“Well, that was dramatic.” Mrs. O'Sullivan stood up, her back to a grand fireplace decorated with flying ravens. Thomas blinked once and twice to confirm, but the raven was flying across the mantle. The marvel of seeing the wood grain move and breathe with the bird amazed Thomas. Sitting in trees that made the sides Taking notice of Thomas staring eyes, one turned and winked at him.

“Your ravens are winking.” Thomas gaped in wonder. Could wood always do that? No, then perhaps the O'Sullivans were demons like the Rows claimed. If they were... Thomas looked at the smiling woman and the colorful boy who had saved him. He wouldn't care.

“They do that.” Mrs. O'Sullivan waved that off. Lars groaned and rolled his eyes.

“You know, Mother.” Lars came over and pulled Thomas away from the fireplace. To the purple and cherry wood settee that was before it. Pushing Thomas by the shoulders, he got him to sit. Thomas examined the settee's wood but was disappointed not to see any moving parts. “I doubt Thomas has seen that sort of thing before.” Lars sat beside Thomas. Patting his knee, he got Thomas's attention. “I must say, Thomas, you're taking this rather well.”

Thomas shrugged. Teleportation to another room? Kind of shocking. Thomas couldn't say it was typical by any means, but brandishing a stick at people certainly wasn't. Calling people "muggles" was something Thomas was still thinking about. It was strange to have a fireplace where the carvings moved. He could see a few ravens now perched on the mantle's top as he peered around Mrs. O'Sullivan. He was watching them strut around. The fear was outweighed by the fascination.

“Oh, right!” Mrs. O'Sullivan struck an open hand with her fist. “I tend to forget the small details.” From behind one of the birds, Mrs. O'Sullivan snatched up a yellowed envelope. “This will straighten things right up.” She passed Thomas the letter. Thomas took in the front of his very first piece of mail with gentle hands.

“That's how you're going to explain it?” Lars gave himself a palm slap on the forehead. “I should have waited for Father.” Lars complained next to him.

“The Nest?” Thomas asked out loud. He wondered where that was after reading the emerald-green letters. It was addressed to Mr. T. Cloverleigh at The Nest's Joint Room on the second floor.

“He hasn't even opened it yet, and you've already confused him.” Lars sighed and sagged into the sofa's corner.

“Oh hush.” Mrs. O'Sullivan knelt in front of Thomas. Her hands gently massaged his knees. “This is the nest. This is our home.” Thomas nodded at those stormy eyes. Not ready to believe that this nice place was his home. Even with just one room to go by, it was already much nicer than the orphanage. 

“Open it, and I'll answer any questions.” Mrs. O'Sullivan folded her legs down, getting more comfortable on the floor. Thomas looked at the floor. Although the carpet appeared to be soft and plush, shouldn't she be seated and he be on the floor?

“Mother likes sitting on the floor.” Lars remarked. He slouched back, at ease in his position,

“It's true!” Mrs. O'Sullivan nodded and clapped her hands together. “Traditional seating is so restricting!” Thomas nodded. Many chairs backs were hard and uncomfortable. Maybe the floor is better. Thomas looked at the cushy cream rug Mrs. O'Sullivan sat on. It did look comfy.

“Can I sit with you?” Thomas stuttered out, wanting to try it but not wanting to seem needy or anything.

“The more, the merrier!” Mrs. O'Sullivan scooted back in her skirt, and Thomas slid off the settee and sat on the floor. It was better! “Better?” Thomas nodded. It was much softer than the settee, and he could stretch his legs out, too.

“You've gone and ruined him, mother.” Lars laughed, flipping his legs onto the settee to stretch out. “More room for me.” Lars grinned. Thomas shook his head, and he felt a rare smile form on his lips. Everyone was so happy here.

“Now open it, open it!” Mrs. O'Sullivan bounced up and down. Thomas ripped open the red seal as fast as he could. Caught up in Mrs. O'Sullivan's eager nature. Pulling out a letter, he read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

~

Headmaster: Derrick Longbottom

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Cloverleigh,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. The term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Francis Walker

Thomas read it not once, but twice. He then folded the paper on his lap and closed his eyes with a sigh. A witch was much better than a demon. Although he made his choice to follow the O'Sullivans, even if they turned out to be demons, it was a relief that he and they weren't.

“Thomas, are you okay? Mrs. O'Sullivan's soft brogue made him open his eyes.

“I'm not a demon.” Thomas felt his eyes getting watery. Even though he was aware that he wasn't a demon, he would be lying if he said he didn't have some reservations after being called one for so long.

“Never!” His hands were taken by Mrs. O'Sullivan and brought to her chest. Thomas could feel her fingernails shaking as she gripped them so tightly. “You are a right brilliant witch and the son of my best friend.” She choked on her words as her eyes turned gray and pale from her own tears. She snuffled. “I should make them mark the day they dare convince you otherwise. That horrid couple!”

“What did I miss?” Mr. O'Sullivan appeared with a pop, making Thomas jump.

“Thomas is relieved he’s not a demon.” Lars said, raising himself to a sitting position. “I hope you gave that couple what was coming to them.” Lars approached Thomas and put his hand on his shoulder.

“I fixed them up. No worries.” Mr. O'Sullivan scowled. “Nasty couples shouldn't have any children.” He continued by telling Thomas, “You're a mixed-breed wizard, Thomas,”

“Mix-breed?” Thomas inquired while wiping his tears away. When Mrs. O'Sullivan needed to dry her own tears, she let him go.

“Wizard?” He wasn't a witch? Thomas looked around in confusion.

“A male witch.” Mr. O'Sullivan rubbed his wife's shoulders while she leaned against him. “Didn't you two tell him?” Mr. O'Sullivan looked down at his wife. She whistled while grinning and averting her gaze.

“She just handed him the letter.” Lars said. Thomas watched him snitch on his own mother with wide eyes.

“The cart before the dragon again?” Mr. O'Sullivan grinned while shaking his head. Mr. O'Sullivan turned to face Thomas and smiled softly. When they came across a specific cute animal, Thomas saw the girl use it. “To say it straight, You have three parents”

“Three?” Thomas asked with a blink. Now he didn't know much; Thomas wouldn't deny that, but he knew it took two to make three. Not three to make four. The math was off, for sure.

“Your parents were a special case.” Mrs. O'Sullivan added, not making things any clearer.

“Oh, for Nest’s sake!” Lars chimed in. “Your father was a vampire, Thomas; he had two mates! One was a witch and the other a siren.” Thomas turned his head with a snap. His mind was spinning with so many questions that he didn't know where to even begin to think! “Things get dicey from there, depending on who did what to get you.” Lars slapped his shoulder. “All that really matters is that you're here!”

“Well said, Lars.” Mr. O'Sullivan nodded. “I don't know much about them. I was only friends with Terra.” Mrs. O'Sullivan shook her head. “It was a whirlwind courtship.” Mrs. O'Sullivan added, “I do have pictures! You look like your father! Pointy ears and all.” Mrs. O'Sullivan smiled big, and Thomas reached beneath his hair to touch his ears. “Would you like to see them now?” Noticing Thomas's movement

“Not now.” Thomas shook his head. It was only natural that he wanted to see them. He needed some time to think, though, so not right now. Parents, witches, wizards, and vampires—it was all too much at once!

“Are you sure that I am one?” Thomas asked. If he possessed so much magic, vampires and sirens had to possess something similar. Thomas was certain of that. Why was it so difficult for him to convince the children or the Rows to stop harassing him? “A wizard?” Thomas included the others just to be safe. “Vampire siren thing.”

“Think about it, Thomas.” Lars said. “I'm sure you've done something.”

“With your hair, maybe? I saw the other boys cuts.” Mr. O'Sullivan said.

“I can't imagine what else they tried to do.” Murmured Mrs. O'Sullivan. Thomas thought back. Didn't the majority of children stay away from the attic crawl space he called home due to damage to both his ears and his hair? Thomas did nothing, but it seemed like they were afraid of him.

“Maybe.” Thomas mumbled, daring to hope.

“No, maybe Thomas. Magic.” Lars said. “Do you want to come to our room?” Lars asked while moving to stand up. “I imagine you're done.” Thomas sluggishly nodded. He didn't sleep, but he did rest because his head felt stuffed. Whenever his mind became too full, which would be right now, Thomas took a moment to observe the O'Sullivans.

“I want to thank you for saving me.” He said life would have only gotten rougher for Thomas. His only escape had been lost, with the old man gone.

“Can I look at those pictures tomorrow?” He asked Mrs. O'Sullivan.

“Of course! I'll get them ready.” With the aid of her husband, Mrs. O'Sullivan stood. Giving Lars and Thomas a quick hug.

“Rest well, boys.” Mr. O'Sullivan joined in on the hugs. “I told you we're huggers.” Mr. O'Sullivan smiled. Not minding, Thomas acted a bit stiff. “You'll get used to it.” On weary legs, he followed behind Lars. Not taking in the house one bit, he focused his mind on what he had learned and the past. Thomas gripped his heart-shaped locket, the Celtic knot digging into his hand. He swore he heard the brogue much thicker than the O'Sullivan's telling him that he would do great.