July 1987
With the students gone for the summer, the Three Broomsticks was empty. Aaron sat at the bar with a butterbeer, reading The Island of Doctor Moreau for the fifth time. It was one of four muggle books he had taken when he left Glasgow three years ago. The book was worn and the edges were curled. Pages fifty-three to sixty-four were stained with what Aaron hoped was tea. He had gotten the book from the library at a school he had attended for five months when he was ten. His social worker had moved him mid-week and he had never had a chance to return it.
A borrowing card was still taped to the inside of the back cover. Aaron had memorized the names and dates. Like him, the book had been in the possession of a lot of people. John Jones, 11 DEC 61. Emily Robinson, 9 MAR 63. D. Lee, 17 MAY 67. Mary Baker, 5 OCT 73. S. Brown, 18 OCT 75. William Jones, 27 MAR 78. A. Walker, 9 JUN 79. B. White, 7 JAN 81. All muggle names. Like his.
What would my borrowing card look like?
Sometimes he tried to remember all the people he had lived with; the houses and flats with different dishes, furniture, pets, rules, and smells. He had even been placed in a group home for a few months when a teacher told his social worker he wasn't talking. Of course he wasn't talking. He was seven years old and he had hated the school.
His social worker had been the one constant in his life. She had worked hard to find Aaron people to stay with and had done a decent job of making sure they took care of him. Most of the people he had stayed with had been good people. There were a lot of times Aaron hoped they would keep him. He tried not to be upset whenever he had to move again, but he always was.
He tried to forget the rest of the people he had lived with. His social worker had gotten him out of situations fast the few times people he was left with turned out to be abusive. She always apologized, got him help, made sure he was safe the next time, and took people to court for what they had done. But it wasn't like it had never happened, and it made it harder to forget. He still had a scar on his left arm from a couple he had spent three weeks with when he was eight. And riding in cars would always make him sick.
Whatever spell Dumbledore had used on him two months ago, it wasn't the first time Aaron had been thrown on the ground.
But it was the fucking last time.
He turned to the Table of Contents, where he had written his social worker's telephone number before he left Glasgow.
I could find a way to call her and get out of here. I could send an owl. She could come get me.
Then what? Wait to be placed with more people who don't want me?
"You're not doing school work now are ya?"
Aaron hadn't seen Hagrid come in. The half-giant man ordered an ale and sat down next to him.
"No," Aaron said. He handed Hagrid the book. "I needed a break from magic."
Hagrid flipped through the book and checked the back cover. He mouthed the words while he read the summary. "Sounds like a good one. It's good to see ya doing something for fun."
Hagrid handed the book back to Aaron and the bartender handed Hagrid his ale.
"Thanks, Aleus," Hagrid said. He took out a few sickles and set them on the bar. "Ya don't have any more of that summer punch do ya?"
"I've got a whole barrel of it under the bar," the bartender said. "No one's been here to drink it."
"I'll take a mug of that too, then," Hagrid said. He turned to Aaron. "You want to try it? It's a little strong, but no one's here to care if ya do. And it's good. You've been working hard all summer, too. Might as well have some, if it's alright with Aleus."
Aleus set three mugs on the bar. "I won't tell."
"Sure," Aaron said.
Aleus set the barrel on the bar and filled the mugs. He put one in front of Hagrid, handed one to Aaron, and drank from the third. Aaron took a drink and coughed.
Hagrid smiled. "Good, right?"
Aaron nodded and took another drink. It was strong.
Thirty minutes later, Hagrid's ale was gone and Aleus poured him a second mug of summer punch.
"Have ya heard from Charlie since school got out?"
"A few times," Aaron said.
"Charlie's a good kid. Great with animals." Hagrid turned to Aleus. "Did I tell you Aaron here helped us harvest a dragon?"
"That's messy work," Aleus said. "Well done."
"I don't think I'll ever do it again," Aaron said. Aleus laughed.
"Nonsense," Hagrid said. "You and Charlie were great at it. I was really proud of ya."
"At least I did something right," Aaron said and took another drink.
"None of that," Hagrid said. "I've told ya before it's alright you can't use magic. I can't either."
Aaron took a long drink and finished his first mug of punch. "I know." He nodded toward Hogwarts. "I'll just never belong in there with the rest of them."
"Of course you belong," Hagrid said.
Aleus filled Aaron's mug. He took another drink. "Why? Because I can see the castle for what it is? Like that proves something?"
"It proves everything," Hagrid said. "Hogwarts is covered in wards. Ya have to be magical just to see past them. Same goes for the train."
"No," Aaron said, "someone made a mistake. I shouldn't be here."
"No student comes to Hogwarts by mistake, especially not you," Hagrid said. "Didn't anyone ever tell ya about what happened with the book?"
"The book?"
"There's a book in one of the towers and an old quill. Whenever a child here in the United Kingdom does something magical, the quill tries to write their name. If the book doesn't think they're magical enough, it won't let the quill write the name, and the child never gets into Hogwarts. But if the book agrees, then the quill can write the name and the child is invited to attend Hogwarts. It's a perfect system."
"So, my name is in the book?"
"Of course it is," Hagrid said.
"Have you seen it in the book?"
"Don't need ta," Hagrid said. "It was all McGonagall could talk about your First Year."
"What?"
"Yeah, how she'd seen the quill write your name in the book. She was excited because it's rare to see the quill write a name. Ya have to catch it at the exact moment a child does something magical for the first time. She actually saw your name get written down. You're in the book alright."
"Did anything happen last night? Something strange?"
"You're not a muggle."
"Maybe that's your problem, mate. You have to embrace it."
"They never told ya? I would have thought McGonagall would have told ya. Maybe they try to keep it a secret. You didn't hear anything from me."
Three hours later, Hagrid and Aleus had finished off most of the summer punch with help from Aaron. Hagrid laughed and told a story about a talking spider. Aleus claimed to be half-goblin and Aaron could see it now; his ears, his nose, and even his eyes. He was tall though, thought Aaron, but then Hagrid was short compared to a full-blood giant.
Hagrid drained his mug and stood up. "It's late. We should get going and let Aleus here close up."
Aaron didn't realize how drunk he was until he stood up. He reached for his book, dropped it on the ground, and laughed.
Aleus smiled and said, "I see you liked the punch."
"It," it was hard to form words, "it was . . . a perfect system. Like the damn book."
Aleus looked at Hagrid. Hagrid laughed. "He's fine. I'll take him home with me tonight. Won't let anyone else at Hogwarts know, will we, Aaron?"
"Not a chance," Aaron said. He felt . . . light. He couldn't feel his face or his fingers.
He followed Hagrid outside. It was dark, but there was light from the town and the castle in the distance. The air was humid and the clouds hung low.
"Hagrid, who's Tom?"
"What?"
"Tom," Aaron said. "And why does Dumbledore think he should have killed him?"
Hagrid stopped. He didn't say anything at first, then he turned and looked down at Aaron. "Dumbledore talked about Tom?"
"He . . . brought him up."
"I forget you're muggle-born sometimes. And it's not like anyone talks about him. Aaron, you know about You-Know-Who, right?"
"Yeah," he tried not to slur his words, "the dark wizard."
"That was Tom," Hagrid said. "Tom Riddle. He was here when I was a student at Hogwarts, before he became You-Know-Who. If Dumbledore talked about him like that-"
Aaron said, "I don't . . . I don't think he . . . realized I was there."
"He shouldn't be talking about You-Know-Who, not like that. He hasn't been Tom in . . . long before your time."
"You knew him? When he was here? When he was Tom?"
"I try not to think about him," Hagrid said and walked ahead.
Aaron followed him to the hut. In the darkness, for a second, he saw a platform and abandoned train tracks, but the illusion vanished as fast as it had appeared.
