"Giles?"
"Giles?"
"Mr. Rupert Giles!"
The young boy looked up, staring at the large woman who was calling his name. "Y-yes, Mrs., er, Robins?" he stammered. A lingering snigger rose from the rest of the class. Rupert clenched his teeth desperately as he tried to hide an old, leather-bound book from the teacher. Mrs. Robins squinted at Rupert’s frantic motions, then swooped her flabby arm down to grab the book. Rupert’s eyes widened. "No, Mrs. Robins. It’s my, it’s my father’s…please…"
Mrs. Robins lifted her reading glasses from where they hung around her neck and placed them on. "The Slayers Handbook," she read. "’Chapter the First, Informing Your Chosen One that She is the Chosen One’ ? What sort of rubbish is this, Mr. Giles?"
"It’s not…rubbish, Mrs. Robins. I’ve told you. It’s, it’s my father’s," Rupert said, trying to keep his gaze away from the folds in Mrs. Robins’s neck. They always seemed to sway rhythmically when she got angry. "I, he, gave it to me for my birthday. I was just…looking at it…"
Mrs. Robins flipped through the book. "Weaponry? Wooden stakes? Swords? Battleaxes? Mr. Giles, this isn’t appropriate reading for a ten year old boy! I’ll have to take it."
"But…"
"And you have detention after class, with the Headmaster," Mrs. Robins said in a clipped tone as she made her lumbering way back to her desk. She locked the book in her detention drawer, along with other confiscated goods. "In all my years of teaching, I have never seen such trash printed in a book."
"Mrs., Mrs. Robins?" Rupert squeaked.
"You’re in no position to talk, Mr. Giles."
"I’m to meet my father after school today. It’s very important. An appointment that I must keep. I can’t, I can’t have detention," Rupert pleaded.
"Well, Mr. Giles," Mrs. Robins said. "You should have thought of that before bringing such, such filth into my classroom."
"Yes, ma’am," Rupert said softly.
"Now class. Open your books, your math books, to page seventy-five and do the first two sections."
As Rupert pulled out a pencil and paper, he pondered what to tell his father. He had to call him, inform him that he wouldn’t be able to come to the Council. Rupert rolled the pencil round and round in his small fingers, then, in a fit of sudden violence, he snapped the pencil in half.
"Mr. Giles, you’re already in trouble. Are you attempting to add to it?" Mrs. Robins said.
"No, Mrs. Robins," Rupert sighed as he reached into his desk for another pencil. Once again, he was reminded of why he didn’t want to become a teacher. Too many annoying children to look after.
"And you may use the school phone to ring up your father, tell him why you can’t make your appointment. Here’s a note," Mrs. Robins waved the small piece of paper in Rupert’s direction. Take this to the office, and they’ll let you use the phone."
Rupert stood up and walked slowly towards Mrs. Robins’ desk. "Thank you," he said automatically before leaving the room.
"Dad? It’s Rupert. Can you hear me? Well, sort of. I can’t make it to…" Rupert paused, realizing that one of the secretaries was right behind him, monitoring his use of the school’s only phone. "…to my appointment this afternoon. Why? I, er, I got detention. Yes. Yes, I know it’s important, but…Mrs. Robins caught me reading the Handbook. It’s in her desk now. I couldn’t help it, Dad. It was interesting! No, I haven’t gotten to Chapter the Seventeenth yet. What’s that? You can do that? Really?" Rupert turned to the secretary. "Um, my father wants to speak to the Headmaster. Can he?"
The young secretary nodded quickly. "I’ll get him," she said as she made her way down the corridor to Mr. Doranel’s office.
"Yes, yes, no one’s listening in now, Dad. I’m
sorry, Dad. But you told me, you told me that if I were to become
a Watcher…Would we be able to get another Handbook from
the Council? They don’t give back the stuff they’ve
taken until the end of term! Oh, here comes Headmaster Doranel,"
Rupert said as he saw the Headmaster coming towards him. "I’ll
give the phone to him now."
"Miss Keene, would you please leave us? I need to have
some privacy," Headmaster Doranel said. As soon as he was
sure that the secretary was out of sight, he took the receiver
from Rupert’s hand. "Hello, Stephen. Haven’t
heard from you in a while. Yes, young Rupert’s still here
with me. What? Detention? Oh, reading the Handbook in class.
I see," he stared at Rupert. "Well, if it’s the
boy’s first meeting with the Council, I’ll see what
I can do," he held the receiver out to Rupert. "Like
to say a few more words to your father, Mr. Giles?"
Rupert nodded and took the receiver. "Dad, I’m really really sorry about all this trouble. Well, it’s a bit much for a boy to handle, don’t you think? Learning that vampires and magic and demons are real? Right, right, see you after school then. Bye…" he hung up the phone. "Headmaster, I didn’t know you…"
"…were a Watcher? There are more of us about than you think, Mr. Giles," Doranel said. "I figured that your father would tell you sooner or later. You’ve got the talent to become a great Watcher. You’re clever, but a bit rash. Best to keep that anger of yours in check."
"Sir, do you have a Slayer in your charge?" Rupert asked.
"No," Doranel said. "But I think there might be one in this very school. She’s not called until the current one dies, of course, but I’ve seen potential. Oh, yes, much potential."
"And about detention?"
"Oh, right, I’ll just write a note, saying that your appointment is of the utmost urgency, which it is. Who knows, Mr. Giles, perhaps you might be the Chosen One’s Watcher someday."
"I hope not," Rupert groaned. "I can’t stand them."
"Can’t stand what?"
"Teenagers."
"And the bit where you tore off the Sarrok demon’s horn! You were marvelous, Dad!" Rupert jumped around, hardly containing his excitement. "Why didn’t you tell me that this is what Watchers do? It’s bloody marvelous!"
"Language, Rupert, please. You weren’t raised in a livery stable," Stephen Giles replied to his son.
"Sorry, but you were…you were fantastic! And the other Watchers chanting the spell to close that hell portal. Woah! I can’t wait to start my training now!"
"It’s not fun and games, son," Stephen said. "Being a Watcher takes discipline, intelligence, and patience. Before you can chant spells, you’ve got to know what they mean. You’ll be studying ancient languages, cultures; you’ll know more about the history of this world than anyone else in your class." Stephen opened the door to their modest home. "Get in, son, Mum’ll have supper ready for us."
Rupert ran through the door, still giddy from witnessing his first encounter with the supernatural.
"Rupie!" a young voice squeaked below him.
Rupert winched at the sound of the voice. "Hullo, little Petunia," he droned.
"Not little!" Petunia Evans grumbled. "Almost three!"
"Bloody wonderful for you," Rupert replied, trying to keep his cousin Petunia from pulling his pants down. The little girl clung to him incessantly.
Margeret Giles clucked at her son. "Rupert, such language! Have you said hi to your Auntie Iris yet?"
Rupert shook his head.
"She’s in the sitting room, with your new cousin!"
"Oh! She’s brought the baby?" Rupert grinned widely. He liked babies, until they grew up to be toddlers, like Petunia. Rupert entered the sitting room, where his Aunt Iris awaited. "Hullo, Auntie Iris," said Rupert, placing a quick kiss on her cheek.
"Hello, Rupert. My, you’re growing up to be a very smart young man," Iris Evans said in her quiet tone of voice. "Would you like to meet your new cousin?"
"Yes, yes please!" Rupert sidled up next to Iris, eyeing the tiny bundle in his aunt’s capable arms. "Is it a boy or girl?"
"It’s a girl," Iris replied. "And her name is Lily."
"Hullo, Lily," Rupert said as gently as he could.
"I’m, I’m your cousin Rupert."
"Wanna play, now!" Petunia whined as she stomped into
the sitting room. "Rupie, come play!"
"Petunia’s jealous of Lily, isn’t she?" Rupert asked, wincing at Petunia’s high-pitched squeak of a voice.
"Yes,’ Iris replied. "But she must get over it. It won’t do for sisters to fight."
"Lily’s beautiful," Rupert whispered. "I mean, she’s just a baby, but still, she’s beautiful."
"Play NOW!" Petunia yelled as she grabbed at Rupert’s shirt.
"Ow! Get off!" Rupert shouted.
"Petunia! Stop bothering your cousin Rupert. Sit quietly over there," Iris said. "He’ll play with you soon. After he finishes meeting Lily."
"It’s all right, Aunt Iris. I’ll play with Petunia," Rupert said, resigned to his fate as maligned toy for his mad little cousin. He slid off the couch and walked over to Petunia. "Horses?"
"Horses!" Petunia exclaimed happily, scrambling up on Rupert’s back.
Rupert had a sudden thought of chanting open a hell portal and leaving Petunia there for the demons, but then Petunia grabbed at his hair and pulled hard.
"Go, now!" Petunia ordered.
Rupert gave his best impression of a whinny and trotted about the room on all fours with Petunia giggling happily on his back. Suddenly, tiny Lily awoke from her nap and began to cry.
"Quiet! Quiet! My play! Mine!" Petunia leapt off Rupert’s back and rushed over to where her mother was comforting Lily. "Mummy, stop her noise! Stop her noise!"
"All your laughing must have woken her up," Iris said. "It’s all right, sweetie. Hush, hush, Mummy’s here," she chanted, rocking the baby in her arms. "Nothing to be frightened about."
Rupert got up from his horse-posture and went over to Iris. "Will she be all right?"
"She’ll be fine, Rupert," Iris grinned. "Babies cry. It’s the only way they can tell us what’s on their minds."
"Stop! Stop the noise!" Petunia yelled at the top of her lungs, which made Lily wail even louder.
"Petunia, YOU should stop. YOU’RE the one who’s frightening Lily," Rupert said. "Babies don’t like to be frightened."
"Not fair!" Petunia grumbled. "Not fair, not fair, not fair!" She kept tugging on her pigtails, as if to pull them straight off.
Suddenly, Rupert witnessed something extraordinary. One moment, Petunia was throwing one of her usual tantrums. The next moment, Petunia’s pigtails were stuffed in her mouth. Rupert didn’t see her place them in her mouth. They just sort of "floated" there on their own. Well, it did manage to keep her quiet for a time.
"Supper’s ready!" Margeret announced from the kitchen.
"Yes, Mum!" Rupert answered as the rest of the family filed out of the sitting room. He watched Petunia remove the pigtails from her mouth. She seemed too stunned to scream and walked in a daze behind her mother. Rupert wondered about what would cause Petunia’s hair to behave like that, and he made a decision to ask his father about it later tonight, after the Evans’s went home.
"Dad, there's something I want to ask you," Rupert stood in the doorway of his father's small library. "Busy?"
Rupert's father shut the ancient book which lay on his desk. "Never too busy for you, Rupert. I was just doing a little research. What's on your mind?"
"Is it possible to enchant any object with a spell?" Rupert asked.
"I suppose it is, Rupert," Stephen answered after a moment's thought. "The Council's in possession of quite a few magical objects. Orbs, amulets, books, that sort of thing."
"So anything can be enchanted?" Rupert added. "Even, say, a hairclip?"
"If the spell's powerful enough. Where are you going with this question?"
"When I was playing with Petunia…"
"Getting manhandled by her, you mean," Stephen chuckled.
"Yes, I suppose that's more accurate," Rupert grinned. "Anyway, Lily started to cry because Petunia was making such a din.
"And?"
"And Petunia's pigtails stoppered up her gob like a cork. Who could've enchanted her hairclips to do that, Dad?"
"And Lily was upset?" Stephen asked.
"Terribly upset."
"Hmmm."
"I'm not too fond of that Hmmm, Dad. What's that mean?"
"You remember this afternoon when the Sarrok demon was banished through the portal?"
"How could I forget? That was fantastic!" Rupert couldn't help but grin as he recalled the moment.
"It took eight Watchers to control that portal." Stephen drew a long breath. "An Auror could've closed that portal easily."
"Aur-auror?" Rupert repeated, his mouth stumbling on the new word. "Are there other members of the Council besides Watchers?"
"Not exactly," Stephen stood up from his desk and started to search the shelves. "An Auror is someone who investigates and stops dark magic." He pulled a large book from its place on a shelf. "You'd better read this. It'd explain everything better than I can."
Rupert took the book in his hands. "The Watcher's Guide to the Wizarding World ," he read. "And this'll tell me what Aurors do?"
"And much else."
"And it'd explain why Petunia's pigtails ended up in her mouth?" asked Rupert hopefully.
"Perhaps, if my suspicions about Lily are true."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Oh, and Rupert?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't bring that book to school. I won't be able to get another one," Stephen said, chuckling.
Rupert winced a little, but shared in his father's soft chuckle. "Right, Dad."
Rupert carried to book up to his room. He lay stomach-down on his bed and opened the cracked cover.
All Watchers are versed in the use of magic spells in order to combat the forces of darkness. It has not been unusual for the Slayer to rely on spells from time to time as well. Man's way is to attempt to tap into these magical forces through the use of chants or appeals to the gods. Anyone can learn how to do these spells; these spells are still the backbone of what we do as Watchers. However, there are some humans who are naturally gifted at magic. They do not need to appeal to ancient gods to do their bidding. The world knows these men and women as wizards and witches.
The wizarding world calls non-magical humans, Muggles, and the term is used indescriminantly. A Wiccan who has mastered the conjuring of the dark arts would still be a Muggle in the eyes of wizards. Innate magical talent is the main difference between Muggles and wizards. The talent may manifest itself in unusual ways. Since their power is not channeled or controlled, a young wizard or witch might cause magical things to happen without realizing it. If a wizard child is scared or angry, odd things could happen around him, usually to the thing or person that is upsetting him.
"Lily," Rupert said out loud. "Lily's a witch?"
Here in Britain, especially talented wizard children are sent at age eleven to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There, they learn how to control their magical powers, developing them into fully useful talents.
Rupert flipped through a few pages, searching for the term 'Auror." He stopped when his eyes caught it:
Auror: a wizard who tracks down and defeats Dark Wizards. This is the closest wizarding equivalent to the Watchers in the Magic World. Over the centuries, Aurors and Watchers have developed a close working relationship, since the Magic and Muggle worlds frequently overlap.
Rupert stayed up half the night skimming through the pages of the book. When he woke the next morning, he found that he had drooled all over the chapter heading titled: A Concise History of Hogwarts .
"Bloody hell," he murmurred. "Dad'll be furious." He wiped the sticky substance off with the back of his sleeve. "Hope it'll dry…" he sighed, wafting the page back and forth intently.
"Rupert!" his mother's voice pierced the quiet morning. "Breakfast!"
"All right, Mum!" he yelled as he scrambled up out of bed. He shut the book and left it on his bed as he frantically combed his hair into a more presentable shape.
"Rupert! It'll get cold!"
"I'm coming!" Rupert said, hurrying down the stairs. "Morning, Mum," he said automatically as he entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. "Morning, Dad."
"How much have you read, son?" Stephen asked.
"Most of it. You suspect that Lily's a witch?"
"Lily's a witch?" Margeret repeated from her place at the stove. "I thought you needed to know how to chant out spells and things to be a witch."
"Not a Wiccan, Mum," Rupert said. "A real, magical witch!"
"There's a difference, Megs, I told you before," Stephen sighed. "Anyway, yes, I suspect that Lily may be a witch."
"But she's only a few days old!" Rupert exclaimed. "Can she have such, such powerful magic within her when she's so young?"
"Magical power is innate," Stephen said, cupping his hand for emphasis. "It lives in the soul when the child is born. Sometimes it might manifest itself quite early, like in Lily's case. Other times, a child may be born to Wizard parents but have no powers to show for it."
"A Muggle born to Wizards? Sounds…rare."
"It is rare, Rupert," Stephen said. "There's only been three cases in recorded Wizard history of a completely non-magic child with Wizards as both parents. It's much more common when one of the parents is a Muggle."
"But what about Lily?" Rupert asked. "Her parents are Muggles."
"It's odd, but it's common to have Wizards born to Muggles," Stephen explained. "It usually means that the Muggles have Wizard ancestors. The Magic and Muggle worlds seperated once we began to rely on science, and many wizards and witches went into hiding, living as Muggles. I wouldn't be surprised if half the families of Britain discovered a Wizard in their family trees somewhere."
"So if Lily's good enough…" Rupert trailed off.
"She'll be invited to attend Hogwarts someday," Stephen finished.
Rupert's mum slid the fried eggs onto Rupert's plate. "Hurry and eat before it gets cold. You'll be late for school." She then scurried back to the stove.
Rupert smothered his toast with marmalade and took a huge bite out of it. "So, Dad, about these Aurors…"
"Would you like to meet one?" asked Stephen as he sipped at his coffee.
"You personally know an Auror?" Rupert's eyes grew wide. A real live wizard!
"To be accurate, the Council does," said Stephen.
"What's his name?" Rupert asked.
"Claudius Rayne," Stephen said.
"He sounds old. Well, his name…makes him…sound old," said Rupert.
"He's old by Auror standards," Stephen explained. "Fighting Dark Wizards makes death an occupational hazard for Aurors."
"Watchers too, I suspect," murmurred Rupert. He didn't want his mother to overhear.
Rupert's father seemed to ignore his son's comment. "But Rayne's worked with us for a long time. I think he'd like to meet you. Yes. I'll have to discuss Lily with him as well. I'll have to send an owl to him."
"An owl?" Rupert asked, intrigued.
"Wizards communicate with each other by sending messages via owls," said Stephen. "The Council has a small Owlry for that purpose. I must do that the next time I stop by."
Rupert picked up his fork and shoveled a heap of eggs into his mouth. "Dad," he said, his mouth full of egg.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Stephen sighed. "You know better than that."
Rupert chewed quickly and swallowed hard. "Sorry, but when d'you think I can start my training?"
"Soon as you'd like," Stephen said as he perused the newspaper.
"Brilliant!" Rupert said. "What do I learn first?"
"First off," Stephen said, "You must learn never to interrupt an Englishman when he's reading the Times."
"Oh…" Rupert said quietly, not knowing if his father was joking or not. That always bothered Rupert. One moment his father was all smiles, the next, all business. Rupert wished that his father would just pick a personality and stick with it. "Dad, what would you say if I told you I wanted to be a fighter pilot?" he asked, smirking.
"Hmmmm?" Stephen mumbled. "You're a Watcher. Like your father. Can't be anything else."
"Not even a grocer?" Rupert said, grinning at his own private joke.
"Watcher," said Stephen. "You could have another job, of course, but your destiny is the same as mine, and your gran's."
"Well, why don't I just be a boring old librarian, then?" asked Rupert.
"Good, that'll keep you close to your books. A Watcher's best weapon is knowledge, after all," Stephen said.
Rupert groaned under his breath and took another bite out of his toast. Perhaps being a Watcher wouldn't be too fun after all.
"Rayne!" Sixteen-year old Rupert Giles exclaimed helplessly. "I'm surrounded!" He curled up his fists, and began to pummel the creatures who were attacking him. But deep inside, he knew that he'd never be able to overpower this large group of vampires. "A stake! Hurry!" He opened his right hand in the direction of the Auror.
"Ferula!" Claudius Rayne exclaimed, waving his wand with a neat flourish.
Rupert's hand suddenly enclosed around a thick but short wooden rod, which was pointed at one end. He quickly plunged the stake into the hearts of two vampires, which allowed him to get away from the hoard. "Now!"
Rayne began to chant something under his breath. Wooden stakes materialized in mid-air around the vampires. With another flourish of his wand, Rayne sent all the stakes to their targets, and the vampires exploded into dust.
"I think that's the last of them," Rupert said. "I lured them from their nest."
"That was foolish, Rupert," Rayne grumbled. "You could've gotten killed. And where's your stake? I know I conjured one up for you."
"I dropped it while I was running. Didn't seem as important as getting away."
Rayne gave a frustrated grunt as they both walked down the quiet streets of Romania. "What would your father say?"
"I think I'm what's called, an 'acceptable loss.' Rupert replied, with no humor in his voice.
"Your father entrusted me with your life. He knew that sooner or later, you'd have to face vampires, and I'm one of the only Aurors with close ties to the Council. If you'd have gotten killed..."
"But I didn't, that's the important thing," Rupert said. "And what's the big deal if I die anyway? Another Watcher would take my place in the Council. I'm expendable, like the Slayer. D'you know what the lads at school call me? Ripper. They know that everywhere I go, someone or something dies."
"Never!" Rayne yelled, turning on Rupert. "Never talk about life like that! Your life is a precious gift, your destiny is to combat the forces of darkness. One less soldier, and we of the Light mourn!"
"All right, all right. I'm sorry," Rupert said, not sounding apologetic at all. "Christ, if I'd known you'd react like this, I would've just waited for you to drive those vampires out of their nest."
"Come along, Giles," Rayne mumbled. "I'll Floo Powder you home."
"Sloppy," Stephen frowned at his son's scribblings. "You didn't use the text I asked you to, did you?"
"But I know Sumerian!" Rupert said. "I didn't need the extra text to translate that..."
"Son, prophesies are very delicate things," he crinkled up the notepage and flung it into the fireplace. It flashed brightly, then turned dark and fell into ashes. "One mistranslated word, one switched-round syllable, and that could change the meaning entirely. Why, I could tell you about the time I..."
Rupert stood in front of his seated father, fuming inwardly. "Dad, I don't care about prophesies, or evil, or good, whatever the hell we're supposed to be fighting. I'm tired of all this! It doesn't work! We, we fight and fight against the darkness and it still pushes back. It's not, it's not right."
"We're not fighting to win, Rupert," Stephen said slowly. "We're fighting to ensure the balance. Evil pushes, we push back. We'll never vanquish the darkness. That's not what we're here for."
"Then what's the bloody point if we can't win? Like, say, some lads jump me at school. I beat 'em down and they don't come back to bother me. That's what it's supposed to be like!"
"I hate that you're using your training to bully your schoolmates," Stephen said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, but I got all my O-levels," said Rupert, beaming.
"Yes, which means you shouldn't be running around with toughs! You'll be going to Oxford soon and..."
"Who says I'll be going to Oxford?" Rupert frowned. "After I graduate, I'm going backpacking across Europe, maybe join a rock band..."
Stephen gave his son a hard, unforgiving stare. "It won't work, you know."
"What won't work?"
"Trying to escape your destiny as a Watcher. Believe me, when your gran told me, I was just like you. I hated it all, the training, the learning, the extra work. D'you know what I wanted to be?"
"Should I care?" Rupert sneered.
"When I was your age, I wanted to be a doctor, wanted to help people with their physical problems; Heal them. Then your gran told me that what we're doing is far, far grander than any other calling. This is a ancient battle we're fighting, Rupert, and our side needs all the soldiers it can muster."
"And another thing," Rupert said. "It doesn't help when Claudius Rayne treats me like I'm a bloody child! I think he expects me to shatter to pieces whenever we go patrolling somewhere, like i'm a china doll or something."
"I admit he sometimes acts, overprotective, of you," Stephen said. "It's only because he lost his own son, you know."
"No, I didn't know that," Rupert said.
"You told me you read all the books I gave you."
"All right, so I skimmed through most of them. What does it matter?" asked Rupert.
"It matters, Rupert," Stephen said. "Claudius Rayne and his wife are both powerful wizards. They'd have to be; they're both Aurors. They had a son. He was thoroughly Muggle. No magic within him at all. In fact, he'd be about your age about now...if he had lived."
Rupert's back stiffened. "What happened to their son?"
"No one's sure," Stephen said quietly. "He disappeared when he was around ten years old. Of course, they used all sorts of finding spells and charms to try and locate him, but they couldn't. Everyone assumes that he died. Only the most powerful dark magic would be able to shield the boy from Aurors, and no one in the wizarding world's that strong. No one."
"What was his name?"
"Ethan," Stephen replied. "But you would have known that if you had read the books. I want you to try translating the prophesy again. It's hard going, but it'll click in your head. I promise."
Rupert skulked off. It all wasn't fair. At first, he thought that being a Watcher was fun. He got to witness the defeat of so many demons and evil wizards, but there were other things he hated. The study, for one. He had twice the homework of any other lad his age, and he never got to see his friends. When he did ask to spend time with them, they'd scoff, saying that they didn't want to be seen with Ripper in their midsts.
Ripper. Was it his fault that his clothes were often stained with blood? He'd tried to explain that the blood was demon blood, but no one would listen. Just evil Ripper going around killing off things. Then they said that he seemed old, ancient beyond his years. Rupert had seen too much of the darkness of the world, the darkness that he was destined to fight. He was destined to train the Slayer--as all Watchers are--but who actually was the Slayer? Claudius Rayne had never seen her, but the Auror was sure that she lived somewhere in east Asia. Rupert couldn't imagine taking care of another person. He entered his room and stared hard at the ancient books lying on his desk. He growled softly, hating the books, hating the things they described, and, worst of all, hating himself for disappointing his father. He shoved the books off of his desk, satisfied with the clattering thuds they made as they hit the floor.
"Bloody prophesies," he whispered out loud.
One of the books had fell open.
"Oh, great, I suppose this is one of those destiny things too?" he sighed as he stared at the open page, the page that his father asked him to translate. He picked the book up and placed it on his desk again. Then he searched the floor for the text his dad asked him to use as reference. "Here it is," he mumbled. "So, then, how the hell did I get it wrong?"
It took him three hours but he finished the prophesy to his own satisfaction. No wonder his dad noticed his sloppy work. Rupert didn't translate it properly. He stared at the notepad and his scribbled writings on it.
The Snake with no name but his own shall rise
and it will devour all in its path
But the Child shall stop him
And the Child shall be marked...
"No, not marked," Rupert mumbled, scratching the word out with his pen.
And the Child shall be scarred forever
with a bolt from the heavens
"There, that's what the bloody thing meant!" Rupert said excitedly to himself. He pondered sharing this news with his father, but then he decided not to. "No point in getting him upset again, if I got this wrong." For some strange reason, Rupert became transfixed by one line in the prophesy.
And the Child shall be scarred forever
He didn't know why the line fascinated him. All he knew was that there was something strangely familiar about it, as if this was something he was meant to know. He shook off the weird feeling and plopped the notepad on his desk. As he got ready for bed, he wondered about the prophesy again, and about the one line that sat churning in the pit of his stomach.
Why did it bother him so? It was only a prophesy, and prophecies weren't the most reliable things in the world.
But still...
Rupert turned the line over and over in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.