Cored

Chapter 7: Red Hair to Boot

When they got outside, Katherine looked around for a car or bicycle or something but saw nothing. George just started walking up the road towards the hills.

"How far is it?" Katherine asked, struggling to keep up with his long strides. She had come up on his right side, and when she looked at him from this angle, she noticed the bandage again peeking out beneath his hair.

George looked down at her and careened so she stood to his left. "Sorry," he said, "I hear better on this side." He kept the gentler pace, realizing the difference in the length of their legs "It's not far. Why do you ask?"

"Well," she said, thankful that he had slowed, "I've wandered all through these hills and have never seen a house anywhere."

He didn't really respond, just looked at her with an odd smile and laughed. They walked a bit further, maybe ten minutes, before he stopped suddenly.

Wow, I really am going to be bludgeoned, she thought as she looked at him.

"I have to tell you some things before we get to the house," he said.

Bludgeoning seems a painful way to go. Maybe I can convince him to make it quick.

"Look, if there's some sort of problem," she started.

"No, just somethings you should know," he said as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out, not a weapon for blunt force trauma, but a thin . . . stick?

"This might seem like absolute rubbish, but Mum always says it's best to do things at a bit of a clip if you're nervous" he said, holding the stick in his hand. "Your father, me, the whole lot of us, we're . . . well, we're wizards."

Katherine thought back to the journal entries that she couldn't figure out—What have I gotten myself into? F.W. is mental. Suddenly, they made a lot more sense. She started to take steps back from him.

"You can't see our house because there is a spell that makes it invisible to muggles—sorry, non-magical folk."

Katherine still just stared at him. He's going to kill me with a stupid stick. I think I'd prefer the bludgeoning.

"I know that this is hard to imagine, but I'm not lying. Look," he said, pointing the stick at a patch of grass next to her.

Katherine flinched away from it instinctually, closing her eyes tight. But when she didn't feel anything, she opened them and looked at the grass beside her. She took her glasses off and wiped them on her shirt, worried at whatever was making them so dirty—but, with them back on, she saw it clearly. The grass was suddenly covered in bright white lilies, blooming in front of her eyes. They were swaying, even though there was no breeze, and looked positively out of place in the fall air.

She looked back at George, who was still holding the stick. He waved it in a circle around his head, and a small flock of orange birds appeared. They floated between the two of them, and one prodded softly at her hand until she held it upright for it to land.

"I'm hallucinating," she said, her voice cracking. "You are waving around a stick and I'm hallucinating."

"A wand, actually. And no, you aren't," he said softly. "I know it is a lot to take in. We aren't really supposed to tell muggles any of this, but I checked with Hermione and this is different."

She looked back at him and swallowed hard. The bird disappeared, and she weirdly missed the soft pressure in her hand. It made something tangible.

"But, if you are a . . . a . . ."

"A wizard," he filled in the blank.

"A wizard," she said softly, "and my father was a wizard, wouldn't I know? Inherit that or something?"