'Drake. Gideon Drake,' Gideon repeated slowly, testing how the name sounded coming out of his own mouth. There was nothing familiar about it.

'For now, it's probably best you continue going by Maxwell. As I said, I'm sure things will work themselves out soon enough,' Jonathan Grimsby informed him.

'And my—birth—mother?' Gideon asked.

'Her name was Gwendoline,' Grimsby told him. 'I'm afraid we don't know much about her either. She was twenty-four. A Muggle. A French national who had moved to London the year you were born. She was very pretty. We have some photos and other bits and pieces on record at the Ministry. I can bring them to you if you like?'

Gideon considered this. He was intrigued, of course, but somehow it felt like a betrayal. Gwendoline Drake may have given birth to him, but he didn't know her. His mother was somewhere in the hospital fighting for her life, perhaps alone.

Grimsby seemed to understand Gideon's feelings and added, 'Well, if you ever want to see them, just let me know.'

Gideon mumbled in agreement and asked, 'So, what happens now?'

'Well,' said Grimsby, 'for now, you need to stay in the hospital for your treatment anyway. I'll continue working on your dad, and hopefully, he'll come around before you're discharged. If not, you'll stay here until I can make other arrangements.'

'Other arrangements?' Gideon questioned.

'Hopefully, it won't come to that, but we may need to consider temporary housing or even foster placement.'

'What about the rest of my family?'

'Your dad is a formidable man, Gideon, I don't need to tell you that. Your other relatives have been to the hospital but only to visit your mum. I believe Marcus has forbidden them from seeing you.'

Gideon contemplated everything he had been told. It still didn't seem real, and he wasn't entirely convinced, but why else would he be sitting here with a near stranger discussing such things? He wasn't ready to think too deeply about it all, he would do that later in private. He and Grimsby sat there in silence and consumed their drinks.

As Gideon scooped out the last remnants of his chocolate with a spoon, Grimsby finally broke the comfortable silence, 'Is there anything else you want to ask me, Gideon?'

Gideon thought this over. He decided he had quite enough to think about for the moment until he absent-mindedly scratched an itch on his arm, and a memory came to him all of a sudden.

'My arm,' he said.

'Your arm?' Grimsby replied quizzically.

'And my hand!'

'You're going to have to be a bit more specific, I'm afraid.'

'You did something to my arm yesterday,' Gideon accused, 'You stung me with something, and it was just like that time at the house when we shook hands.'

'Oh, I see,' said the man looking shifty. He appeared to wrestle with the idea before deciding to reach into his pocket and withdraw a small, black, pentagonal-shaped object. 'It's an Occurio,' he explained, expecting that would answer Gideon's question.

When he saw no recollection in the boy's face he continued nervously, 'Well, essentially it's a magic detector. A relatively new invention but very expensive. When it makes contact with an object or person, it measures magical output.'

'So, why would you use it on me?'

'As I explained yesterday, a witness claims that it was you who fended off the Dementors—'

'Well, obviously that's rubbish!' Gideon interrupted.

'Even so,' the man continued, wary of setting Gideon off as he had done the day before, 'I used it yesterday when you were—let's say, out of sorts—just to make sure everything was okay.'

'And?' Gideon challenged, secure in the knowledge that the strange object would not have reacted to a Squib.

'Well,' Grimsby hesitated, 'Shall we try it now?'

Gideon obliged, and the man pressed the Occurio gently against his open palm. There was a familiar but momentary burning sensation and when Grimsby flipped the object over, the centre emitted a small, green light.

'Green means no response,' Grimsby explained as he proceeded to demonstrate the Occurio on himself, this time producing an orange glow.

A slight look of relief on Grimsby's face went unseen by Gideon, who smugly assured the man, 'See! Whoever this witness of yours is, they've either got it wrong big time or they're lying about being involved. I hope you'll be investigating them?'

'Yes, well, ironically, that's up to your dad's department,' Grimsby stated, 'but I'm sure he's on top of it.'

Gideon quietly guffawed before reasoning, 'So, when you used the Occurio on me at the house, you were finding out for my parents whether I was a Squib?'

Grimsby's subsequent pause went unnoticed. To the man's surprise, Gideon had created a narrative that fit quite nicely all on his own. 'That's right,' he lied. 'Your dad knew I had an Occurio, and he and your mum wanted to be sure before they spoke to you about your future. He asked me to bring it when I did my next visit.'

'"Next visit"?' Gideon queried.

'Well, as you now know, I'm your legal representative while you're still technically a ward of the Ministry. Part of my responsibilities includes monitoring your welfare.'

So, this was why the man had visited the house over the years. He had been checking on Gideon under the guise of meetings with his father. Gideon was glad to have tied up that loose end, but then, bitterly wondered whether that meant Grimsby had used his son, Alex, as some kind of spy. He chose not to ask the man and risk marring his memories any further than necessary.

'I should be getting back to the office now,' said Jonathan Grimsby. 'I'll take you back downstairs. Unless there's anything else?'

Gideon shook his head and they travelled back via the lift, again in silence. As Grimsby pushed Gideon's wheelchair back onto the ward he asked, 'I hear you're something of an avid reader?'

'I guess so,' Gideon replied.

'I'll see about getting you some books to keep you occupied,' Grimsby said as they reached the boy's hospital bed. 'I know this is a difficult time for you, Gideon. Apart from the things we've already discussed, I'll do whatever I can to make it easier for you. I'll be sure to keep you updated and please don't hesitate to have Healer Watts contact me if you need anything. Okay?'

'Sure,' said Gideon, 'and thanks,' he added, and he meant it. The man's visit had left Gideon feeling a little less numb and a lot more informed.

As Healer Watts arrived to transfer Gideon's magical shackles back from the wheelchair to the bed she said, 'Oh dear, you've got something on your lip Mr Grimsby.'

The man wiped away the cream, chuckled and looked at Gideon in a faux accusatory sort of way. Feeling a little guilty but mildly amused, Gideon smiled properly for the first time in weeks as the man waved goodbye and headed out, his golden hair bouncing along with him as he went.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

***

It took a long time for Gideon to fully process his discussion with Jonathan Grimsby. However, it was the time itself that made it easier to digest. After all, he hadn't fully believed certain elements of the man's story, but after a week on the ward, certain things became self-evident. This included the fact that his family had not visited, and apparently, wouldn't be.

As a matter of fact, Gideon hadn't had any visitors. He hadn't even had so much as a "get well soon" card from anybody. Then again, it wasn't as if he had any important friendships or relationships outside of his immediate family—or "the Maxwells", as he should perhaps refer to them now.

His emotions were creeping back in gradually and they were mostly negative. Gideon did his best to keep his mind occupied with mundane activities but in the quieter moments, he couldn't help but dwell on the fact he had been abandoned and nobody was any the wiser.

He'd been attacked and then left in the hospital to rot. Meanwhile, his mother, the only person he felt sure would stick by him, was perhaps only footsteps away, but unable to be there for him, and he was barred from being there for her.

He had long since given up on trying to convince the Healers to let him see her or sneak him into her room. The reality of what was happening to him, the worry over his mother and the feeling of powerlessness were all bad enough. However, it was boredom that risked driving Gideon loopy.

If it wasn't for the books Mr Grimsby had been sending him, he thought he would surely have lost his mind by now. Gideon was glad to find the man had a similar penchant for spy novels. At his request, the man had also sent a blank sketchbook and some pencils.

Gideon spent his days having his wound treated and his bandages changed, while covertly listening to the other patients and their visitors, trying to understand what life was like for normal families. He also sketched the abundance of fruit bowls that found their way onto the ward, read books and even read the newspaper—something he never cared to do before now.

Gideon was even starting to follow the political news, even if the occasional thoughts of wanting to discuss the latest issues did make him long for home. It seemed like the Minister for Magic was really in hot water. Even after a special edition, which had listed her many accomplishments and featured her statement on the need for progress, people were eagerly anticipating the upcoming emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, which had now been scheduled.

Eventually, Gideon was moved to a private room. It was of small comfort since Gideon realised it also meant that he was not going to be leaving the hospital any time soon. After more than three weeks since waking up, he had slumped into a deep depression. He was lonely. He missed his parents, he missed his brother and sister, the elves and even his grandmother.

He had just shed a silent tear for them when Healer Watts made an unannounced visit. Gideon hurriedly wiped his face and greeted the kind lady, who had been good to him during his stay at St Mungo's.

'Mr Grimsby's here, Gideon,' she said brightly. 'There's been some good news, he's got someone with him. Shall I send them in?'

'Of course!' he replied eagerly, wondering which of his family members it could be as she left the room. He flattened the creases out of the bed sheet and attempted to straighten the hair that was accessible through his bandages. Moments later, Jonathan Grimsby appeared around the corner, visible through the glass panel of the door, and entered the room with another figure behind him.

'Gideon?' said a woman with wavy, brown hair parted evenly like drawn curtains but cut shorter than Grimsby's.

'Auntie Caroline?' Gideon exclaimed.

'How are you?' she asked with a shy smile, her arms crossed under her folded jacket.

Gideon was very surprised to see his aunt, and not just because he had been expecting someone else. His father's sister didn't visit often, and likewise, the family didn't visit her all that much. In fact, Gideon couldn't recall the last time he had seen her in person. Their last contact was a Magiphone call around Christmas.

'I'm good,' Gideon said automatically. 'What's going on?'

'Well, Gideon, Healer Watts tells me you're ready to be released, but as you know, I haven't had any luck with your dad,' Mr Grimsby told him, 'So, I've been in touch with your aunt, and she has agreed to take you in.'

Gideon looked from Grimsby's smiling face to his aunt's nervous one.

'That is if you want to?' Caroline Maxwell added.

'Err, well, yes, please,' said Gideon, 'I would like to get out of here.'

'That settles it, then!' Grimsby said happily. 'Why don't you get your things together while your aunt and I make the arrangements with Healer Watts?'

'See you in a bit, Gideon,' said Caroline.

***

It didn't take Gideon long to gather up the few bits of clothing and other items Mr Grimsby had brought for him. He scanned the newspaper until the man returned half an hour later with Aunt Caroline, Healer Watts and inexplicably, a teapot.

On noticing Gideon's puzzled expression, Caroline explained, 'My flat doesn't have a fireplace, so Mr Grimsby has arranged a Portkey for us.'

'Yes, and it will be ready in just over a minute,' Grimsby said, observing his watch.

On hearing this, Caroline pulled her wand from her pocket, conjured a bag and levitated Gideon's pile of things neatly into it.

I haven't travelled by Portkey before, Gideon told them.

'Don't worry, there's nothing to it,' Grimsby assured him.

'Now, Gideon, I've given your aunt a list of dates for when you need to come in to have your dressing changed. We're not finished with you yet!' Healer Watts jested.

'Thank you, Healer Watts. And thank you, Mr Grimsby,' Gideon said

'Alright, come on, then,' Caroline said, ushering Gideon to her side as she took the teapot from Grimsby.

As the teapot began to shake, Caroline gestured for Gideon to grab a hold of it. 'Quick!' she warned.

Gideon did so, and suddenly, Grimsby, Watts and the hospital room were left behind in a blur as he felt his torso pulled into the rift in space. The light became darkness, and just as quickly, it returned along with a set of altogether different surroundings. Gideon felt the now carpeted floor beneath him but lost his balance all the same.

Caroline remained upright. 'Up we get,' she said, helping Gideon get back to his feet. 'Well, this is home for now. I think I've decorated since you were last here.'

'It's nice!' he replied, taking in the sky-blue walls and modern white cabinets and furniture of his aunt's moderately sized, open-plan living/dining room and kitchen.

'It's just a one bedroom but that Mr Grimsby helped push through a Ministry-approved extension charm request,' Caroline explained as she showed him to what Gideon recalled was the coat cupboard.

Gideon looked into the cupboard expecting to see his aunt's coats, brooms and other stored items. Instead, he found a freshly-painted blue bedroom complete with a double bed and, to his dismay, what appeared to be all of his possessions.

'Not a bad size considering, huh? There's even an en suite!' she informed him excitedly before noticing his eyes scanning the room. 'I sent your dad an owl a couple of days ago, telling him I thought you should stay with me. He didn't reply, but your things arrived this morning, along with those letters,' she explained, gesturing toward three envelopes lying on the blue-checked quilt.

The sight of his clothes, toys, books, and other things all lined up against the wall hit Gideon hard. It was one thing to be in the hospital and feel as though he had been abandoned, but it was quite another to see real evidence that he had been cast out of his own home.

'I'll let you settle in,' she said considerately. 'I'm going to get tea started. How does Bolognese sound?'

'Mmm,' murmured Gideon simply, the frog in his throat preventing him from speaking. Caroline left him alone and closed the door. Gideon was thankful for the privacy as a few disloyal tears escaped from his right eye and began to trickle down his cheek. He swiftly wiped them away, spotted his dressing gown in the nearest mound of his belongings and yanked it out.

Gideon then quickly entered the white-tiled en suite and locked the door behind him, turned on the water in the glass-doored shower, disrobed and climbed in. He closed the door and the world behind him, and suddenly the small shower cubicle felt like his own private sanctuary.

Finally alone where no one would see, Gideon opened the little box in his mind. Forgetting about his bandages, he let the hot water raining down on him wash away everything he had been holding in for the last few weeks.

He stepped out of the shower feeling like a different person, or would have had it not been for the stinging under the now-soaked dressing over his left eye. He hoped he hadn't caused any damage to his wound, but it had been worth it. Granted, he wasn't going to be doing any cartwheels anytime soon, but it was as though a weight had been lifted. He threw on his dressing gown and left the steam-filled room with a towel pressed to his bandages.

Gideon sat on the edge of his new bed for a few quiet moments before turning his attention to the envelopes. He absent-mindedly opened the first one. Naturally, his depth perception wasn't what it was, and his vision was now a little blurry with water or tears, but he managed to read what tuned out to be his second-year exam results from Middling Academy.

He had scored an impressive ninety per cent or more in all subjects but Astronomy, for which he got a passable sixty-five. Gideon was happy with his marks but couldn't help recalling his last day of exams and the horror that followed. He shook off the memory, cast aside the letter and hastily tore open the next. He refocused his vision and began to read in astonishment:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall (Outgoing)

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Witch, International Transfiguration Association)

Dear Mr Maxwell,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on Sunday 4 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Joanna Long

Deputy Headmistress