Chapter Text
Kalim Al-Asim likes to believe he’s good at taking things in stride.
After all, he’s seen and experienced quite a lot in his approximately eighteen-and-a-half years of life as the precious heir of the illustrious Asim family estate. The countless attempts on his life aside – some of them rather creative if he’s being honest, Kalim has long served as the receiving end of fantastical dreams made real in the form of grand and enigmatic gifts that attempt to curry his favor. If one were to create a working list of every present he’s been given and every dedicated performance he’s sat through, the scrolls would surely end up requiring an archive room just to keep them all.
Still, he doesn’t fully understand why famous merchants and distinguished noblemen alike seem to feel the need to present him with magnanimous things like the Eighth Wonder of the World (nine times), dancing pink elephants (three times), or flame-throwing pygmy marmoset performances (five times).
But Kalim doesn’t complain; in the end, they’re always rather fun. When others are happy, he’s happy.
Even the spectacle of pink elephants and flame-throwing marmosets, though, couldn’t have prepared him for the sight he’s witnessing right now in the middle of the Headmage’s office. Standing barely past the entrance, Kalim gapes at the small, raven-haired boy lolling audaciously in Crowley’s royal violet Gothic chair.
“Who’s this?” the young boy asks derisively, glancing briefly at Kalim before turning to an apparently uneasy Crowley standing next to him.
Kalim rubs his round, shocked eyes. He’s not dreaming right now, is he?
“Jamil?!”
“…How do you know my name?” the boy shifts back in Kalim’s direction and stares at him warily.
“But you’re tiny?!” Kalim begins to rush forward.
“Ah, Asim, you’ve arrived,” Crowley quickly steps in, stopping Kalim before he can approach the peculiar version of Jamil at his desk.
“Headmage!” Kalim exclaims at the tall, bird-masked man. “What’s going on?! Why is Jamil like this?!”
“Ahem,” Crowley clears his throat, averting his eyes from the Scarabia housewarden’s direct and intense gaze. “I suppose I can skip the first part of the explanation since you seem to understand that this boy is indeed Jamil Viper…you see, Asim…”
“Due to an unfortunate accident earlier in the Advanced Alchemy classroom,” Crewel suddenly steps forward, arms crossed as he steps forward and moves to the center of the office. “a Savanaclaw pup spilled his potion assignment on Viper’s person.”
“Oh no! Jamil, are you hurt anywhere?!” Kalim gasps, interrupting Crewel’s explanation and turning to the mini-sized Jamil in front of him at the desk.
Slumped boredly at Crowley’s desk, Jamil frowns as the three strange adults circling him talk very obviously about him. When the silver-haired one snaps toward him, his narrow, gray eyes slightly widen. The abrupt attention is a bit overwhelming.
“I’m fine. I’m bored,” Jamil grumbles, quickly looking away.
“Asim! Bad boy!” Crewel scolds, his impatience growing. “Viper is physically fine. As I was saying, the potion in question was a nearly completed age alteration potion. Normally, a successful de-aging potion releases magical essence to transform the body of its target into that of a young child. However, because the malachite dust had not fully compounded with the spearwort extract and the potion had not been completed at the time it came into contact with Viper, well.”
“Well, what?” Kalim presses with worry.
“Hey, birdman,” Jamil snaps, reminding them all of his presence. “You said someone was coming to pick me up. Don’t tell me it’s this guy. Where are my parents?”
“Apparently, Viper has lost his memories and has returned to his five-year-old self in mind as well,” Crewel sighs with deep disappointment, shaking his head.
“Oh…” Kalim replies with sudden composure in spite of the evident shock. “So Jamil is now…five?”
“Temporarily,” Crowley assures hastily. “The effects of the potion should naturally end in 48 hours and Viper should return to his normal self.”
“What about his memories?” Kalim demands.
“Don’t worry about it, Asim!” Crowley nods brightly. “In any case, please look after Viper for the next two days! You are excused from classes in the meantime! After all, childcare is a full-time job in and of itself! Aren’t I so thoughtful?”
“That’d be helpful, but you really want me to take care of Jamil?” Kalim scratches his head reluctantly. He pretends he doesn’t see Jamil narrow his eyes cagily at him from Crowley’s desk.
“Is there a problem, Asim?” Crowley probes half-heartedly, clearly not wanting to run the risk of rejection.
“I don’t think Jamil would like that…” Kalim admits sheepishly. Crowley peers at him with mild surprise. “Never mind,” he fixes quickly. “Forget I said that, Headmage! Sure, I’ll take care of Jamil! I know him best after all, haha! Hey Jamil!”
“What?” Jamil answers coolly.
“Do you like mancala?” Kalim grins, putting on his most cheerful smile.
“What the–“ Jamil sputters. “I…I guess? Who are you anyway? Why is the birdman making me go with you? Are you related to the Master? The birdman called you Asim.”
“For the tenth time, I am Headmage Crowley, you brat,” Crowley mutters under his breath. Crewel hides a snicker behind his hand.
“Ah…” Kalim starts, letting out a light chuckle to stall for time. “It’s true. I’m related to the Master. Actually, I’m–“
“You look like someone I know. His name is Kalim,” Jamil interjects flatly. “Except I can’t see him right now.”
“Is that so?” Kalim replies ambivalently. “Why not?”
“He’s sick again.”
“Hm, you weren’t supposed to know that,” Kalim muses casually.
“No one told me, but I figured it out,” Jamil adds belatedly.
“Jamil, you’re real smart!” Kalim beams proudly. “Anyway, Jamil, I’m Ka– no, I’m Ali. I’m the Master’s youngest brother. I’m a student here at Night Raven College!”
“Asim…” Crowley remarks quietly.
Kalim continues to smile anyway.
“Oh. Hi Ali. I mean, Sir,” Jamil greets politely.
“No need for formalities, Jamil! Just call me Ali. I’ll be in your service these next two days!”
“Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Jamil raises an eyebrow.
“Oops, you’re right!” Kalim laughs bashfully, leaning forward into Crowley’s desk. Jamil flinches as Kalim stares at him so closely. “Come on, let’s go back to Scarabia!”
“Where’s that?” Jamil asks cautiously, stealing a glance at Kalim’s extended hand toward him.
“It’s great that you ask a lot of questions,” Kalim observes lightly, his grin growing just a bit wider. “It’s the best dorm out of all of ‘em at Night Raven College! I live there, and I can’t wait to show you around!”
“Hmph, alright.”
For the first time in a long time, Jamil simply, willingly takes his hand. He hops down unceremoniously from Crowley’s chair and toddles over to Kalim expectantly. Gazing for a moment at Jamil’s small hand in his, Kalim suppresses the soft sigh that tries to escape past his lips.
“Let’s go, Jamil,” Kalim smiles happily a second later, patting the top of Jamil’s head. Jamil looks up curiously, his eyes wide as he studies Kalim’s mercurial behavior. Inexplicably unsettled by the gesture, Jamil pouts. He squeezes Kalim’s hand and moves a small step closer. Kalim’s eyes curve into crescents.
“Do you want me to pick you up?” Kalim suggests mischievously.
“What? No!” Jamil shouts a beat too late, flailing a bit wildly as Kalim immediately swoops him up into his arms.
“Don’t be shy! Your pal Ali here will grant every wish you have!” Kalim laughs boisterously as Jamil squirms and kicks in his secure embrace. “Bye Headmage! See you, Professor Crewel!!”
“Let me down!!”
“Maybe I should call over Carpet! Jamil, you wanna fly?”
“No!!”