In London, on the outskirts of the City of Westminster, there is a row of terraced houses. The terraced housing structure provides efficient housing, especially given the rapid expansion in the City of Westminster, a major city in London.
The cobbled streets, wide walkways, and elegant brickwork on the houses give the neighborhood a regal feel.
In one of the many two-story terraced houses lived the Mr and Mrs Augustus and their children, who were anything but ordinary.
Their oldest child could be seen hunched over in his room upstairs. With his legs crossed and his eye wide open. He had his arm extended, and he hovered it right over his favorite toy, an action figure of G.I Joe.
He whispered as he raised his left hand to slick back his long, brown, wavy hair while still keeping his right hand above his favorite toy.
"Well, here goes attempt number who knows what."
His brown eyes closed as he took a deep breath in. He raised his left hand while keeping his right hand still above the toy. He pointed his now raised left hand to the corner of the room where he knew another toy, this time a plastic dinosaur, was still lying on top of his small study desk.
'Come on, Bubbles the Tyrannosaurus, come to papa.'
Bubbles rose from her stomping grounds (the desk) as she wobbled over to the boy like an infant learning how to walk. The G.I Joe toy, Joey, started to rise as the boy willed the toy under his right hand to lift.
Joey hovered for around ten seconds, after which it dropped onto the floor. Bubbles followed after her older brother, as she too dropped the very next second.
"Uhhg," the boy exhaled loudly.
"Morgana's dried cunt!"
"hello failure, my old friend."
'Let's see, I am more than capable of doing both magics separately; the problem arises when I attempt to do them simultaneously.'
'Do I simply lack practice, or is it that my focus is not strong enough?'
The boy leaned forward in thought and stroked the sides of his chin with his index and thumb fingers.
His hair once again slipped from where he slicked it back and dropped to the sides of his face, covering his vision.
"Morgana's shrivelled tits! Stay back! " he exclaimed, breaking out of his review on the failed attempt of dual cast magic.
His hair, which was hanging on the sides of his face, lifted itself, rose meekly, and went back to where he had set it previously.
If one listened closely, one could hear a soft whimper, almost like a wronged child crying out at the injustice it faced.
With his vision clear and his focus no longer on the itch where his hair make connect with his face, he started to reflect again.
'It could also be I don't have enough affirmations of success, and I don't believe in my magic and myself, thus my magic petering out as I dive into unchartered ground that is dual casting,'
'All of these things require time and consistent effort, whether it's a lack of practice, insufficient focus, or weak will.'
A knock at his door interpreted his thoughts.
The boy rose from the floor, picked up his toys, and set them down in his desk. He turned back, walked to his door, and opened it.
At his door, once again attempting to knock was an oven mitt with its fist balled, as if an invisible man were wearing the glove.
The glove lossesned it's fingers and, now fully extended, gave a little wave of greeting. It then made a universally recognised 'follow' motion.
"Coming," the boy responded, as if replying to a real person, not an animated glove.
As he started walking and following the moving oven mitt, he continued to think about magic, as he often did, thinking and immersing himself in it.
'I will make more attempts after dinner.'
He followed the flying mitt down the stairs and into the kitchen, and a gentle voice broke him out of his magical query.
He looked up to see a beautiful woman busying herself in the kitchen. She had her back to him, focused on the food she was cooking. She sported long, curly hair that reached her waist, wore a blue apron wrapped around her, and held a wand in her hand. She gave her wand a horizontal wave, and the dining room cabinet opened by itself, and three plates and a bowl flew over to the dining table and gently set themselves in the middle.
As if feeling his presence, likely by the overmitt that flew over to her and joined its counterpart on the kitchen counter after doing its job, she turned around.
"Henry, done with homework, love?" she asked in a soft-spoken manner.
"Yes mummy, do you need any help setting the table?" he asked after answering the question.
"Oh, that's alright, sweety, you go and head to the table. I will be right there with food once I put the finishing touches."
"Okay, mummy!"
The boy made a sharp turn towards the dining room, where he found a man already seated at the table. He had brown hair, unlike his wife, his was straight and cut short, right before it reached his ears. He sat at the very top of the table, and on his left was a high chair occupied by the youngest member of the Augustus family.
"Ella!" Henry barreled straight to his little sister as soon as she came into his sight.
She had brown hair covering the top of her head. You could see it was silky, thin brown hair, a characteristic of toddlers. She was sporting a pink onesie with a hoodie with a bib around her neck.
She looked up at him with her blue eyes as she heard a familiar voice, probably recognizing the name that was being called. In the household filled with people with brown eyes, she stood out like a sore thumb.
One day, out of curiosity, he had asked his parents whether magic influenced eye color. The answer turned out to be something much more mundane: they told him that his grandparents on his father's side had blue eyes, and that it had gone dormant in his father's and his own gene pool, only to show up in his sisters'.
The man sitting at the table looked up at the mention of his daughter's name. He was mashing up vegetables with small chunks of meat as he attempted to feed his daughter.
Henry arrived at their side and climbed into the chair, and extended his hands to reach his sisters' cheeks. He smiled widely as he squished his baby sister's cheeks.
"Oh, look at you, who is the prettiest princess in all of the land?" he continued to tease the small girl.
He never thought he would say such corny words in a baby voice, yet here he was. It was worth whatever embarrassment that came his way, for she was priceless.
"I am!"
At eighteen months old, she could already say a couple of words. She might not be able to understand what was being asked, but she knew what to answer, mostly because he asked that question so many times.
She continued to sweetly smile at him through whatever mash that was still in her mouth, and his hand that was kneading her puffy cheeks.
"Henry, I am trying to feed her. Stop playing with her, she won't want to finish the rest of her food," came a voice from the man with spots of mash decorating his robes and trousers.
He seemed to be having some trouble, so Henry, with his generous heart, offered.
"Oh dad, can I finish feeding her? Please, please, please."
"You know what, here. She is all yours."
He got up from his chair and set the bowl down on the table, and he walked to the back of the high chair to make sure Ella's belt was fastened correctly.
"I am going to go wash my hands and change my clothes before dinner," he said as he started walking up stair.
"Yes!"
Henry turned back to his sister.
"Are you ready for the choo choo train, Ella?"