Note: This may or may not be the only chapter for this week due to me being a college student and working full time. I will also likely rewrite or at least expand this chapter in the future as I am very... unsure of this one. Feels rushed or incomplete.
#Mc POV#
#Time skip: Two weeks later#
These last two weeks had been chaos.
That was the first thought that flickered into my head as the soft warmth of Sunday morning bled through the cracks in my eyelids. Another week down, and yet things only felt more complicated, more magical, more impossible.
I yawned quietly, stretching beneath the covers.
And froze.
Something was different.
Warm.
Heavy.
Breathing.
I blinked. Slowly. Turned my head.
Alex.
Still curled up beside me.
Still in my bed.
Still here.
My heart skipped—then stumbled.
This hadn't happened in two months. Not once. She always left before the sun was up, vanishing back to her room like a shadow in reverse. Our secret wasn't spoken aloud, but it was understood. Quiet comfort. Silent companionship. Something that existed only in the dark.
But today?
She was still here.
And not just here—with me. Draped across my chest, legs tangled with mine beneath the sheets, her head tucked just below my chin. One hand loosely curled over my t-shirt. Her hair was everywhere—wild and soft and completely hers. And she was drooling. A little. Snoring. Gently.
It should've felt awkward. Exposed. But instead, it just felt… right.
There was something oddly perfect about it—like we belonged in that moment and nowhere else.
The fact she stayed. As risky and reckless as that was. Made my heart flutter. Made my mind go bonkers for a second i ln ways I couldn't describe, as if—no, no I wouldn't go there. I didn't know it then but… this was exactly what Alex wanted. The moment her plan started to show results…
Yet I didn't dare move.
I just let my head fall back into the pillow, staring at the ceiling and listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing, the occasional snore that made me smile like an idiot.
And for a moment, I let myself forget the nightmares.
But they were still there.Always there.Waiting.
Faint around the edges of my mind, like ghosts waiting for dusk. The same recurring dreams—dark corridors, flickering lights, screaming voices I couldn't place. The subway train encounter with pony tails, doing things to Alex and Harper that left me broken. Even Maxine, screaming in agony that left me in shambles. Each and every night. The balcony lucid dream, those demonic, angelic, unfathomable voices. What they said. It all repeated in a nightmare that never ended.
Each night a variation.Each morning, I woke up cold.
And then there was that one dream.
The one from the day everything changed.The day I woke up with memories that weren't mine.
A face I didn't recognize calling my name among clouds. A Fire. A Pain. A shattering sound, like glass and thunder colliding in my skull. Lightning and a pillows of three figures in black fog. At the end a picture of tomb stones with corpses digging from their graves.
Grindelwald. He was in my dream. Warning me they would be my doom. The question who was they?
I hadn't told Alex about any of it. Not yet.
Maybe I was scared she'd believe me.
Maybe I was scared she'd understand.
Eithier way, I wasn't sure I ever would.
Probably not.
I let out a slow breath and glanced back down at her.
She looked peaceful. Untouched by any of it.
I raised a hand and gently poked her forehead.
She groaned, eyes scrunching, and instinctively swatted my hand away like it was a fly.
I chuckled under my breath, then leaned down and pressed soft kisses to her cheek. Then her temple. Then the tip of her nose. A trail of affection that made her mumble something incoherent, her lips curling at the corners.
Her eyelids fluttered open for just a second—hazy, barely there—but enough to meet my eyes.
She smiled, that barely-awake kind of smile people only ever give when they know they're safe.
"What?" she whispered, her voice still hoarse with sleep.
"It's time to get up, sleepyhead," I murmured. "It's morning. Dad's already up, too."
She didn't reply. Just groaned again and buried her face deeper into my chest, like she could hide from reality with enough blanket and stubbornness. "You have to get up. Before someone finds you here." I said giving her another kiss on her cheek.
Eventually, I slipped out from under her slowly, careful not to wake her fully. She let out a sleepy whine, almost as if she even half asleep was flabbergasted at the thought of me leaving her, and rolled into the warmth I left behind.
I watched her for one more second.
Then forced myself to move.
I skipped my usual morning routine and headed straight downstairs. The smell of fresh coffee drifted through the air, earthy and sharp.
Dad was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter with his back to me, pouring from the pot like it was the most normal morning in the world.
The soft light of the sun spilled through the windows, golden and gentle, trying to convince me today would be peaceful.
But the quiet didn't last.
It never did anymore.
Not since the day I opened that freezer.
Not since I found the staircase and the secrets hidden below.
I thought of the secret meetings we had there both Crump and my Dad present, teaching me after school. Sometimes before.
And before I even made it to the table, the words between us had already started rising.
Again.
"When are you going to let me learn actual magic. Not just the basics. Not just the history of it. Of wizards long dead, and gone." I asked my voice laced with annoyance.
He peeked over at me. A sigh escaping him. "Couldn't even let me finish my coffee. Look Justin I said I would teach you. With professor Crumps help. My way. And my way. Is slow. We do it right. Besides you don't need to learn spells now. You need to learn about the history. About the consequences." He said taking a long sip.
"You need to have patience" he finished.
A frown grew on my face as I walked to the cabinet and pulled out a bowl and some cereal. I thought about the past couple of weeks filled with nothing but books and more books about the history. And concepts. But I wanted something more. I wanted just a taste of what I was actually supposed to be learning and not of boredom and frustration. " I get that. But how do you expect me to be able to control my magic. To handle it with responsibility if you don't even let me actually learn how to use it yet." I said while pouring milk into my bowl.
He looked at me and sighed. "Your not going to drop this are you?" He asked.
I shook my head adding the cereal to the bowl next. "Nope. It's been two weeks already." I said.
"Fine, finish the rest of the books I have given you in the next week and maybe. Just maybe I'll let you learn a spell or two. Not before." He said finally giving me a chance.
"Tell me you guys arnt arguing about magic again when the girls can be down any minute" Mom came walking downstairs stating in a almost whisper almost yell.
I found out a week into my 'training' that She had known the entire time too. I had my own conversation with her about it. Afterwords I couldn't blame her. It really wasn't her place as someone without magic to bring it up. She kept as far away from the topic as she possibly could. At least until Maxine and Alex began showing signs as well. Which they haven't. Not yet at least.
"No!" We both said in unison. She had already yelled at us once about it. We didn't wanna go through that again. Her fury when we almost let it slip to the girls once a couple days ago still lingering in our minds. The horror!
She looked at us with a dumb expression. "Do I need to pull out my favorite pot again?" She asked as we both felt a lingering breeze come by. We both looked at each other. That shouldn't be possible. We're not outside.
"Nope!" We said a single drop of sweat leaking down both of our faces.
Gulp! x 2
Mom after threatening us some more to get the point across joined us to make herself some coffee and breakfast. Not long afterwards we had a knock on the door as Maxine and Alex came down stairs. "I got it." I said as I walked over unlocking each of the three locks quickly. I opened it.
"Good morning", Harper and Zeke said as the pushed me out of the way and walked over to my Mom and hugged her. "How are you guys doing today." She said laughing. A couple of weeks ago Alex tried to prank them both. Only being stopped by Mom. Ever since then they have loved on her like she was their mother.
"…I was just trying to cut off their hair. It wasn't that bad." Alex said as she watched the both of them. Then looking over at me with a wink. I winked back. Glad she didn't get us caught.
"Justin wanna go get some snacks with me." Dad asked giving me a look. I nodded as everyone else but Mom looked at us confused as we walked out the door.
…
The cold bit at my skin the second we stepped inside, though I was used to it by now.
This place felt less like storage and more like a hidden sanctuary. Books were stacked like towers. Faint glows shimmered from the walls, humming with quiet energy. At the far end stood Professor Crump, poised at a makeshift chalkboard—actually a transfigured chair, twisted by magic into shape.
"Every country has its own wizarding community," Crump said, voice dry but practiced. "The prominent ones being England—home to greats like Albus Dumbledore, and others—Russia, and of course the United States, one of the most powerful of course being I. Though how prominent a country is depends on whether its wizards survived long enough to write the history."
I sat on a couch with a clipboard in my lap, feigning attention. Dad was beside me in a worn blue leather chair, arms crossed, quiet as usual during these lessons.
Crump's eyes flicked to me, sharp as ever.
"Justin. What's the core difference between British and American spellcasting?"
I sighed and gave the answer like I was reading it off the back of a cereal box. "America prioritizes creativity and innovation—new spells, experimental applications, constantly evolving. It's versatile, but unstable. Britain prefers traditional casting. Clean. Efficient. Old. Powerful, but slow to change."
Crump nodded once. "Decent answer. Though you forgot that potion-making and runes are taught nearly identically across most magical cultures."
I rolled my eyes. "Close enough."
Dad chuckled. "You remind me of me at your age. But you know what Crump used to tell me?"
"What?"
"'Close enough' is how people get turned into toads."
I smirked.
Dad leaned forward, more serious now. "Magic is precision, Justin. It's not just light and noise. You screw up a spell, you don't just fail. You hurt someone. Maybe yourself."
Crump's lips curved into a sly grin, like he'd been waiting for the moment the lecture quieted down.
"Which is why," he said, "once you've studied enough, mastered the basics and the boundaries, you may—may—find something deeper."
He paused.
"A phenomenon we call a false domain."
My spine straightened.
That wasn't in any of the books I'd been given.
"A false domain?" I repeated.
Crump's eyes gleamed with something ancient. "A personal bond to an aspect of magic so powerful, so intimate, that it becomes an extension of you. A spell. An element. A concept. You bend it. Shape it. Wield it like it's yours alone. Not true godhood—just a convincing imitation."
I blinked. "And you... have one?"
"Multiple," he said, almost bored. "Technically variations of the same one. But they're rare. Dangerous. Most wizards don't use them openly anymore. Too tempting. Too destructive. It's... a last resort. A trump card."
I leaned forward, ready to ask more—but Dad shot him a sharp look.
Crump, of course, noticed. And just like that, he changed the subject.
"Back to magical creatures," he said. "Specifically, Peculiars. Rare wizards born with odd, permanent physical traits or abilities—usually due to magical trauma, inherited instability, or sheer unpredictable magic. Peculiars are unique. Sometimes dangerous. Always unpredictable."
I frowned. "And... people hunt them?"
Crump nodded, writing as he spoke.
"Wights and Hollowghasts—twisted remnants of failed wizards or magical abominations that feed on young and untrained magic users. Hollowghasts hunt Peculiars for their eyes. When successful, they regain fragments of consciousness and a humanoid form. That's when they become Wights."
My stomach turned.
"They're invisible," Crump continued, "except to those trained in legilimency—magic of the mind. Even then, detection is difficult. Encounter is rare. But if one finds you, it's already too late."
He glanced over his shoulder at me, his voice suddenly low.
"I doubt you'll run into one anytime soon. They hunt the inexperienced. The unprotected."
He didn't say it, but I heard the warning underneath.
Unless you stop being either.
He turned back to the board and kept teaching—naming creatures, recounting dark history, trailing off into magical theory that blurred the edge between real and myth.
Eventually, the lesson wrapped up.
Crump closed the chalkboard with a flick of his fingers and turned toward me.
"You've been studying," he said. "Even if I know half this bored you senseless."
"A little," I admitted.
"Then I'll give you a gift," he said. "One question. Ask anything. I'll answer to the best of my ability."
Dad stood with a sigh, brushing off his jeans. We needed to leave before the others got suspicious. Crump didn't have the day free—this was our one shot for the weekend. Still, I took a second to think.
Just one question.
I looked up. "What's your false domain based on?"
Crump's smile curved like a secret.
He reached into his robe, pulling out his wand, and with a wave, the portal door began to shimmer, swirling softly like a mirror made of starlight.
"I was never particularly good at destruction," he said, half to himself. "Nor wise enough to forge a domain from fire or time or any of the higher paths. But there was one spell I resonated with. Deeply."
He held up his hand, remembering.
"Go through, mow through."
I blinked. "That's... a spell?"
"A simple one. Temporarily makes objects intangible—lets you pass through walls, floors, barriers. Or lets things pass through you. I used it often. Felt a connection. Over time, I expanded it. Refined it. Until it became mine. A false domain of phasing."
He paused, then chuckled.
"Not very flashy. But useful. Efficient. Dangerous, in the right hands."
He turned toward the portal.
"Never mind that now," he said with a sigh. "I shall see you soon, young Russo."
He gave my father a side glance, half smirk, half warning.
Dad just stared back, unreadable.
Crump stepped through the portal.
And like that—he was gone.
Dad and I made our way back upstairs in silence, neither of us saying what we were thinking.
Not yet.
…
#Flashback: The Night of the Family Prank War#
I looked up.I saw him.He saw me.
Dad turned with him, eyes wide.
"Oh my," the old man murmured, voice low and uncertain. "This is… quite unexpected."
Dad's face shifted. Hardened. His entire posture tensed—like a shield slamming into place.
"Yes, it is, Professor Crump," he said tightly. "And quite too soon."
And in that moment, something inside me snapped.I realized, deep in my bones: whatever came next... I wasn't ready.But there was no going back now.
I took a breath and stood, wiping the dust from my clothes with shaking hands. Tried to look composed. Strong. Like I hadn't just stumbled into something massive.
I looked between them and raised an eyebrow, aiming for casual—but my voice wavered just enough to betray me.
"So… either of you wanna explain what I just walked in on?"
Dad looked at me—really looked. And for the first time in a long time, I saw him. Not just as my father, but as someone carrying a weight he never wanted me to see.
Regret. Guilt. Fear. All of it danced behind his eyes.
Professor Crump, on the other hand, smiled. Calm. Measured. Like this was exactly how he expected the night to go.
"I would," he said smoothly, glancing at my father, "but I doubt your dad would appreciate that very much."
Dad's jaw clenched. His glare could've shattered stone.Crump didn't flinch.
Silence fell. Thick. Suffocating.It pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" My voice dropped. "You're just gonna stand there and hope I forget what I saw?"
Nothing.And that… said everything.
I stepped forward, that raw, twisting feeling burning its way up my throat.
"What is this, Dad?" I demanded. "Who is he really? Why do you know him? And why does it feel like I just walked in on a secret meeting I was never supposed to see?"
Dad opened his mouth. Closed it again.The truth was there—but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"I said—what. Is. This?"
Professor Crump raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh dear. He's got your stubbornness, Jerry."
"Stay out of this," Dad snapped, not even turning his head.
I flinched.
He saw that. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair like he'd just aged a decade in front of me.
"Look," he said tightly, "I didn't want you to find out like this."
"Like what?" I barked. "Find out what, Dad? That you've been lying to me? That you've been hiding some whole other life behind our backs?"
His tone dropped—low, even, but not soft.
"It's not another life, Justin. It's a part of our family. A part you're not ready for. Neither are Alex. Or Maxine."
"Too young?" I repeated, incredulous. "That's your excuse?"
"This isn't just about you," he said, voice hardening. "It's about protecting the people I love—from things you're not prepared to face."
"No," I said, voice rising, hands shaking. "You don't get to pull the 'I'm protecting you' card. Not now. Not after everything I just saw. So say it. Say it out loud."
He hesitated.
I spun around and pointed to the glowing blue portal behind them.
"There is a literal portal right there. Just… open. Glowing. Casual. And that guy—" I nodded at Crump, "walked out of it like he was stepping off a subway."
I waved my arms at everything around us.
The massive stone room. Bookshelves stretching toward the ceiling, packed with ancient tomes that hummed with energy. Desks piled with scrolls. A globe spinning slowly in the corner. A cauldron bubbling with something way too bright to be normal. And in the center of it all, a huge open book—glowing like it was breathing.
I lowered my arms. My voice dropped.
"Magic," I said. "That's it, isn't it?"
Still silence.Not even a blink.
"Whatever this 'family truth' is—the one you're so afraid to tell us—it's magic."
And then finally… Dad looked at me.Really looked.
And I saw it. That weight he'd been carrying. The secret he'd buried for years. The truth he never wanted to admit.
His voice was quiet. Heavy. Final.
"Yes," he said. "This is magic. Magic that runs in the family."
He paused. His shoulders dropped. His next words felt like they cracked the floor beneath me.
"On my side of the family, at least… the truth is—"
A beat.
"You're a wizard, Justin."
He looked me dead in the eyes.
"Alex. Maxine. All of you are."
I gasped.
I don't know why. Maybe I should've expected it. Maybe, deep down, I did.
But in that moment, my thoughts weren't calm or collected. They weren't rational. The memories from a life long gone—a life that wasn't fully mine—weren't at the front of my mind. Almost as if they had decided not to be apart of this argument.
If they had been…I might've handled the news differently. Maybe.
But right then? It hit me like a truck.
I opened my mouth to speak—but before I could, Professor Crump stepped forward, his voice cutting through the room like a blade wrapped in velvet.
"I'm sorry to inform you, Jerry," he said, tone sharp and deliberate, "but your son isn't just a natural-born wizard."
He turned to me. His eyes—ancient, calculating, and aglow with something deep and dangerous—locked onto mine.
"He is now officially a wizard in training."
I blinked. "What?"
Crump continued, like he was reciting prophecy.
"It's subtle. Nearly undetectable, thanks to how early it is. The awakening is still faint… barely more than a spark."
He gestured with a flick of his fingers, and for a brief second, I felt it—something stir beneath my skin. Like a flicker of static across my fingertips. Like the hum of something I'd never noticed before.
"But I'm not just anyone," Crump went on, eyes never leaving mine. "I am old. Experienced. Knowledgeable enough to be revered as one of the most powerful wizards still alive. And that… includes the ability to see things others cannot."
His voice dropped to a low, certain rumble.
"And I can tell you with absolute certainty," Crump said, "this boy's magic has already begun to awaken."
Me and Dad both gasped.
And then—almost in perfect sync:
"WHAT?!"
The echo bounced off the walls like we were in some kind of magical courtroom. Which, honestly, wouldn't have been the weirdest part of the night.
I stared at Crump. "Wait—already? You mean now? Like right now now?"
Dad turned on him, wide-eyed. "That's impossible. I've been watching for signs, tracking everything—he's never even glitched a spell by accident!"
Crump raised a single eyebrow. Calm. Unbothered.
"That's because you were looking for fireworks. Real magic begins with sparks."
I looked between them. "Okay, so... prove it."
Crump nodded once. "Hold out your palm."
I hesitated, then slowly raised my hand.
The air shifted—sharp and still. The light from the portal dimmed, and the bookshelves seemed to lean in closer. Even the cauldron stopped bubbling for a moment, like the entire room was holding its breath.
Crump whispered something low and ancient, and a small golden sigil shimmered to life above my hand. It floated there, softly pulsing—almost alive.
I stared, breath caught. "What... is that?"
"A trace sigil," Crump said. "It measures magical flux. And this one?" He gestured lightly. "Is responding to you."
Dad stepped in, squinting. "But he's never—"
"You were waiting for something loud," Crump interrupted. "But the beginning is quiet. Always."
I stared at the sigil. And for the first time... I felt it. That buzz under my skin. That strange hum in my chest. Not strong, but there. Real.
"I've felt this before," I whispered. "Just little things. When I'm stressed. Angry. Anxious. But I thought it was just... me."
"It is you," Crump said. "The first signs of your connection waking up."
Dad stepped back, running a hand down his face. "This is happening too fast."
"Or exactly when it's meant to," Crump countered.
I turned to Dad. "Why didn't you tell me? Us? Any of this?"
He didn't meet my eyes at first. "Because I thought I had more time. I wanted to keep you and your sisters out of this... world... as long as I could."
"So you just lied?" I snapped. "Pretended we were normal?"
"I wasn't pretending," he said, voice tight. "I was trying to protect you. Because once you start down this path—there's no going back. Usually…"
He paused.A brief silence followed—thick with things he wasn't saying.
Crump said nothing. Just watched him, arms crossed, unreadable.
I took a breath and stepped forward. "I want to learn."
Dad's eyes flicked to mine—conflicted. Torn.
"Justin... it's not just spells and wand waves. There are things about magic that you don't understand. Things I don't want you going near."
"I'm not asking to fight a dragon," I said. "I just want the truth. I want to know who I am."
He hesitated.
Crump turned slightly toward him. "You can't stop it now. You know that. He's already started."
Dad clenched his jaw. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
I met his eyes, steadier now. "I want you to teach me."
There was another pause—one that seemed to stretch longer than the room itself.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Okay. But only the basics. Only what's safe. I don't want you diving into anything deeper until I say so."
His voice was steady. But beneath it was something else—something colder. Sadder.
A quiet kind of fear.
"Because I know what magic can do," he added, eyes dark. "What it can take from you."
I nodded, softer. "That's all I'm asking."
The air between us finally shifted. Not gone—not fixed—but softened. Like a crack in the ice instead of a full break.
Then I looked at him. Brow furrowed.
"What was it?" I asked quietly. "That thing you left unsaid."
Dad tensed. Like I'd reached into a drawer marked Do Not Open.
He looked up, like he was trying to remember something long buried. His eyes weren't angry anymore—just distant. Haunted.
"I can teach you a lot," he said finally. "If I really wanted to. But there's a limit to how much I can show you on my own."
I frowned. "Why?"
He hesitated for only a second.
"Because," he said softly, "I don't have magic. Not anymore."
I froze.
"I gave it up," he continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Years ago. I made that choice so I could marry your mother. So we could be a family."
He looked at me—and in his eyes, I saw it. Not regret. Not entirely.But loss. Real loss.
"I lost that privilege the day I chose love over power. Power that your Uncle Kelbo owns now."
He stopped me, hand raised before I could get another word out.
"That's enough for now."
But it wasn't. Not for me.
"No," I said, stepping forward, heat rising in my chest. "It's not."
He blinked, surprised at my tone.
"You can't just drop something like that—'I gave up my magic, Uncle Kelbo has it now'—and then expect me to shut up like some obedient little kid."
"I didn't say you had to—"
"You said it wasn't the right time before, that we were too young," I snapped. "Then you say you used to have magic, and that Kelbo—Kelbo!—has it now? And that's just supposed to be the end of the conversation?"
"Justin—"
"No!" I shouted, louder than I meant to. My voice echoed off the stone, and even Crump looked over with a flicker of interest. The cauldron in the corner burped out a puff of glowing green steam like it was chiming in.
I dropped my voice, but the fire in it stayed.
"You keep saying you were protecting us. But you weren't. You were protecting yourself. From your own past. From what you lost."
Dad's expression darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then tell me! Help me understand instead of dodging everything like it's some big state secret."
He looked away, jaw tight. "You don't know what magic cost me."
"Then why are you so scared of me learning it?" I asked. "Are you afraid I'll lose it too—or that I'll find out you never should have given it up?"
That one hit.
Hard.
He stared at me for a second, stunned. Then his shoulders tensed, voice dropping like thunder.
"You think I wanted to give it up?" he growled. "You think I wanted to lose that part of myself?"
I didn't back down. "I think you never really made peace with it. And now you're trying to keep me from even getting the chance."
His face fell—not into anger, but something worse.
Shame.
He turned away, silent for a long breath.
"I made that choice for your mother," he said finally. "To have a normal life. A real one. Without curses or wars or... people dying for reasons you'll never have to know."
I stayed quiet.That part—I couldn't argue with.
Then, from the side, Crump cleared his throat softly. The man never spoke without intention.
"If I may," he said, voice crisp but not unkind, "I believe it's time someone said the thing you're both too stubborn to admit."
Dad and I both looked at him.
"You're afraid, Jerry," Crump said. "Afraid of what Justin could become with magic. Not because he'll be too weak—but because he might be too strong. Stronger than you ever were. Stronger than your brother. Stronger than you can guide."
Dad's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't deny it.
"And you," Crump said, turning to me, "you're afraid too. Of who you are. Of what's waking up inside you. That power is rising, and your instincts are clawing for control—but instinct alone will not save you."
He stepped forward, folding his hands behind his back like a teacher about to lay down a challenge.
"I offer a compromise. Jerry, I know you want to protect your son. And Justin—" he gave me a look that felt like it saw too much, "—you want truth, guidance, and freedom. So let me propose this."
Crump extended one hand toward me, and the other toward my dad.
"I'll help train him. Under your supervision. I'll teach him what you can't—while you keep him grounded in what you still understand better than anyone: who he is."
Dad looked at him like he wanted to argue.
Then at me.
And I think—for just a second—he saw the kid I'd stopped being a long time ago.
A long, tense beat passed.
Finally, Dad exhaled. "You teach him my way. No reckless power grabs. No half-truths."
Crump smiled slightly. "Only the truth. No more, no less."
"And if I say no?" Dad asked.
Crump's smile didn't fade. "Then the boy's magic will continue to grow. Alone. Untrained. And eventually—uncontrollable."
Dad turned to me, locking eyes.
"I'm doing this for you. Not him."
I nodded. "I know."
Then—finally—he said it:
"Fine. But I'm still in charge."
He said as Mr. Crump and I gave each other a shared, victorious look.
"But enough unveiled secrets for tonight," Dad added, his voice firm, final. "Go back upstairs. Me and Crump here have some things to talk about."
No room for argument.
I sighed, waved Crump goodbye, and began turning around to leave. As I opened the door—
"Magic training starts tomorrow!" Crump called after me.
I turned around with a manic grin and bolted up the stairs, practically vibrating.
Not being there for the conversation that followed—absent from what took place after I'd gone.
"That was not how I expected my arrival here to go," Professor Crump muttered, lightly stroking his beard as he stared toward the door. Then he turned, eyes settling on Jerry—whose face now held a distinct, unmistakable hint of dread. As he sat in a chair nearby. Shaking. "If it's happens this soon… it won't be long before he asks me about who he really is, who his real mother is, his full name…" Jerry began. Crump interrupted. "His real mother is named Theresa Russo, the woman upstairs coddling her children. Not the woman who left him on your doorstep ten long years ago." He said. "And he would find out his full name eventually anyway Jerry. Regardless there is still time…"
Jerry raised his hand making him stop. "Not enough…"
…