Chapter Text
Prologue
Walter Crabknuckle was a short stocky fellow, quite pear-shaped and soft around the edges. In fact, the only thing not soft about Walter was his small sharp eyes, which he had, at the moment, trained vigilantly on a number of small shining glass orbs, which tumbed and spun in a large gold cauldron. This cauldron was in turn set into a solid square block of what Walter knew to be tiger’s eye gemstone, edged with light blue candles.
Each orb in Walter Crabknuckle’s basin contained, stamped in bright silver letters, a name, a number and address. These corresponded to each and every Traced child in Britain. Walter picked up an orb and tapped it with his wand, watching as the information floated into the air in front of him. Below it was a shimmering banner that said “Provided by the Naming Scroll in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, Britain.”
It was Walter’s very important job in the Ministry of Magic Department of Identification and Placement to watch the quality of these orbs, his glittering eyes flickering over each one, searching for any... disturbances. Cracks, for example, or a discoloration of the orbs’ frosty surfaces, or even a clearing of the frost, as if it were snow that had melted away. If an orb such as this made its appearance, Walter would regrettably have to don his crocodile-skin mitts and carry the irregular orb across the room, to the one object sitting there - a solitary silver basin.
The mere handful of orbs in the silver basin were yet more energetic than those in the gold basin, many jumping and popping in and out of different colours, some whistling and others moving so fast around the edge of the basin that they hissed with their speed.
It remained Walter of the Muggle nightclub his wife had once forced him into (“It’ll give you some culture, Walter darling, come on!”) A young man with glowing sticks, dressed in neon, had vomited on him on the way in. This was the only interaction Walter had ever had with Muggles, besides his wife’s family, and he was determined to keep it that way.
To Walter Crabknuckle all orbs in the silver basin were like the Muggles in that night club - odd and abnormal ones, that ought to be kept away from people like him as a matter of nature. It made Walter quite glad that the people whose names were printed on the irregular orbs would not be have to deal with any of the witches and wizards in the gold basin, and would most likely be sent out of the way for their own good
A mighty crack erupted from the gold basin, pulling Walter Crabknuckle’s attention away from the silver basin and its colourful orbs. He turned and peered into the gold basin with sorrowful eyes, and reached into the pockets of his off-blue robe and withdrew his crocodile mitts. With a deep sigh, Walter flicked his eyes over the orbs in the gold basin until he’d identified the orb which had made the noise.
He reached into the bottom of the basin, snatching the orb as if it were a Snitch - “Look at the kind of job they’ve stuck a former Seeker like you in,” his wife would say - and smoothly pulling it away from the basin. He covered it with his other mitted hand, and walked solemnly to the silver basin. He opened his hands, the button eye of the crocodile mitt wobbling around as he did so. A small three pronged crack broke apart the silver of the name as he did so, so that Walter had to sound it out to read it.
“Jef-er Blake? No no. Aha, I see.” He turned the orb, lifting it gently to the rim of the silver basin.
“Jasper Drake.” Walter Crabknuckle relaxed his grip, and let the orb tumble and roll into the cacophony of its brothers.
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“It takes the lotion from the basket, or else it gets the hose again.” Daniel Drake, who generally went by Dan (though he liked to be called Big D), was currently upholding his fine reputation by pulling his willy from his navy tracksuit bottoms and waving it at his brother Jasper, while Frogface, Samboka, Guy, and Tomboy, his gang from the Tower Heights estate, laughed hysterically.
Jasper Drake had never been so embarrassed in all his life. He had been trying to impress Dan and his mates by proving that his wheelchair could fly if he drove it down the ramp at Greenfields skatepark fast enough, but clearly - once again - they were determined to prevent his “hanging out” with them.
He had done the trick before, in fact he’d done it lots of times. It was easy, but not today. When Jasper sped up the ramp, his chair did not take off as normal but plummeted to earth, throwing Jasper and the chair one after the other into the dried up drainage ditch at the other end of the park, and forcing him to yank himself back up into it, his face blotchy red. Jasper hated himself for it, hated failing anything, especially in front of people, but most of all he absolutely despised looking like a idiot in front of Dan.
This was going to the thing that would finally impress his brother enough that he would be allowed in the tower block of the estate. The way that Dan talked about what he and his mates did there sounded exotic,almost magical, and extremely, incredibly naughty. Jasper had wanted to go to the tower since he was 7, when his brother at 15 would sneak in and out of Jasper’s bedroom window on the way. This was going to be it, his big chance, and he blew it.
“Dan!” Jasper sputtered in rage, blinking back angry tears. “Stop it, you bloody - ”
For a horrifying moment Jasper thought Dan was going to soak him in urine, but instead, Dan directed it to the side of Jasper as his mates snorted and cackled, urging him to aim the stream into the younger boy’s forehead instead. Jasper wanted to die. He had been pushed to the limit and he couldn’t stand the humiliation any longer. He did the only thing in the world that would stop Daniel Drake when he was being a prat -
“Dan, let me out. I swear. Or I. will. tell. Mum!” The threat crackled in the air, and for a moment it sucked out all the fun and joy in the world.
“Argh, your brother’s such a buzzkill.” Frogface growled.
Norma Drake, Jasper and Dan’s mum, was a terrifying woman. She was the headmistress of Tower Gate High School. It was the only school in the whole estate to achieve a consistently positive turnover in result, and she achieved it by striking fear into the hearts of parents and children alike. There had been rumours that Norma was affiliated with a notorious London gang and would call in a favor if a student... misbehaved. And while Jasper didn’t think this was true, he did not want to find out.
“Shut up, Frog.” Dan flipped up his trackies, and turned on to Frog, who shrank away, Samboka bit her lip, smiling - she always liked it when Dan got nasty. Tomboy and Guy stepped away from the others - if Frog and Dan were gonna fight they didn’t want to be anywhere near - while Dan stared Frog down until his head threatened to shrink into his chest. Dan turned back to Jasper, Samboka huffed disappointedly and stomped over to Tomboy and Guy, and Frogface trailed, head still in his shoulders, behind her.
“You pull that shit again - ” Dan leaned into the pit and grabbed a handful of Jaspers t-shirt and jacket. Dan left the threat hanging, and dragged Jasper onto the side of the bank, jumping into the ditch to get the chair. He tossed it up onto the bank with one hand, twisting his lip as the chair landed on its side, and scowled at Jasper. “Get that dirt off your pants, Crip, and let’s go, it’s almost time for supper.”
Jasper sat on the bank, his face still red with anger and embarrassment. He knew Dan wouldn't ever do anything to him, not really. The worst he would do is bruise Jasper’s arm. Dan had a weird code for dealing with family, and although Jasper couldn't say he understood it, he knew that Dan wouldn’t actually seriously hurt him, at the very least because he’d have to face Mum afterwards.
“Dad’s got the inbreds over, wants you prim and proper,” yelled Dan, already ten meters away, and Jasper groaned, flopped his head into the grass, and with a fluid movement hoisted himself back into his chair and jounced over the bumpy ground towards the older boy.
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Jackson Drake was the poshest well-bred man on Potsworth Street, a pocket of large expensive houses hidden away in the shadow of a small wood backing the Tower Heights estate. You could still see the tower block quite clearly on the horizon, Potsworth Street and its people were a thousand miles away from the people and things that went on there.
Jackson often tried to tone down his poshness, and as a gentle and polite giant of a little over six foot, didn't want to make himself out to be snobbish or superior. The problem was, of course, that he couldn’t help it. It seemed that for every little gesture the elder Drake made, he marked himself out as different from the people he met on Potsworth Street, and even worse, on the estate. The people on Potsworth saw him as some sort of class rival, while the people of Tower Heights wanted to thrash him the moment he opened his mouth, and if not for his wife would have undoubtedly done so by now. It was a disagreeable state of being for Jackson Drake who only wished to be nice to everyone.
Thankfully he wouldn’t have to pretend tonight as he had friends over from work, Esme and Geoffrey Burton-Thompson Towers were coming to dinner.
Jasper disliked Esme and Geoffrey Burton-Thompson Towers; they were hideously posh - like his dad - but unlike his dad made sure everyone else knew it. For some ungodly reason, though, his dad enjoyed their company, so bear it the rest of the family must.
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Ding-dong! Jasper could hear Daniel’s groan all the way from the parlor, abruptly cut off when Norma, predictably, gave him The Look. Dan jogged towards the door, straightening his shirt and making a horrible face at the closed door before opening it, smiling politely and welcoming the Burton-Thompson Towers’ in.
Jasper gritted his teeth, barely managing to keep the polite smile on his face in anticipation of what was to come. Geoffrey Burton-Thompson Towers stepped into the house in the slow, methodical manner of a man for whom time was plentiful. In his lazy appraisal of his surroundings Geoffrey‘s eyes rolled dismissively over Jasper, as if he was nothing but air. This, Jasper had decided, was Mr. Towers’ way with all things he saw as below the standards of his vision. Jasper had largely grown accustomed to this part of Mr. Towers character - there was nothing Towers had that Jasper wanted, and he was content to be nothing but air as long Jasper was allowed to look upon him as the same. Esme Burton-Thompson Towers, however, was a different story.
“Daaarling!” Esme Burton-Thompson Tower strode into the house, in what could only be described as a rejected wedding dress from the 80s. She patted Jasper’s father on the shoulder, gently, with gloved hands and kissed Jackson on both cheeks, cooing sweetly at Dan when she did the same to him. “You’ve become so strapping, Daniel, my, you're practically a man!”
She turned in a swirl of yellowish ribbons and, before Jasper adjusted to the display, took hold of his face, almost lifting him from his chair, and kissed his forehead so hard he could’ve sworn they made an imprint on his brain. She embraced him in a vice-like hug. “How is my little man, my brave handsome boy? Oh poor darling, I’ve missed you terribly.”
Jasper could not see through the ruffles of lace spiralling from the bosom of her dress, but he could hear his brother trying, badly, to stifle a snicker, and he could tell, somehow, that Dan was winking at him, urging him to “get a better look.”
“I'm fine, Aunt Esme,” he shouted into her left breast. She wasn’t Jasper’s aunt in any sense, but she wouldn’t let him go unless he referred to her as such
“Marvelous, then!” She flung her arms wide, and smiled brightly, dipping slightly as she floated like an overexcited dancer between her husband and Jasper’s father.
“I’m so happy to see all my boys are going so well!” she hooked her arms in theirs and together they strode into the lounge. “Daniel, Jaaasper...” she trilled.
Daniel made a kissy face and wiggled his eyebrows at Jasper as he passed and followed the party deeper into the house.
Jasper, still flushed, let loose a sigh. He glanced at his mother as he undid the brakes on his chair. Norma Drake, whom Esme Towers had entirely ignored, stood in a very tight controlled stillness of posture. She was unusually tall and chiseled for a woman, and her height was increased by cream heels and magnolia knee-high suit. Jasper couldn't help but think that she could be mistaken for a pillar, or a statue in the window of a greek restaurant with a pun for a name. Her eyes were closed, and if not for her clenched fists and a string of muttered words Jasper knew she’d never use in front of his dad, she would have given off the aura of someone perpetually calm. It was both the Towers, but particularly Esme that drove Norma Drake to this state. Neither of them would have regarded Jasper’s mother with anything more than a glance, had it not been for Jasper’s dad. And, similarly, had it not been for Jasper’s dad, he was sure his mum would have squashed them like she did unruly pupils in her school.
“Mum?” Jasper asked, treading carefully.
“Yes, Jasper?” Norma opened her eyes slowly and looked down to Jasper, her voice crisp and stiff as always?
“F-” Jasper wanted to say “Forget about her,” but the dragoness glare of his mother's eyes stomped his tongue to the bottom of his mouth. “Nothing.”
“Then let’s get this night over with, shall we?”
Jasper released his brakes and his mother took control of the chair. This was the only time Norma Drake would touch Jaspers chair without asking first, and was also the only time Jasper let her, or anyone, do so. Although it sounded odd, Jasper could swear that his wheelchair was so much a part of him that he could feel someone’s hands on it, and even judge their mood. He’d seen a show on TV with a dog trainer who said that dogs could feel their owner’s emotions through their lead, and he supposed it was something like that - though Jasper would never compare himself to a dog.
Jasper was startled back to reality by the saccharine voice of Esme Towers cooing “Oh there you are, darling! Come, come, up to the table.”
Jasper’s mum rolled him to the table, kicked off his brakes with her heel, and slid into a chair beside him. Esme trailed her fingers along her husband's arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling.
“Jackson, we really have missed you at the Swans Club. It’s so droll, all those stiff shirts, when you not there to lighten the mood - it's all politics, isn't it darling, no play.”
Mr. Towers made a froggish noise in the bottom of his throat, and with a voice in which Jasper imagined a boar might speak if it learned to talk, grumbled, “She is right, Jackie, we have missed you, and your swing! Norhor-orhor-orhor!”
When Geoffrey Towers laughed it sounded like drunken horses galloping in a mud puddle. Daniel’s eyes shot to Jasper’s, as he snorted and faked a series of coughs trying to cover his laugher. Norma turned her gaze to him and stood up slowly, and as if connected by a string Daniel sunk down in his chair.
“Daniel, would you help me in the kitchen for a moment?”
“Can I-” Jasper quickly tried.
“No, dear, I asked Daniel.”
Esme threw Jasper’s mother a dancing glance as she, followed by a slumping Daniel, left the room, tutted, and turned back to Jasper’s father. “Surely, Jackie, it’s time to get little Danny to Swans? He’s positively wilting here. Plus,” she giggled. “there are some very fine young filles joining the women's open this year, he might have a chance at-
“Daniel’s got a girlfriend” Jasper interrupted, “he has three.”
Esme, cut off abruptly, looked to Geoffrey and then to Jackson.
“Heh,” Jasper’s dad laughed nervously, before Mr Tower gave a snort himself. Mr Towers smiled his hand on the table. “Girls from that bloody estate I bet, they can sniff out breeding like bitches in heat. Anything to get out of that hell-hole.”
Norma walked into the room, as the corners of Esme’s mouth curled into a smirk: “Don't they just.”
Mr Towers and Jasper’s dad did not hear her, and Mr Towers continued on, “If my grandfather could see what it’s become - lord! Best thing I ever did was sell it.”
“You sold it?” Daniel’s voice was concerned. “To who?”
To whom, Norma mouthed.
“Michael something, some sort of rejuvenation project or other, you know how these things are. Bloody hippies, but at least they paid good money.”
“What about the people, Geoffrey?” Norma asked. She too looked concerned; Jasper wondered if she was worried about her students.
“Aha, those things are not people, dear, people don’t live like that,” - Geoffrey had clearly drunk a bit too much by this point - “They’re barely more than beasts!”
“Geoffrey, that’s a bit-
“Oh not you too, Jackie, don't you remember what we used to say abou-
Jasper coughed loudly.
“I have friends in the Tower -”
“No you don’t!” Daniel interjected, as if Jasper had insulted the Tower. “You don't have any friends, freak.”
“Daniel.” Norma’s voice wasn't loud, it didn't have to be. She’d placed a hand on Jaspers forearm, restraining his retaliation. But Jasper’s brain reeled with every naughty word he knew.
“Geoffrey, there are families that live there... our neighbors.
“Well, not for long.” Mr Towers, Esme, and to Jasper’s horror his own father laughed.
Jackson must have caught his wife’s glare, and leant forward. “Mmm, I am fabulously hungry. Why don’t we eat?” he said quickly.
The first two courses of the meal went without incident, mostly due to Daniel and Norma taking turns kicking Jasper’s wheels whenever he seemed about to interject Esme’s conversation. As the entrees were brought in, however, Jasper was absolutely fed up with the saccharine comments and barely-veiled disgust of the adults’ conversation. He stared down at his cooling roast duck, barely seeing the meat as he dug his fork far too harshly into the plate.
“How’s Peter doing?” Jasper’s mum asked loudly over Mr Towers’ attempt at a joke (which was so foul even Daniel had begun wincing.)
“Peter?” Esme asked, as if the name was new to her. Then with a smile that almost made an audible pop - “He’s doing extraordinarily well, he just made captain of the rugby and football team at the club. He’s so special, so - ”
“Fabulous,” Daniel offered, winking at Jasper from across the table. Jasper had to concentrate and take a large gulp of juice to keep his mouth from twitching into a smirk.
Peter Burton-Thompson Towers was every parent’s dream: he was smart, athletic, and artistic. He also, according to Dan, was the most flamboyant gay person he’d ever met, and the biggest coke-head he’d ever known to boot. He knew both these things, as he told Jasper, because Peter had “tried it on with him” when he been coaching rugby at the club when Dan was forced to volunteer at the Swans Rugby Club for Boys, and that he ‘snorted up’ before every match. He once told Jasper of the time he caught Peter sucking up a line of coke off another boy’s bum in in the changing room toilets. Jasper didn’t know if this was true - he rather doubted it, due to Dan’s propensity for making up stories - but the image of it in his head was so funny he didn't care.
“Yes,” Mr Towers added proudly. “the boy’s been up to his knees trying for captain this year.”
“Oh, I just bet he has.” Daniel smiled with eager politeness.
Jasper almost snorted into his drink, a sound not missed by his mother. He felt her icy look on his skin.
“Such a shame Jasper can’t do sports...”
“I do!” Jasper put his glass down hard. “I’m second for junior murderball in the county!”
Esme and Mr Towers looked surprised at his sudden outburst, but his brother and parents did not. Jasper was very passionate about wheelchair rugby, and had been since even before he was old enough to play it. It was on the court that he truly felt, that he first showed his mum and particularly his dad, that he wasn't made of glass, and it’d been the best day of his life when he lifted the runner up trophy. If Esme dared say anything, he’d- he didn’t know what he would do, but it would show her.
“Oh yes, of course.” Esme waved her hand and placed it delicately on her bosom. For a second Jasper began to relax, letting the tenseness in his shoulders drop. “But - darling, you know - I mean real sport... not to offend, of course, darling.”
Something snapped inside Jasper. He slammed his hands on the table, feeling the vibration rattle into his shoulders, so hard he was sure he felt the house shake, but no one else seemed to have noticed. His mother stared at him, daring him to speak, but he was too tied up in anger that words couldn't form in his mouth. Instead he pulled his hands from the table, his mouth opening, once, then clamping shut like a fish in a tank. Unperturbed by the outburst Esme cut another bite of duck, smiling prettily. She looked, for a fleeting instant, triumphant.
Jasper glared as she opened her mouth to continue, lifting her fork to her lips - and then she dropped it.
There was silence for a moment, everyone shocked, watching as the meat seemed to make a slow, orange-sauced, trail down her white blouse, and then time returned to normal as Esme shrieked as if she were in pain. Knocking over a wine bottle, she jumped up from her chair, slipping in her haste, and grabbing the tablecloth as she fell to the ground, the contents of the table sliding precariously towards her. Geoffrey tried to steady her, but somehow missed.
Norma jumped up, running for a towel in the kitchen, while Esme, who seemed to have been driven mad, used the tablecloth to dab at her bosom. Jackson winced as the tablecloth absorbed the orange stain, while Norma, returning, made to wipe with a wet dishcloth at Esme’s blouse.
“Don't touch me!” Esme shrieked, her eyes glittering. “With your fli- your filth - .” Esme seemed incoherent with disproportionate rage, snarling, her soft face cracking as if revealing something nasty beneath the glass. “I mean, I guess I can do it myself, I'm not an cripple!”
Norma grabbed a fistful of Esme’s lapel, getting out between gritted teeth, “That word, darling, isn’t generally USED in this house.”
Daniel looked excited, always desperate for violence. Jasper too felt absurdly giddy, less tense than he had been a moment ago. It was all very odd, he thought happily. He felt like laughing.
Geoffrey coughed loudly. Norma was in the same position, glaring, Esme below her frozen. Jasper’s father sprang from his chair.
“Norma, please let go of Mrs Towers,” he said gently. She looked at him, and seemed to come to her senses, releasing her grip and supporting Esme, a tad rougher than was necessary, into her chair with a thump.
“Phew,” Geoffrey said, for the first time in the night smiling. “Here, darling, let me get you some more wine. Soothe your nerves. Then I think we ought to go, yes? Quite a night.”
Esme, blotting sweat from her forehead, nodded, still mute, eyes glazed.
“Jackie, would you mind?” Jasper’s dad and mum’s eyes locked.
“Yes of course, Geoffrey.” He slowly went around the table, refilling Esme’s glass. She drank it slowly, and her husband put an arm around her waist as both stood.
“One and a half hours this time, must be a record. Shall we try again next - “
Whatever Mr Towers was about to say was lost as the couple exited the dining room.
“Bed,” said Norma, sticking her head back into the dining room. Jasper didn’t wait for her to say it a second time, flipping off his brakes as Dan slid off his seat to grip the handles of Jasper’s chair.
Jasper managed one glance behind him. His mum was drawing the doors, but before they closed he caught her turning around looking at the mess of the table, hands in fists at her sides.
Daniel swung them into Jasper's room, tilting him up in a wheelie, and almost slammed the door behind them as he began to snicker, and then to laugh, and after a moment Jasper joined in.