John had continually been poking Harry's foot for the last hour. She now was regretting having once told him that if you poke something for along amount of time it would eventually create a hole in it. Now John had been trying to see if it was true, and that's how he had been spending the last hour of his life. Of course every now and then Harry would tell their mother that he wouldn't stop touching her, and then hiss that if he didn't get his hand off of her she would bite it off. But, truthfully, she really didn't seem to really mind. After all, she was completely observed in the Catcher of the Rye for the most part of the car trip, and Pride and Prejudice, and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. (The only one that John thought was mildly interesting was the Huckleberry one because let's admit that it is better than anything else in the world.)
They had left early that morning. At five in the morning, if you wanted to be exact. The Watson's had packed all of their belongings into Mr. Watson small car and started to drive five hundred miles from York to London. If you were wondering, they were moving because Mr. Watson had been asked to be Partner for some big name lawyer firm. John didn't really understand it all, but what he did understand, though, was that he really didn't want to leave Bobby and Stephan, or his teachers, or the lovely blonde girl who sat in front of him named Mary. But he didn't argue like Harry did. Because she had screamed for hours that she would not go. She would rather die than leave. That they would have to drag her into the car, or leave without her, she had eventually started to cry and ran upstairs. Mrs. Watson had tried to calm her down by talking of all the attractive boys in London. John still didn't understand why that seemed to make Harry cry even harder. Oh, well.
"Mum, John poking me again," Harry complained, shifting so that her foot would be under her and out of the hands of the John poking fingers.
"No I'm not," John contradicted, before adding, "She's poking me." Mrs. Watson had just made an exasperated noise, before turning to her youngest child and giving him a wrinkly exaggerated frown and a raised eyebrow. The look made him giggle, so he gave her a sheepish smile and unknowingly telling the experienced mother all she needed to know.
"John?" Mrs. Watson grinned, "Will you please just read your book?" She nodded to the abandoned Peter Pan. The pages had been bent, as both John and Harry had moved around and had smashed it one way or another but still very much readable.
"But Mum," John pouted, "It's about a boy who fly's. I'm not a baby anymore. I know that magic doesn't exist."
Mrs. Watson thought for a moment and after tapping a perfect fingernail against her chin a few times she nodded in agreement, "True, true, you are getting to be quite big aren't you?" She observed, "My mother once told me that magic is only as real as you believe it is." John opened his mouth to complain but another raised eyebrow from his mother made him quiet. "Now, in my opinion, magic is something truly beautiful and will only happen once in every generation."
"Do you think I could be magic, mama?" John asked.
Harry gave a half-laugh before finally putting in her two cents, "They used to burn the magic." John gave her a horrified look and quickly looked at his mother for reassurance.
Mrs. Watson's eyes soften at that, and she gave a small smile and told him, "I think you are unique, John. You can create magical things without being magic, and then you do not need to worry about anyone trying to burn you." Turning back in her seat she added, "Now read you book and sit still." John smiled at the back of his mother's seat before curling up and opening the abandoned book.
That's how it stayed for a while, both of the children reading in the back seat while the mother and father drove quietly in the front. John had decided that the Peter Pan was actually a really good book. He especially loved the lost boys. Even though some of it made him a bit sad, not having a mother an all. He couldn't imagine a life without his mother. John didn't quite understand how that worked, however, when John he asked Harry she went into a big long rant about how women are being suppressed or something like that. John really didn't care and only wanted the answer to his question. He listened anyways because his sister would get really mad if he didn't listen to her when she got all huffy.
Just as John had started to go glazed eyed and was about to tell Harry that he really didn't care, Mr. Watson came to his rescue. The lawyer started telling them about how they would be passing his bosses house and that he would just be in for a minute and introduce them. Of course glancing at Harry they both knew that 'a minute or two' really meant and hour or two. They didn't say that, of course, but they got a good hold of their books before Mr. Watson babbled on about anything else.
A half hour of the man talking about how his boss was something else he made a sharp turn that went up a private road that John had only seen on the telly. It kind of freaked him out because most of the people that had them were, like, superheroes or rich serial killers.
Harry must have been thinking the same thing too, as she mused, "Is your boss loaded or something'?" Mr. Watson just gave her a pinched lip expression.
John could admit that the view was beautiful. The driveway was lined with the outer woods surrounding the house; all of the trees were a radiant shade of green. It looked like something out of a poem or something. John eventually just couldn't help himself and he rolled down the window to stick his head out to enjoy the wind on his young face. He laughed in delight at the sensation.
That was when the house was finally made itself known. Well, it didn't really look like a house at all. More of castle feel to it really. It had hundreds of windows and seemed to be made up of all pointed angles. John thought that it looked rather daunting. He didn't say that in favor of keeping the wonderstruck look on his father face.
"That's it." Obliviously said Mr. Watson, he then turns to John and Harry and continues, "We can only stay for a minute. The movers are expecting us to be there." John and Harry nodded with large eyes.
When they pulled up to the end of the drive way a man in a polished suit came out to meet them. The man had thinning brown hair and a kind of sour face with an aura of spookiness. He had several wrinkles. To John he seemed like a very unhappy man.
Mr. Watson seemed to be jumping out of his seat in excitement at seeing the man. "That's him, that's him." He kept chanting. Mr. Watson safely parked the car and rushed to greet the man. "Hello, sir, I'm Matt Watson, we talked on the phone a few days ago. I'm the one that's going to be your new partner, sir. This is my family," Mr. Watson gestured to the car where the three of them were sitting there very awkwardly. That was when Mr. Watson shook his boss' hand, which was also the first time that Mr. Spooky Boss Man looked at John. His eye's locked with John's then he squinted a bit and looked away. Boss Man then turned on his heel to go inside the huge estate. Mrs. Watson and Harry scrambled out of the car quickly to follow Mr. Watson. John got out a bit slower and grabbed his book on the way to the stranger's house.
Once inside, John looked around with wide eyes at the extravagant view. The first thing that John noticed besides the large chandler was the double staircase that John had only previously seen on television. Several old looking tables want around the walls, which all had a very expensive vase on top of it. The floor was a swirl of very pretty marble that made the flush carpet look that much softer.
That was Mr. Boss stated in a bored drawled voice, "My wife and son should be coming down soon. He's around your age," He nodded his head toward Harry.
Barely a few moments had passed until John looked up to see the most magical women he had ever seen. She was taller, taller than Mr. Watson. With dark ringlets that trailed down her back. But what really made John's breathe catch was her eyes. She had these bluish green things, which were so beautiful it must take a poet to describe them.
She smiled when she caught him staring, before going to link her arms into Mr. Boss' arm. Mr. Boss gave her a warm smile when she arrived. Then she said in a clear breathy voice, "Siger, who do we have here?"
Mr. Boss, aka Siger, straightened his back and answered, "This is the Watson's. Mr. Watson here just moved from York to become a partner."
"That's wonderful. You've been working harder since Mark transferred." She turned to Mr. Watson and gave him the same smile that made John's flip flop. "You have big shoes to fill, Mr. Watson."
"Call me, Matt." Mr. Watson insisted hurriedly.
"Matt," She gives him another smile before addressing the kids there, "You two may read in the garden if you do not wish to hear all the grown up talk." They both nod before following the strange women through several halls into the field in the back.
Once they were out of earshot of John's parents, the women started chat with them.
"How do you two feel about school?"
"It's fine." Harry answered clutching her book.
"You must be a bit unhappy. I know my boys would be, certainly, if they moved hundreds of miles away from home." She turned them into a different hallway.
"Well… yes." Harry admitted, "I wasn't very happy that we moved. I'm still not, actually."
"Of course." The dark-haired women agreed. "But there is something good that came of you moving."
John piped in at that, "What, ma'am?"
She smiled down at him. "You wouldn't have met me." Then they turned down another hallway for the final time. "Here we are." Creaking his neck John saw that a white archway that must lead to the garden. She confirmed that with, "If you go through that arch you'll be in the garden. If you need anything you come find me. Okay?"
"Okay, miss."
"Please, call me Amelia." The Watson' children nodded. "Oh, and one more thing, my son should be down to collect you in a minute when my husband has finished showing off." They nodded once again before they watched, transfixed, as she turned her back and walked back in the direction that they came.
Once a few moments passed Harry turned to him wide eyed, "You felt it too, right? The attraction." John blushed and nodded. Harry looked satisfied at that and walked into the garden.
The garden was everything John had expected it to be and more. With naturally placed plants and trees, it was a blend of the color. Every single flower placed beautifully as though the gardener had taken precious time to find the perfect spot for each and every one. It gave off a magical sort of air that lifted the spirit and made you just stand back and breathe. It was no surprise to John that he found an old off-white gazebo. John made eye contact with Harry before they sat opposite of each other with their own unique books.
An hour and a half before John finally got to the last page. John stared wide eyed at the ending word, refusing to believe that he was done. If John was done then he would have nothing to do. And if he had nothing to do then how would he entertain himself? John took a deep breath before looking at his sister who was absorbed in her own book. Debating with himself for a moment John called tentatively, "Harry?"
She didn't even glance in his direction, "What?"
"I finished my book."
Harry glanced above her novel for a moment before sarcastically asking, "And how is that my problem?"
"Entertain me."
"You have got to be kidding me?" Harry shut her book and raised her eyebrow in a good impression of their mother. "We are in the coolest place in England and you are bored?" John had to admit that she did have a point.
"Yes."
Poking her cheek with her tongue Harry rolled her eyes at her little brother incompetence. "Honestly, boy, you are dim." Harry then started to talk very, very slowly, as though she was talking to a small child. "Why don't you go out and explore, like a good little boy?" John gave her a pinched mouth look before standing up.
"I'll be back." He said shortly, before walking out of the gazebo and onto one of the many paths into different places in the huge garden. Taking the one closes to the one they came from John walked next to several rose bushes. They were a pretty red that matched his mother's favorite blouse. From there he took another path to the right that started to make the garden go thinner and thinner until it eventually stopped all together. Once he had fully left the garden and entered the back yard John got a good look of the back of the estate.
It seemed to have the same idea as the front part, the pointier the better. It even had just as many windows, even a few more. John grinned at the house and took a deep breath, preparing himself to remember the path from which he came. He was just about to turn back when suddenly one of the top windows slammed open. The green curtains swirled out and John had to squint at the window to see the black shape sticking out of the bottom of the window.
John couldn't quite get a good look at the shape so he half-jogged a bit closer. There he could fully see that the black blob was that of a head of a boy. Well, at least he thought it was a boy. The boy's head started to rise higher and higher into the view of the window so that now John could see the crisp white shirt. The boy was clutching the windowpane to heave himself up, John guessed, but what on earth could he want to achieve?
Finally the boy managed to get his entire body onto the pane of the window. That was also the time that John really started to panic. What if the boy wanted to throw himself off? Was John witnessing a suicide? John desperately wanted to run back into the safety of the garden but his eyes were glued to the boy's body.
Then with bated breath John watched as the boy took a step out of the window.
John opened his mouth to scream a cry, but then stopped short as the boy did not drop the forty feet to the hard ground. He just seemed to be standing there, completely floating in the air. John's face contorted as his brain tried to register what he was seeing.
The boy seemed to have no mind as to the turmoil that John was going through, as he took another step in the air. How? How could this possibly happen? It wasn't possible!
After the freaky boy had took several more steps John finally couldn't handle it and fell onto his bum. Sitting down John watched as he then walked back into the opened window and climb in and shut it.
That's was when John screamed.