Notes:
The character and the setting are created by J. K. Rowling and don't belong to me.
Additional magical powers and magical system are created by Benedict Jacka in "Alex Verus" series and don't belong to me either.
Chapter 1. Discoveries
…A human figure made one tentative step after another on run-down wooden planks, climbing up a narrow flight of stairs. The slight rustling sound of footsteps seemed to be the only thing breaking the silence, beside an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. As the figure ascended, it was blindly running its left hand over the wall and holding a lit candle holder in the right.
The pathway suddenly opened to a small platform, lit by flashes of lightning, slipping through a small window on the right wall beneath the ceiling. In the dim candlelight the figure could see a small hatch in the ceiling and a ladder, leading to the attic. But the figure went past them right up to a door, which upon closer look turned out to be ajar, and gently pushed it open.
Upon entrance the figure had to bend down a bit, as a sloping roof went quite low at that spot. At the opposite side of the room there was another small window, this one heavily covered in spider web, though unoccupied by its creator. Right beneath it, on a bed frame, another human figure, much smaller, was lying on its side, face away, unmoving.
The first figure made it to the bedside and bent further down. Now, In the flashes of electric light from outside and now the light of a candle, it soon became noticeably that the head and clothing were soaking wet in blood. Its trembling hands grabbed the lying body by its shoulders and with a heavy yank turned its torso and face to itself. What stared back with lifeless eyes was my own face.
A piercing female shriek–
–wrenched me out from my dream. "Kids! Wake up, wake up!" Mom's voice rang in my ears. "Breakfast is almost ready. Get down."
I groaned and placed my left hand over my eyes, shielding them against the lucky rays of morning sun that slipped through the window. Mumbling something incomprehensible, I turned my body right away from the annoying sunlight and pulled the blanket over my head for good measure.
In mere seconds I drifted off back to sleep.
Now I found myself in a huge colorless, partly translucent sphere. I was floating in the center, as far as I could tell, next to a big glass-like orb, about half my size. There was nothing else here.
I peered at the orb, suspended in the thin air, and pulled out a finger to poke it. As soon as I felt the contact, the small circle part under my finger immediately lightened up. I drew back my hand, started. The light went out immediately, going back to the same state as before.
As I looked around, I saw that nothing had changed.
Turning back to the orb, I placed my right pointing finger on its surface again. And once again it lip up directly where my fingertip touched it. The thing seemed pretty solid. Then I lowered the rest of the fingers on the orb, now touching it with all five pads, with the same effect. More daring, I began running them along the surface, lights in and out. Something flashed in the corner of my eyes from the right. I sharply withdrew my hand and turned around.
Now I manage to catch the sight of some bright colors rapidly fading away. Keeping my face onto the outer sphere I blindly touched the orb.
The same instant a big circle area on the sphere lit up in a whirlpool of bright colors. The weird colorful fractals shifted around, constantly changing, making a breathtaking dance of hues and forms. Captivated by it all, I didn't notice in time how I floated forward a bit, just enough for my hand to slip from the orb. The bright area immediately started to go out. I couldn't help but notice that it took more time to go away, leaving a faint afterimage.
Instantly disappointed by the loss, I didn't hesitate at all to slap my whole hand on the surface. The hypnotizing pattern burst into life once more, capturing my whole being.
It started to irritate my eyes a bit but I couldn't care less. The only thing that mattered to me at the moment is to see more. With more vigor than ever I started floating around the orb, lighting up every point I could see.
It proved to be a mistake.
I was suddenly painfully aware of every speck of color around me. It's like being in a world's largest soap bubble highlighted by the most powerful light spell from all sides at once. Closing my eyes shut didn't make a bit of difference, while the sea of prismatic light was doing its best to dissolve me in itself. With a sinking heart I realized that the glow wasn't going to dim one iota this time.
A loud glass shattering sound somehow managed to break through the sensory overload–
"Ronald Weasley! Get up this instant!" I jumped up in bed, gasping for air. "Don't make me come up there myself," mom's voice echoed, leaving her threat suspended in the air.
After a moment of disorientation I shook my head, driving the vague impressions of the last dream away, and fell back on the bed. I regretted that immediately as the impulse went into my head with sharp pain, making me groan.
I waited patiently till the headache went down to the familiar haze of dull pain and yelled back "Coming!". I certainly didn't want her to carry out the threat.
I carefully rolled to the left, sitting up on the edge of the bed. I tiredly rubbed my eyes and tried to collect my thoughts. The last dream was definitely weird, whatever that was. A little unsettled I couldn't help but note that the window glass above my head was intact. And web free, to my relief. I pushed away the persistent feeling of unease.
My bedroom was located on the fifth floor of our family house. The only one living higher than me was a ghoul in the attic. He was totally harmless, though occasional musical parts he played banging on the pipes did little to improve my sleeping and headaches. Because of its location, my bedroom had a sloping roof reducing living space even further, when it didn't have much of it in the first place. I bet in a few years I'll be able to touch the ceiling with my head just by standing straight.
Everything in the room was covered in the hues of orange: from the shabby wallpaper covering the walls and even the ceiling, to the bedspread and posters on the walls with my favorite Quidditch team, Chudley Cannons. Besides those the back wall was mostly hidden by various racks of clothing and shelves packed with all sorts of stuff scattered. Among which one could find several books, mostly Quidditch and a few comics, a trunk with frog spawn and a small collection of Chocolate Frog cards. On the other side of the bed stood a nightstand where I usually kept a lamp or a candle holder, a mug and other little things.
Before I could dare as much as stand up from the bed, I suspiciously examined the whole room in search of little irregularities, not forgetting to look under the bed. With an experienced eye, I could tell small things like a book in the wrong position or traces of odd coloring, most of the time. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at the moment. I picked gray pants hanging on the bed frame and carefully shook them off to the side. There was no powder in the air, no stains of unidentifiable liquids and it even – I sniffed – smelled normally of old stale cloth. As I deemed them acceptable, I finally pulled them on and stood up. Finding a clean t-shirt proved to be a little more difficult, but doable, and after similar examination I put it on as well.
Now it was time to go to the bathroom. As I came up to the door, I ever so slowly cracked it open a little bit with a held breath, trying to hear the slightest strum or clank. At that moment my stomach decided to draw attention to itself and remind me that it's hungry with a low grumble. With a scowl I chose to rush things a little – I kicked the door wide open with a loud bang and swiftly hid behind the wall from whatever could potentially fly into my face or drop on my head. I let out a sigh of relief as nothing happened, and finally allowed myself to leave the room. With a brisk pace I went past the second window and started to climb down the stairs.
For ignorant people all these manipulations would seem more than a little strange, but I can guarantee that it was very necessary.
The reason behind it all was fairly simple – when you're living with devious pranksters as your elder twin brothers under the same roof, you quickly learn to be overly cautious of everything around you, if you want to survive and preserve your dignity.
Even more so, you do not take anything Fred and George give you in your mouth. I still remember as I almost made such a mistake when they tried me to eat an Acid Pop not too long ago. Actually, you don't take anything they give you, period.
Therefore throughout the years I learned a few tricks and routines to avoid their jokes as much as possible. Also I could, with all modesty, claim to be somewhat of an expert in the family on the topic. Unfortunately, it also meant the twins deemed me a worthy challenge and struck me twice as hard as everyone else. Or maybe it was because I was the only one younger than them, Ginny didn't count – she is a girl.
Well, everyone else but Percy, our next eldest brother, whom they pranked with some peculiar sort of eagerness, as they never actually met eye to eye. Percy was a rather cold, stuck up guy, who liked to act like an adult, even though he was still eleven. Sadly it was somewhat expected from an ice mage.
The only other people that didn't need to worry about getting caught up in their mischief were mom and Bill, the oldest brother. Despite what one might think the twins were not actually suicidal, so obviously they didn't touch mom. And Bill they actually loved the most, and it was understandable. He was a very awesome guy to be around – he didn't shy from cracking a joke and he could always tell you a story or teach you something cool. Actually I suspected it was the last reason why Bill was free from their jokes. Either that or there had been a bribe involved.
Even dad was not completely safe from the devil twins and their antics, though he had an advantage of having a safe haven – a garage where he kept his flying Ford Anglia and other Muggle trinkets he liked to play around with. He had always been very fond of all this Muggle stuff, but being able to see in the electromagnetic spectrum gave him a special fascination with electronics. He even managed to unearth Merlin knows where something called a microcomputer. By everyone else in the family, his garage looked like an alien workshop or collection of odd curiosities, so no one else usually stepped inside.
As I stumbled down the stairs, I came to the fourth floor where only two rooms were located: the master bedroom, where my parents slept, and the bathroom. The door to the bathroom was ajar but I opened it without hesitation. As this bathroom is regularly used not only by me, but mom and dad as well, it's not likely to be as thoroughly booby-trapped as my room. But still they were more than able to put some nasty stuff in my toilet necessities, so I routinely checked my brush and toothpaste, even licked it. And then, only then, I started my morning ritual with a good conscience. Today started remarkably well.
After I rigorously cleansed my mouth and washed up, I ran down for breakfast. Skipping one step at a time I raced past first Bill and Charlie's floor, then the floor residence of Percy and the twins. Poor Percy. If my room was somehow protected by the buffer in the form of two floors and parents, then Percy had to share a living space with them. I involuntarily shuddered. Below them slept only Ginny.
Ginny was the youngest among our red-headed brethren. She was the seventh, the youngest child in the family and the first girl born in generations to boot. Therefore, she was the most loved, cared for. She'd even got the whole first floor for herself, though she had to share the bathroom.
As I came down outside, I found myself in the back garden, surrounded by a wooden fence. A little bit to the right there was a pond with frogs. If you'd walk further, you'd come by huge trees opening the orchard, where my brothers practice Quidditch. To get to the kitchen's back door I had to go around the house a bit. While I was walking I could easily hear some gnomes rustling around then and there, chickens clucking and other living creatures bustling around.
When I neared the entrance to the house, a sudden thought struck me and I sharply turned around. And right on time because I had to duck the same instant, as some ball quickly flew in my direction. I barely made it in a nick of time, before the ball flew over my head, brushing my hair, and loudly crashed into a high pile of rusty cauldrons towering to the right from the back door. The ball bursted in a water splash and brought the whole construction, not very stable in the first place, down hard with a huge crash.
I winced at both the sudden spike of pain in the head and the loud clattering noise.
After rapid stumping was heard, my mom appeared from the doorway, looked at the whole mess with me solely standing on the crime scene and opened her mouth to gave me an earful, no doubt.
"It wasn't me!" I said hurriedly with wide eyes. "Something almost hit me from the back, but I dodged and it hit these cauldrons instead! It's true!" I turned my back to her and yelled. "Fred, George! Come out, you ugly–"
"Ron!" Mom scolded me. "Don't call your brother names. And George!" she called out in the same direction as I had. "I sent you to get your father! What have you been doing instead?!" I shook my head. I should have known, it was George – he was a water mage after all, such tricks were his forte: water, potions, ooze and the like.
"I'm here, mom! Why all the shouting?" asked, I'm sure Fred, from the doorway. He looked from behind mom's back. "O-o-oh, little ickle Ronnie got into trouble!"
"Don't listen to him, mom." Percy's voice called out. "George isn't back yet from wherever he is. Oh! Here you are. Ran from far?" He asked snidely.
At that me and mom rushed into the kitchen. As we entered, I saw three eldest siblings plus Ginny already sitting at the huge dining table. In the front doorway stood George slightly out of breath and red-faced from apparently all the running he'd done to get around the house so quickly. I gave him my best glare, which sadly wasn't much, and decided to get to breakfast. I left out the reprimanding and threats to mom and took the closest available seat, which turned out to be next to Ginny.
I caught only the end of mom's speech, when she decided to just smack him upside the head and get him to clean up all that mess in the back garden as a punishment. At the same time the lanky figure of my dad appeared from the front entrance, catching the last words his wife was saying.
"They already have done something, haven't they?" he asked curiously.
"He tried to hit Ron with a water bomb, but missed and made a mess at the back stairs," she replied with a shake of her head.
At that Charlie gave a thumbs up, while both the twins pulled their best innocent looks that hadn't fooled anyone. Dad sat at one of the two free seats at the head of the table.
Now when everyone was in their place, mom finally served all of us our portion of scrambled eggs with fried bacon and a side of vegetables and we all were suddenly very busy with filling our stomachs.
I made it a habit to eat as fast as possible to avoid the twins getting any ideas and sneaking something on my plate that shouldn't be there. Though they were under too much scrutiny at this point and almost half the table separated us, it didn't hurt to be a little paranoid once in a while.
As the minutes tickled by, people all around the table almost finished their food and started to distract themselves. Mom and dad were discussing something about his job which I didn't pay attention to. Bill seemed in a hurry, his look kept sliding towards the clock on the opposite wall. The twins naturally were plotting something, quite effectively communicating solely with their eyes and eyebrows. Ginny looked like she had no care in the world, and she probably hadn't.
Suddenly mom jumped up, as if remembering something. "Oh! Bill, Charlie, Percy! I have something for you." She got up from the table and went to pick something up from the fireplace. As she appeared closer it turned out to be a bunch of Hogwarts letters she passed on to the aforementioned brothers. I felt a bile in my throat.
Hogwarts has been a touchy subject for me lately. All because of my accidental magic, or rather the lack thereof.
The first bursts of accidental magic were one of the most vital moments in every person's life. My dad said that every person was born different, unique in their own way, and it was twice as true when it came to magic. Every person was born with different attributes to his magic, with an affinity of sort, which told what sort of mage they were: either they could throw the hottest fire around with no problem, or could reshape the landscape itself with a flick of a wand, or they were more attuned to the flow of life itself and manipulating it to their will is what came easiest.
Nobody knew what exactly it depended on and nobody could tell for sure what type you were. Before your first burst of accidental magic, that is.
I said that nobody knew what a person's affinity depended on, but there were some observations of a sort done throughout the magical history. For example, it was firmly accepted as a rule that family bloodline tended to produce mages of similar types.
Take my family for example, the Weasley family had always been known for their exceptional elemental mages.
Bill was a force mage. His forte were spells working directly with raw mechanical force, like summoning or banishing. You do not want to be hit by a force mage's banishing charm. However Bill's main specialty lay in protective spells: shield charms and wards. Force mages tended to make one of the best auror out there, though he wanted to become a curse-breaker. When he was little, I heard, Bill trashed the entire living room in a strong impulse of force wave, injuring dad in the process.
Charlie had been the worst (so far) in that regard – he set nearly the whole house on fire, revealing to the panicking parents and anyone looking as a strong fire mage. They nearly had a heart attack right there, right then. We still had some black scorch marks around the house.
Percy's case was no less troubling for mom and dad. He somehow tore the whole plumbing in the first floor bathroom apart when he froze it all over.
The twins had had their first case of accidental magic as well. Funny enough, it was the least troubling for their parents, as they got caught up in a thunderstorm outside but surrounded themselves in a bubble deflecting all water droplets and tearing winds aside. They had even done their first magic together. However, it took some time to figure out that Fred was an air mage, and George was a water mage.
Even Ginny, being a whole year younger than me, had already had hers. She had her arm split in an accident and was bleeding heavily. He hit into tears and, before mom could even draw her wand, suddenly healed herself with a flash of green. Ever the girl wonder again turned out to be an exception to rules, being a non-elemental life mage. After they got over the scare and shock, parents were extremely proud.
And that left me, Ronald Weasley, ever left over, ever on the sidelines. A few months ago I celebrated my eighth birthday, and still no sign of magic from me. Mom and dad were getting worried as well, they thought I didn't notice their occasional looks of alarm or pity.
All I seemed to be strong at was chess. And while I was certainly proud to be the best player in the family, it wasn't enough to get into a magical school, is it? I hated it.
I was brought out of my thoughts by the sore feeling in my hands. As I looked down I found that I had tightened the fists too hard. After I forced myself to calm down, I felt something that I must have been too distracted to notice – searing pulsating pain echoing through my skull.
I winced and groaned, grabbing my head. "Mom!" I called out weakly. "My head hurts again."
The table grew silent. Mom immediately jumped and rushed to a kitchen cupboard where she kept all her potions. "Again? You drank the potion I gave you yesterday?"
"Yes," I squeezed out miserably.
Another thing that differed me from everyone else, and not in a good way. These occasional migraines, sometimes accompanied by weird flashes in my eyes, had been my closest friends for several years already. Long enough for me to have 'my' potion in the first-aid kit.
When they first started, they were far and between and certainly less painful. But lately they've been increasing in both intensity and frequency. I almost blacked out from one last month. The worst of all is that no one seemed to know what to do about them.
Suddenly through the haze of pain I somehow heard Charlie's incredulous voice:
"Me? A prefect?"
"M-hm, congratulations, Charlie," I mumbled, failing to convey any enthusiasm over the news.
"What?" asked Charlie. "What are you talking about, Ron?"
I lifted my gaze to the second eldest brother, who was staring at me oddly, still holding a letter in his hands.
"About you being a prefect?" I deadpanned. "Oh, thank you." I took a vial of potion from my mother and emptied it in two gulps.
My headache had not disappeared – it never completely did these days – but it did dulled down to a manageable level, making me think a bit more clearly. Though as a side effect, my mind seemed a little foggy right now with something shifting. It's like standing in a cloud of mist, not being able to see anything, but knowing that something was moving there.
I heard Bill's snort. "Charlie? Prefect? Yeah, sure. McGonagall hasn't gone barmy yet. Surely she knows all about your little exploits in the For–", Charlie interrupted him with a cough and lifted his prefect badge, eyes wide.
Bill gaped, "What? How the h–", Charlie silenced him with an impressive glare and turned to me.
"How did you know?" he asked slowly.
"What are you talking about?" I asked exasperated. I wondered if he was pulling my leg. "You said it yourself!"
Everyone at the table exchanged glances.
"Sweetie, no one said anything," mom assured me, looking uncomfortable.
I narrowed my eyes and glared at the twins, very annoyed suddenly. "Is it a prank? I don't need another of your stupid jokes to feel more crazy, okay! I hoped that what you tried today would be enough. But no, it's in your job description to make me miserable!" I blurted out in a feat of hot anger.
"Ron–" mom grabbed my shoulder lightly, trying to calm me down.
Fred and George glared at me back.
"Oh, no-no, little Ronnie–", I grit my teeth – I hate that nickname.
"Don't put all the blame on–"
"Little old us, while we could–", "probably–", "have done something–"
"We don't take credit when it's not due."
Twin speak did nothing to elevate my head.
"And you don't get to shout at us–"
"When you apparently have been reading our minds all this time!"
My thoughts screeched to a halt, instantly evaporating any anger. My head pulsated once or twice. 'What? They can't be serious. It can't be!' came a dazed thought. But as I denied myself, doubt started to crawl in. 'Is this why I'm so good at avoiding twins? Or– or playing chess?..' At the thought I started to feel desperate: 'The only thing I'm best at was only because I could somehow read their thoughts?!' My eyes watered. 'And all these headaches… Oh Merlin. I'm truly a mind mage, just like You-Know-Who, am I?'
I frantically looked around the table, hoping that someone would admit with a laugh that it was all just a sick joke; but all I met were the looks of surprise and wariness from siblings and soft sympathy from parents.
"Mom?" I sniffed, lifting my teary eyes at her. "I don't– I didn't– I didn't mean to! I really didn't–" I sobbed. "Did you…" know? Went unsaid. 'Did they know? They must have.' My head pulsated once again, more fiercely than before, but I was too distraught to care.
"Oh, sweetie," mom enveloped me in a warm hug. I couldn't hold it anymore and instantly bursted in tears, crying uncontrollably into mom's shoulder. She started rubbing my head tenderly, trying to comfort me.
"We didn't know," she said softly in a minute or so. "But we suspected. Me and your dad. You didn't notice, but once in a while you reply to something not being said yet. And you just tend to know things you shouldn't, like what your birthday present would be..."
My mind drifted towards the memory of my last birthday. That day Fred and George managed to outplay me and made me believe that mom and dad hadn't remembered my birthday in time so didn't get me any presents. I was visibly upset over the thought and when dad showed up, he tried to reassure me that they'd got a surprise. I thought I'd seen or heard something about tickets, which turned out to be for a coming Quidditch match between Chudley Cannons and Wimbourne Wasps, when I asked.
I guess I hadn't just briefly caught a glimpse of them. I'd caught them from his mind. I shuddered at the prospect.
"–and when all your headaches started, we knew there was little it could be," mom's voice drifted back to the front of my mind. "I wanted to bring you to St. Mungo's just in case, but Arthur talked me out of it. We knew if our suspicions were true it'd be reported, and we didn't want such a stigma for our son, especially as a child. Reading people's thoughts is a heavy burden on its own without all distrust thrown around," she finished, releasing me from bear hug, but still keeping a steady hold of me.
It was true. Uncontrolled bursts of accidental magic were extremely dangerous for any type of mage, but holders of living family magics, such as death, life and mind were on a special account.
People were always wary of those types and not without a due reason. Especially after You-Know-Who's reign of terror, when no one could fully trust their closest friends. Nobody wanted a repeat of that one. And now I was a hazard just the same, I realized with a heavy heart.
Even though Ginny was a life mage, she was in the least danger from the prejudices. People always wanted a capable healer. Besides, healers tend to be bound by a bunch of oaths anyway.
"Actually," voiced Charlie at last, sounding contemplative. "I don't think it will be a problem."
"What do you mean, Charlie?" asked dad, sounding a little exasperated. "You know as well as I do how people would react when they find out he's a mind mage!"
"That's the thing," he paused and smirked. "I don't believe he's one."
At that statement everyone turned to him in disbelief, myself included.
"What? But– but I knew–"
"–that I'm a prefect before I said it?" I nodded nervously. "Well, little brother, you're wrong. You knew I'm a prefect before I knew it. My letter was still closed at the moment." The elder ones around the table had widened their in recognition, as they finally realized what he implied.
"You are not a mind mage." He grinned at me. "You're a diviner, Ron."
Ringing silence fell over the table. I just gaped at him. As I struggled to come up with anything to say, the table exploded into noises:
"No way!.."
"Ron? You're not–"
"That's how–"
"What the–"
I decidedly didn't know what to feel anymore, I was absolutely dazed by this morning's emotional shakeup. As I started getting out of the stupor, I saw that being a diviner made much more sense actually: I couldn't avoid as many twins' traps as I did, if I only read their thoughts on the matter – they didn't usually stay on their crime scene, after all.
"Silence!" Mom's shout easily pierced through the cacophony of sounds, reverberating inside the skulls for a little while. If I were a bit more coherent than I really felt, I would totally marvel at her abilities as a sound mage as I always did, but it was hardly an appropriate time, when I was trying to make the ringing in my ears go away.
"Ron," she looked me in the eyes with a very serious face. I gulped. "You must know this: no matter who you are, a mind mage, a divination mage or something else – we still love you, Ron. Nothing will change that. Ever, you understand? We will always help you and support you," she assured me so earnestly, so strongly, that I couldn't help but feel its truth deep within my bones. My eyes involuntarily glided over to everyone else, and were met with the same conviction as my mom. I hesitantly nodded, a bile in my throat and eyes watering again.
"But still, what'll we have to do with his magic? He'll go crazy with all these headaches!" Percy's voice of reason came through. "Percy!" "What, mom? He needs training as soon as possible, he's gotta understand that!"
I felt a chill running down my spine, as the realization sunk in. If the migraines were truly a result of my own magic, then they won't just go away. If left unattended, they'd keep building up till my mind broke under the weight of all the – I still couldn't wrap my head around it – futures. It was a terrifying thought.
"We'll teach him how to control it, naturally," she replied as a matter of course.
But Bill intervened. "But how? It's not like any elemental magic – he can't be taught like others! And diviners are so rare, there are hardly any out there. And those who are, either hidden or in reclusion."
The scariest part was that it made sense. And that made a true fear start to claw into my heart: either I learn to control it or my head will explode.
"We'll figure it out," my mom said with an air of much more confidence than I felt myself, squeezing my shoulder tightly in a show of support.
A silence came back, as everyone quietly contemplated what was revealed today and what to do next.
"But still, it's amazing!" voiced Charlie in awe. "A Weasley diviner! It's pretty unprecedented, isn't it?" He shook his head. "You'll definitely go far, brother." He looked at me with a sort of pride.
For the first time since the news broke, I became aware that I actually have magic, I'm a wizard, I'm a mage. And what mage – a diviner! 'I can see the future, how cool is that?' I thought, suddenly very eager to learn, my fears lay forgotten for a moment.
"Actually," my dad's drawled voice got me back from my musings, giving me a sense of deja vu, but his next words froze my heart. "I'm not sure it's true." Everyone sharply turned to him in shock. He was confused for a moment until he realized how it sounded. "Unprecedented, I mean! Of course, you'll be a great wizard, Ron."
I relaxed, mentally berating myself for believing even for a second that dad wouldn't love me anymore.
"I think my great grandfather had a brother who was a diviner. Or was it uncle? I'm not sure. Anyway, I'll ask around the relatives, maybe someone's got some of his stuff that could help us."
"In the meantime," dad continued, looking deadly serious all of a sudden. "I will be teaching you something that you and your mother learnt during the war. I'm going to teach you how to defend your mind."
Bill and Charlie raised their eyebrows in somewhat of a surprise and approval. It was for sure a very rare sight to witness, dad being so serious and authoritative, but when he does, you know to pay attention.
Under his heavy eye, I felt certainly less confident but managed to scrape the little bits of resolve, looked straight into his glass covered eyes and firmly nodded.
I suspected what awaited me ahead were quite eventful following years.
Notes:
It's my first fic ever, plus I'm not a native speaker, so this work is pretty important to me. Would love to hear your feedbacks, comments, criticism etc.