February 26th: A Careful Consideration
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February 26th: Little - Sometimes love is doing tiny things for someone that they may never notice.
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Dave wanted to help him pack. Aaron knew he had to do it alone. He thunked open his school trunk, a travelling trunk beside it that McGonagall had bought him with the allowance the House gave him, and he began to pack his life away. It was so, so different from when he'd come here, from the day McGonagall had turned up on his doorstep in the house that had never been a home and said sternly, "See here, Mr. Hotchner, your son will learn to be a wizard, and I just don't fancy that you can stop him." On that day, he'd grabbed a single change of clothes and ran from the house without looking back. Today, he looked around a room that teemed with him and wondered what on earth to do with it all.
But he didn't take everything to this third new life of his. He wondered, for a curious moment, just how McGonagall and Harry had retrieved Sean. He wondered if they'd tell him if he asked.
And then he finished packing. Robes and schoolbooks and endless fripperies went into the trunks. Things he'd somehow gathered over the past few years. Jumpers he thought might be Dave's, a book on Qudditch he knew was Emily's, a collection of bracelets that screamed Penelope—although he had no idea how he'd gotten hold of them. His trick wand, and he paused over that and fiddled with the etched wolf, fancying it wiggled under his finger.
He found a broken snow-globe dropped behind a cupboard that, after a wary glance at the closed bedroom door, he carefully charmed shut and transfigured so that every fake snowflake was a miniature tumbling puppy, frisking together in their watery home. Penelope would love it.
Tobias wasn't easy. The kid was a nervous, twitchy thing, even now, and Aaron pondered that. Finally, he found a book of simple defensive spells that he knew the kid would love and were easy enough that he'd master them with just a bit of practise. Aaron, of all people, knew how much of a confidence boost mastery was.
McGonagall was both the easiest and the hardest. He knew exactly what he'd leave her, but he owed her so much that he knew it would never be enough. And he was a little ashamed of it. It was sappy.
He snuck into her room—it was never locked, because sometimes the kids were scared and she wanted them to know they could always go to her—and left a carefully folded origami cat on her pillow. It purred and padded around, digging at the soft cotton with paper-thin claws before settling down to nap. When stroked down it's folded spine, it would uncurl into the paper it originally was, revealing its heart and his.
Dear Minerva,
I owe everything to you. Thank you, for my life and my school and my home.
I can't repay you, but I can seek to become the best person I can possibly be.
Thank you for allowing me that opportunity.
Love, Aaron
To the new kids, he left potions supplies, his old cauldron, anything to help them adjust. They needed them more than he did now.
To Spencer, he left nothing because he knew nothing would be accepted.
And then he gathered his belongings and moved them down to the hall below, coming back for one last look at his room before closing the door for good.