James Freyler and the Sphere of Aliceri

Chapter 1 - The Boy in the Wardrobe

The wizard sat at his desk, scribbling away furiously on a parchment that was trailing on to the floor. His quill was flying along the parchment, scratching out the strange runes so fast that it hardly seemed that the pen was making contact on the parchment, rather that the runes were appearing there, in red shining ink, of their own accord. In fact, if the wizard's wand had not been lying on a dusty cabinet several feet away, that was what James Freyler would have thought.

James edged very slightly to the left, but it was no good. He could still not see the runes properly to be able to translate them. Not that he would have been able to translate them anyway. In the darkness of the wardrobe, James couldn't see his hand in front of his face, let alone the contents of the book, which in good light still looked like a dirty spider had crawled all over it.

James sighed. If only he could prove what he was! His father just wouldn't believe him, no matter how many times he told him. He knew he was a wizard, he just knew it! But how was he supposed to progress and master his powers without proper training? He had to get to Hogwarts, it was the best school there was, but his father wasn't having any of it. James sighed again, but quietly, because his father had just looked suspiciously at the wardrobe where James was hiding, as he remembered his last fruitless attempt at persuading his father.

"Dad, Dad!" James had shouted, running into the study. "You won't believe what just happened!"

"No, I don't think I will," his father had said dryly. "No doubt it will involve you heroically saving a non-existent person from certain death with your, ehem, magical powers."

"Caoimhe does exist Dad, I keep telling you, she's my pen friend from school, and she's a witch, and anyway, I didn't save her, just gave her some advice that was useful... Anyway, what I was going to say was, I just made the chicken turn into tea cosy!" James had burbled, trying to keep his excitement under control.

"A what?" his father had blustered. "A tea cosy? Don't be ridiculous boy, you can't have done."

"But dad -"

"IDIOT BOY! When will you learn to keep your mouth shut? How many times do I have to tell you, you are NOT a wizard! Your mother was a Muggle, and came from a long line of Muggles! The magical gene is not dominant! You cannot do magic, and you never will, so stop telling me lies!" And with that, his father had stormed from the room.

That was the trouble, thought James sourly. His father had grown to hate him, as he hated himself for marrying his mother. He refused to believe, he didn't want to believe, that James was anything like him, that he could possibly be a wizard like him. And after all, how uncommon were Squibs? Very, that's how uncommon. The last known Squib died in 1394, when he threw himself off a cliff. And that, reflected James, was a representation of the sort of half-life Squibs had to lead, knowing about the magical world, but never allowed in. It was like watching someone else eating chocolate. But James wasn't a Squib. He knew it. He had known it ever since he was six, when he had woken up one morning with four ears, when his father had accused him of never listening to him the night before.

So James had spent the last five years trying to persuade his father that he was a wizard, always being met by his father's glowering face and angry temper.

Two hours later, James made his way dejectedly up the stairs, to his bedroom, having just squeezed his way out of the study. He hadn't even managed to translate any of the letter which is father had been writing, though he was still sure it concerned something called the Aliceri spell, which, according to his rather hurried research through some old books he had found, was a spell that no-one could yet perform, but was supposed to have powers of protection from the dark arts.

James knew, somehow, that he was going to prove his father wrong, but he did wonder, as he settled down to sleep, how long it was going to take.