" My decision is final. You're transferring to Hogwarts." Marcus Greengrass's voice echoed through the room.
Atlas's nostrils flared with fury, his hold on his knife tightening as he continued to cut the meat, his jaw clenched hard but he remained silent.
" Am I clear ?"
Atlas neither nodded, nor responded with words.
" Am I clear Atlas ?"
The boy forced a nod.
" Words. Let me hear you in words son."
" Yes Father. I've got a question for you."
" As long as it's not illogical and hogwash, go ahead."
" Why did you force me into accepting Ilvermony's letter if you intended to drag me back here ?"
Marcus maintained his silence.
" You can't see me happy, can you Father ? Now that I've made my friends in Ilvermony, now that I'm happy with them, you want to snatch that away from me as well. Do you not ?"
" Sending you to Ilvermony made you stronger, you were too attached to home. It could lead to further troubles when you started school."
" I was just a child ! I was just nine when you sent me to Latin America before my schooling started ! Just nine Father ! Just goddamn nine when you sent me away !" Atlas slammed his knife on the table, his voice raising.
" I was just a child. I needed to be loved, I needed to be safe, I didn't need to be stronger." He continued, his voice wavering as he broke into tears.
" Dabney." He called out to the house elf
" Yes Master ?"
Atlas let out a shaky breath, his gaze turned away.
" Clear my plate please. I am not hungry anymore." He said keeping his voice together and stormed into his bedroom.
Marcus sat there, his body stiffened.
Frederick Greengrass simply stared at his son, his face devoid of any emotion.
" My fault ? Was it my fault ?"
" Was it not ?" Frederick questioned. " He was five when we lost Reine. Was he wrong to expect you to raise him with love ?"
" I did raise him with love. It was tough love."
" A child doesn't want tough love Marcus. I wish your mother and I raised you this way. Then you'd have realised what you made your son go through. I know you were mourning Reine. But so was he, and he was just a child. Rather than dwelling on your past, you should've focused on the future. Which you didn't. You were a good spouse, but you were never a good father. Never." Frederick stood up to leave.
" And do remember son, it's better fixing your mistakes, even if they're eight years late than living the rest of your life getting gnawed with regret." He said softly.
Marcus sighed.
His father never interfered or spoke much.
But when he did, he was never wrong.
Meanwhile Atlas sat before a table, furiously sketching in the long book.
Eyes of a boy, masked with agony.
The best of artists would be put to shame seeing his sketches.
They were his secret.
His escapism was nothing but a pencil and paper.
Yet it gave him the sense of serenity he never had around his father.
Deeply engrossed in sketching, he hadn't heard his grandfather unlock the door and walk in.
" And what is it today that you draw ?" He asked softly and Atlas flinched, it was only then he realised there was someone else in the room too.
" Grandfather......"
" Eyes ? Ah they're beautiful. Painfully beautiful. The sadness they hold is unexplainable."
" Why are you here ?" He blurted without thought.
Frederick smiled.
" Is it wrong to want to spend time with my grandson ?"
" No...I didn't...I didn't mean that. Grandfather, both you and I know quite well that, that's not why you are here. Why are you here ? To justify Father's actions ?"
" no." Frederick's voice was as serene as his expressions insisted. " Of course not. I wouldn't justify him, not after being well aware how he failed you as a Father."
Atlas stared at the eyes he sketched, they stare back at him, like his grandfather said, they indeed had unexplainable sadness held in them, sadness Atlas often had buried in himself and hadn't the slightest clue of a proper way to take it all out instead of just sketching.
" Atlas....I just want you to know, that happiness isn't an accident. You choose to be happy, regardless of your situation. My boy, that smile of yours, if you keep it with you no matter what happens, remember that no one can take it away from you. And well, I heard you liked a friend of yours at Ilvermony who rejected you, blamed you for no mistake of yours, guilt-tripped you and now she suddenly wants you to be perfectly fine with her. And neither of your friends understand you or your perspective. You don't want to, do you, act like everything's just alright the way it was ?"
Atlas shifted his gaze towards his grandfather, not really bewildered by the fact that he knew almost everything that happened at Ilvermony that involved him.
" No." he responded.
" Then consider this change as an opportunity as a getaway from her Atlas. Find new friends, new beginnings, new people to fancy.." His tone changed at the end, turning playful and Atlas groaned in embarrassment.
" Grandfather!"
Frederick smiled.
" No getting girls in bed though, okay ?" He wagged a finger, warning him playfully
" Merlin's beard ! You're never going to get over me liking someone are you ?" Atlas groaned yet again, however, he found himself smiling widely.
" It's not everyday my grandson likes someone, is it ? I feel both proud and old, you're all grown up already and you, liked someone at her worst without expecting anything from her. Not everyone can do that."
" Yeah ? You think I'd be able to find someone who'll like me at my worst ?"
" You will. And she'll be tenacious about you."
Atlas laughed.
" See, that's the smile, the laugh I was talking about. If you keep it with you no matter what, no one can take it away from you. No one." Frederick smiled again and stood up.
" I'll leave you alone in your world of sketches for now. But, prepare yourself for the peril you'll be shoved into, for Hogwarts, is far from being the safest wizarding school. Danger lurks there like a hunter or a wild animal lurks behind its hunt. So beware." The ounces of playfulness vanished from Frederick's face, suddenly appearing solemn now.
And as Atlas stared at his grandfather, he kept his questions to himself for he knew he wouldn't get an answer to them.
No matter how curious Atlas was, his grandfather always said all that he felt he had to.
Never more than that.
He spoke the necessary and left you to figure out the meaning behind it all by yourself.
That's how he was.
So Atlas bit back his curiosity, for looking at his grandfather's expressions, he was well aware that the conversation was over for him.
And he was left to ponder over the meaning as his grandfather walked out of his room.