THADDEUS POV
The car rolled to a stop in front of a modest garage, its once-bright paint now dulled by years of sun and rain. I climbed out, stretching my arms after the ride. Darren, ever the practical one, nodded toward the house as he popped the trunk. "You go on ahead," he said, grabbing a few bags of groceries with ease.
I made my way up the short path leading to the house, passing by a line of carefully tended plants. They stood tall and proud, the kind of greenery that only came from someone who genuinely enjoyed taking care of them.
But one caught my eye—a small potted plant near the door. It looked miserable, its leaves shriveled and brown, clinging to the last shreds of life.
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Darren wasn't looking, then knelt beside the plant. Hovering my right hand over it, I let a soft green light flow from my palm. The energy seeped into the plant, and within moments, it perked up, its leaves regaining their vibrant green hue. Satisfied, I stood and brushed off my knees, only to hear footsteps behind me.
"I told you not to use your magic," Darren's voice came, light but carrying that parental edge he'd somehow perfected. He was balancing several bags of groceries, his casual attitude betraying none of the effort. "Especially not here."
"Oh, please," I replied, rolling my eyes as I opened the front door for him. "We live in the weirdest neighborhood ever. Magic's probably the least peculiar thing anyone could see around here."
Darren stepped inside, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. "I'm just looking out for you, okay?" he said, his tone softening. "You know the kind of life I had before all this. Things were... complicated."
"Not really my problem," I shot back with a shrug, collapsing onto the couch and tossing my bag onto a nearby chair. "Your kind has some seriously weird traditions. No offense, but I'd rather not get dragged into them."
Darren paused mid-unpacking, giving me a pointed look. "You didn't have to say it like that. And for the record, as much as I'd love to tell you more about my... history, there are rules we have to follow. Not sharing the gritty details—unless you feel like transferring to my alma mater."
I groaned, grabbing a pillow and placing it over my face. "Yeah, no thanks. I have zero interest in some school that's probably designed to 'groom me' into using magic in ways that are, let's say, questionable at best and horrifyingly unethical at worst."
Darren laughed softly, pulling a carton of milk from one of the bags. "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind—"
I cut him off, lifting the pillow slightly to glare at him. "No means no. And yes also means no, just in case you were wondering."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright. Message received, loud and clear."
I let the pillow flop back onto my face as Darren went back to unpacking groceries. For a guy who'd been through whatever mysterious, traumatic, and undoubtedly magical nonsense he never wanted to talk about, Darren had adjusted to a normal-ish life surprisingly well. Still, his habit of trying to rope me into his world always made me wonder just how "normal" this house—and this neighborhood—really were.
And if I was being honest with myself, I kind of didn't want to know. Not yet, anyway.
It seemed life wasn't going to let me bask in my moment of glorious laziness. A knock sounded at the door—sharp, purposeful. Darren perked up instantly, practically springing into action. His usual relaxed demeanor was replaced with something oddly cheerful as he rushed toward the door.
"Oh wait... I completely forgot he was visiting today!" he said, grinning as he pulled the door open.
I raised an eyebrow, sitting up halfway on the couch. "The who now?"
"You'll see," Darren replied cryptically, throwing me a glance over his shoulder before turning his attention to the visitor.
I rolled my eyes, muttering something about "obscure divorced dad energy" under my breath, and flopped back onto the couch. Still, I kept an ear out—curiosity had its claws in me.
Then, a voice floated into the room, rich with warmth and a slight Irish lilt. "Ah, the great Darren Corbit," the man said with a chuckle. "It is good to see you again after all this time."
Darren laughed, clearly delighted. "Professor Dumbledore! Always a pleasure, sir. Come on in!"
At the name "Dumbledore," my curiosity skyrocketed. I sat up a little straighter, my mind buzzing. Darren had mentioned his mysterious "old school" before, but he'd always dodged the details. And now, the actual headmaster of said school was standing in front of our house?
Yeah, I needed answers.
As they entered, I caught sight of the older man. His long silver beard and half-moon spectacles practically screamed wizard. He carried himself with a dignified grace, but there was a twinkle in his eyes—a grandfatherly warmth that made him seem more approachable than I'd expected.
"Forgive the unannounced visit," Dumbledore said, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency. "But I felt it necessary to see you."
"No trouble at all, sir," Darren replied, shutting the door behind him. "Right... oh!" He suddenly turned toward me. "Thad! Get over here. I want you to meet someone."
Letting out a sigh of mock reluctance, I stood and lazily made my way over. "Fine, fine," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets as I approached. Darren had that sparkle in his eye—he was clearly enjoying this more than he should.
As I reached them, Dumbledore's eyes settled on me, studying me with an intensity that made me feel like I was being x-rayed. But it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, the warmth of his smile offset the weight of his gaze, like a grandpa sizing up a new grandkid.
"This," Darren began, gesturing toward me with an almost theatrical flair, "is Thaddeus Bartholomew."
I raised a hand in a casual wave. "Thad's fine," I said.
"And Thad," Darren continued, "this is Albus Dumbledore. He's the headmaster of my old school. You know, the one I never talk about but clearly left an impression on me."
"A pleasure, Mr. Bartholomew," Dumbledore said, extending a hand.
"Likewise, sir," I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but kind—much like his presence.
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "I've heard much about you, young man," he said with a hint of amusement.
"Let me guess," I jested, "all the glowing reviews from Darren here?"
Darren snorted. "Yeah, let's go with that."
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Darren may not always share the full extent of his thoughts, but his care for you is unmistakable."
I blinked, caught a little off guard by the sincerity in his tone. Darren, to his credit, just occupied himself with straightening a few already-perfectly-aligned items on the nearby counter.
"Well," I said, scratching the back of my head, "if he's talked about me at all, I hope it was mostly good stuff. Mostly."
"Rest assured," Dumbledore said, smiling. "It was all quite illuminating."
Something about the way he said that made me feel like there was more to this visit than pleasantries. Dumbledore wasn't just here to catch up with Darren—he was here because of me. And while Darren had always been protective, I could see that he trusted this man.
"So," I said, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall, "to what do we owe the honor of this visit, Professor?"
Dumbledore's smile widened slightly, and he glanced at Darren, who gave a small nod.
"Ah," Dumbledore said, "I believe there's much to discuss. But first, let us sit. Conversations of importance are always best held in comfort."
I glanced at Darren, who shrugged as if to say, Might as well buckle up.
"Well," I said, gesturing toward the couch, "make yourself at home, Professor. Something tells me this is going to be... interesting."
And with that, the gears of fate turned once more.
Dumbledore settled into the armchair with an air of practiced ease, his hands resting lightly on the armrests. Darren waved his wand, and a tray of cups and a steaming teapot floated gracefully to the coffee table between us. The aroma of fresh tea filled the room as Darren leaned back on the couch.
Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and smiled warmly at me. "So, Thaddeus," he began, his voice as soothing as it was probing, "how are you feeling these days?"
I shrugged, leaning back against the couch with skepticism. "Fine, I guess. Better than so-so, if that counts. But let's not dance around this. If this is about my magic, let me save you some time—I'm not interested."
Darren immediately interjected, his tone light but reassuring. "It's not about that. Dumbledore's not here for that, promise." He hesitated for a moment, then gestured toward Dumbledore. "But, uh, I might've forgotten some of the details. Professor, you should probably take it from here."
Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea, the steam curling gently in the air. He took a sip before continuing, his voice measured yet spiked with gravity. "Your father is correct. This is not about recruiting you. Rather, it is about recent developments at Hogwarts—troubling ones."
He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "There is talk of a prophecy," he continued, "one that foretells the arrival of a certain child. A child who, it is said, could bring about the downfall of the wizarding world as we know it."
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And how, exactly, does any of this tie back to me?"
Darren leaned forward, his tone more serious now. "Well, that's what we're trying to figure out. Professor, show him."
Dumbledore reached into his robes and produced an object that immediately caught my attention—a pentagon-shaped artifact, its surface etched with intricate symbols that seemed to shimmer faintly in the light.
"This," Dumbledore said, holding it carefully, "is what has brought us to you today. It is... unique. Its nature is elusive, and yet it appears to be undeniably bound to you."
I stared at the object, my confusion evident. "I'm sorry—what?" I said, leaning forward. "Look, I know my magic's a little over the top sometimes—not to brag—but how does that have anything to do with me?"
Darren sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was with you when you were found as a baby. Left on the doorstep of the orphanage. At first, I thought it was just a weird toy someone left with you. Dumb, I know."
Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. "Although when I examined it," he said, "it became obvious that this was no ordinary artifact. Its magic is ancient—perhaps older than anything I've encountered before. And its connection to you is... profound. That is why, now that you are of an age where you can understand, we considered it was time to bring this to your attention."
Darren nodded, his brow furrowed. "And let's not forget those dreams you've been having. You have been having them, haven't you?"
I hesitated, the weight of their words settling over me. "Yeah," I admitted. "But they're... complicated. It's like trying to solve a puzzle or crack a math equation, except the timer's constantly running out. Every time I try to focus, I get kicked out of the dream."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his interest clearly piqued. "And what have you concluded from these dreams, if anything at all?"
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "Only one thing. This wasn't my first life. Whatever's happening, whatever this is... it's tied to something bigger than me. Something older. And to be real, I don't know where to even start."
The room fell silent for a moment, my words lingered in the air. Darren exchanged a glance with Dumbledore, who nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with understanding.
"Then perhaps," Dumbledore said gently, "we must start by solving the mystery of your past. For only by understanding where you have been, Thaddeus, can we hope to understand where you are meant to go."
"Just like that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just like what?" Dumbledore responded with a calm but intrigued tone.
"We're just good with this? A magic artifact, me, and a bunch of cryptic talk about prophecies? Doesn't that sound a little sketchy to anyone else?" I said, gesturing vaguely to the pentagon-shaped object Dumbledore had placed on the table.
Darren held up a hand, clearly trying to play mediator. "Okay, look. I have no clue where this conversation is heading anymore," he said, his expression shifting to that familiar mix of amusement and slight irritation.
"Neither do I," Dumbledore admitted, though he didn't seem particularly bothered by it.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Alright, let me spell it out for you. Magic artifact? Check. Weird kid? Check. Prophecy? Check. What if—just hear me out—I'm the one your prophecy's talking about?"
Both Darren and Dumbledore traded a look, their expressions serious even so oddly casual, like they were trying to evaluate each other's thoughts without saying a word.
Darren finally broke the silence. "No, I'd say the odds are pretty low on that one," he said, leaning back into the couch.
Dumbledore nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed, I already know who the prophecy is referring to."
I blinked. "Wait, what? You know? Then why all the theatrics?"
Darren let out a laugh, though it lacked humor. "Yeah, about that. Remember last Christmas when I didn't make it home? That was because Dumbledore here had me running around looking into who this prophecy could be about."
Dumbledore sighed, his gaze far away. "Yes, yet one more child of prophecy. It's always unsettling. The first time was challenging enough. To think there may be another—and perhaps one with even more destructive potential—it is deeply troubling."
"Okay, so are you going to tell me who it is, or are we just going to keep up the suspense?" I asked, folding my arms.
Darren hesitated, glancing at Dumbledore before speaking. "It's... a girl," he said. "That much we know. Still, uh... we don't exactly know how to approach her yet."
Dumbledore gave a small nod. "She remains an enigma, even to us. The situation requires gentle handling. That is why I needed your father's help. With his "former" expertise and an "achieving wizard," we can significantly improve our chances."
I leaned back and stared at Darren with a smirk. "You? An achieving wizard? Let me guess—you were one of those guys who peaked in high school and can't stop talking about how great those days were."
Darren chuckled dryly. "Hey, I wasn't that bad. Though yeah, maybe I'm a little cautious. I've seen what happens when these things go sideways."
I turned to Dumbledore, my expression more serious. "And you? Let me guess. You're worried about making the same mistakes you made the first time, right?"
Dumbledore's calm demeanor faltered slightly, his sigh heavy with unspoken regrets. "There is truth in that observation," he said. "However one must learn from the past to avoid repeating it."
"Right," I said, leaning forward. "So what's the plan? How do you deal with someone who could potentially destroy the world on a catastrophic level?"
Dumbledore straightened, his gaze sharpening. "There is an idea," he began slowly, "though it requires a certain... unconventional approach."
I raised an eyebrow. "Unconventional how?"
He began explaining—something about creating an environment to test the girl's intentions without overwhelming her, but the plan was so convoluted it left me blinking in confusion halfway through.
"Uhh... sorry, Professor," I interrupted, "but that sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. I'm counting at least five glaring loopholes, and I'm not even trying."
Dumbledore gave me a wry smile, clearly not offended. "Perhaps. That is why I value perspectives such as yours, Thaddeus. The wisdom of youth often shines a light where older eyes have grown dim."
I rolled my eyes. "Sure, let's call it that. Although, seriously, we need a better plan. If you're going to drop a bombshell on someone, you better make sure you don't screw it up."
Darren snorted, folding his arms. "Kid's not wrong. Maybe we start by keeping things simple, Professor."
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, his smile returning. "A wise suggestion. Simplicity, after all, is often the key to clarity."
I groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "Great. Now I'm giving advice to wizards. What's next, a crash course on subtlety?"
Darren laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "You'll survive, Thad. You always do."
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shooting him a half-smirk. "Just don't expect me to be thrilled about it." waving a hand dismissively at Darren. "But seriously, how's that a good idea? You're asking me to potentially step into something monumental when waking up every morning already feels like an existential crisis."
Darren leaned back, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between sympathetic and optimistic. "We're not saying it's easy, Thad," he said. "But with that brain and magic of yours, you could... well, let's just say you could turn the tide if things go south."
I huffed, half amused, half skeptical. "Great. I'm a one-man insurance policy now?"
Dumbledore, sitting across from us with his usual air of calm wisdom, took a sip of tea before chiming in. "Perhaps," he said gently, "you might consider enrolling at Hogwarts. See for yourself what opportunities and resources the school can offer you."
"I think I've made myself pretty clear about that," I replied, crossing my arms.
Dumbledore gave me a small smile, the kind of smile that carried decades of experience and an almost unnerving ability to outlast arguments. "I understand your hesitation," he said, "nonetheless I assure you, my boy, Hogwarts remains a remarkable place. Despite... certain challenges and recent events, it continues to uphold its legacy as one of the finest institutions for magical education. Where else, pray tell, will you properly hone your gifts?"
Darren nodded in agreement. "Even if I'd rather not push you into anything against your will, the professor has a point. Yancy's a 'good school' and all, but it's not exactly a place for magic. You won't learn what you need there."
I sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through my hair. They weren't wrong, but they also weren't exactly making this decision any easier. "Alright," I said finally, "hypothetically speaking, when does your next academic year even start?"
"Early enrollment typically begins around June or July," Dumbledore replied, his tone encouraging. "Though I would recommend an earlier start to settle necessary documentation and... other matters. Officially, the term begins in August."
Darren grinned, clearly enjoying a chance to reminisce. "I remember showing up late my first year. Professor McGonagall chewed me out so thoroughly I thought I'd never recover."
"That sounds like a "you" problem," I said with a smirk, earning a chuckle from Darren.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling as I thought it over. The pros and cons played tug-of-war in my mind—on one hand, Hogwarts was undoubtedlythe place to go if I wanted to understand my magic. On the other hand, stepping into a world with rules, traditions, and expectations I didn't fully understand felt like walking into a labyrinth with no map.
"Okay," I said finally, exhaling deeply. "Here's the deal. Let me finish my last year at Yancy first. Once summer rolls around, I'll give you my final decision. Fair?"
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with approval, his nod deliberate. "A wise choice, young one. Take your time to consider your path carefully. But in the meantime," he added, his tone turning serious, "I must ask that this conversation and everything we've discussed remain strictly between us."
Darren gave a thumbs-up, his casual optimism shining through as always. "Consider it done, Professor. Loose lips sink ships, as they say."
I raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure that saying was meant for wartime espionage, Darren."
"Still applies," Darren quipped, grinning.
Dumbledore rose from his chair, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "I will leave you to your thoughts, Thaddeus. And Darren," he said, turning to my... well, whatever Darren technically was in my life, "thank you for your hospitality. As always, it has been a pleasure."
With the conversation over, Dumbledore gave one last nod before vanishing into a shower of glowing particles, the light dissipating as if he had never been there at all. The room fell silent, save for the soft clink of Darren clearing the tea cups from the table.
I let out a long sigh, flopping back onto the couch. "Just what I needed—another life-altering decision looming over my head."
Darren chuckled as he gathered the cups. "Still, you should give it some thought. Hogwarts wasn't half bad, you know,at least during my time there."
I sat up slightly, propping myself on one elbow. "How'd you even become a wizard, anyway? You don't exactly scream 'academic prodigy.'"
He smirked, shrugging as he carried the tray to the sink. "No clue. Our magic's weird like that. Random. Out of a whole bunch of people, I guess I just... happened to have the talent for it."
"Uh-huh," I said, unconvinced. "And how does that even work? At least my magic makes sense—it's tied to me. Feels like something I can sort of figure out if I poke at it long enough."
Darren turned the water on, rinsing out the cups. "Don't ask me. Understanding magic is like trying to get a doctorate in something you didn't even know existed five minutes ago. It's a whole lot of 'just go with it' and hope for the best."
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. "Okay, but seriously. What did you even do at Hogwarts? You don't seem like the type to hit the books, and I'm struggling to picture you acing grades in magic."
He laughed, glancing over his shoulder. "Fair point. I wasn't exactly a model student. Mostly kept to myself and my friends. But I did focus on one thing—dueling spells."
"Oh, so you were one of those guys," I said with a grin.
Before I could say anything else, Darren spun around his wand already in hand. Without warning, he fired a stunning spell straight at me.
Years of reflexes kicked in. Without even thinking, I raised my hand and summoned a shimmering barrier of pure energy. The spell collided with the barrier and fizzled out harmlessly, the faintest ripple spreading across the surface before it vanished.
Darren stood there, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. "Like that!" he exclaimed, then narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you cheating fuck."
I smirked, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Cheat? Please. That's called skill. You can't blame me for being better."
He pointed his wand at me like he was ready to fire again but then lowered it, shaking his head. "You're lucky I like you, kid. Otherwise, I'd—"
"Lose again?" I interrupted, unable to resist.
He pointed a finger at me as he turned back to the sink. "Don't tempt me. I'll come up with something you can't block."
I chuckled, closing my eyes. For all his talk, Darren wasn't half-bad at this whole mentor-guardian thing. But deep down, I knew he wasn't wrong—I still had a lot to figure out.