Pʜᴀɴᴛᴀsᴍ || h.p.

one

The windchimes jingled against the glass door as she pulled it open to Café Magique. The inside had a cozy and rustic theme. Trinkets and magical plants sat on shelves and hung from the wooden walls. A plump woman sat behind the counter in the back, reading the New York Prophet, but peered up when she heard the girl's entrance. "Good morning, Alexis."

"Morning, Ms. Powell." Alexis strolled to where the woman sat to pin her name tag to her sweater. "Where's Mer?"

"Meredith's feeling ill, so I put her to some chores at home instead." Mrs. Powell put down her reading glasses and stood to stretch. "Go help Evan prep the kitchen."

Alexis nodded and pushed past the curtain that led to the kitchen. Inside, a tall, curly-haired boy stood, wiping down the counters with a damp towel. He was about the same age as her, yet stood at almost a foot taller. His lean figure was obscured by his hoodie. "Oh, hey," he said, brushing the brown hair out of his eyes. "You're early. Lynn's out again?"

Alexis nodded. "There's a big Congress meeting today."

"I wish Dad didn't have to work at the Ministry," the boy sighed. "Mom's too worried about us."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I like having Lynn gone. I feel like I have more to myself."

"Why? Has something been happening?"

Alexis hesitated. She hadn't told anyone of her nightmares and it was debatable whether she wanted Evan to be the first to hear about them. He showed strange concern for Alexis all the time, even though she could probably take care of his family better than he could take care of himself. "I'd rather not say."

"Alex, you know I'd–"

"I know, Evan," she snapped, "but I can take care of myself, thank you."

He frowned and his throat tightened. "I'm sorry."

Alexis shook her head. "No, I'm sorry for getting mad."

Evan took a few steps toward her and put his two arms around her small figure, tightening into a hug. He rested his chin on her head and entangled his fingers in her ebony hair. "I love you."

She trembled slightly at his words and clung onto him. They stood for a few seconds before she began coughing up tears. "You're so stupid," she muttered.

"But you don't mind?"

Alexis shook her head.

Evan planted a kiss on her forehead. "I still love you."

"Fucking idiot."

-

As she plated the last of the potatoes onto their plates, Alexis heard the jingling of keys at the apartment door. The door popped open and Miss Flynn dropped the keys into the bowl by the door.

"How was the meeting?" Alexis asked, but there was no response. She turned off the stove and placed a fork on their plates. "Lynn?"

Miss Flynn shook her head and slumped onto the couch. She waved her wand at the kitchen to pour a cup of hot tea. It floated over to her as Alexis moved their food to the living room. The television flickered on to a drama show.

The last part was the strangest. They never used the TV, let alone to accompany their dinner. It seemed to fill the terrifying silence of the room for Miss Flynn, to engulf herself in a faraway fantasy to be distracted from reality. Halfway through their meal, though, Alexis sighed and turned off the TV. She got sick of not getting an answer, of having her question avoided. "Lynn, aren't we a family? Can't you say anything instead of ignoring me?"

A fork dropped and let out a tense clank.

"You're acting as if it's not hard on me?" Miss Flynn grimaced.

"Then I'd at least expect you to tell me so we can get through it together!"

"You know what it is, Alex, Why do you pretend like this won't change anything?"

"Stop acting liking you know me."

"I do."

"Bullshit."

Alexis shoved the remaining veggies into her mouth and threw her plate into the sink. Storming down the hall, she kicked open the door to her room only to slam it shut once inside. The sweet sauce from the food grew rotten in her mouth as she sunk into her desk chair and picked up a framed photo. The photographic paper was worn at the edges. Inside, there were two figures: a father and his daughter. However, the most ghastly part of the photo was the black holes in place of their faces, results of burns.

Alexis ran a steady thumb over the face of the infant. The charcoal burns were the distasteful reminders of her undesired presence in the world. She was born into the least wanted fate, conceived under the influence of a love potion. Perhaps that truth wouldn't be as foul if it weren't for her hatred for her father. The parallels between herself and the most malevolent wizard were uncanny. They were the exact reasons she was to abandon her home in New York, bound for Great Britain under the separate, but desperate, requests from its Ministry of Magic and a mysterious "Order of the Phoenix."