Desiganted Harbinger - Secrets

Have you ever thought your family was weird? Well, then you never met mine. On the outside we're normal, but inside --- lets just say that every family has secrets. Occasionally we leave this world and enter one of magic. It's not as extreme as it sounds. Still, it's cool.

You see, my mom is a witch while my dad is a psychic. Not many people I've met know or would even understand it. Witches and wizards don't get along with psychics and vice versa. Both run in families and occasionally pop up from nowhere. Both have extra abilities, powers when compared with Muggles, regular people. So why don't they get along? Probably because they're on the opposite ends of the spectrum with the witches and wizards on one end, the psychics on the other end, and the Muggles in the middle.

How did two people, such as my parents from two very different worlds, come together? They don't particularly like to talk about it, but I have the basic idea. Still, why talk about my parents when I could be telling you about something that has happened more recently. Something that involves me.

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"Honey, I'm home!" A young girl's voice rings through the house. The ten-year old had just entered the residence through the front door calling out her customary greeting. A bell begins jingling from somewhere upstairs and was growing louder as it comes closer. A small, pretty Siamese cat is running down the stairs before stopping and yowls expectantly. A pair of arms scoops up the cat. The girl gives the cat a rather noisy kiss before putting her down again. "Yeah, Darling, go on and play," she says as the female cat purrs and trots away. The girl shrugs off her book bag onto the floor and heads into the kitchen.

There she grabs an apple to munch on while watching the man at the sink clean some paintbrushes. "So how was class?" He flashes her a smile that makes him appear at least ten years younger than he is.

"Fine, Da. Christy is really getting good at tennis but I almost beat her this time," she beams.

Drying his hands off, he turns towards her. "Congrats! How about the others?"

Her face twists into a grimace. "It was soooo boring. In computers, we just played games. Math was ok, but not challenging. Christy liked it. Then again, that's her worst subject. Mrs. Jensen looked off today. I think...she's worried about her husband. So English was just busy work." She pauses then continues brightly, "The other kids are great! I'm having fun but can't wait until this week's over. I'll try to keep in touch with them but who knows?"

Dad nods at her. The summer kid's college camp would end on Friday. Most kids her age tend to live their lives day by day. Lasting friendships depend on the work and time put into them. Without an activity or the effort to remain close, it was unlikely that they would last.

"Well, it sounds decent. You could always invite them over in a week or two. God knows Chris is over here enough," he says, referring to her best friend, Christy Mason. The two of them have been friends since kindergarten. It was hard not to be friends with them as they were the only girls their age in the neighborhood, in the same class, and their parents belonging to the same book club.

She grins as she thinks of her best friend but begins to look suspiciously at her father when she notices that his smile is a bit too bright.

"So...," he begins, a light appearing to shine from his hazel eyes, "...do you feel up to seeing my latest project?" She glances up before tossing the apple core into the compost bin and heads out of the room. "Sure, let me go change," she says, already hurrying from the room and leaving her father to go to his workroom.

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Mom found us in Dad's workroom. It used to be a two-car garage before he remodeled it. The floor is still concrete but now shelves line the walls. The garage also had a big heavy worktable, a bench on one side of the room and a forge on the other side along with an anvil, tools, and a slack tub. The windows were slightly open but, with it being summer, it was still sweltering inside.

The forge is on and we both were wearing overalls and worn long-sleeved shirts. We perspiring a lot and I feel all sticky. Mom looks positively cool compared to us. Our hair now looks completely different. My hair normally looks like a carbon copy of her wavy mahogany colored hair. A sloppy, swept back ponytail, black with sweat, tends to make a girl look different. I have my dad's skin tone and eyes so we looked similar on that point. We are both grinning madly and as dirty as two pigs in a sty.

Dad's job is earthy, messy, creative, difficult, and beautiful. He's an artist, but not really viewed as one. The paintings he's done are only a hobby while his metalwork is extreme. The dirty, excited man by my side makes everything from gates, fences, and tools to swords, weapons, and sculptures. It's a dying skill now and keeps him occupied. As much as I love working with him, I don't think it'll be my life's work. Not because I'm a girl ---(cause GIRLS RULE), but I like other stuff just as much. Still, there's nothing better than watching my dad work. He just becomes so alive.

A wet towel suddenly hit Dad in the back of his head interrupting our work. "Hey," he yelps! I spin around catching my mom grinning at us. She must have been watching us for a couple of minutes.

I can feel my evil smile appearing as I run up to her with open arms to receive a hug. "Mom," I cry!

She quickly grows alarmed and dodges me. "Eww. Jessica, stop it! You're filthy." The slim woman sidesteps from me and darts behind the worktable to keep it between us. Dad just stands there laughing, wiping his face off with the towel. "Oh, be quiet you two. Jessica, go get cleaned up then you can have a hug. Something arrived for you today that we need to talk about later, ok? Now get! Shoo."

"Aww, Mom," I wine, sulk a bit and run out of the room. /What could have arrived for me?/ Knowing I'd only get the info after Mom had what she wanted, I head for the house.

He looks at his wife puzzled. "What was that all about?"

She normally doesn't mind their teasing and it would have drawn out longer. His wife shoots him a look that clearly said, "This is no time for joking around."

"What's wrong, Marie," he asked worried.

A series of expressions pass over her face. "Better get cleaned up. We need to talk." She pauses near the doorway and turns away not looking at him. Softly, she continues, "The letter...the letter came, David."

He is shocked for a moment then crosses the distance between them to face her. "It's alright. Shh, everything'll be fine, Marie. You'll see." He comforts her while she silently cries and he kisses her forehead. Nevertheless, secretly he's worried too.

For all my cheerfulness, I was worried. Mom's aura was almost overwhelming between the various emotions. /She must be wanting to talk to Dad alone. What could have happened that would create such an effect. Her second auric layer was a swirling mass of color about the body. I'd only focused on it for a couple of seconds but could tell./ The other shades diluted amber, the color of personal strength and courage. The strongest tone was viridian indicating emotional and mental stress. Mom usually didn't show that color. There was a light shade of gray but the cream and pumpkin color looked promising.

From this, I could tell that emotionally Mom felt trapped. Something was bothering her, but she had strong self-control, strength, and is heading in the right direction. For a moment I wished I was developed psychically. Only now I was able to see to the fourth auric layer easily. Dad is teaching me but it could take years before reaching my full ability to read auras.

A shiver went up my spine. Something big was happening. A turning point, a decision must be made. Whatever happens now will depend on our wills and our reactions. The phrase 'Whatever fate and God decrees,' came to my mind. It wouldn't help to let fear and worries cloud my mind, so I might as well live life like normal. /Though normal is not us and is highly overrated./ So instead of dwelling on the matter, I flip on the radio, got ready to shower off the grime and began to sing to the music. Things will tend to work out on their own.

Meanwhile back in the kitchen...

David left to get cleaned up after I calmed down. I didn't get overemotional everyday. Perhaps it was all the memories that are coming back to me.

When I got my letter, I was so excited even though I already knew that I was a witch. How could I not be? My family was one of the most powerful pureblood families. But to hold that parchment, to see that wax seal and the green ink filled my life with joy. I daydreamed for a week about which house I'd be sorted in. Never thought I'd get Gryffindor. Ravenclaw, like my father, or Slytherin like my mother, certainly, but Gryffindor! I didn't know whether to laugh or cry! Mother took it hard, or so I've heard. The only thing I can think of that I did Gryffindor-like was marrying David. Speak of the devil, there's him now.

I smile at the sight of him. Here is the man I married --- the same sweet, insightful, yet most thickheaded man I've ever met. Barefoot, wearing worn jeans and a white tee-shirt, he still looks like the day I met him. His light brown hair is still wet and curling at the ends. His tanned skin was still damp. He should look carefree and relaxed yet his posture and eyes reveal his seriousness. Gratefully he accepts the coffee that I hand him as he slides into the kitchen's built in booth.

Looking around the room, I notice once again how different this is from the place where I grew up. By marrying David I've disconnected myself from that world. The last time I really lived there was when I was pregnant with Jessica. Now we live almost completely Muggle. As American Muggles no less! That is the Psychics way of life. They live right under the Muggle's noses. Of course, it's easier for them. /Damn, after all these years I'm back to referring to them and 'them' all because of that letter./ I look up; David is watching me closely.

He starts the conversation with a question. "Do you want her to go?"

I hate that. It can't be my decision. This is too big a choice. If Jessica goes to Hogwarts then she'll be entering a world that she knows almost nothing about. On the other hand, I'd be depriving one half of my daughter's heritage if she didn't go. My daughter is a witch. It doesn't matter if she's trained or not as she will still be a witch. However, will she be accepted? If people find out (and they will eventually) that she's one half psychic, Jessica will be in a difficult situation. She might even be rejected by both sides.

David's hand covers mine. He is still watching me. "I don't know," I say softly. They are both silent for a couple of minutes. David's hazel eyes glaze over then focus on something behind her. Resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, I just wait.

Smiling sadly, he squeezes my hand and says, "Jessica will go to Hogwarts. It's a stop on her path. All we can do is support her 100% and pray for the best."

Shaking my head, I take a sip of coffee. In some ways, I'll never get used to this. It was annoying because it is something beyond my ability to understand although I try. It also bugs me that he is usually correct when he make those type of statements.

When I enter the kitchen, I found Marie staring into her coffee, lost in her thoughts. I sit down and watch her for awhile. Once again a feeling of guilt spreads through me.

Marie rarely enters into the world she was born in anymore after she married me. She still uses magic, that incredible gift of hers, but really had no one to share it with. We live in the real world - not that sequestered existence that her family belongs to. She's adjusted really well. Her friends, family, and work keep her grounded.

Then I'll find her once again pouring over those old photo albums. When it got hard enough she'll leave for the weekend sometimes taking the kids with her and immersing herself in the Wizarding world. Things settle down for a while, but is she truly happy? Why can't we find a balance between these two worlds?

This old worry has now taken a new twist. I never thought our two children might become a witch or a wizard. Will we have to face this with Peter as well? Jess appears to have all the makings of a psychic. Peter is just coming into his age but shows signs. Is it possible that they can have both magic and be psychic? I've never heard of it before but then I've never heard of any Witch-Psychic pairings except for the ones in legend.

I wish things had happened differently but in the end I wouldn't change a thing. I love Marie and the kids. If it wasn't for our two worlds and their governmental policies, things might have been different. I know our reasons and try to understand theirs but it's hard at times. This must be harder on Marie though. It looks like she's lost in her memories. And so I bring up the main question pulling her from her thoughts, "Do you want her to go?"

She frowns frustrated and conflicted. I watch her have her silent yet loud debate with herself. Sometimes she was just so easy to read. Part of her charm I remember with fondness. I reach for her hand giving it a slight squeeze. In the end, it's just us, our family, our lives, and our decisions.

Her expression troubled, "I don't know," she says softly. She is off balance, in turmoil, caught between two worlds once more. My heart reaches out to her, yearning to put her at ease.

I'm not sure how long I sit there. Time appears to slow down while the room darkens; the shadows grow in the mid afternoon sun. The familiar feeling of dissociation comes over me once again. Darkness grows and then fades into a new environment. I found myself in a green glade surrounded by tall trees swaying in the mid-summer breeze. The knee-high grass blew until the wind subsides. A large pile of rocks is situated on the opposite side of the glade. Mountains could be seen not far away against a deep blue sky.

My totem, my spirit guide, enters the glade bringing a sense of safety and peace along with her. She lands on the rocks, ruffles her long, broad wings before looking at me with large penetrating eyes. Dark brown with a patch of golden brown feathers on the back of her neck, she is a mature, powerful Golden Eagle. Her yellow eyes focus on me and I hear a voice speak directly to my mind, "Yes, young one? Why do you call? Hunting has been good for us these days."

I approach, my footsteps silent before sitting on the ground a few paces away. "I know things are well but I fear a new wind might bring change and trouble."

Looking a little affronted, she cocked her head to the side quizily saying, "Winds always change. That has never been in question. As for trouble, look ahead as well as behind then deal with it as it comes. Sometimes winds are rough. That is life."

Though I knew this well, it felt different this time. Face earnest I tell her, "It is not for me that my heart and mind are troubled, but for my daughter. I fear that she may leave me and will not survive."

The eagle smoothes some of her feathers. Her voice is soothing. "That I understand. Your eldest fledging is starting to learn to fly and you fear she may fall." She shrugs her wings, eyes still focusing on him warmly. "But you already know that she will have to leave the nest one day, spread her wings and fly. Fear will not help you. It will happen."

Sighing, I had been hoping that Olivia would have an answer for what is in Jessica's best interest. "Is it better to let her go now and fail or to wait until you're sure she will not fall?"

Olivia, the Golden Eagle and spirit guide, bobs her head a few times before staring fixedly at me. "Finally...your question. You never know if your youngling will fly or fall until it happens. Too early or too late, both are not good. Each one has a different time. Some have no time at all. Now, a question to you that I'm sure you know the answer. Do you trust your daughter? Trust her to do what is right? Trust her to know when to ask for advice or help? If the answer is yes, then your decision is made for you. Trust is either there or not; there is no in between."

I look at her face frowning in concentration. My mind flashes on images of Jessica. The times when she has lied, and the times when she asked for help or advice. The times of laugher, and the times of tears. The times she has learned by herself, and the times when Marie and I taught her lessons. If asked this a couple of years ago, the answer would have been no. If asked one year ago, no. Asked a couple of months ago, it would have been difficult to answer. Now, I have to answer --- yes. I did trust Jessica. Part of me wishes that I don't because of what this means. She is going to leave me.

"You have your answer," she says, knowing what I've realized.

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Olivia. The decision will now be hers. I will support her either way and not interfere."

Olivia bobs her head and preens a bit. "Good! This is part of her destiny, a stop on her path for her...for her to learn to fly and hunt, to grow..."

"...up. Yes, I understand even though it makes my heart heavy," I finish her comment. Thinking of what I know about my daughter, I could guess what her answer will be.

The eagle smoothes her long feathers, hops from one foot to the other, and looks up at the sky. "I must go now. Happy hunting and fly high," her voice murmurs to my mind before pushing off into the air, wings flapping as she gains altitude. When she reaches a good distance away, the environment begins to fade. Then my perception of the area brightens revealing me back in the kitchen.

I was still holding Marie's hand and a coffee mug in the other. Focusing on Marie, I notice her waiting expectantly. I give her hand a squeeze and smile. It probably looks a little sad to her but I feel reassured. "Jessica will go Hogwarts. It's a stop on her path. All we can do is to support her 100% and pray for the best."

She shakes her head looking a bit annoyed but seems to accept. As Marie takes a sip of her coffee, I couldn't help but think that I was somewhat relieved. Knowing Jessica, if we had her that she wasn't allowed to go to Hogwarts she would have found a way around us to go anyway. This was really for the best. I have to believe that.