Dad's Wisdom

As the evening wore on, witches and wizards departed at random. At one point, William introduced me to his mother, who specialized in rearing rare and dangerous magical plants. She has a large nursery surrounding her home in the woods where she grows them.

When she invited me to visit sometime, I gave a vague assurance that I would, while mentally promising that it would never happen. Magical plants gave me the shivers. I would always remember the day that I snuck into my mum's greenhouse to explore.

What started as a fun adventure for a child quickly turned into a nightmare. It happened back before I realized how dangerous magical plants could be in this world.

One of the most significant dangers occurs because many people don't consider them a threat. Most of the plants we deal with at Hogwarts are relatively harmless to a wary wizard. Students don't deal with the more dangerous plants; they read about them, which doesn't precisely convey how sneaky and deadly plants can be, I found out first hand when I was young and went exploring. Ever since then, I refused to enter Mum's greenhouse.

Shaking my head, I banished that particular memory back into the deepest, darkest vault of my mind.

Soon, it was time for us to leave, on our way back home, I observed, "There were more Macmillans at the gathering than I thought there would be."

Grandma shot me a questioning look, "Oh," she remarked. "How many members did you expect?"

After kicking at a rock in the dirt, I shrugged, "I don't know, I was just surprised at how many different Macmillan branches there were. Why aren't there more Fawley branches out there?"

"I believe there are," she explained. "But none in Britain, and remember it's not uncommon for names to die out. Although, I believe that there are some distant branches in the United States and France. I think your father met some of them when he went to France when he was just out of school. If you want to know more, you should ask him about them."

By the time I made it home, I was exhausted. Today had been a long day, from the train ride with two of my friends bickering, messing with Uncle John, and then being introduced to long-lost relatives.

When I emerged from our fireplace, I wanted nothing more to go upstairs and collapse in my bed. However, on my way, I noticed the warm glow of a fire burning in my father's study.

Peeking through the door, I froze when I saw my uncle inside with my father. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes let me know he had not forgotten my crack about him being a trash panda.

"Why hello there, Alex." Uncle John softly crooned with a sinister smirk. "Come on in."

Not trusting his smile, I took refuge next to my father on his couch. Dad put his arm around my shoulder and casually asked, "So, what did you think about the Macmillans?"

Even though dad was playing it cool, I could tell from the tension in his voice that he was controlling his emotions. Hesitant, I said, "Grandma's brother seemed friendly enough, and I'm glad she reunited with her old family."

As my voice trailed off, Uncle John sensing I was holding something back, "But?" he interjected.

Gathering my thoughts, I carefully articulated, "Family that isn't willing to stick around during hard times doesn't deserve to be called family. I only went with Grandma because I could tell it was important to her, and she deserves to be happy. So, while I'm pleased she is happy, the Macmillans mean less than nothing to me."

My response seemed to poke a hole in the tension in the room. Dad seemed content to stare at the fire, seemingly lost in old memories.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Uncle John waggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively at me and teased, "So, your father mentioned you were having girl trouble."

Refusing to take the bait, I pointedly mimicked my father and stared at the burning logs in the fireplace. I couldn't tell if the heat on my face was from the flames, or being embarrassed.

Dad protectively put his arm around me, "Don't tease him," he admonished. "You should know better, or do I need to remind you about Alice."

Uncle John shuddered, "Are you crazy? Don't say her name. She might appear." After looking around to make sure she wasn't here, satisfied we were alone, he relaxed. Reaching deep into his long, leathery duster, he pulled out a package.

"Catch," he said while tossing me the wrapped box. "Think of it as an early Christmas present."

I tore the gift open, curious to see what was inside. Reaching in, I pulled out a set of blue robes with many different shades of blues complete with designs colored in bronze.

"They're dueling robes," Uncle John explained. "We can't have you going out and dueling in just anything."

Tearing my gaze from the robe, I turned to Uncle John, "I love it. Are you going to be able to make it to the competition this weekend?"

Uncle John locked eyes with Dad before shaking his head, "Sorry buddy, I have some business to take care of this weekend that can't be avoided."

I knew from the look that it meant he had work that he felt I had no business knowing.

I guess my disappointment showed on my face because he comforted, "How about this. If you make it the international tournament in the spring, I will be there."

Grinning, I said, "Deal."

Not long after, Uncle John had to leave, leaving just my dad and me in the office. At first, we sat in comfortable silence, watching the fire burn down.

Breaking the silence, "Talk to me about Hogwarts," Dad said.

After telling him all about the secret dueling clubs, Dad mused, "Dueling was never really my thing, that was more up your uncle's alley."

"Really?" I asked, "You don't talk much about your time at school. What were you into back then?"

Dad seemed to sink into his memories, "Charm club," he said with a fond smile on his face. "I was the captain of the charm club."

I smiled, no shock there. Dad's favorite thing to do was enchantment. "Of course you were," I teased, "How about trying to surprise me."

"Hmph." Dad grunted, "I have you know that I was also on the Ravenclaw quidditch team for a few years."

"What? You never told me that."

Dad looked a little regretful while running his fingers through his brown hair. "It's not my fondest memory about Hogwarts. I made it onto the team during my fifth year, but during my sixth year, my father disappeared and then the whispers started."

With a frown on his face, dad continued, "Officially, I didn't make the team during the tryouts, but I knew what it was really about, my father being a death eater. Outside of a few close friends, my last two years at school were spent mostly alone."

I couldn't help but scowl, those who had wronged my family would pay. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday.

Dad saw my expression and decided to change the subject, "How is life in the Ravenclaw tower?" He questioned. "Is your project going well."

It took me a second to understand that he was trying to speak around the binding concerning the Ravenclaw trial. I shot him a confident smirk, "It's going about as good as it could get. I would say I'm around halfway there." I tried to say more, but I found I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. The binding has decided I said too much and kicked in, preventing me from saying another word on the subject.

Inwardly I was fuming at the restriction. I didn't like the fact that I would be forever restricted from speaking on the subject. I should look into seeing if there is anything I can do about it. While it would be difficult, it should be possible. Hell, if I could figure a way out the binding, I bet I could think of a way to slip the magical trace. While the trace didn't prevent me from using magic at home, it still restricted my use of magic outside the house.

Already the bare bones of an idea presented itself to me. I would need to do more research to see if it was a viable idea. The only problem is I would need to revisit my mum's greenhouse.

Interrupting my plotting, Dad patted my shoulder with a proud look on his face, "That's my boy."

Deciding to put the matter of slipping magical bindings on the back burner, I asked, "Speaking of projects. How is Project Firebolt coming along?"

Dad sighed, "Slow, at our current pace, it will be at least two years before it's ready."

I cocked an eyebrow at hearing two years. If I remember correctly, Harry got the Firebolt in 1993. But, the books never clarified when the model was actually released, it could have happened a little earlier. I had always found it a little weird how the Nimbus 2001 was released one year after the Nimbus 2000. Typically, five to seven years pass between model releases.

I mentally shrugged, there wasn't much I could do about the whole thing. I wish I were a more experienced wizard, as of right now, the most I could for my dad was to cheer him on from the sidelines. While I know he appreciates it when I watch him work. I wish I could contribute more.

With another heavy sigh, Dad grumbled, "I've heard that Delvin is releasing his newest model next month, the Nimbus 2000. It's supposed to be the fastest broom ever created."

I reached over and patted Dad's arm, trying to reassure him, "Don't worry," I comforted. "You're the best enchanter in Britain. I know you will succeed in creating the fastest broom in the world."

Dad nudged me with a grin, "The best? That's a pretty high bar for me to live up to, but I suppose it's accurate."

"Well, don't be too full of yourself. You still have to complete the Firebolt." I warned. "I'm looking forward to the day we get to crush Delvin Whitehorn and the Nimbus Racing Broom Company."

A vengeful gleam appeared in Dad's eyes, "Me too," he murmured.

Our conversation lapsed into silence for a few minutes, before Dad gently asked, "So, do you want to talk about your friends fighting. I could tell it was bothering you earlier."

Part of me hesitated, had it been Mum, or Uncle John, I don't think I would have answered. Mum would have interrogated me about everything, and I can picture Uncle John smirking about everything.

But, looking at Dad's calm grey eyes, I could tell he just wanted to dispense some fatherly advice, whether I wanted to listen was entirely up to me. Had I said no, I imagine he would have dropped the subject entirely. Dad is the best.

Giving into the urge, I confessed, "It was so annoying. The train ride home was filled with constant snide comments, and there seemed to be some type of competition going on between them. I've never seen Anna or Jessica act like that before."

Dad took a minute to soak in my rant, "Do you remember when I made the twins a miniature unicorn doll that could move and run around on its own?"

I groaned. "Yeah, they both loved that toy so much they each wanted it for themselves. The toy was the cause of the great spat of 1988, which will forever go down in infamy."

Dad shivered, no doubt remembering all the screaming, hair pulling, and wild underage magic.

Normally the twins got along great, but that particular summer they fought like cats and dogs.

"Well, now you're the unicorn," Dad explained.

Concerned about the analogy, I pointed out, "Didn't the twins end up tearing the unicorn in two?"

Dad sagely nodded, "Exactly, and if I were you, I would remember that before you put yourself in between those two."

"Daaad." I complained, "That doesn't help me at all. How do I get them to stop fighting?"

Dad shrugged, "Alex, sometimes you have to realize that some of your friends may not like each other. Just because they're friends with you doesn't mean they will get along. In fact, being friends with you is the problem."

Seeing how I wasn't fully understanding, Dad rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair. "Whatever happened to my genius son? You know, there is such a thing as too much study. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think you need to put your books down more often."

As I glared at him, Dad put his arms up in surrender, "Alex, those two girls like you."

As his words sunk in, my face started to turn red in embarrassment. "You don't know that." I retorted.

Dad snorted, "Alex, I watched you and Anna grow up. Trust me, that girl has had her eye on you for a while, she may not have understood her feelings for you in the beginning, but considering her behavior with Jessica, I bet she has figured it out."

Trying to buy time to think about this, I decided to poke holes in his argument, I said, "Well, what about Jessica?"

Dad gave a half shrug, "I don't really know her that well, but didn't you say her parents were both top of their class in Ravenclaw. Is it such a stretch that she might think you two will be the same?"

I couldn't decide if I was more embarrassed about having this conversation with my dad in the first place or having to have it pointed out to me. In my defense, I have been busy for the last two years. Pretty much every free moment I have had has gone into studying magic.

As my mind started going over my past interactions with Jessica and Anna, I realized I had been missing a lot of obvious signals. The burning in my face intensified the more I thought about everything, both from the humiliation of having the obvious pointed out to me and some feelings those memories made me feel.

I shot Dad a pleading look, "What am I supposed to do with this knowledge?"

"I don't know. It depends on what you want to do. Just because they like you doesn't mean you like them." After a short pause, Dad hesitantly asked, "You do like girls, right?"

I had thought I was at the limit of how red my face could get, but my dad proved me wrong because I was pretty sure I was red as a tomato at this point. I tried to channel the heat in my face into laser beams as I glared at Dad, "Yes, I like girls," I growled at him.

He held up his hands, "Just checking."

Seeing how I wasn't satisfied, he offered an olive branch. "Well, that narrows your options. You need to figure out how you feel about each of them. Remember, just because they're interested doesn't mean you have to do anything. You're young, figuring out things like this is part of growing up."

A look of worry crossed my eyes, "What if I make a mistake?"

Putting his arm around me, Dad tried to confront me, "Alex, you're definitely going to make mistakes."

"Dad! You're supposed to say I won't make a mistake."

Dad laughed as I tried to shove him off me, "Sorry Alex, but making mistakes is part of life. And speaking of mistakes, it's time for you to go to bed. Otherwise, your mother will be fuming in the morning."

Before I left the study, I turned back and asked, "So, who is Alice, and why did Uncle John look like he just saw a boggart when you mentioned her name?"

Dad smirked, "Alice is a good example of what happens when you anger a witch. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Remember that wisdom in the future before doing something stupid."

Sensing that was all I would get out of him, I turned and left the room. As I laid in bed, I tried to sort out my feelings. Even with the advice I got, I didn't know how to proceed.

Turning to Athena, who was curled up into a ball, "What do you think?" I asked

Athena opened an eye, before yawning and ignoring my plight.

"Fine, be that way," I grumbled.

I didn't have any revelations that night, nor the following days. Soon the weekend was upon us, and it was time for the dueling competition.