by Obert Skye
“I’m really glad to see you,” Ozzy admitted. “New pants and all. And Sigi is going to be elated, but I really need to see Clark.”
“Okay,” Rin said excitedly. “Then you should probably scream.”
“What?”
“You need to scream. Make it sound like your life’s in peril.”
“With you around, it usually is.”
“Good, good, use that. Now scream.”
Ozzy looked around at the burnt house, the hole to the secret cellar, the black cube in his hands, the ash-covered wizard, and the endless forest. He had plenty to scream about, but he was too exhausted to play along and do so.
“This is ridiculous,” Ozzy insisted.
“No using spells, just scream.”
“I’m not going to . . .”
Rin lifted his right leg and stomped on Ozzy’s left foot as hard as he could. The boy dropped the black cube as a sharp pain shot through his entire being and then escaped out of his mouth in the form of a loud piercing scream.
Ozzy looked at Rin with wet, angry eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Rin smiled. “You’ll see.”
Ozzy was considering using his mind control to make every animal in the forest descend upon Rin and scratch him up. But that thought drifted away as a new and unsettling sound filled the woods. It was a piercing, dreadful noise.
“Perfect,” Rin said proudly, as the noise grew louder. “You screamed good.”
Ozzy looked around with concern, half missing the quiet of the stone cellar he had been sitting in just moments before.
Spinning around, Ozzy took in the sky above. He saw the whisper-thin edges of clouds as they struggled to show some definition in the endless gray mass. He heard a scream similar to a cat being waxed and saw a somewhat unfamiliar black shape racing toward him from the west.
“What is that?” he asked Rin. “Is that . . . ?”
A plume of flame filled the air, causing the approaching black shape to be temporarily lost in the orange. A moment later the black shape shot out of the flame and was screeching ever closer.
Ozzy smiled like a kid who had just been given the keys to the candy shop, amusement park, and auto dealership all at once.
“Clark!”
Rin held out his arm and the small black dragon swooped in and landed on it.
Ozzy gasped.
It was Clark, in dragon form. He was also smoldering, thin wisps of smoke coming off various parts of his body.
Clark tilted his head back and blew fire out of his beak and up into the cloudy sky. Ozzy stepped back in awe.
“What happened to you?”
“I’ve had a few upgrades,” the bird bragged. “Not that I wasn’t fine before, but now look at me.”
Ozzy reached out and patted the bird on the head.
“I don’t care how you look, I’m just glad you’re back.”
Clark was disappointed.
“But you do look amazing,” Ozzy added.
Clark jumped off Rin’s arm and onto Ozzy’s head.
“Do I feel heavier?”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes,” the bird chirped.
“Then yes.”
“He’s a dragon,” said Rin.
“It’s what I was born to be,” Clark added proudly as one of his horns fell off.
Rin picked up the horn, licked the end of it and stuck it back on Clark’s head.
“Where’d the fire come from?”
Clark leaned down so that Ozzy could see the small black canister glued under his right wing. A thin tube ran from the canister and into his beak.
“He’s the real deal,” Rin said. “The only problem is that he keeps blowing fire when he’s flying. Which means he has to fly through the flames and the heat melts the glue holding his pieces on.”
“And causes me to smolder,” Clark bragged.
“How’d you do it?” Ozzy asked as he carefully looked Clark over.
“Magic,” Rin said, waving his hand. “And there’s a 3-D printer in the commons area.”
Now Ozzy looked disappointed.
“Right,” Ozzy said. “The commons area of where?”
“In one of the Hovels in Quarfelt. The one behind the incomplete castle.”
“That doesn’t clarify anything for me.”
“Of course,” Rin apologized. “I always forget you’ve not been there. Let’s see, how do I explain it? Well, hovels are like your hostels here in reality, except there’s always the chance you might have to pick up and run due to being chased by something.”
“Sounds unsettling.”
“Only the one located in Near East Quarfelt. The foundation is shifting.”
“So you saw Quarfelt?” Ozzy asked the bird.
“Maybe,” Clark answered. “I can’t remember, but Riny here says I did. Now where’s Sigi? She needs to get a look at me.”
“She’s in California,” Ozzy said.
“Why did—” While asking the question, Clark accidentally shot flames from his beak. They hit Rin in the face, singed his eyebrows, and caught the brim of his felt hat on fire.
The wizard threw the hat down and stomped out the flame.
“Sorry,” Clark apologized. “I still haven’t perfected being a dragon.”
Half of the plastic cover on his left wing fell off and cracked when it hit the ground. Ozzy could see Clark’s real wing underneath.
“You might be better off just being you.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Clark asked.
Rin picked up the cracked piece of plastic and put his now-flameless hat back on.
“I should get back,” Ozzy told them. “I’ve been in that hole a while. I need to let Sigi know I’m okay. She said she’d send the sheriff if I didn’t keep in touch.”
“She did,” Rin said. “He came over last night. But don’t worry, we did a good job of pretending to be you.”
Ozzy rubbed his forehead, smearing dirt and ashes around. He glanced down and noticed for the first time that the black plastic cube had cracked in half.
It was now two pieces.
Ozzy crouched down and studied them. Between the two pieces there was a single black record covered in burnt paper. Ozzy picked it up.
“It looks like your mystery cube is a stack of records the fire fused together,” Rin said.
Examining the two halves, it was clear that only one single record in the middle had survived. The paper around it fell off like dry grass and the label in the center was blackened from heat. Holding it just right, Ozzy could make out the word Hurting. Remarkably, the grooves of the record still looked intact.
“What do you think it is?” Ozzy asked.
“Probably a recording of bird noises,” Clark guessed.
“You’re not a bird anymore,” Ozzy said affectionately. “It says ‘hurting.’”
“Maybe it’s a collection of dragon songs.”
Ozzy held the record carefully, hoping it was a recording of his parent’s voices, or at the very least, more music.
“You know, it really is a nice-looking piece of plastic,” Clark admitted.
“It’s vinyl,” Rin informed the bird.
“Nice to meet you, Vinyl.” Clark tipped his head and his other horn fell off.
Rin picked it back up and stuck it back on.
“I wish I had brought back some glue from Quarfelt,” the wizard complained. “It’s much stronger. It’s made from the eggs of a mature tapeworm and the sticky disposition of a feathered obstinate.”
The dragon stared at the wizard. “I think I’m glad I can’t remember being there.”
They all picked up the pace as they traveled quickly through the forest. Rin filled in Ozzy about Ray and what had happened. He also
informed him of the Perennial Five and told him that he could put his mind at ease because they were ready and willing to help.
“I think I’m still going to feel uneasy.”
“Suit yourself.”
Ozzy filled in the wizard and bird about what had happened to him and Sigi and Jon and how he had grown to like the pants even though he wasn’t wearing them.
“I’m not surprised,” Rin said happily. “You’re going to save the world in style.”
“That’s the second time you said I’m going to save the world.”
“Keep counting,” the wizard said. “It’ll make it more dramatic.”
Rin took out his to-get-done list and checked off another box.
“What’s that?”
“It a list of things I need to finish before this is all done.”
“Really? Can I see it?”
“No,” Rin said strongly. “It’s a to-get-done list, not a to-get-a-look-at list.”
Ozzy left it at that.
Two hiked on, one flew.
California was behaving just like the postcards and commercials claimed it would. It was a perfect seventy-two degrees, the sky was a shade of blue nobody could feel down about, and happy people milled about; smiling with their teeth, eyes, and cheeks. To make a beautiful day even more fulfilling, Sigi and her mother were enjoying that temperature, sky, and scenery at Harry Potter World. They had gotten up early and been two of the first people in line at the gates.
In the hotel, Patti had argued the fact that it would be better to go to Disneyland first and Universal the next day, but Sigi had argued for just the reverse.
“It’ll be like I’m there with both you and Dad.”
So in the hotel, and in the end, Sigi had won out.
The Wizarding World of Harry Potter was no Quarfelt, but the amusement park made Sigi happy in a way she had not anticipated. It made her happy about the books she had once read, proud of the father she now had, and it made her miss the boy she cared for. Butterbeer reminded her of how Ozzy loved Sprite, purchasing a wand at the wand shop reminded her of the fact that her dad already had one, and seeing pictures of hippogriffs reminded her of a small metal bird that she missed terribly.
“He’s not a dragon,” Patti said. “He’s a robot raven.”
“He’s better than most dragons,” Sigi insisted.
Patti smiled the kind of smile that made it clear she was both happy and concerned, but that it wasn’t a fifty-fifty split.
“Are you glad you came?” she asked her daughter as they walked through Hogsmeade.
“Yes,” Sigi said. “I wish Ozzy was here. He should have come.”
“We’ll bring him next time.”
“And Dad should be here. Although he’d probably have a lot to criticize.”
“You’re right about that,” Patti agreed. “But it would be good for him to see all of this pretend stuff. Pretend . . . stuff,” she repeated.
“I get it, Mom, you’re a non-believer.”
Patti glanced at what her daughter had on her head.
“I can’t believe how much you look like your dad in that hat.”
Sigi smiled happily.
As soon as the gates had opened, the two of them had taken the Hogwarts Express and then walked through the shops, where Sigi had bought a wizard’s hat. She liked the hat, but she loved the fact that it caused her mom some grief. Now she was wearing it to keep the morning sun out of her eyes and to fit in with all the other characters strolling about the park.
“Maybe magic is genetic,” Sigi said.
Patti rubbed her forehead.
“I’m going to pretend that you’re only acting like magic exists to give your mother a hard time. I didn’t raise a daughter who supports make-believe.” Patti was trying to keep her voice light and easy, but she had a genuine concern about Sigi trusting in something delusional. “This is fun, Sigi, but it’s just that.”
Sigi stopped abruptly, causing the people walking behind them to go around.
“Mom, I don’t know what you think I believe, but I’m not going to climb up to the top of some building and jump off, thinking I can fly. It’s just that for the first time in my life, I’m going to believe that Dad can do something remarkable—unexplainable, but remarkable. I promise I’ll never follow him off a cliff or get a bumper sticker that says ‘I love magic.’ But I’m not going to discount what I’ve been through in order to fit my experience into a mold that everyone accepts.”
The two of them slowly moved from the middle of the walkway in Hogsmeade, to the edge where they were blocking less people.
“My job is to be your mom,” Patti said. “You’re in school a couple more years and then you’ll be on your own. Mental health is a real issue.”
Sigi stared at her mom.
“So you think I’m going nuts?”
“I think your dad has struggles you aren’t aware of.”
“You’d rather believe he’s crazy than magical?”
“I’d rather he keep away if it means your life and mind are in danger.”
Sigi shook her head as a large man dressed as Hagrid stomped past them. The wizard’s daughter was going to let her mother know exactly how she felt about what she was saying, but before she could find the words, both her phone and her mom’s phone buzzed simultaneously. The two of them took them out of their pockets and looked at the screens. It was a group text from Sheriff Wills, letting them know that Jon had gotten away, and that he was on his way to inform Ozzy.
“Jon escaped,” Sigi said nervously.
“I see that,” Patti said staring at her phone. “And Wills is on the way to tell Ozzy.”
“This isn’t good.”
Patti pressed the number on her phone to call the sheriff and Sigi pressed the number on her phone to call Ozzy.
Only one person got an answer.
It could be argued that when Rin had first placed the dragon pieces on Clark and hooked up the fire tube that the small black bird had looked impressive. But that argument was getting harder and harder to make now that parts had begun to drop off as they had hiked through the forest. Clark could barely fly since one wing was now bigger than the other. He also had a problem with the spikes on his back sliding down and jamming his wings. The bird perched on Ozzy’s right shoulder to ride out the last bit of the hike.
“What kind of glue did you use?” Ozzy asked the wizard.
“It was white,” Rin said. “And sticky.”
“You couldn’t just use a binding spell?”
Rin’s robe caught on a low tree branch and the snag sent him spinning into Ozzy. The wizard tried to play it off as if he had meant to do that.
“Do you think us wizards have a book that clearly lists every magic spell step by step?” Rin asked. “The answer is—not yet, but soon. There’s a committee working on it as we hike. But they can’t agree on anything, so it’ll probably never actually happen.”
Rin shifted his feet and continued walking in the right direction.
“Maybe eye of newt works best in some situations,” he continued. “But there are hundreds of substitutions for every ingredient. Eye of newt might cure a headache, but so does Advil. You can deliver a curse with the assistance of a letter-carrying owl, or you can use email. In a very real way, magic is slowly taking over everything.”
Ozzy gave the wizard a side glance. “So much of what you say sounds made up.”
“Whoa,” Clark whistled from the boy’s shoulder. “Shots fired.”
“Made up?” Rin asked as if he had never heard those words in that order before.
“I did believe,” Ozzy said honestly. “Do you remember when you followed me back to the Cloaked House the first time we met?”
“Wizards, elephants, and search histories never forget.”
“Right
,” Ozzy said. “Well, I thought you were a real wizard, like from the books.”
“I’m taller than most mentioned, but go on.”
Ozzy stepped over a fallen tree and onto a dirt road near the edge of Otter Rock.
“Things have changed,” Ozzy said. “I had lived my life alone, so I didn’t know what to trust or believe. Now I know books like The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter aren’t real. Now I know that no other boys have hired a wizard to help them find their parents.”
“That’s not true,” Rin said nicely. “There’s a kid named Tim in Brazil who is trying to get a friend of mine to do just that. Of course, Tim’s thirty-two, and his parents didn’t disappear—they moved to get away from him.”
“See,” Ozzy said. “Stuff like that. Is that true?”
“Sadly, yes,” Rin said. “But if you met Tim, you wouldn’t be surprised that his parents ditched him.”
Clark lifted his head to yell at a noisy squirrel and shot a weak stream of flame from his beak. Both Rin and Ozzy looked embarrassed for him.
“I think I liked you better as a bird,” Ozzy admitted.
“One of my horns fell into my wing and my fire tube’s pinched.”
“I’m going to fix you when we get home,” Rin said.
“You’re implying that I’m in need of fixing.”
“Only in that area.”
Ozzy reached up and carefully patted Clark on the head.
“I’m also not great at Candy Crush,” the bird admitted. “Metal beaks and talons are murder on phone screens.”
Ozzy stopped and closed his eyes. His head throbbed like a subwoofer playing club music.
“Are you okay?” Rin asked.
“Something’s up with my head.”
“Your hair is a little long,” Clark admitted. “I was going to say something, but you know how I hate to judge.”
“You love to judge,” Ozzy reminded him.
“No, I hate to not judge. You need a haircut.”
“Quiet,” Rin said. “Tell me what hurts. Is it like the sickness you felt before going into the ocean a few weeks ago?”
“No,” Ozzy said. “I’m just tired and hungry.”
