Chapter 5: Chapter Five: Dawn’s Early Light

Recovery was quick, all things considered, although Jonathan still had to stand up slow to avoid risking another headache. But he spent a lot of time getting to know Simon and Sarah, both of whom were around pretty much all the time, and Leah, who was only occasionally around. Most of his days were spent exploring the seemingly infinite rooms and halls of the Unfamiliar House, a structure seemingly designed with little regard for architecture or, as it turned out, respect for the laws of physics or spacetime. 

Jonathan’s room was at the top of the first flight of stairs, close to the living room, “So you don’t get lost, love.” It was a lot smaller than his old room had been, and yet it had more to do, more to see, more to experience in it than he’d ever had back in his old home. One of the walls, painted a vivid cerulean, was stacked with glass-doored cases, various knicknacks on display next to ancient books and children’s drawings. 

On another were posters of popular bands (some of which he even recognized), plastered on top of older ones. He’d pressed his hand against it and the give told him the posters went back quite some time. There were stacks of board games under the -- admittedly quite creaky -- bed, and the nightstand had piles of books. From a collection of stories about magical worlds with princesses being hidden as farm boys to grand science fiction epics, every book on every shelf in the room spoke of fantastical and impossible things. 

He would have spent a lot of time reading if the rest of the house wasn’t so interesting to explore, or Simon and Sarah hadn’t been so adamant about getting to know him. Not that there was much to tell. Jonathan’s life had been incredibly boring, but that didn’t seem to matter much to the duo who pressed him for stories and his thoughts on things all the time, in a way he didn’t quite know how to handle. He had never been considered interesting before, so he had tried to divert attention. He had asked them what this school was like and, maybe more importantly, why they weren’t at that school. 

Waxing Weather Warlock School, as it turned out, had to have a staggered education system, because of the varying ages at which people discovered their magical potential and at which familiars were discovered. While there were holidays, they were different for different years, a system that didn’t necessarily make a lot of sense to Jonathan. Leah still had classes to finish up, but she still spent a lot of time visiting the Unfamiliar house, visiting being the operative word. 

Leah was not a familiar. Leah was a witch. Sarah was her familiar, and they’d been a bonded pair for a little over a year now, although Leah was eighteen and occasionally went out to help the adults whenever there was an expedition or need for an extra bit of magic, which left Sarah with a bunch of free time, as she was still too young to join her. 

“Doesn’t she need you to be her… uh… battery?” Jonathan asked at the breakfast table. Sarah looked a little offended, insofar as that was possible with a mouthful of breakfast cereal. She tried speaking with her mouth full, spat out some milk, then giggled at her own clumsiness until it came out of her nose, too. It wasn’t before long before the whole table -- including Charlie, who had at first attempted to keep serious enough to chide her -- had broken out in laughter. 

The kitchen was ancient, and had been refurbished what seemed like a thousand times before. The tile floor was still a little cracked in places, the stove had seven different heating elements; three were electric, one was gas and two were, as far as Jonathan could tell, not actually powered by anything he could see, but still heated things up. There were entire cupboards only for spices, no two plates matched, and he had been advised not to root around in the bean drawer too much. There was no telling what he might find in there. The painted white-and-purple table had at least seven chairs and again, no two were of the same make. They all wobbled, not one having all or even most of its legs touch the floor. 

Sarah was still hiccuping when she finally managed to catch her breath enough to answer. “Anyway! As to your question: Leah is still really powerful without me around,” she said. “And she’s not doing any fighting. Think of it as like… handing out water bottles at a protest, you know?”

Jonathan nodded. “I understand. Sort of. I think,” he said. Simon patted him on the back jovially. 

“You’ll get it. Especially after you… familiarize yourself a bit,” Simon said with a goofy grin. Sarah threw a bread roll at him. 

“Booo. Bad.”

“Where’s everyone else? I’d think there would be a lot more kids here.” Jonathan interrupted. It was funny how quickly he had opened up, how easy it had become to just… hang out with the others. But it was strange, wasn’t it? If this was a school, there would have to be dozens, if not hundreds of kids signing up, and it was only really him and Simon here. Sarah was staying at the Unfamiliar house, sure, but that was only because she didn’t feel like being at school on her break. She was already a student.

“There’s a lot of houses like this one,” Charlie said. “All over the country. And kids like yourselves… well, there’s not a lot of them.” She buttered a croissant while she spoke. “We try to find as many of you as we can, but our… window of operation…” She paused to make sure he understood what she meant, which he confirmed with a nod. “It’s pretty small,” she concluded. 

“So there are other students,” Jonathan said, more than he asked. Charlie nodded.

“There was a time when houses like this were the schools, you know.” She nibbled on the croissant a bit and then, making eye contact with Sarah to prove her point, chewed and swallowed before she continued. “We’re talking hundreds of years. I… People like myself were more like private tutors. But over time, especially as transportation became more common, it made more sense to have more centralized schools and bring teachers in instead of demanding people like me know everything about all schools of magic.”

“So you’re like… our nanny?” Jonathan said with a smirk, and he heard Simon choke on his food next to him. Charlie scrunched up her nose and he immediately felt like he’d made a mistake. He’d wanted to say something fun and glib but immediately felt like he’d overstepped his bounds. If he’d ever mouthed off against his parents, there would’ve been hell to pay. Well, detached and measured punishment, at the very least. 

“No, and you best not treat me like one either, young man,” Charlie chided, and then relented when she saw the uncomfortable look on his face. “I know you didn’t mean it like that, Jonathan, but I like to think that what I do is… important. It’s my job to find kids like yourselves within my jurisdiction -- my area -- and pick them up before it’s too late. Hey, are you okay?” She leaned forward a bit when she saw that he was not only no longer making eye-contact, but seemingly trying to disappear in his seat.

Jonathan bowed his head and, almost imperceptibly, started to move his food a little closer to him. He hadn’t gotten that far through breakfast yet, and he worried that he had gotten a little too used to the casual attitude in the house. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Miss Ferman.” He was trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. If he’d be caught crying, that would just make matters worse, wouldn’t it? 

“Hey, no, what?” Charlie got up and walked around the table. “I already told you I knew you didn’t mean it that way…” She put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched for a moment. He heard her swear under her breath, and he started to stammer another apology. “Jonathan,” she said, and knelt down next to him. The kitchen had become eerily quiet. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

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Jonathan shook his head. He had. He’d become too comfortable, too complacent, and he’d said something wrong. Would she send him back, he wondered. She couldn’t send him home, after all. Maybe she’d send him back and let him be hit by that truck. Or would today just be a small, measured response, to make sure he never did it again, sending him upstairs without food for the rest of the day? Maybe take away the books next to his bed. He’d quite enjoyed reading through them at night, so taking them away seemed like fitting punishment. 

“Jonathan,” Charlie said again, and he finally managed to look her in the eye. It was a lot harder than it had been with his parents. He was used to their faces, he could spot looks of disappointment from a mile away, having studied their expressions like that. Charlie was a different matter altogether. She just seemed concerned, and he didn’t know how to frame that yet. Was this her getting ready to be properly angry? Or was she just hiding her annoyance? “Jonathan, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not getting punished.” She sighed and put a hand on his back, then muttered to herself as she looked out the window. “I hate it when people do this sort of thing to a child.”

“Yeah,” Simon piped in. “Charlie’s nice, man. You’re allowed a bit of backtalk.” Charlie stuck out her tongue at him, as if to prove his point.

“Don’t get any ideas, ferret boy,” she said, and Jonathan couldn’t help but smile a little bit, despite his still-present fear. Charlie turned back to him. “Please, I’m not going to punish you for asking questions or expressing yourself.” She looked at the little bread roll he’d palmed. “And I’m definitely never taking away your food,” she growled between gritted teeth. She looked him in the eyes again. “You don’t have a lot of places to go right now, Jonathan. I’m not saying that as a threat, mind,” she added when she saw the trepidation grow in his eyes. “It’s just a statement of fact. Until you go to the school, and then find your own place after you graduate, this has to be a safe space for you. So if you’re ever scared or uncomfortable or anything of the sort, please let me know, okay?”

Jonathan nodded and put the bread roll back on his plate. “I’m s--”

“Psh,” Charlie interrupted. “I’m not saying you can’t apologize. You can. You’re allowed. But you don’t have to. Because you didn’t do anything wrong.” She smiled at him. “Now, eat. You’re not done growing yet.” Then, with a little whisper, she added, “If you want to sneak that roll upstairs later to eat it, you can. I don’t usually like you lot eating in your rooms, but I think we can make an exception this time.” She winked as she stood up, and he nodded gratefully.

Jonathan took a deep breath and then hid his face behind his juice as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. A part of him was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and he saw Sarah and Simon share concerned looks with Charlie, who just shook her head at them. There was a certain irony in the fact that his life and his living situation had improved, somehow, after dying. It wasn’t something he really enjoyed thinking about in those terms, so he focused instead on trying to eat a bit more. He was still hungry, after all. 

“So, you ready for tonight?” Sarah asked suddenly, a welcome distraction, even if he had no idea what she was talking about. He looked at her.

“Tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah! The ritual. Leah is coming over!” Simon immediately perked up. The previous conversation had clearly gotten him down a bit, and Jonathan made a mental note to apologize to him later for having been a bother during breakfast.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Simon said. “Dude, I am so excited!”

Jonathan grinned. Their enthusiasm was infectious. “I’m ready,” he said quietly. It wasn’t even a lie. He caught Charlie smiling at him in a way his mother certainly never had. 

“Good,” she said. “It’s going to be a once-in-a-lifetime thing, so I want you to take it easy for today. And maybe take a bath.”

“Is it the h--”

“It’s the hair,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “It’s a bit long for someone of your…” she paused, “age. And if you’re going to keep it that long, I want you to take care of it. 

“Stinky,” Simon said, nodding sagely.

“You’re one to talk,” Sarah said. “Stinky catsnake.”

A deeply affronted ferret fell off Simon’s kitchen chair in protest.