Daniel was quick to learn that being in the body of a baby was more frustrating than he had ever imagined. It was understandable why they were always so fussy and always crying. It was the only way to signal when something was needed.

Hungry? Cry.

Sleepy? Cry

Need to be changed? Cry.

It was as primitive as could be. But it did indeed work.

It had only taken a few hours for Daniel to learn he was in an orphanage. Where it was, was anyone's guess, but he had been brought up in enough foster homes and homes for boys to realize what an orphanage was.

The matrons seemed nice enough. Though he was only a baby therefore not yet old enough to get into trouble.

His days as a baby seemed to boil down to a simple routine. Crying, feeding, napping. On occasion, he would have a doctor's appointment, and he did catch a cold once, but Daniel's days as a baby were rather limited and routine.

The infant years passed rather quickly for him. Soon his limbs were growing and he was walking on two feet. He no longer required crying to signal what he needed. But as he grew so did the others in the orphanage. And as primitive as babies were, so too were children.

Hierarchies quickly formed. Taller children tried to assume leadership roles, becoming bullies and harassing others. Hoping to stay out of the developing Darwinian situations that were emerging, Daniel had decided that sealing himself off from the others would have been his best route. It had worked to limited success when he was in group homes before.

But as he quickly learned that silence was a sign of weakness, and he had been thrown to the bottom of the orphanage's hierarchy.


The gears of the bike clinked as Daniel rode through the streets. He coughed and pulled his jacket closer to his body bending his body over the handlebars of the bike, pushing his legs to pedal faster. The bells rang through the town and plenty of the children rushed out of the orphanage chatting and laughing.

He let the wind wash over his face, thankful that his glasses blocked out some of it, as he turned the corner. He pedaled past the various shops and crowded streets of Little Hangleton and towards the outskirts of the town, to a large rundown manner resting on the top of a hill.

He pulled towards a small house near the edge of the property dropping his bicycle on the grass and moving toward the home.

He opened the door, feeling his chilled bones already defrosting as he removed his scarf and coat. Setting the articles on the coat rack by the door he wiped his feet and moved into the home.

"Frank!" He called out moving toward the kitchen. "Frank are you in?"

"Here!" an old voice called out from the kitchen. "I'm in here! Just setting the tea!"

Daniel smiled and entered the kitchen. It was small, crammed more like. Every chair seemed to be constantly in the way, not to mention the small counter made it nearly impossible for two people to sit down together.

The small wood stove was burning hot and Frank stood in the center of the kitchen, hunched over and running his fingers over his mustache, just as he always did when deep in thought. Daniel smiled at the old man, looking up and wringing his hands together to get them warm.

"Heya Frank!" Daniel said moving to stand beside the man.

"Hello, Daniel! Now, I know my hearing going, but did I hear you drop your bicycle on the grass?" Daniel flushed and bowed his head keeping quiet. "Right. I thought I told you to leave it leaning on the side of the house?"

"Sorry Frank," he said. "It won't happen again."

"Right it won't young man. Otherwise, I'll have to drink a whole kettle alone," Frank said as the kettle began to whistle. But as he fetched it and began to pour he looked to Daniel and winked at the boy setting him at ease.

Daniel smiled and took his cup blowing onto it gently before taking a sip. He looked up to Frank, still a bit downtrodden that at eight years old he still wasn't very tall. He was growing still, but to still be smaller than the other boys in the home was still a bit disheartening. Not to mention his voice. Every time he spoke he wanted to rub a cheese grader against his ears.

He sounded so young. Too young. But he decided to simply move through. He was eight, and eight-year-olds sounded annoying.

"So what have we got today Frank?" Daniel asked taking his cup and sitting on the counter.

"What we have today," Frank began before grabbing Daniel and setting him onto a stool, "Is not much. Snows are expected to start tonight, so I won't waste either of our times on mowing if the snow will cover it up anyway."

"So what are we to do?"

Frank laughed and motioned for Daniel to follow him. The rest of the house was almost as cramped as the kitchen. As they moved through, however, Daniel's eye landed on the case that sat on a small side table. It held a small medal with a blue and white striped ribbon. Although he had known, as well as heard from others in the small village, that Frank had flown in the war, seeing the medal always put Daniel in a small state of awe.

Frank opened a door and ushered Daniel in. it was a small room, two large bookshelves adorning the walls and a great oak desk towards the back of the room. Papers were strewn about the room, books stacked in piles on the floor. There was a horrible amount of dust in the air making Daniel cough and wish he could wrap his scarf around his nose.

"I've uh, I've been meaning to clean out the study. I haven't had the time, or the energy if I'm being honest. But with the snows falling, and you here to help, I figured why not." Frank moved behind the desk and took a seat.

"Are you going to help?"

"I'm gonna supervise," Frank pointed out, reaching into his coat and pulling out a wooden pipe. "You're gonna sort through the books and put them on the shelves."

"Half these books are heavier than I am!" Daniel moaned as he looked at a rather hefty tome. "It'll take me a week at least to get through half this mess."

"Hmmm, I see your point Mr. Lovage." Frank chuckled and set the pipe on the desk leaning forward and looking around the room. "I'll tell you what. If you manage to sort through and organize at least one row on each bookcase, I'll tell you a story from the war."

Even though he wasn't eight years old, he was still on some level the person he was before. And that included the part of him that was a history buff. So with more excitement than should be required, Daniel went about stacking and organizing books that very well may have been heavier than he was.

Frank simply smiled and lit his pipe, happy to simply have the boy with him.


The light from the candle barely burned bright enough for Daniel to read the small printed words. He put his hand underneath his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He let out a tired sigh and closed the book.

His eyes shifted to the wall clock. He winced. It was late. Far too late for him to be out.

The curfew for younger children was six o'clock, and with him being an hour and a half late to get home, he would most certainly be punished.

Standing up and snapping the book closed, Daniel moved away from the table and into the numerous shelves. He scanned through and slid his book into a space missing a book.

"Hello orphan boy," a voice sneered behind him. Daniel froze and mentally cursed himself. "Whatcha doing here?"

Daniel turned, coming face to face with three boys. They were all taller, bigger. They had smirks woven into their faces and the lead boy had his arms crossed.

"Michael," Daniel said. "I'm just reading. I'm just trying to get home."

"You shouldn't be here anyway. Didn't you see the sign out front, no orphans allowed," he and the other boys sniggered.

Daniel bowed his head and tried to push past the boys.

"Ah ah ah! Come on now Orphan boy, we're hanging out."

"It's past curfew," he tried to say.

"Oh come now. Live a little," Michael said holding him in place and lightly slapping his face. "We just wanna talk."

A pit grew in Daniel's stomach and he braced his body for a blow.


He dragged his feet into the house, his arm was clutching his bruised torso. His nose was dripping blood onto his jacket. His breath shuddered and he was grateful that most of the caretakers would be asleep, otherwise his bad day would turn worse.

He moved to the stairs, his body aching as he lifted his legs up and used the railing to pull his body up. He was thankful that he was ten. Anyone younger than ten didn't get their own room, instead of having to share a communal area where everyone slept.

Halfway up his lungs began stinging with every breath. Grinding his teeth he forced himself up. He bit his tongue trying to keep himself from groaning. He managed to get to the top, his nose had stopped bleeding, though he was sure he left a trail from the front door to the top of the stairs.

"Daniel?" A voice whispered. He sighed, stopping and looking to his left.

A girl stood off to the side, she wore a white nightdress and was frowning at him. Daniel closed his eyes and forced a bloody smile.

"Ellie," he said. "Go back to bed."

She walked forward quickly, taking his arm and pulling him from the stairs.

"What happened?" She demanded, dragging him through the hall. She passed a few doors and pulled him into a small room.

It was the size of a closet. A small bed and a dresser on one side of the room and a desk pushed to the side. She sat Daniel down on the bed and looked down at him.

"What happened?" She demanded again.

"Nothing." He said bowing his head. He had been older, he had been years older, yet after years of being a baby, treated as the age he had been, he seemed to have regressed. His mind was sharp as it had ever been, yet he was a child all the same. "It's nothing."

Ellie sighed and grasped his hand pulling it up. She observed the knuckles and noticed the broken skin. She shook her head and moved to her armoire. She rattled through digging through and reaching the bottom until she managed to pull out an old shirt.

It was small, too small for how tall she was. It seemed too small for anyone. She gripped the fabric and tore pulling it apart easily. She knelt before him and began to wrap his knuckles. Daniel grit his teeth and hissed, closing his eyes as his poped knuckles stung against the fabric.

"Was it Michael?" She asked gripping any strip of fabric and tying it off on his other hand.

"Yes."

"Where?"

He closed his eyes and sucked down a gulp of air. He could feel his throat closing up, his eyes beginning to sting.

"It doesn't matter." He croaked.

"It does."

He scoffed and stood up slowly his body still aching and begging for rest.

"Not when it's us." He left to his own bed, shambling and trying to keep his tears in.


Daniel wiped the sweat from his brow, taking a rest in the shade, panting as Frank handed him a glass of water.

"Lawn is looking magnificent," Frank laughed before taking a seat.

"Why am I getting paid barely anything for doing all the work?" Daniel panted as he stared out at the lawn

"I'm supervising," they both said before chuckling.

"Besides," Frank said alone, "my knee is beginning to go. Doctors told me I'll need a wheelchair in a few years."

"I thought you didn't trust doctors?"

"I don't," Frank said. "This one said I'd need a wheelchair at the end of the year. So I'm giving myself a few."

"Excuse me!' Frank and Daniels heads turned quickly. Both of them confused, as no one had ever come to the old Riddle manor for anything. Other than to bother Frank, or young couples hoping for a moment alone.

But coming up to the small house Frank inhabited, was a woman wearing the strangest clothes either of them had seen. But suddenly, a switch clicked in Daniels mind. The woman was still walking, but he caught a glimpse of her face. McGonagall, he thought a sense of excitement bubbling up in him.

"Hello?" Frank said walking over to meet her. Daniel hung back behind Frank. "Hello, May I help ya ma'am?"

The woman stopped short of reaching Frank and smiled politely.

"Hello sir, I am Professor McGonagall. I have been to Hangleton Children's Home looking for a Daniel Lovage, but they told me I could find him here. Would you be Mr. Frank Bryce?"

"I am," Frank nodded but eyed her suspiciously. He glanced over to Daniel then back to her. "What do you want with 'im? You called yourself a professor? You from some sort of school?"

"Indeed I am," McGonagall answered. "Our school has taken an interest in Mr. Lovage. We're hoping that he would be willing to attend."

Frank looked at her and then back to Daniel sending the boy a questioning glance. Trying to seem unsure, he shrugged and nodded.

Frank nodded as well and looked back to McGonagall. "Right, I suppose you'll want to come in. Can I offer ya' tea?"

"Yes thank you," the three walked into the cramped house, Frank showing McGonagall to the living room. She and Daniel sat, Frank, said he'd be back and left for the kitchen to set the kettle.

Alone with McGonagall Daniel smiled shyly and ducked his head, unsure if he should speak first. He was thankfully saved by her when she cleared her throat and began to speak.

"If I may ask, why are you here and not at the children's home?"

"I, well, I work here. I help Frank with some of the work and he pays me."

"I see," McGonagall said nodding. "Well, as I told Mr. Bryce, my name is Professor McGonagall. I'm from a special school. We wish for you to attend."

"Why me?" He asked. "I'm not that special."

McGonagall smiled and was about to reply when Franks's heavy footsteps echoed into the room. He entered the room two cups of tea in his hands. He smiled, a bit unsure of himself and set the mugs down.

"I, well I wasn't sure how you took it," he said quietly.

"It's fine, thank you," McGonagall said, her smile thin.

Frank nodded and looked around before taking the seat next to Daniel.

"So, uhh, this school your from, what's uh, well what is it exactly?" Frank asked.

"It's a place for special people. For special people just like Daniel here. You see—"

"Now just wait a damned minute!" Frank said, his voice rising and face going red. "Now look here, I'm not sure who told you what, but he's not, well, he is a special boy, a good boy. But he ain't, you know, special. Sure he can be a little slow on the uptake, but I'll be damned if I let you sit here and talk about my—about him, like that."

Both McGonagall and Daniel sat wide-eyed for a moment, surprised at Franks outburst. Daniel smiled at the protectiveness with which Frank spoke. It made his mouth twitch upward a bit. But then he ran through the small outburst and looked over to Frank. The hell does he mean slow on the uptake?

McGonagall recovered fast however and cleared her throat before she began again. "Mr. Bryce I assure you that the school I represent is not a place for children such as that. We are however a school for the gifted. And boys, as well as girls much like Daniel, are invited to attend this institute."

Franks's face went from red with anger to embarrassment. "O—oh. Well… right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

"It is fine Mr. Bryce. But I must say, that this school is not a typical school."

"What you mean?"

"It is a school for the gifted. The magical." McGonagall finished with a smile.

"Magical?" both Frank and Daniel said.

"Indeed. Ah, I can already see Mr. Bryce is skeptical. Perhaps a demonstration?" Frank looked over at Daniel when McGonagall pulled out her want. He had a look that said, Maybe she's the one that's special.

But with the flick of her wrist, a bright flaming bird shot out from her wand. It screeched and flew through the room, it's flaming wings touching everything but burning nothing. It flapped its wings and sent a strong gust of wind through the room before screeching and flying towards the ceiling. Its beak touched the roof, and then poof. It had disappeared as if it had never been there.

Frank and Daniel turned their shocked faces towards McGonagall, eyes wide and jaws nearly on the floor.

Leaning forward, Daniel cleared his throat. "When do I start?