This Story has been revamped, as the original story had some glitches that spoiled the ending. I extend my sincerest apologies to those who read the earlier work, for which I am thankful; hopefully you enjoy the new version!
the Boy in the Attic
He watched through the great pane windows, as the children played, somehow avoiding soiling their brand new suites and dresses; he could not help but smile innocently as they saw the joy in their faces, more real and true, carefree and unburdened by the niceties that otherwise govern the rest of the world. He smiled; his drink still untouched.
"It seems so simple doesn't it?" came the Minister's soft voice, as he stood besides him; a drink, barely touched as was his, clutched firmly in his right hand.
He didn't reply.
"She was beautiful, she has a true gift" he said, as he turned his attention to the little girl in the bright pink gown, her golden curls floating in the breeze as she played with her friends; it was hard to imagine that this was the same girl that had minutes ago been enthralling the gathered crowd with her cello; looking and sounding every bit the master artist.
"Regina works hard with her," He didn't need to be told what was meant by that; he stole a quick glance over his shoulder towards the grand living room, at the tall, beautiful woman in the flowing red gown.
"She must be quite proud of her!"
"She is…we both are! I just wished she would…." he said, with a strange sense of longing in his face.
"Do you mind if I take a walk around the house, Mr. Minister?" he asked, after a short pause.
"Of cause not," the Minister said, turning towards him for a second, then, unconsciously taking a sip from his drink having turned back towards the view outside. "I guess I better return back to the party" he said, taking another sip as he stared at some distant spot in the distance.
"Thank you," he said, placing his glass on a nearby stool for the waiters to pick up. He proceeded to walk out of the room; wading his way through the throng of those gathered inside.
He stepped out from the red living room into the narrower but still spacious white hallway; taking a few seconds to get accustom to the sudden change in hue and brightness.
The hallway was wide enough to easily accommodate four men if not for the antique artefacts that lined either side of the red velvet carpet; but he gave neither them nor the many faces of old masters that watched him lifelessly from behind gilded frames, any more thought than a cursory curious glance.
He took the grand stairway, under the glare of more ancient lifeless faces, up towards the third floor of the mansion, and into another spacious and opulent hallway. Tucked in between all the doorways lining it lay a single narrow doorway opening into another stairway barely wide enough to accommodate a single person.
He hesitated for a second, before finally climbing the bare and simple steps.
The Attic looked quite bleak in comparison to the rest of the house; devoid of any decorations: the lighting was simple, like what one would find in any average house, no great chandelier or ivory-white fittings with gold trimmings, no vases of exotic plants, no antiques, and except for a single portrait of a white-haired man (he had never seen before) and a family portrait with the Minister, his wife and daughter, smiling from some tropical getaway, resting next to a king-size bed – the only real sign of that same opulence downstairs – no portraits or pictures adorned the hospital-white walls.
A small wooden box, intricately carved, lay hidden away from that rare inspection – a recent present, smuggled in – next to a simple doubled door wardrobe, and a roll-up antique desk added in still failed to dispense the feeling of emptiness that filled the room.
It was almost like a different house entirely.
The sole occupier of the room, the man of this house, sat alone in a corner; bathe in the glow of the noon sun flowing in through one of the several plane glass windows. Bent over a table, his face resting on small hands, he seemed oblivious to all except the cards that lay neatly before him; even though his feet, upon the uncarpeted wooden floor, could not have been noisier had they been lose.
"Hello James, May I join you?" he asked, as he gestured to the vacant seat.
The young boy merely nodded his head, and in that few seconds that he saw the boy's eyes, before they fell back upon the cards, he couldn't help but feel a tingle run up his spine; the combination of short white hair and almost-white blue eyes, vacant of any emotion, worked to create an eerie image to any who first glanced upon him.
His eyes fell upon a chess set, as his eyes wondered while he waited patiently, neglected; they lit up with recognition and hope.
"Knight to C4," he called out to the knight still standing, his euphoria died when it made no signs of obeying.
'Was it merely a coincidence; that they, like all things in this house, were no more magical?' he wondered, as he again tried in vain with another piece, and then another; which earned him a look from the boy. He smiled, and the kid went back to his deck.
"Do you play," he asked, James just nodded, already losing interest.
"With your parents?" he nodded his head,
"Mostly with myself," James added.
"What are you playing?"
"Solitaire"
"Do you believe in Magic James?" he asked hopefully, and the cards disappeared into a neat stack, shuffled, and then spread out before him.
"All the cards are normal, and all 52 cards present," James said with showmanship, but without the excitement or enthusiasm that was to go with it. He just nodded in acceptance. James then arranged them back into a neat deck, his actions simple and fluid, as if done without any thought.
"You may shuffle the deck if you wish!"
"I trust you," he said with a smile. James paused, as if he was uncertain of what the word meant, and then proceeded to shuffle the deck again, with that same expertise he had shown earlier.
Once again he spread the cards before him, this time face down, and then pulled out a wand. His breath paused midway inside, before realizing that it was fake; bought from some muggle-novelty store. James ran the wand over the cards and said 'abracadabra' again without much enthusiasm.
"Pick a card any card," James said and he did; checking it once, before holding it close to his heart.
"You have the Ace of Spades," without even a fake pause
"How do you know?"
"Because, you don't have any of the Kings" James said and he stared at the kid, his eyes open wide, until James turned the cards over to reveal a neat row of kings staring back at him; he stared into those eyes again, but saw nothing. 'It was just part of the trick' he told himself.
"Very good James," he said, 'even if it was just a parlor trick'.
They talked, James surprisingly open than he first imagined. Though it was a fact-finding mission, he found that the longer he stayed with the kid, the closer he felt, and the more he wished he could have spent more time with him; there was warmth in those pale eyes – that for a second made him question everything– but though he did his best to stretch the conversation, he knew that time was not a luxury he enjoyed, and would not do to delay.
"Good bye James, it was a pleasure meeting you," he said finally, stretching his hand towards him.
"Goodbye Sir" he said, rising from his own seat.
"Are you alright on your own?"
"Yes sir," he said, taking his seat once more as he walked away.
Lupin took one last long look back at the boy, who had returned to his game of solitaire ones more, before heading back towards the stairway. He was, to his own surprise, disappointed to find that Jason was normal, well in comparison, and that was what he would report.
Maybe he would make another visit, maybe this time it wouldn't be on Ministry business; if Regina would allow.