"Well that was dramatic." Mrs. O'Sullivan stood up her back to a grand fireplace, decorated with flying ravens. Thomas blink once, twice to confirm but the raven were flying across the mantel. The marvel of seeing the wood grain move and breath with the bird amazed Thomas. Sitting in trees that made the sides. Taking notice of Thomas staring eyes, one turned and winked at him.

"Your-your ravens are winking." Thomas gaped in wonder. Could wood always do that? No, then perhaps the O'Sullivan's were demons like the Rows claimed. If they were... Thomas looked at the smiling women, and colourful boy who had saved him. He wouldn't care.

"They do that." Mrs. O'Sullivan waved that off. Lars groaned and rolled his eyes.

"You know Mother." Lars came over and pulled Thomas away from the fireplace. To the purple and cherry wood settee that was before it. Pushing Thomas by the shoulders, he got him to sit. Thomas looked at the wood of the settee but was a bit sad not to see any moving parts. "I doubt Thomas has seen that sort of thing before." Lars sat beside Thomas. Patting his knee, he got Thomas's attention. "I must say Thomas you're taking this rather well."

Thomas shrugged. I mean teleportation to another room? A bit shocking. Thomas couldn't say it was normal by any means, but neither was pointing a stick at people. Calling people muggles and Thomas still hadn't forgotten about that. Having a fireplace where the carvings moved, it was all strange. Peeking around Mrs. O'Sullivan he could see a few ravens now perched on the top of the mantle. Strutting around while he looked on. It was more fascinating than scary.

"Oh, right!" Mrs. O'Sullivan tapped her fist into an open hand. "I tend to forget the small details." Mrs. O'Sullivan grabbed a yellowed envelope from behind one of the birds. "This will straighten things right up." She passed Thomas the letter. Taking in with gentle hands, Thomas looked at the front of his first ever piece of mail.

"That's how you're going to explain it?" Lars slapped his forward with his palm. "I should have waited for Father." Lars grumbled beside him.

"The Nest?" Thomas asked out loud. Wondering where that was after reading the emerald green letters. That were addressed Mr. T. Cloverleigh, Second Floor- Joint Room, The Nest.

"He hasn't even opened it yet, and you've already confused him." Lars sighed and slumped to his corner of the settee.

"Oh hush." Mrs. O'Sullivan knelt in front of Thomas. Her hands rubbed his knees. "This is the Nest. This is our home." Thomas nodded at those stormy eyes. Not ready to believe that this nice place was his home. That despite only seeing one room, it was already way nicer than the orphanage.

"Open it and I'll answer any questions." Mrs. O'Sullivan folded her legs down, getting more comfortable on the floor. Thomas looked at the floor. The carpet looked nice and soft, but shouldn't she be on the seat and him on the floor?

"Mother likes sitting on the floor." Lars spoke up. Leaning back, comfortable in his slouched position.

"It's true!" Mrs. O'Sullivan nodded and clapped her hands together. "Traditional seating is so restricting!" Thomas nodded, many chairs back were hard and uncomfortable. Maybe the floor is better. Thomas looked at the cushy cream rug Mrs. O'Sullivan sat on. It did look comfy.

"Can-can I sit with you?" Thomas stuttered out, wanting to try it but not wanting to seem needy or anything.

"The more, the merrier!" Mrs. O'Sullivan scooted back in her skirt and Thomas slid of the settee and sat on the floor. It was better! "Better?" Thomas nodded it was much softer than the settee, and he could stretch his legs out too.

"You've gone and ruined him mother." Lars laughed, flipping his legs onto the settee to stretch out. "More room for me." Lars grinned. Thomas shook his head, and he felt a rare smile form on his lips. Everyone was so happy here.

"Now open it, open it!" Mrs. O'Sullivan bounced up and down. Thomas ripped open the red seal back as fast as he could. Caught up in Mrs. O'Sullivan's eager nature. Pulling out a letter, he read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Derrick Longbottom

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Cloverleigh,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Francis Walker

Thomas read it not once, but twice. Then folded the paper on his lap, and closed his eyes with a sigh. A witch was much better than a demon. Although he made his choice to follow the O'Sullivan even if they did turn out to be demons. It was a relief that he, they, weren't.

"Thomas are you okay." Mrs. O'Sullivan's soft brogue made him open his eyes.

"I'm not a demon." Thomas felt his eyes getting watery. He knew, he knew he wasn't a demon, but still after being called one for so long...he would be a liar if he didn't have his doubts.

"Never!" Mrs. O'Sullivan grabbed his hands and pulled them to her chest. Holding them so tight that Thomas could feel her nails trembling. "You are the son of my best friend — a right brilliant witch!" Her eye went pale grey with her own tears, chocking on her words. She snuffled. "I should make them mark the day they dare convince you otherwise. That horrid couple!"

"What I miss?" Mr. O'Sullivan appeared with a pop, making Thomas jump.

"Thomas relieved his not a demon." Lars said pulling himself up to sit upright. "I hope you gave that couple what was coming to them." Lars came to lay a hand on Thomas's shoulder.

"I fixed them up. No worries." Mr. O'Sullivan scowled. "Nasty couple shouldn't have any children." Continuing, he spoke to Thomas "Your a mixed-breed wizard, Thomas." "Mix-breed?" Thomas asked blinking away his tears. Mrs. O'Sullivan let him go to wipe away her own tears.

"Wizard?" He wasn't a witch? Thomas looked around confused.

"A male witch." Mr. O'Sullivan rubbed his wife's shoulders while she leaned against him. "Didn't you two tell him?" Mr. O'Sullivan looked down at his wife. She smiled and turned her eyes away and a whistle.

"She just handed him the letter." Lars said. Thomas watched him snitch on his own mother with wide eyes.

"The cart before the dragon again?" Mr. O'Sullivan shook his head with a smile. Looking up Mr. O'Sullivan looked at Thomas with a soft smile. One Thomas had seen the girl use when they saw a particular cute animal. "To say it straight. You have three parents"

"Three?" Thomas asked with a blinked. Now he didn't know much, Thomas wouldn't deny that, but he knew it took two to make three. Not three to make four. The math was off for sure.

"Your parents were a special case." Mrs. O'Sullivan added. Not making things any clearer.

"Oh, for nest's sake's!" Lars chimed in. "Your father was a vampire Thomas, he had two mates! One was a witch and the other a siren." Thomas turned his head with a snap. His mind spinning with so many questions he didn't know where to even begin to think! "Things get dicey from there, on who did what, to get you." Lars slapped his shoulder. "All that really matters is that you're here!"

"Well said Lars." Mr. O'Sullivan nodded. "I don't know much about them. I was only friends with Terra." Mrs. O'Sullivan shook her head. "It was a whirlwind courtship." Mrs. O'Sullivan added. "I do have pictures! You look like your father! Pointy ears and all." Mrs. O'Sullivan smiled big, and Thomas reached beneath his hair to touch his ears. "Would you like to see them now?" Noticing Thomas's movement.

"Not now." Thomas shook his head. He wanted to see them, of course he wanted to! Not now though, he needed time to think. Vampires, witched, wizards, parents it was all too much to take in at once!

"Are you sure that I am one?" Thomas asked. If he had all this magic, because surly vampires and sirens had something too. Of that Thomas was sure. Why is it that he could never get the kids or the Rows to stop bullying him? "A wizard?" Thomas added the others in for good measure. "Vampire, siren thing."

"Think on it Thomas." Lars said. "I'm sure you've done something."

"With your hair, maybe? I saw the other boys cuts." Mr. O'Sullivan said.

"I can't image what else they tried to do." Mrs. O'Sullivan muttered. Thomas thought back. To not only his hair, but his ears, and didn't most of the kids avoid the attic crawl space he called home. Like they were afraid of it even though Thomas did nothing.

"Maybe." Thomas whispered daring to believe.

"No maybe's Thomas. Magic." Lars said. "Do you want to come to our room?" Lars asked while moving to stand up. "I imagine you're done." Thomas nodded wearily. His head felt stuffed, he didn't sleep, but he did rest. When his head got to full — like now. Thomas paused and looked at the O'Sullivan's.

"Thank you for rescuing me." He said, life would have only gotten rougher for Thomas. With the Old Man gone, he had lost his only escape.

"Can I look at those pictures tomorrow?" He asked Mrs. O'Sullivan.

"Of course! I'll get them ready." Mrs. O'Sullivan stood with the help of her husband. Giving Lars, and Thomas a quick hug.

"Rest well boys." Mr. O'Sullivan joined in on the hugs. "Told you we're huggers." Mr. O'Sullivan smiled. Not minding Thomas acted a bit stiff. "You'll get used to it." On weary legs he followed behind Lars. Not taking in the house one bit, his mind on what he had learned and the past. Thomas gripped his heart shaped locket, the Celtic knot digging into his hand. He swore he heard the brogue much thicker than the O'Sullivan's telling him that he would do great.