Chapter 1
As the alarm rang off the dark-haired boy rolled over and smacked the top of the machine until the incessant squawking ceased to sound. He didn't feel ready to face the day. However when the alarm went off about five minutes later he let it sing out as it now played music instead of ear retching screeches. He started getting dressed for the morning, humming along to the calming melody of the music as a purple toned shirt and slacks. As a final check he waltzed over to his mirror passing a brief case lying on the floor near the foot of his bed. In the mirror he saw that his pillow had left crease marks about his face and his curly dark brown hair was a wavy mess. Not much he could do about that.
He picked up his wand of the desk by his door, stuck it in his sock and straightened his pant leg. The messy-haired boy made his way down the hall towards the dining room and sat in his seat to eat the breakfast that flew over to greet him. As he ate he picked up the daily paper off the table and began to read. He skimmed over the main stuff such as the weather or the newest scandals happening among royalties or celebrities, and then turned to the missing persons and ongoing investigations; these where what truly amused him. Sometimes stories would catch his eye, but more often than not he scoffed at the blatant stupidity of those solving the extremely transparent cases. He was in the middle of one such advert when he was met by a voice in the doorway.
"You know," the voice, an older one by about four years, drawled on in an almost mundane tone. ", normal children don't read the missing persons advertisements."
"Well, were not exactly normal children are we." Questioned the younger boy already sat at the table with a voice already surprisingly deep for an eleven year old.
"Anything but." The boy in the door way retorted as he sat opposite the younger and began cleaning the mess off his shirt that his breakfast had made from dropping on the table and splattering a few beans on his shirt. A few rude words slipped his mouth.
"What," the younger, slimmer boy smirked glancing over at his brothers plate which was full of the traditional English breakfast of eggs, beans, sausage, mushroom, tomatoes and bacon. But one item was missing; the potatoes and bread. ", no hash or bread?"
"I'm going on a diet. Trying to cut back on the carbs." He reached for the paper, snatching it out of his brother's hands.
"I think the three slices of cakes you had last night would beg to differ." Scoffed the younger brother as he took a bite of tomato and bacon.
"Why you lit-" the older of the two clashed his fork against his plate as he reached across the table to get at his brother.
"Mikey!" shouted a woman's voice as she came in through the doorway, waving her hand at the sink which then started washing the dishes inside the basin by itself. "Be kind to your brother." She pointed at the older child now frozen mid attack. Realizing what had happened he opened his mouth to complain that "he was the one that started it." But instead decided to sit back in his chair and try his best to wipe the mess from his breakfast off of his now multicolored shirt before correcting his mother.
"Why bother naming me if you're not going to bother using the name you gave me? My name isMycroft. Not Mikey, not Mike, not Michael. My-croft."He finished with a hearty sigh.
"Okay Mycroft, I know your name. You can stop being a smart arse." She snapped her fingers and Mycroft was dressed in new un-beaned clothing that fit his slightly rotund body a bit nicer. He was now clothed in a vertical-striped suit with a blue and silver striped tie to represent his house; Ravenclaw, where many of the smarter (and often times more talented) students were placed.
