Nothing like a homeward bound train to take you away from the mess.

Casey sat square center in a cramped compartment at the back of the car. His arm, thankfully not his wanding arm, was in a sling. Stiff bandages were stretched across his torso to keep pressure on his ribs. He probably suffered more injuries than the ones he got from the Baybarb when Professor Blair threw him (was he really that puny?) from the greenhouse like a sack of dragon dung. As he lay crumpled on the ground the rest of the class had passed by, some deliberately stepping over him, to visit Tulo Nadge for burn ointment and minor healing spells. He could have called for Dingy then but a small portion of his brain warned that summoning his house elf might make things worse, if it were possible. After healing several students Madame Nadge noticed him and brought him into the hut, that place of odd smells like firewood, dried herbs, potions on the brew, heavy blankets. A skilled healer like her could mend broken bones in an instant but she insisted that he wear the bandages until after the train home, as Casey was terribly slow to heal.

So he was stuck at Hogwarts for another day, from the evening where everyone in the school had known what he had done within minutes, to the End of Term Feast where he didn't show is face. Not out of fear; if it wasn't for the fact that Casey had single-handedly obliterated one of the most magically aggressive plants in the world, Baybarb capable of destroying a quarter of the greenhouse, he would've been jumped and beaten into a stingy piece of liver. All of Slytherin House hated him for sure; this was an incident he couldn't mitigate with special circumstances. Following him through the halls were the looks, the jeers, the scorn. At dinner the evening of the incident, Casey's seat and allergen free food was left alone. Was the school ostracizing him? He'd rather ostracize himself. Casey went to bed right afterwards, spending the 12th in bed or in secluded corners of the Slytherin common room. Lots of time staring out into the lake but no grindylows, squid nor part-mermish first year emerged from the murk when he stared. Dingy dutifully packed and loaded his luggage; he didn't need to instruct the elf.

No doubt owls had been sent to his family stating what an amazing dunder-headed ploy Casey had pulled on his last final. They wouldn't view it negatively. This was like when Uncle Torna blew up the garden as a kid, multiplied ten fold: an impressive display of magic and might. Casey could handle it if he was remembered for overwhelming, albeit stupidly, one of the most volatile plants in existence. But no, he was going to be remembered for being an idiot in Herbology, getting kicked out of class, literally getting kicked out of class, destroying school property, rendering his classmate's finals incomplete and tanking Slytherin's sudden end of term points lead after having been under scrutiny in regards to points a month before.

Casey told himself it was all stupid. He didn’t need Herbology to succeed. Stupid Baybarb, stupid greenhouse, stupid school. He was going to ignore it all with his well-honed indifference.

So why did he feel so rotten?

Casey sat there in his cramped compartment, eyes glazed over, clutching at his wounds. He was a well of bitterness, a reservoir. Coffee so black any amount of cream could not sweeten it. He was so bitter it was a wonder his body didn’t emulsify into soap to be washed away in the rain. A wealth of bitterness equal to his wealth in gold and no way to spend it.

He hadn’t spoken since he had collapsed on the tile of the greenhouse floor. The young Slytherin was silent during the treatment, the skipped meals, the staring into the lake, and the trek to the Hogwarts Express. A familiar stoic silence. He wondered if he would break his old record.[1]

So Casey was surprised when he heard the compartment door slide open.

1.	The Changeover

Outfit

Naturally, Vulpes had heard of the incident during the Third year Herbology final. If it wasn't enough that the entire school was abuzz with it, all of Slytherin was in a fury. They had been so close. But after that O'Doherty had done, they had lost to Ravenclaw in the House Cup. Now, Vulpes didn't care one way or the other who won. He would have liked to win, but it wasn't pertinent to his happiness. Regardless, he could understand why all of Slytherin was angry with the boy. Pride often got in the way of logic.

Vulpes had seen Casey once in short time frame. Off in a corner staring into the lake while the rest of the house ignored him, or whispered vicious ways to get back at him. In point of fact, Vulpes had already scolded a group of second years who were going to attempt to hex him. Needless to say they were unthreatened at first, but then Vulpes made a comment about how if he could take Sharp, he could take a few second years. That silenced them.

He felt truly sorry for the boy. Yes, what he did was reckless and did endanger his classmates and ruin school property. But the fact that he was the one to cause Slytherin to lose, along with the injuries he personally received (which were worse from what he could tell, than the other students) should have been punishment enough.

So when they finally boarded the train back to London he found a compartment with Aurora and then left to find Casey, telling her only that he had something to do, and that he would return soon. It took a while, but Vulpes finally found the boy alone, isolated, in the back of the train.

Vulpes gave a sigh and gently opened the door to the compartment and stepped inside. He wasn't exactly sure what he would say to Casey. Any words of comfort would probably come out as patronizing. Wordlessly, he sat down in the seat across from Casey and smiled at him.

"How you holding up?" he asked after a moment of silence. Vulpes got the strange feeling Casey would tell him off, but still, he felt he should at least try to tell him that he had his back if anyone wanted to start trouble.

Casey gripped for his wand in his inner pocket with his free hand when someone entered his line of vision. Vulpes. Of all people, Vulpes. And he was smiling at him. Smiling. What was the blithering idiot smiling for? He tried to unnerve him with his gaze.

After a moment: "How you holding up?"

"What do you want, Vulpes? Looking to lay it thick on me? Casey the idiot. Casey the pighead. Casey the Weed Slayer." How did he ever think that was going to be a frightening moniker?

"I'm perfectly content," Casey said much too quickly, looking out the window. "I don't need the stinking subject. What should it matter to you, you've passed your fifth year. You can drop the course if you want and you didn't need to destroy half a greenhouse in order to do it."

Vulpes twitched slightly. That was about the response he expected from Casey. After the way everyone had treated him, he wasn't overly surprised, either. Still, Vulpes got the impression that the isolation the school had given him really gotten under Casey's skin.

He gave a slight sigh. "Come now, Casey," Vulpes began in a light voice. "Do you really think me, of all people would do that?" Another warm smile spread across his face. "I'm not here to put you down, or anything," he said quietly. "I mean, look, yes what you did was reckless and dangerous, but accidents happen." Vulpes gave a slight shrug. "And besides, no one was seriously injured, and you probably helped a good portion of the people who would have failed the test otherwise."

"Not to mention," he continued quickly. "I figure you've been punished enough for the incident as it is. I've already had to tell off some Slytherin's who planned to use various hexes on you."

Vulpes wasn't quite sure what to say next though. "I'm not entirely sure why it matters to me," he managed finally. "I mean, yea, I don't have to take it, but if I get the E I'm going to, because it would be useful for an Auror." Vulpes gave a huff and leaned forward. "I guess it matters to me because I'm not a fan of seeing someone snubbed for a single mistake."

Casey was finding Vulpes' words infuriating. He snorted. "You think I've helped a bunch of people from failing grades by rendering their finals moot? I'll be getting an award from the school for special services then, marvelous."

Punished enough? Vulpes was being narrow minded. "So I should thank you for the tipoff? You should've let them come at me, they might have learned something. I think I've proved that I am more than capable of defending myself."

The bitterness was rising in him. "I don't see why you give a damn defending the stupid subject! I don't. Even if they decided to expel me over this I wouldn't give a rip! You think smiling at things is going to make a difference, Vulpes? Oh I forget, you're rarely checked into reality, always listening to those head-fones of yours." Vulpes had appeared of his own volition so Casey didn't feel the slightest bit guilty letting his anger out on him. "Hate to see a man snubbed? In case you weren't paying attention, Vulpes, I earned this. I deserve all of it! And I could stinking care less. Who gives a flip about grades, about what people think, about the professors and their authority? Not me! All I need in the world is this!" Casey brandished his wand but he didn't cast a spell although it was tempting to toss Vulpes a warning shot. He hissed. "And I most certainly do not need your pity! I can fend for myself, thank you very much, no matter if a stupid plant or a stupid Herbology class gets in my way! It's all so stupid!"

And then Casey said much more than he meant to say. "Why should I care about anything when no one has ever cared about me?!"

Once he realized what he had said, Casey was mortified.

Vulpes's entire expression change as Casey vented to him. He had fully expected that first part but... That last line. That was not something he expected. Not from Casey O'Doherty. Vulpes tilted his head slightly, eying the young Slytherin carefully. There was only one thought that came to his mind.

"I care..." he said quietly. Vulpes fully expected some snarky remark, or some disbeliving look and quickly continued. "No I'm serious. I do." With a sigh, Vulpes crossed his arms and looked out the window. "Casey, do you really think that if I didn't care, I would have come talk to you? Would I have bothered  to attempt to make you feel better?" Vulpes gave Casey a stern look and sighed. This probably wouldn't help his case any, thinking on it. But now the words were out, and he had meant all of them.

He leaned back against the seat, keeping a firm stare on Casey. The fact that he thought no one cared really bothered him. Vulpes idly thought about Dingy, the house elf who faithfully watched after Casey, and wondered if Dingy didn't count to Casey because he was a slave.

"I care..." Vulpes said, and Casey nearly wanted to use Langlock on him to get him to stop talking. He shook his head at Vulpes' explanation.

"I said it before, you don't care about me, you pity me." Casey was relentless on his justifications. "Pity is just the phoniness of caring, doing the motions because it makes you feel better, not the target of your pity."

"And I know what you're going to say next." It didn't take Legilimency to figure out how predictable someone like Vulpes could be; in fact, Casey must have been playing out this argument in his head for some time before, preparing it for the day he finally got it out in the open. "You're probably thinking 'What about the House Elf?' That's how they are, Vulpes, it's their chem[1], it's how their mind works. Their whole species as a matter of survival value the maintenance of a property and alligence to those that live on it. You don't expect affection or sub-freezing temperatures out of your clothes iron, do you?."

"Well what about the healers? This," Casey motioned to his arm, "the bandages, the medications, the particular diet and avoidance of allergies, it's all maintenance. The minimal definition of caring, it's just work. Fixing a problem. There's no love involved. I am my family's little 'perfect spell casting' machine and if the machine works, they're happy."

Casey sat back. Maybe it was the transient nature of the train ride, the feeling that the words would drift away out the window and scatter, unable to be reclaimed and reconstructed. He kept his eyes locked with Vulpes. "Try to call up all that imagination of yours, Vulpes, and imagine living with people you hate. That's what it is living at Doherty Manor. I'm sure Grandfather and Grandmother are only united by their dislike of the kids, and vice versa for how my Father relates to his siblings. Only my ever growing magical abilities earn me praise, a system of goals and rewards with no love behind it. Incidents like the one I just pulled would make their day. So consider yourself lucky, Vulpes, with your probably lovey-dovey family and girlfriend; while I'm stuck with an idiotic, fat, slothful family that argues over the who gets whatever portion of the abundant finances and then tells me that I should be the one to shape-up and become the best. After all, my father was a failure and my moth--"

Casey choked on the words, triggering a chronic cough. He never mentioned his mother. Never allowed the fact to be brought up in Slytherin that the first born son of the previous O'Doherty generation had gone off on a fling with a muggle woman, so weak she almost died in childbirth. A woman to this day that lived only a fraction of the gift they called life...

...in a small, white room with slanted ceiling, a little girl no older than three with stringy strawberry-blonde hair sits on her mother's bed. The mother, a frail brown haired woman for someone in her late twenties, reading from a storybook. A house elf, puny under sack cloth dressings, is measuring up medication. A page is turned and the mother sings out the printed lullaby with a wavering, wheezy voice that fades before the last verse...

Casey managed to speak again. His eyes stung as if sprayed with antiseptic. No longer just clutching at his wounds, he was holding himself as if something would burst free from his cracked ribs if he couldn't contain it.

"You think I'm sick?" Casey posed the question to Vulpes in a strangled voice. Unhealthy? Psychotic? It didn't matter how Vulpes comprehended that. "My mother hasn't been out of her room in years. She's been suspended at the end of her mortal coil. More ill than I ever am. And she can't love me if she's bedridden."

1.

borrowed from Terry Pratchet's Discworld series' versions of Golems the beings of inanimate matter from Jewish mythology. Chem refers to the magical words in the golem's head that both power it and give it instruction. For AO, the creation of golems is probably centered around the mages of the Middle East, so terms like this could spread. Basically Casey is saying "that's how their brains are wired" although this sounds more wizarding.

Vulpes sat quietly as Casey countered him. It was slightly interesting that he mentioned house elves. Vulpes figured that he must be easier to predict than he thought. Which, to be honest, was still rather easy because he figured everything he did was rather consistent. He let out a sigh and shook his head as he recalled the healers. It was partially true of course, it was the healers job to help injured people. But Vulpes doubted there was a healer alive who would say they didn't care about their patients.

A slight shock over came him when he saw what happened the moment Casey mentioned his mother. The boy who always seemed so well composed looked about ready to cry. Vulpes leaned forwards slightly, looking stern. "I'm sure," he said quietly, eyes still locked unblinking with Casey's. "That your mother loves you very dearly. Have you ever considered what she must think? Knowing the she's never able to really be there for he son?"

Vulpes let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "And I sympathize with you. I may not have ever been as isolated as you, but that doesn't mean I've never felt it. I'm sure you noticed I'm not exactly liked in Slytherin."

With another sigh, thinking he wasn't getting through to the boy at all, Vulpes stood. "I'll leave now, if you want," he said stepping over to the door. "But before I go, I'll say this. If you ever want someone to talk to about anything, feel free to send me an owl. And if you ever want to get away, just for a little bit, my family would be happy to take you in."

Casey didn't know what he wanted. Did he want to render Vulpes speechless, a 'take that, you've never felt hardship before' defiant explanation? Did he want pity, even though he loathed it? No, he wanted what was due him, that thing whatever it was that should be his greatest reward for suffering a life of low constitution and horrendous family, that thing prime service and lucrative finance couldn't get for him.

But Vulpes could sometimes surprise you. "I'm sure that your mother loves you very dearly. Have you ever considered what she must think? Knowing the she's never able to really be there for her son?"

What? Casey's mind froze. I have too considered...considered what I've thought, but mother...He was as narrow minded as the wizarding brood when it came to his mother. It was much easier to consider her an embarrassment, same with Aunt Suanach, yet his family still let her wonder about and liquored her up. What would his mother think? How conscious was she to be able to form coherent words? He didn't know. His mother, Darla, had nothing in that house. If it wasn't for Dingy or his parents checking up on her everyone once in a while...Salazar's shiny pate! Did his own house elf see his mother more often than he did?

Lost in thoughts, Casey barely detected Vulpes standing up. "I'll leave now, if you want. But before I go, I'll say this. If you ever want someone to talk to about anything, feel free to send me an owl. And if you ever want to get away, just for a little bit, my family would be happy to take you in."

Was that it? Was he going? Casey just about pulled out his wand to cast Colloportus on the door to lock Vulpes in...but for once he ignored his duelist instincts. "Vulpes, wait!" Normally, Casey always said the Slytherin's name sardonically, a silly little tidbit. But this time it was unblemished.

"Why do you care so much? I mean, how do you care so much? It makes no sense." Vulpes Connor was unlike all of the house, having no malevolent tendencies, no image focused pleasing of other people, no great ambition that made others join up or get stepped on. "You...You honestly offered me to write, or come visit, after I-" Casey gulped, as if unused to the words, "-dumped all of that on you?" With this fresh perspective of realizing the perspectives of others, Casey noticed he had jerkishly fended Vulpes off whenever the elder student had tried to be nice.

Vulpes stopped halfway through the door when Casey called out to him. Turning his head, he slipped back inside and leaned against the door, smiling warmly as Casey spoke. "The why and how are both unknown to me," he held up both his hands and shrugged. "I don't know what enables me to care so much for other people, or why. I just do. I always have. I wish I had an answer, but I don't."

He tilted his head slightly. "And of course I did. Have you been rather cruel to me before, yes. But after what I've heard from you today I can understand why you would be. So I figured I'd offer you the caring and loving family you've always wanted." Vulpes paused for a moment debating whether or not to continue. "The loving family you, and everyone else deserves."

Vulpes gave Casey a warm smile. "So please, send a letter my way, or pop in with your house elf if you need to. I'll make sure my sister doesn't harass you, and I know my parents would be happy to have you at a dinner sometime."

Was it this easy, forgiveness? Or was it just because this was Vulpes, another student, talking to him instead of the professors at school? Connor's grin didn't seem as goofy as Casey once thought, now that it was meant for him. And the offer, the "loving family you and everyone else deserves" sounded incredibly cheesy, but that sarcastic nature of Casey had been toned down some in the exchange so he didn't reflect on it.

Casey straightened out of his fetal position. "Where do you live, should I choose to write? Going home right after the train reaches King's Cross?"

Casey wasn't up for Side Along Apparation at the moment. He had enough money for boarding a few days in the Leaky Cauldron before his bones healed. Doherty Manor wasn't part of the Floo Network, the family didn't trust it, so there were few ways in or out.

"Number 13 Pool Valley road, Brighton." Vulpes said cheerfully. "I do usually go right home with my parents yea, but Cytherea may want to see some of London, or we may swing into Diagon alley," he shrugged, multiple possibilities beyond those existed, but there wasn't much point in elaborating.

"Worst comes to worst, I'm sure your house elf could just pop in and bring you along, right?" Vulpes gave him a warm smile and stopped leaning on the door, once again opening it. "Well, I'll leave you to your thoughts now, Casey. Hope to hear from you over the summer."

With that he stepped out into the hallway and headed back up the train.

Casey remembered the address. Vulpes had figured out Casey's main method of transportation a little quickly but oh well, he wasn't a dummy or anything. Having easy access to Apparation at such a young age was supposed to add an element of surprise.

"Goodbye then, Vulpes." Casey regulated his breathing. No physical exertion or magical effort, but that had taken a lot out of him. What was the expression? Get it off one's chest. Casey supposed that was a worthy secret to sacrifice. There were plenty more...some that would never see the light of day. But Vulpes was a noble sort, he didn't spread gossip.

Casey stretched out along the the compartment seat to nap. As an afterthought, he did cast Colloprtus on the door just in case. He might take up Vulpes on that visitation offer.

But there was someone at home he needed to see first.