Seven Days

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Wizards of Waverly Place or Seven Days by Kenny Chesney in which I've derived parts of this story.

Author's Note: Hoping a total of seven chapters will get this done, maybe more but hopefully not less. I recommend listening to the song in its entirety as the story will definitely not follow it to the letter.

- J-H –

Prologue

At ninety-six, I am both middle aged and a man who is considered ancient. By wizard standards, ninety-six years old is considered being at the prime of life while by mortal standards, I should be looking forward to a long dirt nap. My memory is still as keen as it ever was and when I look in the mirror, I don't see the white hair and frail body looking back at me. I see the man I was in my youth.

I've accomplished many things in my almost century-long lifespan, both as a wizard and as just another man walking on this earth. Some that is common knowledge…lifting the ban on mortal/non-mortal marriage…establishing the first school for wizards in the mortal realm…publishing numerous articles and books. Some are more hidden away from the public eye like raising my three beautiful children to be successful contributors to society. Despite the fact that their mother passed away when the last one was just out of diapers.

Most of my life is an open book. Women enjoy a good fairy tale so they read about how my wife and I met and fell in love. Men would bend over backwards for an adventure that keeps them on the edge of their seats so battling monsters and other dark objects is enjoyable fodder. My life as an educator is examined by many schools and is used as a platform to teach coursework to their own students. And the laws that I've changed is the basis for many political campaigns to improve the lives of wizard-kind and magical being everywhere.

But there is a story that I have never shared. The week immediately following my triumph at the wizard competition when my mentor's power was passed on to me. It is a week that I spent away from all the pressures of life and spent it with a girl that I never officially saw again. A girl with a mane of auburn hair and eyes the color of rich moss that still haunt my dreams to this day.

Whether it's because I've gone senile or because most of the people who knew me way back when—including the girl—have gone, I finally feel ready to share the story of that one week. Maybe it's because my children have hired a man to write the ultimate autobiography of my life and I can't exclude what was probably the best week of my life. Or maybe it's just that I don't give a damn what anyone—mortal or magical—thinks of me anymore.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's because after eight decades, I've finally realized that I owe it to her to bring her out of the shadows of my subconscious. She never belonged there and I've been a damned fool for far too long for putting her there, for allowing all of us to put her there after all she had done and all she had been to us.

So, with a heavy heart, I begin.

Once upon a time, when fairy tales were no more than mere stories, there was a subway station that was never a subway station at all. Inside lived the all-American family who were never as normal as everybody believed…

To be continued...