Chapter II

June 26, 1993

Thomas Oliver was abruptly awoken as the sound of dreadful screeching reached his ears. He quickly sat up and gripped his forehead in pain when it banged on the overhead ledge of his small sleeping space. Thomas rubbed it ardently until the pain subsided. He inattentively traced his small, 'K' shaped scar before dropping his hand. The scar was still fresh in appearance as if it had just been received. Not a day has gone by in his short eleven years of life that his curiosity has not wondered the reason behind the phenomenon of his scar.

"Wake up now, you brat!" The screeching came again along with pounding on his door. Thomas closed his eyes tiredly and tried to remember the great dream he'd been having to no avail. It had involved two birds, one white and one unnaturally pink. Heaving a great sigh, Thomas threw his neck-length brown hair, which irked his aunt, into a short ponytail. She had tried once to cut it, but it just kept growing back overnight. His aunt had been so angry at that fact, that she had forced him into a bald cap for months.

Thomas heard his aunt walk away, and he nimbly jumped off of his raggedy makeshift bed. He pulled on some of his cousin Mordant's old, spider-web-covered clothes, rolling up the too-long pants legs, and the too-long arm sleeves, but both still drowned his scrawny body. After throwing on some dirty socks, the boy rushed out of his cramped closet under the stairs only to come face to face with his gnarly-looking aunt. He visibly gulped.

"How dare you make me wait on a day like this?" snarled his aunt, greatly confusing Thomas.

"A day like this?" He thought to himself before it hit him. "Oh. Mordant's birthday. How could I forget? I practically hung up decorations all night."

Thomas bowed his head down to avoid her deadly gaze. "Are you trying to ruin your cousin's birthday?" his aunt hissed. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you freak!"

"No, Aunt Scorpina," said Thomas quickly, snapping his head up. "I'm sorry, Aunt Scorpina."

She glowered down at him and let out a humph. "Breakfast is on the stove," she said. "Tend to it, boy." Thomas nodded real fast and tried to dart past her, but she snatched up his arm.

"If you mess this up, you will regret it," Aunt Scorpina snarled before throwing his arm away, and Thomas nodded again, high-tailing to the kitchen. A wistful ache ran through him when he spotted Mordant's load of presents. The most Thomas ever got for his birthday was a glare simply for being alive another year. It seemed that his cousin got the BB gun he wanted, something to use on Thomas no doubt, his favorite punching bag.

Uncle Vile decided then to waddle into the room; the man was so huge that it was all he could do. Thomas often snickered behind his back about his pregnant walk, but it was when Vile was angry, however, that his gait changed into something of a strong man possessed, especially if it involved Thomas and a belt. Uncle Vile had black hair with a beard and mustache that somehow always stayed greasy. He had blue eyes that permanently glowered with evil.

The fat man scowled in Thomas' direction as he sat at the head of the table, opening the newspaper. He glanced at the eleven-year-old over the paper, and he immediately barked at him, "Get that hair away from the food!"

Thomas let out a sigh and uncomfortably stretched back his neck as he struggled to flip the pancakes. By the time he was finished, there was practically a whole breakfast feast laid out. Grabbing his plate of two bacon strips and a biscuit, Thomas sat at the counter. He was not allowed to sit at the dining table on special days.

At that moment, Mordant arrived in the kitchen with his mother fawning over him. "Mordy! Mordy! My precious birthday boy!" Aunt Scorpina was saying.

Precious was an overstatement in Thomas' opinion. His porky cousin resembled his father a great amount, as both were fat, greasy, and ugly. Mordant immediately went to his presents and started tearing paper all over the place. He did get that BB gun he wanted, and this admittedly did cause fearful apprehension in Thomas.

"What do you mean she can't take the boy!" suddenly yelled Uncle Vile, pounding a fist into the table and catching Thomas' attention.

"Dr. Kay's broken her leg, Vile. She can't take him." Aunt Scorpina said melancholy, and as if on cue, Mordant at once ceased digging through his presents and began to whine. He didn't stop until his parents promised to buy him five more presents, like the forty-five he already had wasn't enough.

"The boy has to go somewhere, Vile, and we can't leave him here by himself, for we may not come back to a decent house."

"Fine. Let's take him and just leave him in the car!" Uncle Vile seethed. He then reflected on his new vehicle and thought better of it.

And so, hours later, Thomas found himself at the zoo for the very first time in his life, hardly believing his luck. He didn't care about the baggy clothes that every passerby stared at. He didn't care about the teases Mordant and his friends made about him. He didn't even care about the thorough warning Uncle Vile gave him to not cause anything 'freakish' to happen. It's not like he could control the unexplainable, weird things that happened around him anyway. Today, nothing could go wrong.

Thomas walked a little ways behind the Mourys' and Mordant's friends as they left the restaurant after lunch and headed towards the reptile house. They passed the birdhouse exhibit on their way, and Thomas found his focus shifting to it. He moved towards the exhibit on his own accord as he suddenly remembered his dream from that morning had involved birds. The exhibit housed all types of them: Hawks, hummingbirds, parrots, eagles, everything. Thomas headed down the display, gazing at each and every one of them until abruptly stopping between two that stood out to him.

There was a sleeping crane to the left of him, and on his right, a falcon stood proudly on his perch. The birds were both beautiful and familiar at the same time, and Thomas loved how peaceful and agile the crane looked standing while she slept. He was as well intrigued by how strong and mighty the falcon looked on his perch. Like a protector.

Thomas went fully towards the falcon and stared at him. He didn't know if he imagined it, but the animal seemed to stare back at him almost humanlike. Its eyes were communicating to him: pain, distress, and a want to get back to his habitat. Thomas attempted to communicate back to the falcon hopelessness and a wish to help. The falcon just bowed his head in what seemed to be understanding. And with one last parting look at both birds, Thomas quickly headed towards the reptile house with the realization that he had strayed too far away and was probably in for it.

If he had only glanced back one good time, he would've noticed the park rangers rushing to detain two loose birds flying towards the distance.

Thomas imperceptibly slipped behind the Mourys as they goggled at a huge African python. Mordant was teasing the reptile as it relentlessly snapped at him through the indestructible glass. His cousin laughed like a maniac every time the snake banged his head.

Thomas walked into the python's vicinity to get a closer look, but then something weird happened. The reptile immediately hissed at the sight of him and recoiled back fearfully. It swiftly retreated and hid in its makeshift habitat. Thomas gaped at where it disappeared, dumbfounded.

Mordant began to whine at the loss of his amusement, and Uncle Vile quickly led the crying boy away, trying to cheer him up. Thomas quietly followed them feeling guilty. He resolved to forget about the fearful snake, especially when he heard the loud murmurings about the two birds in the park that were somehow set loose.

Thomas slyly peered in the bird exhibit as they passed by, and gasped as he saw the side-by-side crane and falcon were missing. He widened his eyes and stumbled behind the Mourys, guilt increasing tenfold. Even though he knew it was practically impossible, Thomas felt like he had something to do with their escape, and he knew that his relatives would somehow blame him regardless if he was innocent or not.

He was in for it.

Later that night, Thomas laid in his lumpy bed, snacking on a sandwich he snuck from the kitchen since he was - like he thought - blamed for both the snake and the birds. He did attempt to plead his case to Uncle Vile, but funny thing was, he didn't even believe it himself. Now he was on punishment for who knows how long.

~o0o~

It was about a month later that Thomas was finally let off his punishment, and he could leave his closet when he pleased. It was his second-longest punishment ever, the first being for breaking Aunt Scorpina's favorite glass monkey. He had been locked in his closet for almost three months then. By the time he was off this punishment, it was mid-summer, the end of July at that. Thomas realized his birthday was in a few days, but no anxiousness nor excitement went through him at the thought of the day he was born. Instead, only dejection and wistful dreams did.

Besides that, Thomas was glad summer was almost over. He would finally be going to middle school without Mordant and his gang, which made him extremely happy. The idea of being chased around and pelted with BB pellets for the rest of the summer was somewhat bearable at that thought. They all would be going to Uncle Vile's private school, Cimmerans. Thomas remembered watching Mordant try on his new uniform and the proud look his aunt and uncle had on their face. Vile was even crying. Aunt Scorpina came to his closet hours later with some of his cousin's old and smelly clothes, a satisfied smirk on her face.

The Mourys lazily entered the kitchen as Thomas prepared breakfast. Mordant banged his new Cimmeran stick on the table as Uncle Vile opened the newspaper. Suddenly, they heard the squeak of the mail slot as the post landed on the doormat. With one blazing look from Vile over his newspaper, Thomas quickly headed towards the door. There were three envelopes on the doormat: one from Vile's sister - Aunt Archerina, one from the billing company, and... one for Thomas.

Thomas stared at it, his heart pounding like a gavel. No one had ever written to him in his short almost twelve years of life. He had no friends. He had no other relatives. He was practically inexistent. But yet, there it was, a letter in all its glory, addressed so legibly that there couldn't be a mistake.

Mr. T. Oliver

The Closet Under the Stairs

Residence 126

Fifth Lane Avenue, San Angeles

Angel Grove

The thick envelope was made of durable parchment. On the front, the aforementioned words were written with what looked like expensive ink. On the back, there was a coat of arms that included four animals – a bird, a horned snake, a man-beast, and a cat – all surrounding a capital letter "I".

Trembling, Thomas went back to the kitchen with his eyes still glued to his letter. He handed his uncle the other two envelopes, sat down, and continued staring at his letter.

"Hey! It's mine!" he yelled as the letter was abruptly snatched away into Uncle Vile's hands. He tried to grab it back but failed.

"Yours?" chuckled his uncle. "No one would write to a freak like you," Uncle Vile said gleefully glancing at the envelope.

His face paled.

"Sc-Scorpina!" Uncle Vile shouted, and Thomas' aunt promptly headed toward the fat man with an apprehensive look.

"What is it, pumpkin?"

Vile just handed her the letter. After she read it, Thomas could've sworn Aunt Scorpina almost fainted.

"Give me my letter!" Thomas screamed, regretting not opening it when he had a chance. Uncle Vile narrowly glared at him with hatred, and before Thomas knew it, he was being tossed and locked into his closet. Thomas kicked the door angrily as he let out a big huff. He sat on his bed and crossed his arms, glaring at the door intensely. The only thing that cheered him up was the image of Aunt Scorpina throwing Mordant out of the kitchen by his ear as well.

Thomas sat like that for what felt like hours upon hours, just staring angrily at the door. Finally, his aunt let him out to do his chores, and he instantly jumped on her about the whereabouts of his letter.

"The envelope was addressed to you by mistake. Now get to work!" she had simply said, and though Thomas didn't believe her, he went about his business.

Later that evening, when Uncle Vile came home from work, he cuffed Thomas by the neck as he was weeding the garden. "Follow me," Uncle Vile barked, and he led the boy to his closet. Thomas thought he was in for it, but Vile only made him gather his few belongings – which was not a lot – and ordered him to take it to Mordant's second bedroom.

"You've been getting too big for your closet, so this is your room now," he pushed Thomas in before locking the door. "Be grateful!"

Thomas just sighed and dropped his stuff on the bed. He then began to pick up Mordant's left-behind mess. Downstairs, he could hear his porky cousin whining at the loss of his room, and that caused a certain amount of joy to run through the eleven-year-old.

The next morning, at breakfast, everything was tense. Mordant was still having a mini tantrum about his bedroom. He used his cimmeran stick to whack both his mother and father in the head as he cried. Thomas was just thinking about his letter and ways he could get it back as this was going on, and Uncle Vile and Aunt Scorpina were looking at each other with dark expressions.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vile made Mordant go get it this time. They heard his stick banging and glass breaking as the boy stomped his way down the hallway. Then he yelled, "Someone's written him again! Mr. T. Oliver, the Smallest Bedroom, Residence 126-" That was all Thomas heard before he leaped out his seat and ran down the hall, Uncle Vile hot on his tails.

The man had to wrestle both Thomas and Mordant down to get the letter, but he succeeded. He shouted at Thomas to head to his bedroom which the boy did with no complaints, a smile on his face. Whoever was writing him knew he had moved out of his closet, and that he hadn't received his first letter which hopefully meant they would write him again.

The next morning, Thomas woke up early to meet the postman before he delivered the mail; he thought it was a pretty foolproof plan. Imagine his surprise, however, when he stepped on a wad of greasy silk on the doormat as he slyly reached for the doorknob. The lights flicked on and the boy fearfully realized Uncle Vile's hair was the wad of greasy silk. Thomas quickly high-tailed back to his room amongst threats of unmerciful whippings. He came down later to cook breakfast only to see his uncle throwing the mail into the furnace.

Over the next few days, more letters arrived.

They came in inventive ways as Uncle Vile's creativity began to run wild. The day after throwing the letters into the fire, he skipped work and nailed up the mail slot. Without anywhere to go, the multiple letters all addressed to Thomas slipped through any open crack of the house. This included the windows and the sides of the door. Later that night, Uncle Vile boarded up every opening he could see with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Whoever was writing Thomas, though, seemed to have accepted the challenge. In the morning, as the boy was cooking breakfast, he broke an egg out of a new dozen pack, and a wad of his letter rolled out. Thomas began to sneak it into his pants, but his cousin caught him in the nick of time and yelled for his father. Aunt Scorpina took out the rest of the eggs and shredded them in the blender.

Sunday morning, Uncle Vile sat at the head of the table with a triumphant look on his face.

"Oh how I love Sundays," he said gleefully, grinning at Thomas. "There's no post on Sundays, boy. No damn letters today-"

An envelope came flying down the chimney and landed straight on Mordant's plate of food.

In a matter of seconds, hundreds of letters came flying out of the furnace, like bullets. Thomas leaped in the air trying to grab one, but he felt his body being brought down and dragged into the hallway where the rest of the Mourys were taking refuge. Vile hurriedly closed the door, blocking the wild envelopes.

"Pack your bags!" he hollered. His face was red with anger. "We're leaving this house, NOW!"

Ten minutes later they were all in the car going who knows where. Uncle Vile drove for hours as a man possessed. He didn't stop until they drove into a forest, rode on a rocky path, and headed for a miserable hut hidden in the trees. A storm was brewing in the cold air making the ride there unbearable.

Of course, something like this would happen the day before Thomas' birthday.

They entered the house, amidst Mordant's whining, to a horrible animal stench. There were only two rooms, the living room, and the bedroom. Wind entered through the cracks, creating a chilly atmosphere that whipped their faces. The only food they had were apples, and a bag of chips for each Moury. Thomas got Mordant's half-eaten and dusty apple after the boy threw it away in disgust.

Later that night as the Mourys all attempted to sleep with thin, torn blankets - Thomas' the most torn - in the cold air, Thomas stayed up for the start of his birthday. He shivered and turned from side to side as he tried to get comfortable on the floor. Mordant was sleeping on the bug-eaten sofa, only slightly shivering. Thomas' stomach rumbled with a hunger that even the raging storm couldn't mask.

His eyes were glued to Mordant's watch, which was hanging over the sofa on his fat wrist. It let Thomas know that he would be twelve in about ten minutes. As he watched his birthday tick closer, he absentmindedly heard something creak outside and hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in.

He had five minutes to go. It was already chilly inside, he couldn't imagine what it felt like outside. Three minutes to go. The trees started blowing hard from the heavy wind. "Was the storm that bad?" he thought. One minute. In a few seconds, he'd be twelve. Thirty seconds... twenty ... ten… five… four...

Three...

Two...

One...

BANG!

Thomas bolted upright into a sitting position, staring wildly at the door. He jumped as whoever it was pounded again causing Mordant to wake up. "What the?" the fat boy sleepily glanced around with a stupid mien. Uncle Vile then came sliding into the room with a rifle in his hands.

"Who is it?" he barked. "Tell me now, or I'll blow you and this damn door down!"

Everything silenced; even the storm was tranquil. Then -

SMASH!

The door flew clean off its hinges, landing flat on the floor with a huge crash. A giant man with dark brown hair was standing in the doorway, face smooth with rosy cheeks and smile lines. The giant man forced himself into the hut, bending low so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He walked over to the fallen door, picked it up, and placed it back into its frame. He then turned to look at them all.

"You wouldn't happen to have a cup of juice, would you?" said the stranger. "The journey here has left me quite parched..." The giant man's eyes wandered around, and with one glance at Mordant, he had the boy running to hide behind his mother who was crouching, dreadfully, behind Uncle Vile. The man's eyes then landed on Thomas.

"Ah! There you are Tommy!" said the giant with a big, crinkled, friendly smile.

"Tommy?" The now twelve-year-old boy thought as he looked up into the giant innocent face that appeared as if it couldn't hurt a fly. A sudden deja vu went through him at the sound of that nickname.

"You were only a baby the last time I saw you," said the giant. "You look exactly like your dad, John. And you've got Marina's hazel eyes!"

Uncle Vile gasped as Aunt Scorpina fainted. "Leave at once, you big oaf!" he screamed. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Oh, shut up, Vile!" the giant man shouted. He then reached over and snatched the rifle out of Uncle Vile's hands, bending it into a knot as easily as shoelaces.

Uncle Vile gasped again and stumbled into the wall.

"Anyways," the giant turned towards Thomas, throwing away the sad rifle, "Happy birthday, Tommy. I got a birthday cake for you, and I took extra care not to smush it on the way here." He pulled out a box from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to Thomas.

The boy opened it with shaking fingers. There was a large, sweet-smelling green cake with 'Happy Birthday Tommy!' written on it in multi-colored icing. Thomas looked up at the enormous man with bright, watery eyes. "T-thank you, sir," he said before he frowned. "Who are you?"

The giant laughed. "I am Ernie Genelle, Groundskeeper of Ilvermorny." The man rubbed his cold hands together. "It's very chilly in here." He glanced at the empty fireplace. Before Thomas knew it, a bright fire was ablaze, warming all of them up instantly.

The giant sat down on the sofa which groaned under his weight and suddenly took out a box of patties, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and buns from his pocket. Soon the hut was filled with the smell of burgers that somehow hovered magically over the fire, to Thomas' astonishment. When the giant eventually made the first cheeseburger, Mordant's tongue actually fell out his mouth.

"Don't eat anything he offers you, Mordant," Uncle Vile pushed his son's chin close.

The giant snorted.

"These cheeseburgers are for Tommy, not your pig of a son." He passed the burgers to Thomas who ate them ravenously. He had never tasted anything so wonderful.

After he finished the burgers, Thomas stared at the giant. "I'm sorry," he said, "but what do you want from me, Mr. Genelle?"

The giant finished his own cheeseburgers and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Ernie," he said, "And I've come to get you ready for Ilvermorny. Of course you know all about Ilvermorny. We need to-"

"Ilvermorny? What is Ilvermorny?" interrupted Thomas and Ernie quickly glanced at him with shock. He turned to glare at the Mourys, who cowered back under his gaze.

"We knew you weren't getting any of your letters, and now I know why. I can't believe you don't know Ilvermorny! You probably don't even know about your parents or how special you are, about our world!"

"I don't, sir," Thomas looked at him in confusion. "What world? All I know about my parents is that they died in a car crash."

Ernie jumped to his feet in anger at that, and the Mourys ducked down at the sudden movement. The giant appeared to be on the verge of an explosion. But then, like the flicking of a light switch, Ernie suddenly ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh and sat back down.

"So you don't know what you are?" he said finally. "What we are?

Uncle Vile looked like he wanted to speak up, but fear controlled his actions.

"What we are?" Thomas questioned confusedly. "I'm just plain ol' Thomas. There's nothing special about me."

"That's where you're wrong, Tommy," said Ernie ignoring the frantic shaking of his head Vile was doing. "You're a wizard, Tommy. You're Thomas Oliver - The Only Survivor."

Only the wind and the loud storm could be heard due to the abrupt silence that quickly filled the room.

Thomas sucked in a breath.

"What?"

Thanks,

Gwynn J.