Emil
Dean’s entire family stared at him in bewilderment. Stella actually resembled a fish; her mouth was open so wide.
“I beg your pardon?” his mother finally asked.
“I’m a Wizard. You know, I do magic with wands and… stuff.” Dean’s explanation felt inadequate, but in reality, he had no idea what Wizards did. All he knew about the Wizarding world was that his father had fought some sort of evil magic-users with a wand.
Well, actually, he also knew that there were broomsticks that he could fly on, but he decided to keep that information private for the time being.
“Rubbish!” his father snorted “You? A Wizard? That’s impossible! You can’t do magic!” He laughed good-naturedly, as if what he was saying was common knowledge.
Dean’s response was immediate and quite irritated, “Yes, I can,” he retorted. “How do you think I fell without getting hurt? It’s because I’m a Wizard!” Dean’s voice rose indignantly on the last sentence.
“You were simply lucky that Jay had been playing with the hose,” his father responded with maddening calmness.
“IT WAS NOT LUCK!” Dean bellowed.
His father shot a glare in his direction and turned towards Stella and Jay. “Both of you go to your rooms. Now,” he commanded. Both of Dean’s siblings quickly stood and left the room silently. Before she left, Stella looked over her shoulder uncertainly at Dean, but scampered out when her father pointed at the door.
Turning back towards Dean, his father took a deep breath in order to regain his composure. Dean was seething with anger, but put a rather forced smile on his face.
Folding his fingers together, his father began in a calm and rational voice, “Young man, I don’t know what has been going on these last few days. All I know is that your behaviour has been out of line and I intend for that to stop. Immediately.”
Dean let out a disbelieving breath at his father’s words. His mother wasn’t meeting his eyes and was instead staring down at her coffee cup.
“Mum!” Dean pleaded, “I really am a Wizard. Honestly!”
His father’s hand smacked the table. “And there you go again! This fantasy about magic has got to stop!” The calm exterior at which he had worked so hard to maintain fell away as he snarled at Dean.
His mother cleared her throat softly and her husband’s voice immediately dropped several decibels and took on a gentler quality. “Do you think that it’s possible that he injured his head in the fall? It might be a concussion, you know.”
Before his mother could respond, Dean shouted, “I don’t have a concussion! I’m not making up fantasies about magic! It’s all real! My father said so!”
Dean gasped when he realized what he had said. He hadn’t meant to let slip that he knew about his actual parentage.
“What did you just say?” His stepfather’s voice was dangerously quiet.
Dean swallowed nervously and was able to feel the anger radiating from the elegantly slender man across the table. It felt like intense, prickly heat was jabbing him all over. In fact, it made Dean fidget uncomfortably in his chair.
“Tell me, damn it!” He slammed his fist so hard on the table that the dishes danced and the silverware rattled.
“Jack, I told him,” Dean’s mother said simply.
He rounded on his wife with a look of disbelief in his dark eyes. “What?”
“I told you, Jack. I gave Dean the letter that his father left for him.” His mother sounded calm and collected, but her eyes blazed with defiance.
“But, Liz! I thought we agreed never to tell any”“
His mother cut in, “And that was an agreement you violated this morning.”
Comprehension dawned across her husband’s face, followed quickly by cold fury. “You knew!” he spat. “You knew all along he was a Wizard. Didn’t you? And you kept it from me!” He glared and then resumed his tirade. “That’s it! No one like that can have my name! Liz, tomorrow we’re driving into town and changing the boy’s name.”
“Jack! I don’t care if you’re not his biological father; you are Dean’s legal guardian! Emil would have wanted you to have raised him as your own “ complete, may I add, with your name!”
Dean was loathe to interrupt another rare argument between his parents, but he was confused. “Wait - who’s Emil?” he asked.
Dean’s mother continued to stare fiercely at her husband. “Your father,” she finally answered.
Dean made a mental note of this new bit of trivia before standing up quietly and leaving his parents to their staring match. Once he shut the door, he heard their argument resume, although it was much quieter. In his hand, he still held the three letters from Hogwarts.
Dean climbed the stairs carefully, all the while thinking about what his mother had revealed. His father’s name was Emil. The thought echoed through Dean’s head as he mounted the steps.
He walked into his room and shut the door. Sitting down on the bed, Dean picked up the letter from his father again. He held it up and compared the paper to that of the letters from Hogwarts; they were the exact same, heavy, yellow paper.
As Dean re-read his note from Hogwarts, he noticed the date on the paper “ August 3rd. What day was it anyhow?
He glanced at the calendar that was posted on his wall. The picture this month was of a muddy football player heading the ball. Dean took his eyes away from the football star and looked at the actual dates. Today was the twenty-sixth of July. That meant that he could be a Wizard in less than two days. The only catch would be getting to London. If his parents refused to take him…
Dean tried not to think in such a pessimistic way. Surely his mother would take him to London.
--
Dean must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, there was someone knocking on his bedroom door. Blearily, he rubbed his eyes and stood up. Sluggishly, he thought how strange it was that people always knocked on his door whenever it was shut. Perhaps if he left it open, he wouldn’t have as many interruptions. As he walked over to the door, he realized that he was still holding the four different letters “ three from Hogwarts, one from his father “ in his hand.
Dean opened the door a crack and saw his mother waiting outside in the hallway.
“Did you want something, Mum?”
His mother smiled a bit hesitantly, “May I come in?”
Dean was mystified by what she might say, but he replied, “Sure.”
She walked towards his desk chair and sat down gingerly on the edge of it, while Dean plopped back down on his bed.
“Dean, I wanted to apologize for everything that’s been going on around here. I know it must be absolute torture to suddenly find yourself with what seems like a whole new family.”
Dean nodded and she continued, “But, dear, I want to know “ what were you going to tell us downstairs?” She bit her lip nervously. Dean had never seen his mother act in such a manner before and it was rather worrying.
This, more than anything, caused him to say, “I’m a Wizard, Mum. I can do magic, just like my dad told me in his letter.”
His mother looked at him curiously.
“I mean, didn’t you know that he was a Wizard?” Dean amended quickly.
His mother shook her head slowly.
“He never told you?” Dean’s tone was rather incredulous.
His mother had a far away look in her eyes, as if she were remembering something that was only a vague memory. “Emil insisted that everything he didn’t say was for my protection. He said once that if certain people learned of my existence, I would be… threatened.” Her voice had a dreamy, far off quality to it.
Dean nodded. “That’s what he said! He said he was fighting evil wizards.”
Dean realized that his mother wasn’t paying particularly close attention to what he was saying; she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
“Mum?” He asked softly, “Did you want to read his letter?”
She nodded her head slowly and held out her hand. Dean extracted the letter from his father from the others he held in his hands and gently handed it to her.
She unfolded the heavy paper almost reverently, as if it were something valuable that she didn’t want to damage. She very gently smoothed the creases out of the paper before reading the short letter.
Once she had finished, she looked back up at Dean and he realized that there were tears shining in her eyes.
“Dean? Was that letter really from Hogwarts?” Her voice was tear-choked and she raised her hand to wipe several tears that had begun to fall from her eyes.
Dean nodded.
“Do you really want to attend, dear?”
Ever since receiving the letter at dinner, Dean hadn’t thought about not wanting to attend. In the few brief hours that he’d known of its existence, he’d only fantasized about being able to do the things his father had done. It was an easy question, but it gave him pause.
“Yes, Mum, I really do want to go.”
A small smile appeared on his mother’s face as she nodded and stood up. Just as she opened the door to leave, something made Dean’s memory kick into gear.
“Oh, Mum!” he called after her. “I need someone to take me to London on Saturday. You know, to get my supplies and stuff.”
Dean waited anxiously for his mother to respond. And when she did, it was very quiet. “I can take you, dear.”
Dean grinned and pumped the air with his fist as his mother shut his door again. He was going to be a Wizard!
--
The next two days were unremarkable; characterized only by the fact that Dean’s mother seemed slightly more emotional, Stella seemed to be in awe, and Jack Thomas, the man that Dean had always called father, had deepening furrows on his forehead. In fact, Dean hadn’t spoken with him for two days, and was finding it much more peaceful without the forced and irritated conversation.
And then, the morning of the twenty-eighth, Dean and his mother drove to London. Dean had invited Stella along, but she had declined. However, she had given Dean a big hug and waved enthusiastically as the car left the driveway.
The drive commenced in silence. Dean had handed the map to his mother and she had accepted it with only a nod. It was not an uncomfortable silence, per se; it was merely a noticeable lack of conversation. Dean stared out of the window. It was really lovely to look at the green pastures as they passed. It seemed as if some of the fields went on forever, perhaps; only interrupted by a small stonewall.
After about an hour, Dean found himself asking his mother, “Mum? How did you and my father meet if you weren’t a witch?” Dean was rather surprised at the question “ it was as if his mouth had acted of its own accord. He hadn’t intended to say anything.
Keeping her hands steady on the wheel, she responded, “We met in London. I was just out of University, and living on my own in a tiny little flat.”
Her eyes, while focused on the road, seemed to become somewhat pensive. “I was leaving one morning when I saw a man walking down the street in the oddest costume. He was wearing slacks, a sweatshirt, sandals, and a queer little top hat.” She smiled at the memory and continued, “I asked him about his strange attire, and he said that he was just coming home from a costume party. I thought he must have been slightly mad to be walking the streets of London in that get-up, but he didn’t seem to be bothered.”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip and worried it for a moment before she finished her story. “I suppose I walked closer, because the next thing I saw was his eyes. They were so dark and rich and captivating - I couldn’t look away. We just stared at each other for ages before he introduced himself to me. Then he tipped his hat and walked off down the street.”
Dean’s mother gave a gentle sigh. Her story seemed to have reached its conclusion, but he wasn’t fully satisfied with the answer.
“But, what happened? You just walked into him on the street!”
“I know. The next morning Emil was waiting for me to leave my flat. He was dressed normally this time and he had a daisy in his hand. He said he wanted to apologize if he had startled me earlier. And from then on, every morning, he’d wait for me and walk me to the bus stop. After a couple of weeks, I finally invited him in. The rest, as they say, is history.”
Dean felt slightly confused, “Wait. How long were you together?”
“Oh, four years, I think.”
“And how could you never find out about him being a Wizard?” Dean felt the incredulous feeling return “ that would have been impossible!
Dean’s mother hesitated before answering. “It never really came up. All he said about his early life was that he had attended and graduated from a rather obscure private school and that his parents had died about a year before we met. All he ever said about his job was that he was a government employee. He had a good salary and I suppose I just never questioned it.
“And then one day, Emil was gone. He had left in the middle of the night. There was a note for me saying that he had to help protect the lives of several of his friends. He said that he would probably never be back, but that he had to try…” His mother’s voice cracked on the final word and Dean could see her eyes brimming with tears.
She sniffed and wiped her eyes with one hand. With a shock, Dean realized that they had reached London already. He’d been so absorbed in the conversation that he hadn’t paid any attention to where they had been going.
Pressing his nose to the cold glass of the window, Dean stared out at the bustling city. There were so many people walking briskly in one direction or another. It was as if they all had a purpose, a reason, for walking so quickly. He pulled his face back several inches and studied the smudge that his nose had left on the clean glass. If Dean tipped his head and squinted, it looked somewhat like a cat. But, if he tipped his head the other way--
“Dean, dear, I think this is where you’re supposed to be.”
Dean looked up from the interesting smudge and saw that they were stopped directly outside of a very large bookshop. He glanced to the right of the shop and saw that there was a small, grubby building next door. There was a sign hanging over the door that read in chipped paint, The Leaky Cauldron.
Something in the pit of Dean’s stomach began to bubble. Was it fear? Nerves? Excitement? All three? Dean wasn’t sure.
He turned around and faced his mother. “Can you see it, Mum?”
She seemed utterly perplexed. “What am I supposed to be seeing, dear?”
“Never mind, Mum.”
Dean felt disappointed that his mother couldn’t see the world in which he was about to enter. With a sigh, he opened the door of car, and stepped out onto the pavement. Bending over so that he could look his mother in the eye, he said, “Could you wait here for me, Mum? I don’t think I’ll take too long.”
She seemed to be at a loss for words, but she nodded and took the keys out of the ignition.
Straightening, Dean turned to face the shabby pub that he had been instructed to enter. He squared he shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door.
The few steps that it took Dean to cross the pavement seemed to last an eternity. Each footstep seemed to echo in his mind and one thought pervaded his consciousness: there’s no going back.
Once he crossed the threshold, he would be a part of this world “ his father’s world “ forever. Dean stood before the weathered wood of the door and took a look over his shoulder at his mother. She was sitting, waiting in the car, with a book in her hands. Whatever substance had been bubbling in his stomach earlier, seemed to be in a frenzy now. Dean took a rather ragged breath, placed his hand on the roughly hewn wood, and pushed the door open.
~~~
My Father's World by Indigoenigma
Chapter Notes: I really do love my beta, Ashley (whomovedmyquil). She always does a great job, even when she's busy. *huggles*
As always, I'm not JKR (though it would be great if I was) and reviews are always appreciated!
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