CH87 - One Year Down
Edmund was flying, soaring through the air as free as a bird. The wind tousled his hair, making it stick out in all directions.
*PECK*
His forehead wrinkled in consternation at the sharp feeling, relaxing again a few moments later. His skin erupted with goosebumps, the hair on his arms standing straight up in response to the cool air.
*PECK*
He scratched at the affected area irritatedly, but his mind swiftly returned to its tranquil state again. His clothes buffeted against his body rhythmically, their sound soothing him even further.
*PECK*
His eyes finally snapped open, only to see another pair of bright yellow ones staring back at him. His body jerked back in surprise as his skull collided with the headboard noisily.
"Shit!" he hissed, clutching his head as he glared at Vimoksha's unimpressed form angrily. The little owl looked back at him neutrally, completely unruffled by his reaction. "I was having a good dream! Is that the only way you know how to wake me up?!"
Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, the days of the vetala being wary of his nature were long gone. Oh sure, Edmund would grunt and complain often enough, but he was not the type to take his anger out on others beyond mild verbal abuse. Vimoksha was servile to him, but it had not changed his attitude much.
It showed when, rather than apologizing, the owl obstinately tilted its head to the closed window by the bedside. More specifically, to the tightened latch.
"No," Edmund huffed stubbornly. "What are you gonna do if I don't open it, huh?"
The owl's cutting gaze darted to Edmund's trunk, sitting in the corner. Compared to its unblemished state at the beginning of the summer, a rather conspicuous set of brown dropping stains now decorated its side.
Gritting his teeth in defeat, Edmund finally stood from his cot and unclasped the window, allowing it to spring open. Vimoksha did not waste a second before he spread his wings and darted out, no doubt searching for his next meal.
Rotating his neck in a circle to alleviate any cricks, Edmund sighed. "Might as well get up now, then."
He dropped to the floor in one smooth motion, his morning exercise routine coming to him with ease. His muscles strained satisfactorily as he twisted and flexed them methodically, one after the other. It was with a light sheen of sweat over his body that he entered his ensuite, brushing his teeth and showering in quick succession. Throwing on a ratty pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he headed down the hallway to the living area.
Sizzling and bubbling reverberated from the kitchen, revealing that the others had already gotten a start to their day. Sliding into a seat next to Jeremy and Albert, Edmund mumbled a quick good morning, his attention seized by the morning report on the Wizarding Wireless.
"Since their initial statement the day after the Quidditch World Cup, the DMLE has not released any new statements to the public regarding the progress of their investigation into the riots that occurred that night. Riots, which many have condemned as terrorist attacks, a term that Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge seems reluctant to use," one of the hosts spoke gravely.
Leaning over the nook table, Edmund grabbed the newspaper sitting there with the tips of his fingers, dragging it over to his position.
*-*-*-*
PERPETRATORS BEHIND THE ATTACKS AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP REVEALED! WHO ARE ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW?
...
August 22, 1994
...
- The Daily Prophet
*-*-*-*
Edmund smiled grimly. 'Classic. Pin the blame on low-level thugs, and wash your hands off the affair. The people are satisfied, and things return to the status quo... What else can you expect from the British Ministry of Magic?'
Despite that, he could not help but sympathize a little bit. Even four days after the attacks, the mood of the wizarding public was still shaken by the events.
When Edmund and Jeremy had finally stumbled back into the apartment that night, Cynthia and Albert had sobbed their eyes out in relief that the two boys were not the unlucky few who had not survived the ordeal. He was sure their attitude was mirrored by countless others, just as frightened for their loved ones.
'But covering up the damage will only make it look better from the outside,' he thought. 'The wound is still there, and it's only going to fester.'
Suddenly, the paper in his hands was forcibly removed from him and tossed to the side.
"Enough of that," Cynthia said gently. "It's been four days. They're just milking it for the sales at this point. You're not going to find anything new in there."
Edmund blinked twice, the gears in his mind gradually turning.
"Um... Cynthia?" he asked confusedly. "Not to be rude, but what are you doing here? Isn't that your segment playing on air right now?"
Jeremy leaned in, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips.
"We're celebrating," Cynthia announced.
"We are? What for?" Edmund questioned.
Jeremy slapped the table, triumphantly extending his hand—palm up—in Albert's direction. "Pay up!"
Albert grumbled as he reached into his side pocket and placed a silver sickle into his son's outstretched digits.
Edmund watched the scene, puzzled, as Cynthia bent over next to him.
"August 22nd?" she reminded, fondly placing a kiss on his cheek. "You'd think you would remember your birthday, hmm? Speaking of, happy 12th birthday!"
Jeremy laughed teasingly. "He's got the best memory in the world when it comes to everything except himself!
But Edmund ignored the conversation, his sight stuck to the date on the Daily's Prophet's front page.
August 22, 1994.
"One year," he murmured. 'It's been that long since I got to this world.'
Slowly, a smile grew on his features. 'One year down. Who knows how many more to go?'
"Thank you," Edmund repeated as the Todds congratulated him. "Thanks for letting me stay with you. Thanks for being so kind to me. And thanks for remembering most of all."
"Pffft," Jeremy chuckled at his last sentence. "Merlin knows you need us to."
Edmund laughed in agreement.
*-*-*-*
- (Scene Break) -
*-*-*-*
"You could've come by later, you know?" Edmund offered. "Jeremy's told me everyone's going to be visiting tonight anyways."
Opposite him, McGonagall raised her eyebrows. "What, and stop you kids from having your fun? No, thank you."
"Bah!" he dismissed. "My party, my rules. You just don't want anyone else to see you with your hair down."
"I haven't let my hair down around you either," she countered with a smirk, gesturing to the signature pointy hat on her head.
"Figuratively, I meant," Edmund rolled his eyes. "Also, side note, you're no better than Professor Dumbledore with your corny jokes, I'll have you know."
McGonagall tsked with mock indignation. "Hush, you. Open your present."
Taking the cylindrical package offered to him in hand, Edmund delicately removed the yellow and black wrapping paper from around it.
"I know it must have hurt your soul to get me anything in non-Gryffindor colours," he commented offhandedly as he examined what looked like a scroll holder.
"Would you get on with it?" McGonagall said exasperatedly.
Unscrewing the top, Edmund tilted it to the side, allowing the roll of parchment within to slide out. Peeling off the Ministry of Education's emblem, he unfurled the paper, scanning over it.
"Is this?..." he asked thickly.
"It is," McGonagall confirmed.
An apprentice contract.
"The custom is an antiquated one, admittedly," she continued. "It was more common back when knowledge about magic wasn't so readily available. When the master would teach everything they knew to their apprentice in the hopes that their discoveries would live on for years after their death. However, it still has some benefits, even in this day and age. I found it only fitting to make it official."
Edmund remained silent.
"What do you say?" she prodded.
"I say," Edmund drawled, trying and failing to keep the emotion out of his voice, "that this is a pretty cheap gift. If you think about it, really, it's just a fancy letter. Four out of ten, I would say. Disappointing if you—"
She pulled him into a hug.
"Thanks, professor," Edmund said quietly.
"Teaching you is my honour, Edmund," McGonagall replied with an unconcealable smile in her voice.
*-*-*-*
- (Scene Break) -
*-*-*-*
"Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Edmund,
Happy birthday to you!"
The crowd cheered loudly as Edmund blew out all twelve candles on his cake.
Ben, Jeremy, Cecilia, Luna, Cedric, and Cho had all gathered for dinner at Carkitt Market, a small shopping complex in an alley directly adjacent to Diagon Alley. The restaurant they had chosen was small; thus, their party took up a large portion of the sitting area. Thankfully, his birthday had fallen on a Monday, and they had found enough space to fit comfortably.
Looking at the people chatting around him, Edmund grinned. There were several others that he would have invited ideally, but he knew that doing so was an impossibility at the current time.
Still, he was lucky.
'A year ago, I wasn't sure if I would find any friends at all,' he thought.
The group was a rather eclectic mix, all things considered. Although close to their clique, Cedric was still older than them by quite a few years. Cho, who he had brought alongside him, was practically a stranger. While more familiar, Luna had oddities that made interacting with her a challenge for most. Moreover, while Ben, Jeremy, Cecilia, and Edmund were tight-knit now, it had not always been so. One was a borderline pureblood supremacist a year ago, and another a shut-off loner.
Their friendship was... weird, and yet it worked all the same.
Edmund hummed contentedly. 'I wouldn't give it up for anything.'