Chapter One

The next few weeks passed in a similar fashion to most. With the exception of the odd distraction - and a particular distraction as well, Emily worked most of the time, only stopping long enough to refuel and re-energise between shifts. With the gradual changes in the Ministry, and the catastrophes that were taking place, Emily found herself rising earlier than usual and turning in later – nothing she couldn't handle. Her sleep had been effected, sure, but it was only in part due to being run off her feet. The Ministry wasn't the only thing undergoing a transformation, she too was changing, slowly, day by day and this too kept her up at night. It was so subtle that she doubted anyone would notice but her, it was intrinsic and something nobody would be able to see let alone feel.

“Emily!” came a familiar and enthusiastic voice. Emily grinned, “Zeke!” she greeted back, mirroring his enthusiasm though she lacked his childish flare. The boy walked briskly to her side, offering her a grin of his own and wrapping his arms around her middle. Merlin that would take getting used to.
“What're you doing?” he asked, clearly in a nosy mood. Emily was frozen for a short moment, unable to move as he impeded her with his short arms. “Making tea, you wanna help?” she asked before she pried herself away from him and continued walking through the main hall toward the kitchens, figuring that he'd follow suit. Zeke wasn't like most of the children at the Hub, he was often isolated, left to the company of his mother – when she was well enough to handle him, otherwise he was left to his own devices. “Sure,” he replied happily enough, sticking by her side. He received some odd looks from some of the other residents, a couple exchanging whispers as they exited the room into the main kitchen. This did not go unnoticed by either of them. “... everything alright?” she asked, giving Zeke a concerned look. He shrugged, moving to get the sugar – arguably the most important ingredient in tea – by his standards, if not hers. “Yep, it's fine,” was his late response.

Fine, was a term she used frequently, and despite it meaning simply that when she said it, coming from Zeke's mouth, it sounded like a lie. A white lie at best. Emily handed him a spoon before pulling out a few mugs from the cabinet below.
“How come I never see you out playing with the others?” she asked, making small talk while he distributed the sugar with steady hands.
Zeke shrugged, “they don't let me.”
Emily paused to watch him, resting the small of her back against the counter. Why they wouldn't let him was beyond her, but she didn't pretend to understand child psychology, she knew they were capable of being irrational and vindictive. Bullies. For all she knew, they could have been disapproving of his hair cut, or his nose, or even his inquisitive nature.
“Well they're missing out,” she said with a small huff, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly before reaching across for the kettle. The tap ran slow, and it was clear that maintenance still hadn't gotten it checked out – though apparently it was something to do with the pressure being too low, yet another thing she didn't begin to try to understand.
“It's because I'm different,” he said, staring down at his feet.
“That's a terrible reason,” Emily was quick to reply, “I'm different too you know.”
Granted, he was nothing like her, and in fact she'd have thought him perfectly normal if not for the circumstances in which he lived. Unfortunate circumstances.
“Maybe that's why we're friends?” he offered, “we're both different.”

Friends. Emily didn't have many of those, she was selective with who she kept as company, and even more so with those she considered to be dear to her – special, or worthy of her care. And even though she'd become familiar enough with Zeke over the past few weekends, she'd have hardly considered him a friend and this left a sensation similar to that of guilt stirring in the pit of her stomach.
“It must be it,” she replied with a genuine smile. Turning the tap off, Emily replaced the kettle on its stand and turned it on, watching as Zeke busied himself with tea bags. He was easy to please. A good kid, and she probably did like him more than she had expected to. As far as kids went, he was sensible and charming enough to not get on her nerves. He didn't waste her time with noise, he knew when to keep to himself, and he knew when he could get away with pushing the boundaries.

“Emily?” he queried, adjusting the teabag strings and wrapping them around the handles – an act that Emily found both interesting and annoying. “Mmm?” she replied, moving to add the water, she could sense he was about to ask an awkward question, it was all in the tone of his voice.
A moment of silence fell between them, only the sound of the trickling water and the hum of residents chatting in the other room could be heard. Replacing the kettle, Emily turned her attention to her helper, eyebrows raised out of curiosity. Was he going to ask her? Or not?
“... nothing, don't worry.”

They added the milk and stirred in silence before stacking the cups on trays and carrying them out to the hall for distribution. There was a noticeable change in the atmosphere from a few weeks go. The recent donation drives were drumming up more support and the incoming resources were beginning to make a bigger difference. It was one of the things Emily loved about the place, the lead up to Christmas was a time where the people could find some comfort and forget their troubles. The Hub, formerly known as the Birmingham Christmas Shelter, first opened its doors on Christmas day in 2006, but had since developed into something greater than that. It was a place where people could seek refuge all year around. It provided them with shelter, warmth, food, basic first aid and friendship. While nobody was excluded from the premises, with the exception of rule breakers, the residents rarely outstayed their welcome and often returned to give back to the community that had supported them.

“Thank you,” replied one of the residents as she accepted the tea. Emily offered her a fleeting smile before moving on, only to be distracted by movement across the room. A pair of the older boys appeared to be heckling Zeke again – standing over him, and while this didn't surprise her, she was surprised that it was happening indoors with staff around. There were ramifications for this type of behaviour. Placing the tray on a nearby table, Emily inched her way toward the boys, she wasn't going to let it continue. She wasn't going to let it go unnoticed, even if everyone else seemed to be oblivious or turning a blind eye.

“Freaky Zekey!” Emily heard one of the boys call out. Freak... Zeke... well now that was original. If there was one thing that irked her more than bullying itself, it was stupidity, and these two seemed to be scraping the bottom of the barrel as far as intelligence and wit was concerned. Frowning, she hung back a moment, not wanting to fight all of the kids battles, but she wasn't about to let them walk all over him either. The taunting continued with subtle digs and moments of brash name calling, Freaky Zekey being their primary catchphrase for the day. Clearly it was the only thing they could think of, hence their overuse of the term.
Zeke, though he didn't look pleased, seemed to be taking it in his stride, his slack lips and tight frown were the only indications that he was distressed or at least uncomfortable. But he held his chin up high and didn't appear to have plans to back down or remove himself from the situation. This was admirable, if not foolish. Emily turned her head to see if any of the other staff or volunteers were watching this, did they know this was an issue? Had the boys been dealt with before? The Hub had a rock solid anti-bullying policy, it would mean near expulsion from the facility and a definite expulsion for a re-offence. As it so happened, nobody seemed to notice, not even the middle aged heavily bearded man slumped on the floor only meters from where they stood.

A loud shattering sound followed by a startled exclamation caught her attention, her eyes darting back to Zeke. For a moment she was under the impression one of the boys had smashed the mugs purposefully and her eyes swiftly looked Zeke over from head to toe for signs of cuts or spillage. Nothing.
“Freaky Zekey! Freaky Zekey! Chucked a Leaky!” taunted one of the other boys an ugly smirk forming on his face after the expression of shock subsided.
“How'd you do that?!” said the other, his eyes wide and livid “YOU FREAK! HOW?!” And that was it. The last straw.

“OI!” Emily called out as she covered the length between them in long deliberate strides, projecting her voice so loud it made heads turn and the boys jump. The boys, Zeke included, took a measured step apart, shrinking backwards on her approach.
“You and you!” she said pushing the two further away from Zeke as she stepped in front of him, shielding him from their stupidity and loud voices. “What's going on here?!” Though she rarely needed to raise her voice, it came naturally to her now. Zeke popped his head out from around her back, the tray clenched tightly in both hands, though it was scattered with fragments of cups and watered with tea. “Nothing's going on,” he said in a low voice, making strong eye contact with her as if to prove a point. She didn't buy it.

“This, is not nothing,” she said gesturing to the mess, “ and neither is name calling and intimidating people.” Did she need to continue? Her eyes were trained on the two older boys, she was adamant on teaching them a lesson. If she could have had it her way, she'd apparate them to a holding cell on level two and leave them there a while to consider their actions.
The two trouble makers exchanged looks before averting their gaze to the people around them, trying to single out a guardian? Nobody stepped up to claim them, again, given the circumstances it wasn't surprising.
“He was the one who broke them,” said one of the boys, giving Zeke a look of disgust. “He breaks things all the time.”

Emily shook her head, she wasn't interested in that... for now. “No, what were you two doing,” she said, poking them both in the shoulder to make her point clear. Neither answered.
“Both of you. Directors office. Now.”

***

After giving her version of events, Emily left the boys in the custody of Pam, the Hub's Director. She was an elderly woman, her disposition something akin to fluffy kittens, rainbows and smiley-faced cupcakes... but she had a firm hand and didn't tolerate poor behaviour. Justice would be served, in one form or another. Holding cells aside, Emily would have liked to see the boys exiled from the premises for a day or two, but who was she to judge them? And they were still young boys, the world was too harsh a place for them to get by on their own, safely. Perhaps cleaning and laundry duties would suffice.

Emily ignored the incessant whispering in the hall, and returned the odd looks she got with glares. Combing her fingers through her hair, she grabbed her bag and coat from the staff quarters and was set to call it a day. It crossed her mind to check on Zeke, see how he was in the aftermath, but he was nowhere in sight... probably just needed space. Passing his mother, Veronica, the woman slumped in the armchair - her knees raised and folded beneath her chin, Emily shook her head pitifully and moved on. There was no point in asking her where he was, she wouldn't know.

All the way home, she kept replaying the scene in her head, the taunting, his expression, the cups... and she still couldn't fathom how it had all happened. He breaks things all the time, echoed in her head. She knew what that had been like, only, it was different... more real and more intense for her, it was beyond being accident prone. Her magic had started developing early, she had memories of it from the age of five – even if it was a little hazy at times, spontaneous combustion and things breaking were among her more common displays of magic at the time. They had been few and far between and always driven by extreme fear or anger. Thoughts of Zeke slowly faded to the recesses of her mind, instead they were replaced by those memories of her childhood catastrophes and afflictions. The scar on her lower back coming to mind as she walked.