Kids Everywhere (Introducing Frydenlunds)

[Trent Frey]

Go talk to him.

What if it's not him?

He looks exactly like his picture, it's him.

What if he's mean?

The whispering paused for a moment at that, and the children, barely Hogwarts age and each holding a toddler's hand, looked at one another. All three had pale blonde hair, narrow noses, and blue eyes. The elder two were speaking Norwegian.

What did it say about him in the magazine? the boy asked.

It said he's... he's leaving!

The children watched as Lyric opened a door to a stairwell and headed upstairs, leaving only them and a fluffy grey cat in the shop itself.

Get him!

Why don't you?

You're the oldest!

You're the boy!

The little one between them looked up, watching their whispered bickering until it ended all at once. Then the boy released the toddler's hand and the older girl bent to pick the baby up. As a group, they went to that stairwell door and the boy knocked firmly. Then stepped back.

Less than a minute later, they knocked again.

---

Lyric ignored the first knock. He'd come up for the bathroom and to get a cup of coffee, and there was a sign on the door that said quite clearly Authorized Personnel Only. That was him, Keith, Reprise, and Shadow. The second knock annoyed him, but he ignored it too, until it became a steady stream of banging. God, he hated kids in his shop, especially when they didn't appear to be buying anything.

Finally he gave up his coffee and left it on the counter to head downstairs. He opened the door to a few sets of suddenly wide eyes, as though they hadn't been demanding his attention. "I'm on break," he growled.

The kids looked at each other, then back at him. "You're Lyric Frey, aren't you?" the girl asked in heavily-accented English. She held up a painfully-familiar magazine, already open to a photograph he knew well.

"I don't do autographs. Buy something or get out. There's some pictures of Hogwarts in the corner." He started to shut the door, and it stuck. On the boy's foot. His eyes narrowed.

"Du er Stian Frydenlund's sønn, riktig?" the girl asked.

The Norwegian stopped Lyric. "Hva ønsker du?" he replied. What do you want? And why the hell would they be asking about his father?

"He's our father, too."

They said something after that, but Lyric hardly heard. He was looking at them now, at the bits and pieces of them that looked familiar, more from looking in the mirror every day than because he really remembered what his father looked like. He was noticing a faded bruise on the boy's face and trying not to remember when he was this kid's age. How old was he? Nine? Ten? About the age when Stian Frey had left them for Norway.

"What are you doing here?" he asked at last, interrupting two kids who were talking over each other.

"You can help us, right?" the girl asked.

"Help you what? I don't do charity, and this isn't an orphanage." And he was made a liar by the sudden presence of a tiny ginger girl behind him. He could feel her even without her touching him, knew she was there without her having made a sound. "Reprise, go back upstairs." He didn't feel her leaving. He sighed.

"Listen, I've got a one-bedroom flat and I'm living in the attic. There's no room. You've got a mom, don't you?"

The kids looked at each other, unsure, then back to him. "She told us to get out."

Lyric let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the door frame a moment. Then he turned to Reprise. "Go tell Keith to send owls to Dare and Rhys, can you remember all that?" She nodded, so he went on. "More kids, not mine, can you remember that, too?" Reprise nodded, and at an expectant look from her father, went back up the stairs on a mission.

"Come on in here," Lyric said, and gestured toward the nearby portrait studio. There were things to sit on there, without letting these kids into his house.

---

Du er Stian Frydenlund's sønn, riktig? - You're Stian Frydenlund's son, right?

[Keith Evans]

Keith all but had a panic attack at the words from Reprise, no matter that not Lyric's was part of the news. There had to be a reason for the kids to come to Lyric, and none of the possibilities that flew through Keith's mind were attractive options. Still, he managed to get himself under control rather quickly, or well, enough control to send out two short letters. It took another few minutes before he made his way downstairs to the studio.

"I sent the letters, the owl's going to Dare first," he said cautiously, uncertain eyes darting over to the children. It shouldn't take too long for it to make its way to Rhys, either, though he wasn't entirely certain how owls managed such long flights so quickly.

[Trent Frey]

Everyone looked at Keith as he entered except the toddler, who was busy taking everything out of a box of props. The older kids went dead silent, and Lyric left them to their devices as he stood and crossed the room. "My dad had other kids," he told Keith. The older kids were straining to hear, but Lyric didn't lower his voice. Why bother?

"He knocks his wife around, they're fine. He knocks the boy around, they're fine, but the older girl turned eleven and hasn't shown magic so he hit her and their mom told them to get out. They took the baby and showed up here because Cauldron told them right where I was and they couldn't think of anything better. I told them I've got friends who know about foster stuff." And that was as far as he'd gotten. He didn't actually know what to do with them. They're not staying here, he mouthed.

[Keith Evans]

Keith was still wary about the newcomers, but he gave a brief nod at Lyric's silent assurance. "They'll be taken care of, somehow," he said, even though he had no idea how. With Rhys and Dare on the case, though, he couldn't imagine it would take very long for something to be decided. His eyes shifted toward the kids again. "How did you even get to England?"

[Trent Frey]

"On a fishing boat," the boy said.

"We asked the captain and I showed him this..." The girl lifted up the back of her shirt to show a pattern of painful-looking bruises, red around the outsides and still turning a dark purple. They were fresh, and they were deep.

"And your mom didn't stop him," Lyric said.

The older kids' eyes widened at even the suggestion, and suddenly Lyric liked his own mother a lot more. He'd stepped in for her sometimes, but she'd stepped in for him whenever she was physically able to. Sounds like a useless b~ to me.

"And she told you to get out."

"She was going to come with us, but she stayed to make sure he was all right. He hurt his hand when he hit the wall."

Lyric's eyes closed as though asking for patience with this stupidity.

[Keith Evans]

Keith's eyebrows drew close together and he pulled his wand to summon bruise healing paste when he saw the injuries. The small tub appeared shortly after, and he held it out to the kids. "Use this, it'll help with the bruises." At least the two kids were older, closer to the ages he usually worked with. Hopefully the brother could help the sister with the paste. "Is it just bruises? Do we need to take you to a healer?"

[Trent Frey]

"Yeah, it's just bruises," the girl said. The boy looked at Keith a moment, debating, then looked away. Lyric turned in time to see it happen.

"What?" he asked, but no immediate answer came. "Keith's my boyfriend, he lives here. He's going to find out anyway." And Keith knew what had happened to him... His dad hadn't sexually abused him, he didn't see it happening, but he looked at the girl all the same.

He was looking in the wrong direction, and his thoughts were way off. "Once a bone heals, there's nothing you can do about it, right?" the boy asked. Lyric looked at the boy instead. "No, it can be fixed."

The boy held out his left arm. It looked almost normal, but there was a sway to it that didn't look right. "Can you get the school Healer down here?" he asked Keith. This was a mess. The kids could talk, at least, but it was a huge cluster.

[Keith Evans]

Keith nodded, then summoned a patronus to send to the healer. It took a lot more energy than sending an owl, but since the flying messenger was already sent off it was the best option. "She'll fix you up, don't worry. And no one here will hurt you." He was thankful his own parents had never been abusive. "Just tell her whatever's wrong when she gets here."

[Trent Frey]

It wasn't long at all before backup arrived, and like last time, he got an unexpected guest. This time it was Professor laSalle, who it turned out was an Auror and already working with the English foster care system for someone else. Rhys. It was enough to make Lyric's head swim, and soon the shop was filled with people, and he had to flip his sign to Closed to accommodate them all.

There were Aurors and Social Service workers, and he ended up taking what amounted to mugshots of half-siblings he'd only just met. Apparently if anything was going to be done, they needed photographs of the bruising, photos of the boy's arm, photos of his bruising, and a whole lot of testimony. Having a mute child dumped on his doorstep had been simpler.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Don't look at me like that, had been Dare's first response. He knew that Lyric and Keith had their hands full with one child, but he and Michael already had three. Three toddlers, one and a half elves, a governess, two dogs, him and Michael made for a full house. They weren't a kid depository.

Shouldn't they go back to Norway? had been his first argument. That had died pretty quickly. Lyric had given him a look as though he'd said if you don't like it go back to Africa and Damien had pointed out that the kids' mother had stayed. The chances were that the kids would go home.

Rhys and Matthew legitimately didn't have room, even if they had wanted to foster three more children, Damien had three of his own and no partner or governess or elf to help him, and he felt like a heel even bringing up other names. He and Michael had room. And it was probably temporary anyway.

His final argument had been, you won't convince Michael. He wasn't the only person in the tower, and even if they'd poked his Gryffindor Hero Syndrome so wide awake that he couldn't imagine not taking the kids home, he wouldn't just spring three children on his husband.

"They don't have anywhere else to go," he told Michael. His heart ached for these kids, and he couldn't help glancing over at Lyric. That was what had happened to the man's oldest son. A life of self-hate and destruction that was only easing with a lot of effort from friends.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

They did have the room. They had the resources to care for more kids. Did they have the time? There was work, and spending time with the kids, lessons for their German needs, time to be alone and time to be together. How could they fit three more kids into their schedules? Even if it was a temporary thing, how would they blend what these kids needed in with what their own did? It wouldn't be right to look at them and say you aren't our real kids, you don't get lessons.

"Three more kids, though," he said. "The tower is busy enough as it is." They weren't blank slate babies, either, but kids old enough to have memories and talk and have a personality.

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

"I know," Dare said. God, he knew. It had taken a great deal of time and effort to get things settled the way they were, and here were two school-aged kids and yet another toddler. "They could get sent back to parents who beat them, though. I couldn't live with myself if that happened and there was something I could do about it." He'd done all his resisting before he'd sent a patronus for Michael, and his eyes pleaded.

"I'll do the work of finding some help for Wynne. We can get another tutor for the older kids so she's not overworked, so the kids' lessons don't suffer, and it might not even be permanent. Lyric said he thought his dad's parents might still be alive, so if they find them, it could only be a month or two while everything gets worked out." And it could be longer. They both knew it.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael looked aside toward the kids. Could their relationship survive such a huge change? It had been stable for a while now, but three kids. Surely there was somewhere else the children could go. He didn't want them to go back to abusive parents, but three kids. "We can't make the decision assuming it could only be a month."

[Dare Blackwood-Hardt]

Dare nodded, conceding Michael that point. It would probably be temporary, but they had to treat it like a real change all the same, because it would be. "We have the room, we have the resources, and we have people to help us," he said at last. "Half of them owe us their souls anyway. If it turns out we can't handle it, we'll at least given the kids a place to stay while they find something permanent."

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael ran a hand through his hair, then smoothed down the wild bits that took the motion as permission to stand on end. "How do we tell everyone? The twins, Isolde? Our parents?" Do, not would. Dare had made up his mind already, and he made good points. He still wasn't completely won over, but he had the feeling he would regret it if he steadfastly refused.