Somewhere in the outskirts of the Kentish area of England, the annual Wizarding Summer Market was taking place. Over the past decade, a yearly tradition had been adopted where each family shall contribute to a stall and show what they have to offer to the rest of the community in the hope that they learn the value of sharing. It was argued against for the first three years where it was deemed childish, but eventually when small concerts and gaming stalls opened younger people began to enjoy it, along with their families. There was always a beautiful mixture of scents from the area: fresh fruits; Cockroach Clusters and Liquorice Wands from the sweet stalls; the grassy and odd smells of wood from the area dedicated to broomsticks and building materials; the dustiness of the second hand book auction.

This was the childhood of all teenagers in the area, and was notably important to none other than Isaac Equiorious, a pureblood teen whose only dedications in life were to play Quidditch and own a Norwegian Ridgeback dragon. He knew these could be viewed a poor goals to want to achieve, but his family had a thing for wizarding sport and he adored their traditions.

"Isaac, stop staring and get on with something!" snapped his mother, Louisa Equiorious. Having been previously married to a selfish man, whose obsession with money drove her away, she feel deeply in love with Isaac's father, John and never stopped loving him since. However, because Isaac's scatty little brother, they had been late for their stall. This year, they had decided to make small creature figurines with their aunts and uncles, and cousins.

"I'm sorry, I was just admiring the place," he muttered, before grudgingly stepping of the vegetated wall, and attending to a petite little girl who was besotted with a little figurine his cousin Angela had crafted. He noticed that her ginger hair was brighter than most, and she delivered a little smile. "Hello there, young lady. That pixie is very pretty, is she not?"

Ignoring the hassled comments flooding from his mother's mouth, he grinned at this little girl's gleaming face. "How much is it?"

"For you," he picked it up, and examined it. The figurine was a female pixie, with shimmering blue skin, sparkles distributed generously across the arms and legs, and belly. "A couple of galleons- if you take good care of it!"

"No, no, no..." bickered a man and his wife who were approaching rather quickly for Isaac's liking. He felt bad for speaking so informally with the little child- perhaps he was just intimidated far too easily. The husband, who wore circle shaped glasses was also wearing a posh blazer which indicated that he was obviously very well-off. And the wife: Isaac became star-struck. It was none other than Ginny Weasley, former member of the Holyhead Harpies! His breathing stopped for a moment before realising the little girl must be their youngest child. "Lily does not need another toy..."

"I beg to differ! This one is a souvenir, from her trip to Westgate-on-Sea, Harry. She's never had one of these before. And you let James get that painting of a Quaffle..." Ginny was attempting to be persuasive and eventually husband Harry Potter gave in, just in time for them to be face to face with Isaac; a lanky Hogwarts student who felt completely inferior, but acted as though he wasn't.

Isaac put his chin up, and smile on. "Good afternoon! I see you daughter has spotted this wonderful pixie! Ah yes, she can have it for two galleons since it's considerably small..."

"Hm..." Harry seemed reluctant. "Alright, Mr..?"

"Equiorious, Mr Potter-sir,"

Interrupting his sales, his over enthusiastic mother stepped in to fierce shake the hands of the parents, who seemed to grudgingly return the gesture. "Oh look at you too!"

"Mum..." Isaac groaned. What was worse, was his nine year old brother stepping onto the scene. The black haired trouble maker was embarrassing him!

"I like that pixie too," he added, childishly to Lily- who was roughly the same age. "I think you should buy it. It's pretty, like you,"

"Oh dear, sorry about him. Osias doesn't think before he speaks..." Isaac said hurriedly. To his shock, the famous couple disregarded the comment completely, besides a short bout of laughter afterwards. Two galleons were handed over sooner than expected, and then they left. Apparently they were feeling exhausted having spent all day hunting for their two sons. They had rather peculiar names if he remembered rightly. Albian Severear...or something and James Serious? Odd like his brother's name: his father named him. Isaac's mother gave him a more discrete name. His middle name though, Rafferty, was given to him in honour of his comedic Uncle, on his father's side. A little on the unique side, but he liked the originality of it.

He carried on for the next few hours, getting into various quarrels with his less-than-amusing dragon bogey of a brother, and being hurried about by his dad, who was keen to visit several Quidditch stalls. Until he had apologised for very obviously shoving his younger sibling however, he was not allowed to accompany him. It was going to be a long day then...

In the Forbidden Forest was a pack of seething werewolves being rounded up by a cloaked somebody. He was hissing profusely at the all, and whipping them into action. They were shocked that the Cruciatus Curse had even been brought up once or twice. Although it was remarkable that they could be controlled by anyone, they were in severe pain and nobody was helping them. They were lucky to desert the group if they formulated a serious plan of action.

From above, all that could be seen were fleshy groups of muddy brown and red. From the slits in their skin, and the dull howling- pleading on their part- it could hardly go unnoticed, yet it did. Over the course of the three months this abuse had continued to go on for: five had died, and been thrown into a ditch with one another's bodies. Some of the group elected to be this way forever, but others were human when there was no full moon, and so they had to watch each other- barely clothed- bleeding and drowning in their sorrows.

Most were too weak to do anything. Most did not understand why they had been brought here, but they were always being monitored by those who believed themselves superior. Those pathetic, ruthless wizards.

Every now and then, without their 'masters' knowing, they would dare to sneak glances upon the tents of those controlling them. Sometimes, going as far as to cause small rips in the fabric: this ending in severe beating, of course. For some though, the thrill of causing them anger and infuriation, was the only fun they had.

"Psst," growled one, to another in their sleeping area. He was clinging to his infected ear, groaning in some sort of pain, but trying to do so privately.

He registered a sharp look of anguish from whom he was communicating with. The other werewolf clearly did not wish to talk, in fear that he would be beaten. "What?" he spoke hastily. This one was currently in human form, curled between a thick layer of itchy fabric, the trauma playing before his eyes.

"It's me-Charlus!"

"How nice of you to greet me," he whispered, his hateful sarcasm causing emotional pain from Charlus, but he remained persistent.

"I know. I was wondering, Victor," he checked around. "Would I get in trouble if I went and found my family?"

"Yes," he said simply before turning the other way to indicate a conclusion to their conversation.

Charlus was annoyed that Victor was unwilling to converse; how could they all survive if they did not keep themselves sane and as a team? "Why?"

"Are you stupid?" Victor shuddered: "They'll rip you to pieces, and your family too. I tried it a week ago- now I'm not even sure where they're located anymore. Give up, dreamer! We lose,"

With nothing to say, Charlus returned to leaning painfully against the tree stump. He wiped some blood from his chest and used his yellowing claws to draw what resembles a half-moon with three spikes, and two curled lines between each. He was sure that he hadn't given up hope, even is his 'friend' had. Even if, his 'friend' hated him, he was going to do everything with the little energy he had stored left to take down 'the Abusives'- as they were secretly named amongst the group. He'd do it or die trying, as far as he was concerned. Charlus Thickskin was not entirely intelligent, but his strength had long since been underestimated.

Laying in deep thought was the now employed Candance. Her seventeenth birthday had not arrived yet, which aggravated her slightly: worst, she had to go a full Summer without magic. This was indeed the worst news she'd heard, but still could not argue that a job at Luna Lovegood's new Creature Clinic was nothing to sneeze at!

Her wand was lying in it's respective box beneath her bedroom collage of popular Muggle bands, and television shows. She didn't want to look at it, as it teased her- though it reminded her of the fun she would have when she returned.

Pictures of her friends from primary school were dotted evenly, mixed with moving images of her Hogwarts counterparts. Her favourite was the picture of her closest friend, Gina violently spitting out a vomit flavoured Bertie Bott's Bean. This was a favourable memory from her third year. Another picture that always brought smiles to her face was one taken with her twit of a friend, Fredrick Peters- a half-blood. They irritated each other, but enjoyed it. In the image, he was fiddling about with a quill whilst unbeknownst to him, the ink from the pot was dribbling all down his potions essay. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten too far into it, but she new that he was seemingly peeved after this.

What bothered her mostly about being a Muggleborn, was that she couldn't tell her cousins, and her neighbours' kids. When Candance began her accidental magic at the age of five, there was a serious amount of explaining to do when she accidentally set Mrs Jones' brown mullet aflame. It was rather entertaining, but resulted in their neighbours' minds being erased, and the Furgor family offering compensation towards a wig of her choice. Despite the humiliation, Candance was able to discover her abilities. Now she felt like a secret storing traitor.

"Honey," called her father, trotting up the stairs. "I brought you something!" A smile graced her bored face at her father's excitement. He entered the room, momentarily glaring at the wand and then her.

"Hello, Dad," she said glumly.

"What's the matter? What happened to Can-do Candance?"

"She realised how she can't do magic out of school until June next year. And how stupid that nickname is!" she giggled.

"Well," he used his mobile phone to present a picture of a elaborately decorated cake displaying the number '42' across it. It was a series of layers with golden vines wiggling and edible miniature boats floating on the sides- her mother's birthday would be approaching shortly, and her navy past inspired this cake design. "I'm having this delivered in a couple of weeks- don't tell your mother," he whispered cheekily, impressed with himself.

"Good job, Dad. She'll like it- and eat all of it, no doubt!"

"Now, about your grumpiness. You've spent a few years without magic, why get upset now? You've got the best of both worlds! A muggle television," he pointed sternly to a small box partnered with a remote control. "And bloomin' powers for crying out loud! How is that something to whine about?"

"I just miss Hogwarts, and my friends. And I hate that this is a secret. It's a stupid idea keeping a secret. Why are we scared of Muggles? You're just a nice as we are!"

Heath Furgor seated himself near her pillows and stoked her back. "I'm flattered that you think that. But take Mrs 'Fire-Hair' Jones for example; she'd probably get you imprisoned or trialled for demonic witchcraft or something. Some people just don't accept it. You're my daughter, so I've learnt to. It's life,"

"I got a job," she added randomly.

"Great! Is the pay good? Does it get you good galleony things?"

"Galleons, dad and I'm...not sure yet. I think so...I'm going to be a doctor's assistant. But for creatures,"

He was fascinated with his daughter's career choice. Inside though, he was scared something magical would happen to her dealing with these odd species. "So like, cool ten legged lizards and things that can fly?"

Candance was overcome with amusement at the misunderstanding, but carried on. "Yes. Something like that!"

"Now, you're in trouble for laughing at me. And you're going to be sentenced to tickling as punishment..." he said this firmly, whilst point his finger towards her face. She feigned shame for a moment.

"You'd never do that- I'm too old,"

Ten minutes later, she was red faced, heavily breathing and clutching her stomach on the floor. Evidently, she was wrong. She loved her father. Even if he was a Muggle.

After four hours of stubbornly deciding that an apology was not in order, Isaac finally gave in. The other stalls were beckoning him to purchase from them, and he had forewarned a friend he was there. Beforehand, they decided that they would meet by the Dirigible Plums stall, where his family would be frantically bagging their home made fruits for the hungry people. His friend was not there though.

"He's gone looking for you, dear," his friend's Aunt Helena alerted him. To his disappointment he had spend half an hour walking about in-between a maze of friendly families and squealing children. He knew he couldn't wish for fresh air, considering he was already outside. A rest was well in order at this point so he stepped out of the stall area, and over to a medium sized stage where more people were gathering, chatting animatedly over something he'd never heard about.

When he'd bustled his to the front, a deputation of middle-aged singers were singing as they exited the stage, carrying plump toads on their arms; the same could not be said for all. The clumsiest stood out by chasing his toad off in the wrong direction, through the audience, whilst simultaneously trampling an elderly spectator. On to the stage, arrived a thin woman grinning devilishly as she pulled a long an Acromantula. All eight legs were bound with ropes and all of it's eyes were sullen. The crowd roared with excitement.

" 'ere," the tall lady began. " Is an Acromantula. Dangerous, feisty and intelligent. Say hello to the crowd, now Timothy," she jabbed the poor beast with a stick and it gnawed in her direction. Ignoring the distress it was in, she dared to continue. Isaac knew exactly how this would end up. Still, the crowd were captivated by this huge creature. The way it's body was five times larger than the woman's was comical indeed, but how could they feel so happy to see it suffer? Come on! Isaac screamed in his head. Stupid beast, tell her you care or something. I'd give her a good talking to if I were you. Salazar's sake, eat her or something! Isaac was beginning to feel riled up.

"Now now, ladies and gentlemen, he can bite, but he's a friendly one. He loves music," her long face indicated for the music to be played. Celestina Warbeck came on straight away and the woman was using several charms and wand movements: the beast began an eight-legged tap-dance. Why is no one else saying anything? Why are they cheering? It is neither clever nor entertaining!

Getting cross with everything meant he was fatally distracted. Consequently meaning the advances of his 'lost' friend would go unnoticed and take him by surprise-

"Ah!" he squealed, attracting numerous angered glares. "What are you doing, Ace? You sly piece of thestral dung!" he whispered, so as to not annoy the public once more.

He pretended to be strongly hurt by Isaac's choice insult, before returning to his cocky self. "Just reporting for duty, officer," he gestured a salute.

"I've looked for you for ages, where were you?"

"...um...I don't actually remember." Ace scratched his sandy mop hair, and then his suitably shaped nose. "All I remember is that it was stupidly boring. I couldn't tell you about me because my old man was giving me a lecture about why it is rude to sleep through something he find's interesting. I'm here now though, aren't I?"

"Sadly..." Isaac was irritated by how his friend could always be so careless sometimes.

"Watch it young man...wait...what's that spider thing?" He too appeared slightly annoyed by the incompetence of the skeletal witch. "She very ugly," Ace stated simply, without consideration.

"I know," Isaac nodded disgustedly. Her emphasised facial features were not the image of beauty by a long shot. "That sad Acromantula, though, looks embarrassed and in pain."

Agreeing slightly, Ace pulled his wand out, ensuring it was unseen by those enjoying the performance. "Confundo!" A small jet of light went unnoticed and hit the woman marching about with her 'pet'. She stumbled to the side, releasing the ropes from her bony fingers. For a moment, the two seventh year friends were chuckling, before the Acromantula decided he was well an truly free. Then, disaster struck. "Serves the troll right, I suppose," Ace wandered off as though everything that was happening, was not.

The Acromantula was booming towards members of the jeering crowd, and threatening to bite them if they did not step away. Women were running towards and gripping to their nervous husbands, causing havoc. The revenge wasn't even dangerous, really. It had not attacked a soul, staying the better creature in all. Ace had forgotten to place his wand away though. And now, he looked stupendously suspicious. A moron their age noticed- Kieren McClaggen from school- decided to announce his suspicions to the entire premises.

"Ace, you really are an idiot sometimes," Isaac didn't even know what to tell his friend at this stage, having known him be this way since they were five. They immediately ran around the stalls away from the vengeful crowds, tripping clumsily over people's items and accidentally pushing past little children.

"They're gaining, mate," Ace pointed out, ever so kindly.

"Cheers. You know, I think your act of kindness has nearly made me forget how you have gotten us into complete-"

Ace stuck out his arm, to stop him in his tracks before shoving him under a couple of empty barrels. He felt the dripping of left over Butterbeer on his hair. How pleasant. A few minutes later, he lifted it, revealing only his cautious eyes, which concluded that no one was close by, trying to kill them for ruining the act.

Both of them emerged to find the area had been isolated, probably due to the fact a killer spider the size of a mountain had been released. Despite Ace's attempts to make the event laughable, Isaac was still concerned about where his family were and what they would say. Before he could finish his thoughts though, a spindly hairy thing lingered on his shoulder, causing it to tense. When he looked behind however, he was confronted by Timothy, the Tap-Dancing Acromantula.

"I am forever in your debt, gentlemen," Neither of them could speak, and Isaac shuddered, aware that one of the eight legs had rested on his clothes. "What you have done has released me from her hands," he added scornfully. "My name is actually Lazarus. Timothy is a dreadful name for someone like me," he cracked a smile,

"I-I...my name is-"

"My name is Ace, sir," he'd clearly plucked up more courage. That, or he wasn't feeling sick because a giant spider almost cuddled him. "That's Isaac. He's the one who noticed you in the first place, I just thought... the woman deserved it, you know?"

Sighing exasperatedly, Isaac nudged his friend. "I think he would considering his... treatment by her," he feared that if he were to touch a sensitive topic 'Isaac Flambé' would be the next meal served at the Web Diner.

"No, no," Lazarus grinned. "She did deserve it...I have to go now," he ran of in a rush. They realised why when nosy Daily Prophet reporters appeared and took blinding images while asking wild amounts of questions. Ace's parents Mr and Mrs Yearns were steaming with fury, and Isaac's little brother blew multiple raspberries indicating he was in for big trouble when the paparazzi had left. Let the excitement begin, thanks to my good buddy Ace.

I liked writing this chapter :)

I think I am growing to like Isaac and Ace already; they're a bit like the Marauders, huh? I definitely like Candance's father, who is a classic Dad, if you ask me.

Thank you, please review and let me know of an errors which need to be corrected. Sorry about them.