Christmas Holidays - part 3

I eventually found some gifts for Grant, Tim, and Tina. Grant, I got a copy of Music of the Age; while I wouldn't say I liked those songs, I thought Grant would find them interesting. Tim got some personalised drumsticks from a muggle music store. They were black with white tips and the words engraved; 'Tim-Tam Drummer Man'. I had no idea why I chose that, but I did, and I hope he would like it.

 For Tina, I got her some books with bass tabs. I figure she got a whole bass from me, so more music. I finished my shopping trip and headed home on the Knight bus.

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*Bang* Arriving back home at Spinner's, I was greeted with the lovely smell of a roast.

"Eddie? Is that you hurry and wash for dinner?" Mrs Malhook shouted from the kitchen. I smiled and did just that. As I was washing my hands, I heard from the living room.

"Eddie, why do you have a rooster?" yelled Mr Malhook. 

"he's a pet; I was thinking he could live in the garden. I'll have to make a coop for him, seeing it winter", I shouted from the bathroom.

"hell, be fine in the garage until then, I guess", Mr Malhook yelled back. 

When I came out, I saw Mr. Malhook had put away my things. I smiled. It was nice to be home.

"oh, a new coat. You look really dashing," said Mrs Malhook when she saw me in my new coat. 

I shared a wonderful home-cooked meal with the Malhooks and watched some telly with them afterwards. 

That night, I put on a record and laid in bed and just relaxed.

The next morning, I went over to Mike's house. *knock knock*.

"Master Carter, good morning", Mike said. Opening the door, he was dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. His blonde hair was stylishly ruffled. "I hope you know what you're in for" he led me into his home. His house was missing all the things one would find in a muggle home. There was no TV or toaster, and the gas stove had been replaced with a wood fire one. He didn't even have a fridge, just a cabinet that was seeping frost. Mike led me down to a basement of cold stone; a potion work table sat on one side, and a chair was placed in the middle of the room.

"This is where we shall practice. It's warded to block the trace, so you can also come down here to practice spells." He grabbed a scroll sitting on a bench and handed it to me.

Unfurling it, I saw it was a contract. Reading it over, I saw no traps. It would bind him not to speak about what he saw in my mind. He could only report my progress in occlumency training.

He handed me a quill. "This is a blood quill; it will take a bit of your blood to sign perfectly harmless and painless." I nodded and signed my name. The words shimmered, and the scroll rolled itself up.

"Now let's begin, sit in the chair. I'm sorry what's about to happen, but it's the fastest way", Mike explained. I followed his instructions.

"Now occlumency is the practice of fighting of legitimacy; once you can throw off my attacks, we can talk about preventing intrusion." Mike continued. "Now, how do you throw off an attack? I'd actually quite simple; you need to accept your mind is being read and mentally put a stop to it. However, that isn't easily done. Your memories will come to you very vividly, and that's what your brain is focusing on. So basically, you need to try and clear your mind, not think about the memory or the emotions that memory contains."

"Yeah, I understand. I've been reading some books on it." I smiled.

"Good. it's always nice to have a willing student." Mike smiled. "Now, are you ready?" I nodded, and Mike pulled out his wand and pointed at me <legilimens >.

I was suddenly trusted into reliving a memory of one of the days before coming to the malhooks—the darker times, as I thought about it.

"Get up, boy!" Yelled Hamish Dolben, my first foster father, a cruel fat man with angry green eyes and fading dark hair. In his hand, he held a belt. Its buckle was bloody from where he hit me in the back.

"I'm sorry, sir", I whimpered. Anger and shame were flooding my veins. I was only with Hamish for four months before he was arrested, but those four months were hell. This particular memory was about two weeks after I came to live with him. I had burnt his toast and received a beating that left me bloody and bruised.

I fought my mind for a while as the memory continued, then finally shouted, "Get out!" Suddenly, I was back in the cold basement.

Mike had a look of anger on his face. "Good work, young master"

"He was arrested", I said to Mike. "Four months of beatings, and then I finally started school. The first day I went to the teacher's, he was arrested that night."

"Why did you wait four months?" Asked Mike.

"I wasn't allowed out of the house. I couldn't tell anyone, but he had to let me go to school. Of course, he threatened me not to tell, but I wasn't going to listen to that man." I smiled, remembering the night he got carted off. I was sitting in the back of a police car as two bobbies dragged his fat ass out of his home; it seemed he put up a fight because his face was bloodied.

"Do you need a break?" Mike asked. I was sweating from the mental strain.

"Nah, I can keep going," I said.

Mike nodded and pointed his wand at me again. <legilimens >