“No, no no no no,” Matt pleaded, his eyes frantically darting between the nun and his little brother. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t, “No! I won’t go!”

The nun’s eyes widened, “Matthew, this is a very good opportunity---”

“Why can’t they take us both?” he cried, his arm going around Caleb’s shoulders. The smaller boy’s eyes were wide, the fear was evident on his face. Somewhere in Matt’s mind he knew that he shouldn’t be getting this loud in front of his brother, in front of a nun, but he couldn’t control himself! “I’m not leaving him, I won’t!”

The news he had been waiting to hear for more than two years had not been as splendid of a thing as Matthew had hoped for. Sister Mary had ushered him off the playground and introduced him to an older couple, The Crawleys, a husband and wife who had a son about his age that they believed Matt would get along with.

"It would be so lovely to have a home for your birthday!" Sister Mary interjected, tapping her desk calendar. It was nearing the end of June and Matt faltered; he had considered (only for a second!) what kind of theme they'd have for his birthday party.

"No!" he said with a shake of his head, feeling his face flush. The apple that was sitting on Sister Mary's desk teetered to its side and rolled to the floor. "Please, make them take us both!"

He’d been so happy at the prospect of leaving the orphanage. No more sharing a room with twenty other boys, actually having toys, someone that cared and would love him and play with him and his brother! Finally, a place to call home. When Sister Mary sat Matt and his little brother Caleb down to explain that it would only be Matt that was leaving, he realized the ramifications of this decision. The fleeting happiness of escaping the orphanage shot out the window like all of Matt's dreams seemed to.

“You can’t separate us, you can’t!!” Matt shouted, standing and tugging Caleb up from his seat. "I'm not going! I won't! You can't make me, I'M NOT LEAVING MY BROTHER!"

In that instant the frames on the walls, the trinkets on Sister Mary’s desk began to shake and shudder. Caleb shrieked and cowered and Matt’s eyes went wide; why did it feel like the room was vibrating in perfect rhythm with his shaking fists and rapidly beating heart?

Sister Mary shot up, holding onto her desk and trying to save some of her belongings. Matt saw the fear in her face and his anger immediately dissipated. He felt the quake begin to slow and as he caught his breath, the room stopped rattling. An earthquake? In England?

Matt frowned, his arms having gone tightly around his brother. "I'd rather die than leave him."

“Now, don’t say that,” a sagely voice said from the doorway. Matt turned quickly, his eyes widening at the sight of an old man with a long white beard and half moon glasses. He smiled at Matt, taking off his purple bowler hat, "It would be quite the waste."

The old man turned to the nun, "Sister, could you take Mister Caleb to the playground? His brother and I require privacy. I need to discuss some future plans Matthew has laid out for him."

Without blinking, the nun nodded and came around the table, taking Caleb's hand (he too moved as if in a trance) and led the little boy out of the room. The old man smiled kindly and shut the door behind them. Matt only felt a little nervous, but it was because he was sure that this man was going to insist he head home with the Crawleys. His fists balled up, ready to fight once more.

"That was a very nice display of a contained tremor jinx, Mister Summerby," the old man said, his eyes twinkling. "I would say that you'll be a very adept wizard if you learn to keep your temper in check."

Matt abruptly sat down into his chair.

"Er---wizard?"

The old man pulled the seat that Caleb had been sitting in and slowly dropped down into it. Now that Matt was paying more attention to him, he noticed the strange design of his green clothing and how the pattern of the vines along his collar seemed to be moving, no, growing. He gulped.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," he began. "Your eleventh birthday is in a few days, so I thought I would pay you a visit..."

Matt sat in awed silence as Mr. Dumbledore explained the reasoning behind his visit. See, there was this school that taught magic. To wizard and witches. And he, Matt, was a wizard, apparently. His parents had been killed because they weren't wizards, but Mr. Dumbledore explained that not all wizards were mean and hateful like the ones that had attacked his home. On his eleventh birthday, he would receive a letter, delivered by an owl, that would invite him to go to Hogwarts (that was the magical school). He would be able to live there throughout the school year, on a scholarship that had been set up for victims of the war that was beginning to strike the wizarding population. He wouldn't have to worry about tuition or text books or even purchasing his own wand. He would have a place to live and grow and finally figure out where he belonged in the world.

This was all very good and well, but when Mr. Dumbledore finally gave Matt a chance to speak, he couldn't be bothered about charms and broomsticks.

"But what about my brother?"

Mr. Dumbledore smiled, but Matt could see it was one of sympathy. "Caleb's not a wizard, he cannot attend Hogwarts."

Any composure Matt had managed during this rather peculiar sit down was lost and his teeth chattered as tears struck his eyes. Once again, twice in the last hour, the beautiful dream of leaving the orphanage and finally being happy was torn from him. How could he go off to Hogwarts and leave his little brother behind? His only priority since his parents had been killed was Caleb, to make sure Caleb was happy, to make sure Caleb was well, to make sure Caleb never cried or was sad. How was he supposed to do that when he was away at wizard school? Learning to do what?

He'd been crying into his hands for a few long minutes before Mr. Dumbledore reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Matt's hands dropped to his lap and he stared wearily back at the old man, who looked as if he'd read all of Matt's thoughts and could actually feel his pain.

"It will be a hard journey, Mister Summerby," he said, standing, "but in the end only good will come of it. I'll leave you to your thoughts---oh, and you needn't worry about the Crawleys. They've suddenly decided they wish to adopt a cat instead of a young boy."

Matthew managed a weak chuckle and nodded, watching the professor leave the room. He sat slumped in the chair, not wishing to move as it meant accepting the last hour of his life as reality. He wiped his face and took a deep, shuddering breath. Couldn't anything good come without a price?

Matt shoved the window pane up, wincing as the wood scraped against its tracks, the sound painful to his ears. He poked his head outside and leaned out as far as he could without falling out into the fire escape. His grin widened as he spotted what he'd been searching for, and with a quick glance back at his roommate, who was sound asleep on his small bed, Matt stepped out into the fire escape and began to climb. His slippers were of no help against the small layer of snow that had fallen over the course of the night. He'd thrown his jacket over his pajamas and he was glad that he remembered his gloves as he could feel the cold of the metal ladder through the thick yarn.

Managing an escape to the roof of your orphanage was no easy task.

He hoisted himself up over the final ledge and sat upon it to catch his breath. The large barn owl that was resting a few feet away stared at him with its wide, yellow eyes, clutching the rolled up piece of parchment tightly in its talons. Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of owl treats he had stored away from the prior semester.

"Here you go, sweets," he said, dropping the treats onto the ledge. The owl swiftly snatched them up with its beak and in an instant it flapped its wings and flew up, dropping the parchment into Matt's hands. He watched it disappear into the night sky, silhouetted against the full moon. When the owl was finally out of sight, he unraveled the letter, ignoring the cold, winter breeze. He couldn't risk reading the post in his room, as his roommate would find it oddly peculiar that he had a letter written on crinkled parchment.

Dear Matt,

How is your holiday going? We wish you could have stayed! I hope your parents let you stay over Easter break, because everyone is having such a good time! Well…as much of a good time as Drystan and Odette can have! We seem to be the only year that stayed behind from Hufflepuff this Christmas, and it has been so much fun having the dorms to ourselves! There have been talks about a party, but I'm going to have to try and keep those to a minimum! I don't think I could handle a party thrown by The DuO (do you like that nickname? I think it's clever!)

Well, I just wanted to let you know that we're thinking about you! I am, at least :)!

Happy Christmas!

~Noralie

The grin on his face stretched to his ears, his very red ears (and they were colored so not only because of the cold). Matt looked up at the clear night sky and hoped that one of the stars above granted him the cleverness to write a letter back that would knock the pretty blonde girl off her feet when she read it. He would most certainly have to be at his best, because describing a week at an all-boy's orphanage without actually stating that is where you were, especially because your friends had no idea that's where you spent your holidays…was difficult.

And to be honest, not only because of his secret, but because it had been so ruddy boring, too!

Matt pulled a blank roll of parchment, quill, and inkwell out of a small box that he had left on the roof from his frequent correspondence with Noralie. He positioned himself on the roof's ledge, one leg hanging off so that his toes grazed the grating of the fire escape. He smoothed out the roll and the feather of the quill wisped its way back and forth across his lips as he thought.

Dear Noralie, Matt wrote, wincing at his terrible scrawl. My holidays have been dreadfully boring.

Which was true! All he'd done was shovel for Sister Mary, because the snowfall had not ceased since he'd arrived. Matt reckoned that by the time he got back he'd be in tiptop shape for a beater's position. But, he didn't think Noralie would care too much about his hard labor. Instead, he imagined what he would have liked to be doing.

My dad's supposed to teach me how to drive, but the snow has been non-stop! The tip of Matt's quill pressed hard into the parchment, his breaths heavy. He wasn't sure what was worse, that he could conjure the lies so easily or the desperate desire he had for them to have been true. His eyes shut as he tried to relax his shaking hand once more, and continued on with his story. But with each inch of snow my mum makes her secret recipe hot chocolate, you'll---

He couldn’t lie about Noralie getting a chance to try it one day. Matt dropped his head back to catch his breath, the moon shining brightly above. What sort of life was he living? Hogwarts had to be kept a secret from everyone at the orphanage, and he was too ashamed to admit to his magical friends what his home life was really like. The only reason he always went 'home' for the holiday was the slim chance that his brother would send a letter in the muggle post, or that the family that had adopted Caleb those many years ago would stop by and request to meet him. Matt had stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays that his little brother had been adopted, a decision that he'd tortured himself over to this day. There was no way he was going to risk missing out, or lose out on a chance to go searching for the boy himself.

Deciding that this letter would have to wait until he got his mind straight, Matt rolled up the parchment and tucked his belongings back into his safe box. Tomorrow his mind will be clear, and he won't feel so guilty about keeping his life and his stories to himself.

They had definitely made an effort to move things slowly. It just hadn't gone well at all.

"I must've been jinxed when I set you two up! We're in public," Kendall Broadmoor groaned somewhere in the distance. The whine was followed by a quick whack to the back of Matt's head, which caused him to knock foreheads with his girlfriend. Luckily for her, she'd wrapped her arms around his neck so tightly that she didn't tumble back to the floor, and her current state of straddling his lap remained intact.

"Sod off!" Matt managed between kisses to Delilah's bruised forehead and her lips. The hand that Delilah was raking through his hair only removed itself from his tangles to flip a rather rude gesture toward Kendall, and their mutual acquaintance stormed off, muttering under his breath.

The Three Broomsticks did not qualify as a no-public-display-of-affection-zone. If Kendall had wanted an evening full of chatter and laughs, then he should've invited them to a sit down, fancy restaurant in London, not the snog-fest central of Hogsmeade. What were they supposed to do while Kendall had disappeared to the loo for five minutes? The dark corner couldn't go to waste, and Delilah's skirt was far too short to be ignored.

"He's just jealous," Matt murmured, enjoying the feeling of Delilah's knees pressed against his thighs.

"We'll have to find him his own bird to take advantage of in secluded places," Delilah said in a determined tone, though she planted quick, silly kisses across Matt's cheeks and nose. "Surely we owe him that."

"Mmm," Matt hummed in agreement, happily falling back into the rhythm of the snog as Delilah captured his lips again. Yes, they certainly owed Kendall a big favor or two.

"See you later, Captain!"

Matt had barely shut the door of his flat before he was jumping up and down in place, unable to hold in his excitement anymore. Drystan had given him a very good, professionally warm welcome to the United, and after the promise of drinks with Odette later, he'd left. Matt had been so surprised by the news that most of the interaction had consisted of him nodding dumbly to everything Drystan was saying, but by the end of it he felt ready to explode with happiness.

He was still in his pajamas. Matt slid across his wooden floor, nearly tumbling into a bookcase. He was on The United! He was their seeker. They'd chosen him! Him! Matt Summerby, starting seeker for the Puddlemere United! His dreams had literally come true, everything he'd been working so hard for this past offseason, this past season, these past few years! Everything had fallen gone his way, and it just showed that perseverance and a bit (a lot) of optimism could get you anywhere.

His dog, Moxie, barked at his heels, obviously feeling his excitement. He'd never felt this sort of happiness, this joy, this pride!

"Moxie, girl!" he cheered, throwing his hands up in the air. Matt immediately regretted the action as his hands hit the overhead light that hung over his coffee table. He let out a yelp of pain and for a few throbbing seconds, feared he'd just cost himself his quidditch career. Could his luck really have run out so fast?

No, no—it just stung. Nothing was broken, or injured, or irreparably compromised…except for the lamp.

Matt climbed onto the coffee table to stop the swinging lamp before it felt and cracked him on the head, and when it was finally steady he let himself take his first full, deep breath since Drystan had knocked on his door. Matt literally felt like he was standing on top of the world (Moxie attempting to clamber up on the table helped this image) and he let out a long, loud yell of pure invigoration.

He'd done it. He'd actually done it. If only they could see him now.

The foster parents wished to keep the adoption closed, so by law we are not allowed to disclose any information on your brother's whereabouts. When he becomes of age, he…

Matt moved his textbook to hide the letter as a few students wandered past in the common room. He was hunched over the table, mind reeling and unsure if he could maintain any sort of composure. His little brother had been adopted last week. Adopted. Something that Matt and Caleb had always dreamed about happening, but not like this. He'd known it was a possibility, he'd known from a young age that they could be separated, but he'd never…

He'd refused to be separated from his brother. Matt remembered the faces of the two people that wanted to make him their son clearly as for a few hours they had represented a beautiful new life. It all fell apart when they'd proclaimed they couldn't afford to take custody of Caleb, too. Matt had thrown a fit, a tantrum, and had displayed his first recognizable signs of magic. Albus Dumbledore had been waiting in the wings to inform Matt of the future he had at Hogwarts, and life had changed forever. Caleb wasn't magical, he couldn't come to the school, but it was a way for Matt to create a future for them. He was getting a free education and it would help them. Every decision Matt had made in the past five years had been to help his brother, and now he was gone.

Gone! Just---gone. Matt's face screwed up with tears, but with everyone up late for midterms, he couldn't find a proper place to clear his head. He ducked low to the table, feigning intense focus on his charms study guide. How was he supposed to wrap his mind around all of this? He was so…confused! Upset! Hurt! Caleb was the same age Matt had been when he'd been chosen by the Crawleys to go home with them, and Matt had turned them away. How could his little brother have gone along with this, knowing that Matt was doing all he could? He took odd jobs in the summer, his Gringotts account was getting a decent interest because he allowed the goblins to lock up most of it, he did nothing for himself but the bare minimum and Caleb had…left. He wouldn’t be at St. Joseph's when Matt came home for Easter.

He was so selfish! How could his brother be so selfish? How could he leave him alone? And to a family who wanted nothing to do with Matt! A closed adoption? How was that fair? Who could pull apart a pair of brothers in that way?

Why didn't they want him?

Matt clenched his fists and inadvertently snapped his quill in half. He would've been able to convince the Crawleys to take both he and Caleb. He should've tried harder instead of crying and throwing a fit. He should have made them realize that they were good boys who deserved a nice home. He would've forgone Hogwarts if he'd been able to do that. Why was he even here, now? All his studying and practicing was so that he could get a good job and pay for Caleb's university education, to get a flat as soon as he could so that they didn't have to live at the boys' home, but what did it matter now? Caleb was off, starting his new life without him. Was he happy to do so?

"Hey, Matt!"

"What!" Matt snapped at the voice, turning quickly to glare at Jonas Ackerly. The little Hufflepuff jumped back, his stack of Exploding Snap cards dropping to the floor and popping at his feet.

"Er—I was wonderin' if you'd wanna play cards?" the second year asked.

"Does it look like I want to play cards?" Matt said, standing up abruptly. He began to shove his belongings into his bag and cringed when he saw his roommates coming toward him.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the den!" Odette MacFarlan chirped. She and Drystan stood on the other side of the table, both looking far too amused for Matt's current state. "What's wrong, Matty?"

"Sod off, I bloody hate when you call me that," he said quickly, earning a quick gasp from Odette. Matt threw his bag over his shoulder and started to storm off, but Drystan put his arm out.

"Oy, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Matt exclaimed, throwing his hands up in utter frustration. "I'm sitting here trying to study and I've got annoying little kids trying to play games and then she goes and teases me! I don't have to deal with that!"

Odette scoffed, though her expression was of confusion and concern, "I just said—"

"I don't care what you said, I don't want to hear it," Matt cut her off, ducking under Drystan's arm and cutting across the common room.

He had no desire to attempt to lie his way through an explanation of what had him in a twist, and instead pushed his way out of the dorms and into the dark corridors of the school. Maybe now he'd be able to get his thoughts together, but as the night fell over him, Matt felt the painful feeling in his chest grow tighter; he knew that it was inevitable that his dark thoughts would only strengthen in the shadows.