a good idea, and he had no desire to stick around and wait for breakfast.
So he planned to leave early while the others were still asleep, he'd just say goodbye to Hermione and then say his parents had come for him.
As for propriety, though leaving just like that wasn't very in keeping with etiquette, right now that took a back seat. Afterward, he could always arrange for his parents to send a thank-you note for their hospitality, no, scratch that, that would probably be a bad idea, though he could still send one on their behalf, or conjure an illusion of them stopping by briefly.
The important thing was to get out of here. He could fake eating with an illusion, but he wasn't that much of a masochist.
As he walked, he passed quickly by the bathroom, pausing there a moment to check his appearance before going on. After passing a room that served as Mr. Granger's office, he finally reached the door to Hermione's room.
His trunk had been floating along behind him this whole time so it wouldn't make noise scraping across the floor.
The whole hallway was in complete silence, it being around 5:45 a.m. by the last time he'd checked his watch in his room, and he'd gone to sleep around 1:20 a.m.
His hand went unconsciously to knock on the door, but he stopped himself at the last second, thinking how loud that would sound in this quiet, so instead he took hold of the doorknob and let himself in.
The inside of the room was pretty much what you'd expect from a girl's bedroom, with perhaps one notable difference: there were far more books than toys or dolls, and, contrary to what he'd expected, everything was fairly tidy.
In the center of the room stood a big pink bed shaped like a castle.
Ignoring the room's and the bed's peculiar look, which he'd already seen the night before, Extimum walked over to the bed where Hermione lay sleeping.
Hermione was hugging a large teddy bear and wearing a blue pajama dress.
Extimum shook her shoulder lightly to wake her.
Hermione: "Hmm, no… it's the weekend… let me sleep…" Hermione mumbled, almost incoherently.
Extimum: "Hermione."
Hermione: "Hmm? Extimum? Is that you?" Barely cracking her eyes open, Hermione spoke in a voice that clearly betrayed how sleepy she was.
Extimum: "Yes, you don't have to get up. I came to say goodbye, my parents came for me, but it's still very early, so I don't want to wake yours. Say goodbye to them for me and tell them I appreciate their hospitality. We'll come back to thank them properly."
Hermione: "What?... You're leaving now? Can't you stay a bit longer?" Sleep still had the upper hand, but hearing that Extimum was leaving made Hermione noticeably more alert though there hadn't been much light in the room to begin with, so she couldn't actually see Extimum clearly, only a dark shape with few features.
If she hadn't been following the sound of his voice, she might as well have been talking to thin air. She even wondered whether Extimum standing before her was real or merely a dream, and so, without quite meaning to, she reached out her hand to touch him.
Extimum: "I'm afraid not, but I'll come visit you again over the holidays if I have time. I won't let you miss me too much."
Stopping Hermione's hand just before it touched his face, Extimum held it gently in his own.
Hermione: "Yes… do that..." With her limited sight and the pull of sleep, her eyes were starting to close again.
Blinking slightly, Extimum smiled softly at seeing that she hadn't denied his promise, though he didn't take it too seriously, knowing she was still half asleep.
Watching her close her eyes and feeling her breathing settle into a much slower rhythm, he looked briefly at the hand he still held, before drawing it close and giving it a light, chaste kiss.
Extimum: "I will."
Without another word, he laid her hand gently on the bedspread and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. Then he left the house in complete silence.
The streets outside were still dark, but the sky was already starting to lighten. In fact, the current amount of light usually wasn't enough to wake people up, but it was different for Extimum, who was used to sleeping in a completely dark room and to a habit of rising early almost every day.
Extimum: "Bob."
**Pop Swirl**
Bob: "Did you call, young master?"
Extimum: "Take me home."
Bob: "At once." Stepping closer, he grabbed Extimum's sleeve, and the two of them vanished in an instant.
**Pop Swirl**
...
**Pop Swirl**
After stepping out of the swirl, a vast, imposing manor rose up before Extimum's eyes.
This time, Bob had brought him directly to the garden in front of the entrance, sparing him the trouble of crossing the gate.
Taking a few steps, he walked toward the door of the manor.
Bob: "Ahem Young master"
Stopping at the sudden call, Extimum turned his gaze toward Bob. In just a few seconds, his expression had grown several degrees colder.
"Is something wrong?"
Bob: "Yes, the mistress… she's upset again."
Extimum: "I recall sending a letter last night."
Bob: "Yes, she received it, but even so, she wasn't at all pleased, since even though the young master informed her of his absence, he didn't ask for the proper permission or wait for her approval…"
A slight frown crossed Extimum's face at his words.
Since when did they care so much?
Ever since last time, he'd always made a point of notifying them of his whereabouts and how long he'd be gone. Even so, they'd never said a word about it before, so he'd assumed the letter would be enough, though apparently, that wasn't the case.
Which made the whole situation even stranger. In any other family, this would be perfectly ordinary, expected, even, but... that wasn't usually how things worked in his. So much worry, or rather, so much control, was highly unusual.
Extimum: "It's fine, thank you for telling me."
Bob: "It's Bob's pleasure to serve you, young master."
Extimum: "Hmm."
Humming faintly, he took a step forward to approach the manor, when the sound of voices nearby made him stop again.
?: "Mick, what are you doing!?"
?: "Shh! Keep it down. Don't worry, I'm only going to paint one of the walls."
?: "But I thought the dare was just to come spend the night..."
?: "Of course not. How could it be that simple? The lads said the dare only counts if I paint one of the walls of NorthHollow manor."
?: "But you know NorthHollow is a heritage site. The police could pick us up for this. Besides... you know the stories. Everyone who's ever gone after NorthHollow manor has vanished or come back mad."
?: "Bah! Those are just stories the old folks tell to scare kids. Do you actually believe that stuff?"
?: "But everyone in the village knows it. It can't just be a tale. Besides, you know this place is still lived in. What if the family here catches us? They'll definitely call the police, or maybe even..."
?: "Shut up! If you're scared, then just leave. I'll do it alone, but then I'm not sharing the credit with you."
Turning his head, Extimum's eyes settled on one of the tall walls that shielded the outside of the manor, right where the voices had come from.
The tall stone walls blocked his view. Still, the distinctive rattle of a spray can, together with the snippet of conversation he'd overheard, gave him a fairly clear idea of what was happening on the other side.
Extimum: "I wouldn't have thought that, even in this day and age, someone would dare try to defile our manor."
Extimum's nearly unreadable face twisted slightly, while the pupils of his eyes sharpened and took on an almost luminous gleam in the dark morning light.
The temperature even seemed to drop a few degrees, mysteriously, for a few seconds, before returning to normal.
To the world, and especially to the people who lived in the nearby village, NorthHollow manor was a very special place. It mattered to the region's history, besides being regarded as a privately owned heritage site and, on certain occasions during the year, a tourist attraction.
There was no shortage of old stories tied to the manor. It was said to have stood even before many of the region's castles were built, and to be even older than the village itself, which had already existed before the age of castles.
Though the village had changed over the years, modernizing while some of the castles had even crumbled, only the manor on the small hill overlooking the valley remained almost exactly as it had been back then.
That alone spoke to how well it had been built, while its unique, majestic design still gave it great charm and appeal, even thousands of years later.
On the other hand, the relationship between the villagers and the manor's family had always run somewhat lukewarm and, during certain periods, had even turned bad. With the arrival of modern times, though, and the standardization of many aspects of society, the relationship had improved considerably, becoming generally cordial. As a result, there were no longer any problems between the two sides.
Besides, the old stories passed down from generation to generation among the villagers had always kept them from taking the manor's family lightly. So much so that, at one point, the family had come to be regarded as something of a taboo.
With modernization, it had been more than a century since there'd been any trouble between the two sides. Yet, unexpectedly, someone had come to the manor today intending to vandalize the outer walls that enclosed and sealed it off from the outside world.
Though Extimum had plenty of conflicts with his family, he would never let anyone drag the Izorim name through the mud, and that included the family estate.
It was a pride, a sense of belonging, that went beyond simple brainwashing. It was a belonging rooted in the blood.
Every stone, even every blade of grass in that place, had been built, laid, or grown by the hands and wands of the Izorim family.
Extimum: "See to it."
Bob: "At once, young master."
Bob's expression was even uglier than his. If Extimum had still been holding himself back, Bob was practically bursting with fury at that moment, and only his years of training as a servant of the family kept him from losing his composure entirely.
Extimum: "Hmp."
Letting out an irritated huff, he went into the manor without further interruption. Though the whole thing had put a small dent in his mood, he didn't want to bother sorting it out himself, nor was there any need to. Otherwise, there'd be no point in having servants at the manor.
Even if it was only Bob and a handful of house-elves.
.-.
As Wilson watched his friend spray graffiti on the walls, he couldn't help feeling a knot of unease tighten in his chest the longer he watched the paint spread across the stone.
Unlike Mick, whose family had only moved to the village a few years back, Wilson's family, while not entirely native, had lived here for generations.
He'd grown up hearing the stories about this place.
Many of them sounded rather fanciful, and others fairly bone-chilling, though on the whole not very trustworthy, more bedtime tales than anything else. Still, Wilson had never forgotten the answer his father had given him when he'd asked whether those stories were real.
"There's no smoke without fire."
That phrase, small as it was, had stuck with him since he was little, and he'd even applied it to other parts of his life, so even if most of the stories were false or wildly exaggerated, that didn't change the fact that there had to be some truth to them. Otherwise, why would all the locals believe it and act so cautiously?
Besides, it wasn't as simple as just believing or not, the manor itself and its residents had always been somewhat mysterious and reclusive, but their presence was almost always hard to ignore whenever they did appear, since they were... rather particular.
So Wilson, as a rule, generally preferred to be safe rather than sorry.
In fact, he'd only tagged along with his friend Mick tonight because he'd thought the dare was simply to come out here late at night and spend the night near the manor. There was nothing wrong with that, at least, not until Mick had woken him up far too early in the morning and made him follow him all the way out here.
Now he was torn about what to do. The unease in his chest wasn't fading, it was only growing, the longer he stayed.
Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he grabbed his things and spoke up.
"I'm leaving. I'm not sticking around with you anymore, and I don't care if you don't give me credit afterward, I don't want it."
With that, he turned and walked off at a brisk pace, almost running. For some reason, his heart was hammering hard in his chest like a drum the longer he stayed there, and now that he was running, he noticed that the farther he got from the place, the calmer he felt.
'Something is very wrong here.'
"Tch, suit yourself."
Mick only paused a moment to watch Wilson's back before going on painting. He was almost done, and besides, the sun was about to come up in this part of the sky, so he had to hurry and get out.
After all, there was some truth in his friend's words, if the police found out it was him, the consequences for damaging a cultural and historical heritage site wouldn't be small, on top of the fact that he'd heard the family living here was quite wealthy, and influential too.
**Beep beep beep beep**
Just as he was about to finish, a sound on his wrist made him jump. Looking down, it was his watch alarm, which he'd set for exactly 6 a.m., since that was precisely when the sun crept over the hill, meaning he needed to leave right away.
Looking over his graffiti, he noticed he still had a little left to finish, but he was out of time. He'd had a lot to drink the night before, so he'd ended up sleeping through the alarm and getting up later than planned, and now he had to race against the clock.
He packed the spray cans into his bag and hurried to sling it over his shoulder before glancing up at the sky.
"Weird, it's still pretty dark. Every other time I've looked, it's usually bright out by now. Maybe it'll be a cloudy day today."
Without giving the still-dark sky any more thought, he ran toward the spot where his camp was.
...
**Huff huff huff**
"*gasp*What's going on? I don't remember it being this far, I should've gotten there by now, don't tell me that coward Wilson took my tent, huh? *Gasp* No, even if he did, I should've spotted the campsite tracks on the way past."
Taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead, Mick looked around, but nothing looked familiar.
They'd pitched their camp in a small grove behind the manor, yet he saw no trace of the spot he'd chosen earlier, as if he'd never been there at all.
"Speaking of which… shouldn't it be dawn by now? Why is everything still so dark? It actually seems darker than before…"
**whisper**
"Huh?".
A distant, low sound reached Mick's ears from behind a tree.
**whisper** **whisper**
"What? Who? Wilson!? Is that you!?".
The sound was like a faint whisper, as if people were murmuring to each other behind the tree.
**whisper** **whisper** **whisper**
"Hey, this isn't funny, if you've already packed up, just come out from wherever you are and let's head back to the village"
**whisper** **whisper** **whisper** **whisper**
Walking toward the tree the sound had come from, Mick stopped when he felt the sound behind the tree go quiet, then start up again from another tree, from the direction he'd come, and what's more, the number of voices had grown.
Swallowing weakly, Mick backed away from the tree he'd been walking toward and looked behind him. The sound of the voices still seemed to be coming from behind the trees, but no matter how closely he listened, he couldn't make out a single word of what they were saying.
They seemed to be saying words, yet at the same time saying nothing at all, no... it was more like he simply couldn't understand it, even while hearing it.
A cold sweat broke out down Mick's back; at first the whispers had been faint, but now they seemed to be getting closer. He no longer believed this was some prank of Wilson's.
Without hesitating, he turned and ran back the way he'd come. He didn't care anymore even if he got caught by the police or the manor's owners afterward, he just had to get away from this place.
This time he ran even faster than when he'd fled the manor, and although he tried hard to hide it, it was plain that nervousness now had a grip on his mind.
"This place… No, it can't be…"
After running for several minutes, he found no sign of the manor, he didn't even seem to have made it out of the small grove at all. All he could make out was the persistent darkness, but he clearly noticed that the spot he'd reached looked very much like where he'd been before.
The grove wasn't even that big.
???: "Why couldn't it be?"
"AAAHHH!! Who are you!?". Mick jumped, startled, at hearing a voice right in his ear, spinning around quickly.
"Thank god, someone's here — sir, could you tell me how to get o….". Mick's voice died in his throat at the sight in front of him.
"Wh-what?"
The grove had turned incredibly dark at some point, almost like the dead of night, but what was most unsettling was the person standing just a few meters behind him, because that person…looked exactly like him.
"Am I hallucinating? But-"
???: "You're not hallucinating. This is real… very real…". His other self answered him slowly, in a voice that was faintly unsettling, and finally smiled, a wide smile, baring every tooth.
**Hyk**
Mick felt every hair on his body stand on end at the sight of that smile. The fact that the person looked exactly like him only made it more chilling.
Taking a step back, Mick tried to steady himself and put some distance between them.
"I-I, I have to go…". Taking another step back to gain more distance, Mick was about to bolt.
But… his other self's smile slowly faded…
???: "I'm afraid that's no longer possible…not for a while-".
Feeling a shiver run through his entire body, Mick didn't wait for his other self to finish speaking and spun around to run.
He felt a surge of energy like nothing he'd ever known race through his body, while adrenaline pumped through his blood, driving him faster than he'd ever thought possible, he didn't even spare a thought for his bag full of paint cans as he tossed it aside to run faster.
Unfortunately, even with his body unleashing its hidden potential, his relief didn't last long, when to his horror he discovered that no matter how hard he ran… his surroundings didn't seem to change.
As if he were anchored to the same spot, no, in fact, he was moving, only…not forward… but backward…
The harder he pushed himself to run, the more he noticed his surroundings growing darker and darker, until the only light left was on the horizon ahead of him.
Then something seemed to coil around his foot and drag him backward. His body slammed hard into the ground, nearly eating dirt as he landed face-first, but that couldn't matter to him less once he felt himself being pulled.
The light kept growing fainter, and the horizon kept shrinking smaller. He dug his hands and nails into the ground, trying to get leverage and resist whatever was dragging him.
"No! No! Let go of me! Let me go, I'll call the police!".
Clinging to the earth and grass beneath him with all his strength, Mick made whatever threats he could before turning to look at his attacker, but the instant he did, what little color remained in his face drained away.
Behind him there was nothing… only a bottomless, complete darkness… straight out of the worst nightmares.
"L-let me go! Let me go! AAAAHHH! Nooo, I don't want to, I don't want to die, let go of me, no, no, no, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-"
An abrupt silence settled over the whole place as the marks Mick had gouged into the ground faded away. Not long after, the sun's rays finally broke through swiftly, lighting up the small grove.
And on a bush not far off, all that remained was a lone, quiet can of spray paint.
.-.
Ava: "Where were you?". Ava's flat, indifferent voice rang out in the manor's sitting room.
Extimum: 'I thought I'd said as much in the letter.' "I was at a friend's house, Mother"
Ava: "And why were you there?"
Extimum: "I was invited to dinner-".
Ava: "I don't recall giving you permission for that"
Extimum: "..."
Ava: "You're only thirteen. Even if we allow you some freedom, you can't simply go wherever you like, especially not with strangers".
Extimum blinked slightly, feeling an odd, unfamiliar sensation; he'd never expected to hear such ordinary words coming from his mother's mouth.
Ava: "There is a proper etiquette, and preparations that must be made, before visiting another magical family's residence, not to mention that you should have waited for my approval, or your father's approval"
Extimum: 'True enough… though it wasn't another magical family's residence I went to…but better not to say that.'
"I understand, Mother"
Ava: "What do you understand?"
Extimum: "That I mustn't neglect etiquette, and… that I must wait for your consent in situations of that kind".
Ava: "Hmm, very well, you may go about your business".
Without another word, Extimum gave his mother a slight bow and then left the sitting room.
On entering the manor, he'd gone straight to the kitchen to find something to eat, mostly fruit, since he wasn't in the habit of keeping leftovers around, and he didn't want to bother the house-elves at the moment either, he'd only wanted to take the edge off his hunger before breakfast.
On leaving the kitchen, he'd passed through the sitting room, and that was when his mother's call had stopped him, after a brief exchange of words, that had brought him straight to this moment.
Bloom: 'That was a bit suffocating…'
Extimum: 'Are you awake? Did you hear all that?'
Bloom: 'Yes, I woke up as you were leaving the kitchen'
Extimum: 'sigh I can't help but feel that most of what she said was just empty words, but her intent was still there underneath it. It's frustrating that I can sense everyone else's emotions whether I want to or not, yet from the one person I most want to understand, I can barely get anything at all…And I still have a headache… I should sleep a bit more'
Bloom fell silent at that.
The situation with this manor and this family was simply far too complicated for her to make sense of, given the little information she knew and could gather in such a short time. She preferred to stay quiet for now.
On entering his room, Extimum slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he stretched out his hands, sending his coat flying off to the coat rack.
His room was completely dark, and he didn't bother turning on the light. Thinking about it now, it had perhaps been a little unnecessary to get fully dressed up just to come straight home when he could arrive in a single snap, he'd really only done it out of habit and for appearances.
As he walked toward his bed, a fleeting feeling, along with a thought, passed through his mind. 'This is more like it, the space here really isn't the same at all…'.
An inexplicable unease seemed to have vanished from his body, and even his nine tails freed themselves from around his waist, beginning to move about freely with a vigor and energy he himself wasn't sharing at the moment.
From Extimum's shoulder, Bloom couldn't help sneaking a few more glances at them. She liked playing with them, but Extimum was usually quite guarded about them, except at bedtime.
Before Bloom's gaze could settle on one of the tails again, one of them slipped up behind her and coiled around her, lifting her off Extimum's shoulder, and the very next moment setting her down on Extimum's chest, who had already lain back.
Bloom: "Ah!".
A little startled, Bloom let out a small squeak, which she quickly stifled once she realized what she'd done. Though her eyesight was much better than average, she couldn't see as well in this darkness as Extimum could, so the sudden approach had caught her off guard.
Extimum: "Let's get some sleep for now".
.-.
On the nightstand, the minute hand of the pocket watch ticked swiftly along, and at some point, the sun was already hanging high in the sky.
In a small cobblestone house in the village near Izorim manor.
The sound of pots whistling and the radio playing drifted from the kitchen.
?:"Wilson, go to the shop and bring me the ingredients on this list for your grandfather's pie, and don't forget to pick only what's freshest, you know that if you don't know how to-".
A pretty middle-aged woman in plain clothes and an apron called out from the kitchen while reading the newspaper in her hand and setting down a sheet of paper on the table where she'd just finished writing out a list of ingredients.
Wilson: "I know, I know, Mum, don't worry, I've done it plenty of times before, worst case, I'll just ask Mr Ashkot for help. *sigh* You do know I'm eighteen now, right? I can go to the shop and bring back the ingredients just fine without you reminding me…".
Coming down from the second floor and into the kitchen, Wilson couldn't help grumbling. He wasn't a child anymore, and even children could manage something like going to the shop.
?: "Oh? Really? And what happened last week, then, when I asked you to do the shopping for lunch? ". Lowering the newspaper in her hand, the woman remarked with a bit of bite.
Wilson: "That… well, that was different, you know...". Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, Wilson lowered his voice, avoiding his mother's eyes.
?: "How was it different?". Not remotely convinced, the woman asked, waiting to see what excuse her son would come up with.
Wilson: "It's just… I got distracted while I was shopping… But it was only a small mistake…". Wilson couldn't help remembering, a little sheepishly, how that very day he'd run into the girl he fancied also doing her shopping, so he hadn't been able to help glancing her way more than once while picking out items.
?: "I asked you for cabbage!, cabbage! And what did you bring me? Lettuce! Even if you can't tell them apart, there's clearly a big sign labeling it, and besides, what was I supposed to do with lettuce?". The woman's irritation flared just remembering it, after all, that little mistake had cost her having to leave that day's dinner half-made, since she'd had to go buy it herself.
Wilson: "To make a sandwich?"
?: "You! Think you're funny, do you?". Snatching the newspaper off the table, she rolled it up and swung it at her son.
Wilson: "Ow!, no, Mum, don't hit me!, I'm going, I'm going, if you keep me here any longer the pie won't be ready in time…". Darting quickly to one side of the kitchen, he threw open the door to the yard and hurried out of the house, barely managing to take only two hits to the head.
?: "Huh, that boy, why can't he be more serious, like his father? *sigh*"
Just as the woman sighed, the door to the yard opened again.
Wilson: "Ah, Mum, but you didn't give me any money for the shopping"
?: "Are you still here?". The woman grabbed the newspaper off the table again.
Wilson: "Ah, I'm going, I'm going, I'll buy it with my own money". Seeing her grab the newspaper again, he shut the kitchen door once more.
...
Wilson: "*sigh* And there goes the money I'd saved up to take Madison out to eat…". Feeling glum at watching his meager pocket money disappear as he left the shop, Wilson walked home somewhat downcast. This time he made sure to buy exactly what was on the list.
"I shouldn't have said that last bit, or I should've at least waited to say it until after I'd gotten the shopping money…"
?: "Hey, Wilson, there you are, finally found you"
Wilson: "Matt? Were you looking for me for something?"
Matt: "Of course I was, or do you think the lads forgot about the dare? Mick was supposed to meet us in the morning as soon as he was done, but he still hasn't shown up, and he went with you"
Wilson: "Mick hasn't come back yet?". Wilson frowned.
Matt:"*Duh* Obviously, why else do you think I'm asking you?"
Still frowning, Wilson answered. "That's odd, even though I left before him, Mick was already almost finished, it shouldn't have taken him this long to finish up and come back"
Matt: "Mick actually painted the walls of NorthHollow manor?". The surprise was plain in Matt's tone as he asked.
Wilson: "Well, obviously, wasn't that the dare?". The memory of it irritated Wilson; after all, Mick had kept it from him until the very last moment.
Matt: "Well, yes, that was the dare, but… I didn't think he'd actually go through with it. I wouldn't have, at least."
Wilson: "Wasn't it you who suggested it?"
Matt: "Of course not, it was the other lads. Besides, you know how my father is, if he found out I'd done something like that, he'd kill me, no, worse, if he found out I'd done it to NorthHollow manor specifically… he'd probably leave me sleeping outside the house… Honestly, I was fully expecting Mick to come back afterward and say he'd chickened out, and then I was going to talk the others into picking a different dare…"
Wilson: "Hmm, well, I don't know, maybe he was really sleepy and went straight home to bed, have you checked his house yet?"
Matt: "No, I was just heading there, after all, he was supposed to meet us in the morning, but it's nearly lunchtime now and there's still no sign of him"
Wilson: "In that case I won't keep you any longer, I've got to get this to my mum, see you later". Giving the bags in one hand a slight shake, Wilson said his goodbyes and headed home.
Watching Wilson go, Matt didn't linger either and kept walking toward Mick's house, for some reason, he felt a bit uneasy about the whole thing.
Matt hadn't liked the dare about painting the walls of NorthHollow manor one bit, and not because he was a coward, but simply because his father was the village constable.
Some might think that would give him some kind of edge, like in the films, and that he could even act like some sort of mini-boss around the village, but the reality was very different. His father was extremely strict, and even stricter with him.
If he so much as tried acting like a mini-boss or a troublemaker, his father would drag him home by the ear and make him kneel in the yard for half the day.
His family had, for generations, been something like defenders of law and order, and although they hadn't always held high positions, they'd always been involved in managing security and law in the village.
Which was why his father also expected him to become a police officer, or a town hall official.
Matt: "*sigh* Well, let's get this over with".
After walking for a few minutes, he arrived at Mick's house, and, stepping up onto a small step, raised his hand to ring the bell.
**Ding dong**
?: "Just a moment"
**Click**
The door opened, revealing a young, slender housewife, surprising, considering she'd already given birth.
?: "Well, if it isn't little Matthew, look at you, how you've grown, you're almost as strapping as your father now, speaking of which, did your father send a reply about the letter I sent him?".
The young housewife spoke quickly and briskly, all while radiating a great warmth, like a mother's, along with something else that Matt simply couldn't quite put his finger on.
Matt: "*cough* Sorry to bother you at this hour, Mrs. Elizabeth. I don't know anything about it. If it's something personal, you'll have to wait until my father replies himself, and if it's official business, an officer will most likely come by later with the response. Actually, I came to ask about your son, Mick, is he home? "
Elizabeth: "Ah, that's the thing…"— A sad smile flickered briefly across Elizabeth's face before her warm smile returned —"So you're a friend of Mick's? I didn't know that, but I'm glad to hear it, you're a good lad, after all, Matthew. Mick, on the other hand, is a bit of a difficult child, and he doesn't tend to tell me much about his own affairs. Speaking of him, he still hasn't come back. He told me he'd gone up the hill to camp with Mrs. Rosewall's son, but he didn't say anything more than that, honestly, I thought he'd be back for lunch, but he still hasn't turned up".
Matt frowned, He'd just run into Wilson, and according to him, Mick had nearly finished the dare when they'd split up, so it made no sense that he still hadn't gone home or gone to meet up with the other lads.
'Maybe I somehow missed him while I was going from place to place?'
Elizabeth: "Did you need him for something?"
Snapping out of his thoughts, Matt replied. "No, it wasn't anything important, it's just that he'd promised to meet up with us once he got back from his camping trip, but maybe he still hasn't gotten back"
Matt had a few doubts, but he didn't voice them. Wilson had split off before things were done, so there was no way to know whether Mick, for whatever reason, had chosen to stay up on the hill, or had gone somewhere else beforehand.
He didn't particularly like Mick, so he didn't know as much about him as the others did, but for some reason, the uneasy feeling he got just thinking about it only grew deeper.
"Anyway, if he turns up, please let him know we were looking for him"
Elizabeth: "Of course, I'll be happy to tell him"
Matt: "In that case, I won't keep you from your lunch any longer"
Elizabeth: "It's fine, it's no bother. I hadn't sat down to eat yet anyway."
Matt nodded and turned to leave.
Elizabeth: "Oh, and Matthew"
Matt: "Yes, Mrs Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth: "…if you see… if you see your father later, could you remind him about my letter?"
Matt: "Of course, I'll tell him if I see him later"
Elizabeth: "Thank you, Matthew".
Matt walked off, now feeling a bit curious about Mrs. Elizabeth's letter to his father.
.-.
--Bloom POV--.
Opening her eyes, Bloom stretched lazily while hugging a big, soft, fuzzy blanket.
The room was still dark, with only a few very faint rays of light slipping in behind the heavy curtains.
Blinking her long lashes rapidly, Bloom felt puzzled. Usually, when she woke up, the curtains were already drawn and the morning light filled the whole room, she was almost always the last one up, so the contrast felt strange.
Tilting her head slightly, she looked up at Extimum's face. His eyes were closed, clearly still asleep.
His face looked far more peaceful, and although that same lack of expression lingered, it somehow seemed softer. His hair had grown a little these past few months and he still hadn't cut it, giving him a rare, faintly tousled look.
Seeing him like that instinctively brought a smile to her face, one that grew a little wider when she noticed the extra pair of furry ears atop his head, but she quickly looked away from them. Extimum was always rather sensitive about them, so much so that even staring at them for too long would put him on alert.
Today was one of those rare, few occasions when she woke up before he did.
As she thought about it, she started fiddling with the big blanket covering her, or rather, with the tail of Extimum's that he always used to sleep with.
Moving it side to side, and combing through it at other moments. Even in the dark, the fur seemed to carry its own faint silvery shimmer whenever she brushed against it. The glow was faint, just enough to notice, but not enough to bother the eyes.
Now and then, symbols like runes even seemed to faintly appear across the fur, producing an unreal sensation, distinct from ordinary magic.
That, in fact, was something that had always intrigued her. Though mythology held a few legends of nine-tailed foxes, that was purely theoretical, in the magical world's long history, only three-tailed foxes had ever been seen, even in the distant past.
But now there was one right in front of her. Stranger still, though she'd never dared ask, the question was always on her mind, why did Extimum carry such a lineage within him? And such a pure one, at that?
A lineage that pure would require at least one of his parents to be a nine-tailed fox in their own right, but having seen them, it was clear that, while they had a few peculiarities about them, they were, in essence, entirely magical humans.
She couldn't detect the slightest trace or connection to such a lineage in either of them, but how could it simply come out of nowhere? It made no sense. The idea that they weren't his real parents wasn't viable either, because at the very least the resemblance was plain to see, and the other side of Extimum's lineage was clearly Izorim.
So then… how?
There didn't seem to be an answer to that, not without asking Extimum directly, at least, however, she didn't want to pry too far into his secrets either, if he wasn't willing to share them, even with her.
The bond between them was strong, made even closer because of the contract, so she wasn't in any rush, time was the one thing they had plenty of, right now.
But setting that aside, what bothered her most was that even now, she couldn't sense the presence of the nine-tailed fox lineage at all, as if it simply didn't exist, unless Extimum deliberately drew it out.
Staring fixedly at the tail she held in her hands, it clearly existed, she was seeing it, touching it, yet to her senses it was as if it simply wasn't there.
The only thing she could sense in Extimum was his Izorim lineage and…something else, something hard to describe, she could sense it in Extimum's parents too, but far more faintly, dirtier somehow… nothing like what she felt in Extimum, but that couldn't be the nine-tailed fox lineage either, it was of an entirely different nature.
The feeling was dark, hard to see, hard to sense, and even harder to tell apart from the Izorim lineage, as if the two natures were similar at their core, yet distinct in essence.
Frowning slightly, Bloom recalled her time with Leonardo or Lin Hua. The purity of their lineages had been obvious, however, they hadn't carried that other feeling that Extimum and his parents did.
By comparison, they'd felt more… free, pure. This something else clearly had nothing to do with the Izorim lineage, but at the time her mind had been too muddled to pay that detail any attention.
Deep thoughts drifted through Bloom's mind as she kept staring at the tail in her hands.
"Finished playing?"
Nearly jumping out of her skin, Bloom let go of the tail she was holding as she spun around quickly to look at Extimum.
--End POV--.
Extimum watched Bloom's reaction with some amusement, not unlike a cat that had just had its tail stepped on.
Bloom: "How long have you been awake?"
Extimum: "Long before you even woke up, I was just thinking over a few things with my eyes closed"
Bloom: "You… did that on purpose, didn't you?". A faint blush crept onto Bloom's cheeks.
Extimum: "I don't know what you mean, it was purely a coincidence"
Bloom: "*cough*"--- Coughing lightly to hide her embarrassment at her own actions, Bloom changed the subject ---"So what were you thinking about so hard? You haven't even gotten up yet. I think we've already missed breakfast…"
Extimum: "Breakfast? Don't you mean lunch?"
Bloom: "What? No, it can't be that late".
Lifting off Extimum's chest, Bloom flapped her wings and flew toward the pocket watch she knew Extimum left on the nightstand before going to sleep.
Bloom: "See, it's only two… in the afternoon…".
Extimum: "Told you, it's already quite late"
**Growl**
Extimum: "And it seems someone else just noticed too…"
Bloom: "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"
Extimum: "Well, I was a little tired too, and…I didn't want to spoil such a sweet sight so soon"
A deep blush rose to Bloom's face at his words and his tone, making her quickly turn her head to one side.
'Come on, get a grip, Bloom, you can't blush over just a few words, you're the eldest one here…'
"I'm going to go get ready".
Without turning back around, Bloom flew toward the room's bathroom and shut the door behind her.
Extimum smiled faintly, still with no intention of getting out of bed, Bloom always managed to lift his mood with the smallest things, like her simple reactions, perhaps that was why he liked teasing her now and then, though his words were always quite sincere, which was exactly why they got to her so easily.
Looking toward the window, he waved his hand, and the curtains immediately slid open to let the light into the room.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the abrupt shift from near-total darkness to light. The windows in his room were large, so the room was instantly bathed in light.
He felt a bit hungry, but he was in no hurry to get out of bed. On waking, he'd gone back to thinking about the images and information about thin, large televisions that had surfaced in his mind when he'd seen the television at Hermione's house, so he tried to follow that train of thought, hoping to dredge up other memories.
Yet, just like the times before, the attempt had mostly come to nothing, his memories of the past were only fragments, and nothing more, still, there was something else he had managed to recall.
An invention, a technology from many years in the future that had become an almost indispensable tool in ordinary human life, and, strange as it seemed, though he could remember a great deal about it, he couldn't recall its name.
Even so, it hadn't been hard to link it to the technology he currently knew from the Muggle world. That memory had given him great inspiration, as well as plenty to think about, and although there were once again large gaps in the process and certain details, he felt he'd stumbled onto a great idea, one that could revolutionize certain aspects of the magical world.
That said, he felt that he was missing far too much information, both on the magical side and the non-magical side, to develop such an ambitious idea and make it a reality, he also realized he'd need to learn and explore many other subjects just to even dream of building a prototype, though, setting aside whether he could actually do it, he simply didn't have that much time or energy to spare.
He already had too much on his plate as it was. Even so, he wasn't willing to give up on it either, and so he found himself thinking of ways to solve that problem.