outfox the fox

He was running as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Xander knew what was going to happen before it happened. The larger boy tacked him. He made contact with the ground. Xander felt the side of his face slide against the concrete. A stinging pain accompanied his defeat. The heat of the asphalt somehow numbed the sensation.

“What do you want?” he shouted. At sixteen, Xander had yet to hit his growth spurt. He was still small and skinny and unable to use magic to defend himself in this particular instance. He recognized the larger boy as a Slytherin who had just finished up his year at Hogwarts.

“We have business, Fox,” he growled and sat on top of him. “I’ve seen you in the library.”

“So what?” wheezed Xander, feeling the weight of the larger boy crush him. “I’m always there.”

“I mean, you’ve been reading about Dark Magic.”

“It was for a Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment,” he gasped. He struggled to breathe.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said and pushed Xander’s face in the ground. The heat that had been numbing the scrape on his cheek suddenly burned him.

“STOP!” he shouted more frantically.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I have been,” he said quickly. “I’ve been reading about Dark Magic. So what? They have the books in the restricted section! Professor Flitwick signed a permission slip for me to gain access!”

“Awfully weird for a goody-two-shoes Ravenclaw,” said the boy.

“I think it’s cool,” retorted Xander.

“What’s a Ravenclaw want with Dark Magic?”

“To mess with my rubbish parents.”

“The Dark Lord is interested in you, Fox.”

“What?”

“The Dark Lord. Are you stupid?”

“No. Why would he be interested in me?”

“I don’t know. He wants you to be one of us, though. He sees your potential.”

Xander remained silent.

“Well?”

Xander’s mind was reeling. The Dark Lord. He didn’t know much. He just knew that in the papers, they called him You-Know-Who and that he killed a lot of people, but…

He sees your potential. The words echoed in his brain.

Xander suddenly became angry. “Get the fuck off me!” he yelled.

The boy didn’t move. “Is that a no?”

“Of course it is. I’m not a bloody maniac! So, get the fuck off me.”

He finally complied. Xander gasped at the weight being lifted from his back and he sat up. He put a hand tenderly to his cheek. He could feel the rawness of his injury. He stood up and dusted his clothes off.

“I’d think about it if I were you, Fox. Dark Lord has special plans for you, rumor has it. But also, he doesn’t take kindly to being refused.”

Xander lifted his head. “Yeah, well, give my regards to the Dark Lord.” He spit and turned around. He didn’t wait for a reaction from the former Slytherin. Xander didn’t bow down to anyone. Not his parents. Not the Dark Lord.

“It’s like he still thinks I don’t know what he’s doing late at night.” Roxanna Fox walked back and forth in the living room. She had what had become her customary Scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Fucking all those slags at the office.” She took a drink. She sighed. She held up her hand and stared at the numerous bracelets on her wrists as well as a new ring. 

Xander wondered who his mother could possibly be talking to. He sure wasn’t listening. At least not attentively. It was hard to completely ignore his mother’s voice. He couldn’t help but glare as he buried his face deeper into the book he was reading, hoping his mother would realize no one was listening to her.

He still refused to accept his new reality. Although it had started last summer, Xander still spent most of his year at Hogwarts, away from the poison that had inexplicably seeped into the Fox household. 

“Dammit, Alex!” she shouted, suddenly. She beamed a bottle at him, Xander ducked, narrowly avoiding it and allowing the glass to shatter as it hit the wall behind him. He felt the glass rain over his back.

“What?” he said vehemently as he looked up. He dusted the back of his neck gently, trying to get rid of any tiny shards that might have settled there.

“Where the hell is your sister?”

“Probably upstairs hiding from you,” he muttered.

“Well, go fucking get her!” she shouted. “We have to get ready!”

“Ready for what?”

“For one of your father’s fancy work parties,” she hissed, holding up an envelope. It must have been delivered by owl just now. 

Xander stood up. “I don’t know why we go. No one ever wants to. Dad can go by himself,” he said, stiffly. He placed the book he had been reading on the coffee table.

“Keep up appearances,” his mother hiccupped. “Have to make your father look good for all his friends and colleagues.” The was acidity in her tone. 

“Keeping up—why would we want to do that? It’s not exactly a secret that he’s fucking half the office. Why embarrass yourself that way? He’s making you miserable. Leave him. You’re pathetic mum, and that’s exactly what everyone thinks the longer you stick around with him.”

His mother turned on him. She stared at him, as if seeing him properly for the first time. Her face remained expressionless.

“I’m going to—Argh!“ The hand had made contact with the side of his face. His cheek stung painfully and he could feel tears welling up in his eyes, the heat rising to his face. Something warm began to slide down his face and he realized that one of her rings must have cut him and he was bleeding.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Speak. To. Me. That. Way. Ever. Again,” she said. Her voice was no more than a whisper but dangerous. “Go get your sister.”

Xander didn’t hesitate and turned on the spot. It took everything in him to not cry. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. No, he had to keep up appearances.

“Kenzie,” said Xander, entering her room.

“Mummy’s angry again,” she said in a soft voice. Mackenzie Fox was curled up in the corner of her room. She was clutching a doll. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he said hastily and wiped the blood from his face. “She is angry, but if we get dressed fast and put on our best clothes, then she’ll be happier, okay? Can you do that? We’re going out. A party. Parties are fun.”

“She’s mad. I could hear.”

“She just wants us to get ready. You don’t want to make her angrier, do you?”

“No. I want mummy to be happy. She’s always so sad.”

“I know. Come on.” Xander held out a hand for his little sister. He thought he could feel callous skin as he took her hand, like she had been burned. He didn’t dare look to see, though.  

Everything was perfect, he told himself. Everything was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was late. It was dark. It was rainy. 

Xander stomped into his home, sopping wet. He slammed the front door shut once he’d entered the house; in part to announce his arrival, but also to convey his utter annoyance at being abandoned at King’s Cross station. Fourteen he may be, but traveling home with a large trunk filled with books and an owl had been no easy feat. 

“Mum! Dad!” he shouted. He held his head up high, wandering into the foyer.

“Mummy’s sleeping.” The voice was timid and shy and came from his six-year-old sister.

Xander crouched down to her level, his expression softened. “Hey, Kenzie,” he said, smiling gently. “How’re you?”

“Hungry,” she admitted. “Mummy won’t wake up.”

“She’s not sick, is she?”

“Maybe. She takes a lot of medicine.”

Xander’s eyebrow raised at her last statement. He looked around and noticed how unfamiliar his home was to him. There was clutter in the living area, an unusual occurrence in the Fox household.  Standing up to his full height, he began to walk around the house, slow. He felt a stranger in his own home. Although an actual stranger might walk in and see a moderately messy but lived-in dwelling, Xander knew better. He knew his parents. They were neat people. They were organized. Everything had always had its place and everything was always in its place. 

His sister’s toys were scattered everywhere, leaving a trail of where she had been and where she was going. There were dirty plates here and there and empty glasses. The sink only held even more unwashed cutlery and dishes.

He moved up the stairs. Something smelled funny. He breathed in deeply and his nose wrinkled. The odor became stronger with his every step. He stopped in front of his parents’ bedroom and knew that’s where it was coming from. 

Alcohol.

Slowly opening the door, Xander peered inside and saw his mother, messy and passed out on her bed. On every surface there seemed to be an empty bottle of liquor. In her hands there was a half drunk bottle of whisky.

He walked into the room and examined his mother. She was still breathing, though out cold. He looked around some more. He noticed pieces of jewelry laid out on the dresser amongst the bottles. He frowned and picked up a pearl necklace. He wondered when his parents had gotten so extravagant. He looked back at his mother.

There was an empty pit in his stomach. He hoped this was temporary, though in the back of his mind, he just knew it wasn’t. Even more worrying was that his father wasn’t home yet. Although he worked at the Ministry, he had his hours and even when he worked late, he’d always been home well before the late hour of eleven o’ clock.