So. This is going to be long, with a heavy plot and loooots of stuff. If something isn't clear, tell me and I'll either explain to you, or in a following chapter.

A warning: UPDATES WILL BE SPORADIC. I'm struggling with depression, I have college, others fics and original stuff to work on, etc. However, you can come scream at me to write (I don't mind) on my tumblr shippingismypersonalhell.

Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me, of course.

Title of the fic: I like to explain titles, since they all have an origin (mostly songs so hey, if you wanna give it a listen!). "le néant dans nos yeux" means "the void in our eyes" and is taken from the Melissmell's song "Le Silence (de l'agneau)" (it's dans MES yeux originally, but nos fit the fic better).

Title of the chapter: Again, it's from a Melissmell song (can you tell I love her yet?), "La Route". It means "When the end approaches us, there's the fire binding/attaching us".

Warnings: Witchcraft; Witch!Dipper; Dark!Dipper; Magical!Dipper; Familiars; Slow Burn; Angst (no one is suprised); Hurt/Comfort; Family Feels; Underage Sex; Depression; Violence; War; Politics;

Sorry for the long introduction! I hope you enjoy this chapter - and the fic in general!

ACT I - A lonely road to absolution (from the dawn's early light to twilight's last gleaming)

Chapter 1 – Quand la fin nous approche, y a le feu qui nous lie

"… You want me to go with you?"

Dipper can't believe it. The Author – the real Author, his great uncle – has asked him to go with him on a hunt. Why would he even need him? Or want him? Dipper's just a normal boy – even though he has managed to exorcise a few ghosts and fought quite a few of the monsters in Gravity Falls. But still, this is huge.

Ford smiles, and ruffles his hair with a hand. The other is gripping a small backpack. Dipper doesn't know what's inside, but guess it is for whatever creature they were going to hunt (oh god, he still can't believe it – they're going to hunt together!). Dipper grins and hides playfully from the hand messing with his hair.

He puts his cap on his head, grins at Mabel who's currently watching TV with her two friends. She gives him a thumb up before returning her attention to the screen. As they leave the shop, he can hear her beautiful laugh resonating in the shack.

Grunkle Ford sets a quick pace, and walks into the woods like one would in their home. He has no fear on his face, no stress is contracting his muscles. Dipper wishes he could be more like him and runs after him, keeping close to his heart the third Journal, as if that gesture could help him discover the mysteries of the Author.

They walk for some time before Dipper's curiosity gets the best of him and, kicking a small rock on his path, he asks.

"Soooo… What are we looking for exactly?"

Ford slows down a bit, letting the boy catch up with him. Dipper smiles at him, bright and curious, still a child in his heart.

"My instruments have detected a strange disruption in the magic of the woods. I wanted to investigate and since you know the woods of now better than I, I thought you could show me the places where you have been."

He smiles back and Dipper punches the air with a pleased shout, happy to show his great-uncle everywhere he's been since the beginning of the summer. They avoid the lair of the gnomes, knowing the little creatures wouldn't be too happy to see them, but explore the rest of the forest. Sun shines through the leaves, and the air is warm and dry, a perfect afternoon for exploration. Dipper explains enthusiastically his findings, showing the place where the Hide-Behind should be (of course, nothing is there but Ford seems impressed nonetheless), the home of a dryad whom Dipper befriended earlier in the week. Every secret Dipper found, he shows with pride and happiness to his idol.

"Say, Grunkle Ford, do you think I could start my own Journals?" Dipper asks, stopping in the middle of the description of their first day in Gravity Falls.

"Well, I don't see why not kid!" Grunkle Ford laughs and ruffles Dipper's hair again.

In his left hand is a strange device Ford got out of the backpack, beeping and screeching. Once during their walk, Ford looks at it and frowns. He asks Dipper to move away and when he does, the screeching diminishes. Muttering something about his brother and broken instruments, Ford gestures Dipper to go on with his stories, letting the child lead the way.

They find nothing weird in the woods – well nothing weirder than usual. Dipper is content enough to simply have some time alone with the Author, but Ford scowls more and more as time passes.

"Strange… My readings were all over the place… Why is the place so calm?" He mumbles. Dipper watches him fumbles with his… It looks like a remote, with a screen with graphs on it. Ford sighs and adds, probably speaking more to himself than to Dipper. "Then again, the readings said the Shack itself was home to more magic than all the woods so they could simply be wrong but…"

"Maybe it's because Bill has been in the Shack a few times now?" Dipper inquires. Ford looks at him like he had forgotten he wasn't alone, then smiles.

"Yes… Yes that could be why. You told me you were possessed by him, huh? How was it, being a mere spirit?"

A normal adult would have scowled Dipper for so carelessly making a deal with a demon, but this is the Author. He simply seems… Interested in Dipper's experience. Dipper grins in an explanation.

"It was weird, I mean, I couldn't touch anything and he was the only one who heard me, but I could possess puppets, like he was doing with me! Also there was –"

They enter a clearing and before Dipper can continue, there's a shot of lightning in the center. Grunkle Ford shields him with his body, a hand shooting in front of his eyes to avoid being blinded by the white light. Dipper closes his eyes with a small cry, his thoughts a confused mess (oh god, this is it, this is what we were looking for, I'm going to hunt something with the Author, I hope it's friendly, what is it?).

Then the light disappears and in its place, there is a man… Made of clouds? His skin is blue, his clothes gold and white. His long black hair is tied in a braid, floating behind him. His arms are crossed but his posture isn't threatening. He seems more curious than angry. Gold cuffs are on his wrists, and other jewelry mares his neck and pointed ears. Dipper stares in wonder and the man looks back at him with a smirk, apparently aware of the effect he has on the child.

Ford is the first to react, approaching warily and getting his device out again. He puts his backpack on the ground, slowly, never letting his eyes stray away from the creature. Dipper wonders what's inside – some sort of weapon maybe. Something to defend themselves from this strange man-thing? But his eyes are on the creature again when it (he?) starts to speak, his voice a low rubble, like an earthquake.

"Well, what are two humans" His gaze slowly passes on Dipper, assessing him somehow, "doing on my territory? Usually, my magic is enough to avoid having humans here." He grins, sly like a fox. "Or maybe you need a wish? What can a humble Jinn do for you?"

Ford is still frowning but the calm words have made him loosen his grip on his screeching remote. Dipper though, Dipper can't believe his luck.

"You're a Jinn? Like Genie in Aladdin?"

Ford looks at him with surprise while the Jinn laughs, a mixture of surprise and sarcasm in his voice.

"No." he answers, voice dripping with disdain. "Just because I'm blue and shares some common traits with him, doesn't mean I'm like that – parody of a magical creature. He was soft and lost his powers for some "freedom"." He sneers, his longs fingers doing quotes at the word freedom. "He was pathetic."

Ford definitively seems lost now, and Dipper hears him mutter "Who's Genie?" under his breath, but he's too interested to mind.

"Wait, are you offended by our portrayal of your species? And is it possible for a Jinn to lose his powers? Are you bonded to anyone? Do you have to do what I tell you? What's your name? And –"

"Dipper, let the poor man talk." He remembers to breathe, big eyes shining as the Jinn looks at him with something akin to interest in his golden eyes.

"What an interesting child. You've yet to be claimed but powerful creatures wander near you. Hm. I would follow you, if you'd allow it."

"Uh… Wait what?" Dipper looks at Ford with a bit of panic swelling inside his chest, tightening his throat and making it difficult to breathe. Was he talking about Bill Cipher? Or something else? The Jinn waves his hand with a carefree smile, and goes on.

"Don't concern yourself with it, child. To answer your curiosity, yes, I am offended. Seeing my species reduced to fun and wishes is aggravating, and some of the facts in your little movie were simply wrong. Jinns don't bond to anyone, we are not your slaves unless you make us and if you do well," The smile grows terrifying for one second. Dipper blinks and it's gone. "We will make life very difficult for you. If I offered you a wish earlier, it is because I deal with illusions. Tricking humans has always been fun, especially ones so… magical."

Dipper wonders what he means by that but doesn't dare interrupt, enraptured by what the Jinn is saying. Ford clears his throat next to him. He's less guarded than before, more relaxed – it seems he has decided the Jinn wasn't a threat.

"So, what are you doing here, besides trying to… Trick humans?" He says the word with distaste. Dipper thinks about Bill and the way he deceived them both. "Are you the one behind the magical peaks? And how can we trust you?"

The Jinn laughs. He walks toward them, almost floating. His skin stills looks like a cloud, blurry and out of place. Maybe his appearance is an illusion too?

"I trick them in a nice way – I am not murderous, little man. I like you humans, always curious and adventurous even if it brings you to an early grave." His knowing gaze stops on Ford and suddenly, his smile shows too much teeth. "Though I wouldn't trust me." He chuckles, as if laughing to a joke only he knows. "I simply like living here. Gravity Falls is so full of wonders, even the most surprising ones."

A blue hands extends towards Dipper's head, and Ford rushes to stop it but the Jinn is quicker. His hand feels cold, wet, and almost slimy. It pushes his bangs away, slowly (reverently?). Dipper flinches when he feels a finger trace his birth mark and steps back before he can help it. His forehead tickles a little.

"You are indeed a very special child, bearing the mark of the stars. What an interesting way for the Fates to remind me of my place." The Jinn's eyes look at a point in the distance. He doesn't even look like he realized he spoke out loud.

Ford's hand comes resting on his shoulder, a reminder that he's not alone, that they can leave if he feels overwhelmed. He shakes his head and looks at his Grunkle Ford with a little smile. He feels safe, protected (The Author's here with me, nothing will happen).

"Will you finally answer the questions Jinn?!" Ford asks, his annoyance clear and loud. The creature is playing with them, answering what he wants in a strange way.

"Which one?" Dipper can't help but laughs a little with the Jinn, a hand going up to his mouth to try and hide it from his Grunkle. "Alright little man, don't explode just yet." Ford huffs. "My magic is made of illusions and unless I decided to cast a great spell – which I have not, I wouldn't be in this form otherwise – it will stay stable. I do not know what caused the peaks but it seems to me the Norns have decided to be… Playful with this town."

His unnerving gaze is on Dipper again, who squirms.

"We should go." Ford says, trying to hide Dipper behind his long coat. The spell is broken and the Jinn looks back at Ford, still (always) smiling. "I don't think we're safe here."

"Of course. If you find yourself in need of company, my door is always open."

A house appears, slowly, behind him, a small but welcoming cottage, shimmering as the illusion hiding it disappears. The wooden door is open to let people enter. Dipper gaps at the white stone and the red tiles (was it hidden? Or is it an illusion?), wondering what's inside. Do Jinn sleep? Does he have a lamp, like Genie – no wait he said he's not a slave.

Ford steps back slowly. At first Dipper wonders why they don't simply turn to go back to the shack and then – oh. Ford doesn't want to put his back to the creature. Never mind that he has been helpful and nice, Jinns are still considered if not evil, at least a free spirit likely to commit wrongs deeds to amuse themselves. He follows Ford, his eyes still on the blue man who waves a bit with an amused smile.

"Oh child, before you go." Dipper turns his head, and for a second, thinks he sees a magnificent blue bird but – but no, nothing here, only the Jinn. "My name is Kadin. Use it if you want to find me. May Fa guard your steps."

And just like that, the clearing disappears behind the trees.

~~~O~o~O~~~

He is earth and air, fire and water – a scorching ice that becomes cold embers. He is born, as the stars disappears from the sky, his growing limbs scrape the ground. One of his mouths roars, eyes slowly opening to witness the new day. His body is monstrous – as it should be – but this won't do. He needs to look for his witch – she needs him. He shakes himself, remains of the skins he has tried slowly falling to the ground, slime and slough clinging to his scales.

Slowly, his being shrinks until he is concealed in a smaller animal. He checks – four limbs, a long tail. He still feels cold-blooded. He has apparent eardrum too which means he's some kind of lizard. He moves his snout around, looking at the trees – they look enormous, so that means he is quite small – looking for a hint as to where his witch could be.

The magic in the air slowly calms down, the last of the peaks until the birth of another familiar – there are two witches here, one significantly more powerful than the other. He can feel the magic fluster, slowly coming back to the relaxed flood of a small drought.

Through his eyes, he can see all the magic, yellow and green, settling on the leaves and around the roots, giving the forest that look so magical. He rises up on his legs checking his surroundings. There is no one, not a human or a magical creature – wait. There is one. So far from his witch and unbounded, anything can represent a threat but luckily he has his venom, claws, and fangs if the need to defend himself arises.

"Well, would you look at that?! What's a monitor lizard from New Guinea doing in Oregon?" The voice is deep and amused.

It is a Jinn, made of air and water, who floats a few steps away. He must have been born near the Jinn's house. In a forest as magical as this one, it isn't a surprise. He bares his fangs, hoping to scare the creature away, but the blue man simply chuckles and approaches slowly.

"Do not worry little one. While your fangs would represent a threat to anyone, I am of no danger to you. I trust you are looking for your witch, hm?"

He freezes because a Jinn knows something about his witch? That must mean she is without coven then – no unbounded witch in her right mind would approach a Jinn, especially one who delves in illusions like this one.

"Who are you, Jinn? Why would you help us?" He snarls, slowly stepping back. He's ready to run, because this Jinn can't be trusted (trust no one), something resonates inside him. He tries morphing into something stronger, bigger but nothing. His magical bond with his witch isn't ready for his true form yet.

"I am… A follower of the Fates." The Jinn sighs, his eyes looking sad for a second. "Destiny isn't something you can avoid little one. Remember that." Then he points toward the west, with his long finger. The familiar notices a golden ring, shining under the sun.

Then he runs.

~~~O~o~O~~~

The stars in Gravity Falls are really magnificent. Dipper sketches them, slowly making out the dark sky with color pencils he stole from Mabel. He's not good at art, especially at night with only the help of a torchlight to see, but it relaxes him.

Some nights, there are fairies who goes out and dances, barely visible outside the woods. Maybe Dipper's imagination is running wild, maybe the lights are just from a camping site or some fireflies. But he likes to imagine seeing them, pretty little things flying and dancing, bowing to each other and kissing the gloved hands of their partners. Sometimes, he can almost feel them, fluttering around him, whispering excitedly as if he was special just like them. Those are the nights he prefers.

But most of them are not spent outside on the roof, watching the dark woods, wondering exactly what creature he could chase and study. They're spent cowering in fear, crying and sniffling as Mabel sleeps soundly, trying his best to not wake her, please let her sleep.

There are no stars in his nightmares.

He doesn't know what they mean, figures Bill Cipher must have sent them (I'm always watching), laughing, taking his revenge for his failed plans.

He closes his eyes and the white of the stars stay behind his eyelids, little drops that he could mistake for diamonds. He can see blood, Mabel's, Grunkle Stan's, Wendy's, he doesn't know, and demons howling into the night. Their screams echoes in his ears, along with a whispering voice who susurrate him sweet deals – what would you give for this knowledge you thrive for? For all the power in the world? Give yourself, surrender and worship.

He refuses each time, and the voice(s) grows frustrated then angry. More screams, more blood – he tries to get up and get away from the thing (Bill?) but find that he can't move, his arms and feet tied by heavy chains. They're sticky, and stink with the scent of blood, they're red. He wants to throw up but when his mouth opens, only a scream goes out.

His.

"-pper! Dipper! Wake up! Dipper you're scaring me, stop please!"

He sits up straight, eyes wide open. He can't breathe, feels his chest constricts as if something (someone) is pressing hard on it. He gasps, then coughs, his hands squeezing his throat in the hopes of getting some air. He can't see anything, the light of the day (is it the day?) blinding him and bringing some tears to the corners of his eyes. Dipper can hear his sister, and concentrates - what is she saying, what?

"Come on Dipper, breathe for me. I know it's hard, but copy me, come on -"

He tries, feeling a lump in his throat when he tries to breathe in, but he tries again, and again, and soon he can finally get some air inside his lungs, coughs again. He feels weak, and tired but hey, at least he's alive. The thought brings a small laugh out of his lips, and as his vision goes clearer, he sees Waddle on his bed, Mabel besides him, a worried frown marring her pretty face. His hands are clean. No blood, no darkness, no whisper at the back of his mind.

"A nightmare…" He murmurs, relief washing through him, like a relaxing wave. He sees Mabel, at the corner of his eyes, sigh with relief, small tears running down her cheeks. He inspires, shakily, and takes her hand in his, tightens his grip to show comfort and love. "I'm sorry I scared you Mabel."

"Shut up brobro!" Mabel smiles through her tears, and uses her free hand to punch him lightly on the shoulder. He plays along, faking pain and they laugh a little, their hands still joined. Mabel smiles so bright it almost hurt and engulfs Dipper in one her typical overbearing hug. Still, it's welcomed and he answers by tightening his grip around his sister, his hands fisted in the fabric of her sweater.

"Hey, wanna play some D&D&D?" He asks, voice a bit muffled by the fabric near his mouth, his smile wider, eyes dry and heart back to a normal rate.

"No way Dipper! I hate that game and you know it!" She laughs again, and as he hears it, he wants to laugh too, all fear forgotten in the darkness under his bed. There is no monster, no demon waiting to devour him.

It was just a nightmare.

"Come on Dipper! I have a date and I need you to tell me what sweater you prefer!" Mabel cries out, pulling his arm, still laughing (her laugh is the best sound in the world he thinks, because it makes him feel like he's safe, he's home and not alone).

"Oh my god Mabel, please don't."

Well. Except maybe when it involved him having to go through an entire fashion show for three hours.

~~~O~o~O~~~

"Seriously Mabel, don't you want to simply play some D&D&D?" Dipper complains, watching his sister disappear in the bathroom to change. Again. "Anything would be better than this girly thing… Ugh." He settles back into the couch of their room, and slowly rubs his eyes.

"Don't be so bitter Dipdop, you sound like an old man! And I need to be perfect for this date with Marco. I mean, he's almost fourteen, I have to look mature - but not too much because well, I wouldn't be me then oh and also…"

And she goes on and on.. Dipper sights because yeah, he loves his sister and her blabbering did help him forget about the nightmares, but really, he'd rather go read a book or follow Ford again (he still can't believe what happened a few days ago. A Jinn, a real one!). He loves Mabel, he really does, but seeing her in fifteen - fifteen - different outfits really wasn't on his to-do list for today. Logically he knows her, he knows she really loves dating, that her first dates with a boy are always important to her but. He just doesn't see the appeal and each time she takes his advice, then go for the opposite because "come on Dipper, you know nothing about fashion, you barely know how to wash yourself" it just… Kind of hurt. Even if it was true.

With a loud bang, Mabel comes back into the room, sporting a bright pink skirt with glitter on it, her signature oversized sweater - a purple one with kittens and rainbows on it - and a little choker with a heart around her neck. In Dipper's opinion, it was too much pink, but still pretty - Mabel was always pretty.

"Sooooo, what do you think brobro?" He sighs a bit and chews his lips, unsure of what to say.

"Well… I prefered when your skirt wasn't so… Glittery. But say Mabel, you know, you're really cute and awesome and if I were this guy, I'd date you even if you wore the lamest clothes ever." He feels himself blush, cheeks burning as he avoids his sister's stare. He wants her to be happy with how she is, but he's, well, himself. Never know what to say. "I mean - you're so cool Mabel, way cooler than most people and I don't think how you look is going to change that. I - uh - you see what I mean?" His voice cracks on the last words and he winces, expecting a lesson on how important looking good is.

Instead, there's two arms around him and Mabel's grinning face in front of him, her cheek glowing pink and her eyes looking almost watery.

"Oh Dipper, you're the best brother ever! I love you so much and it's so cool that you think that way - I mean, you're right, appearances shouldn't matter and stuff but I like getting dressed up and feeling cute! I love it even, and well, since I like this guy, I also wants him to think I did something for him you see?"

Not really. Even for Wendy, he never wanted to become something different - maybe that's just a Mabel thing? Or maybe he's the one who's weird, like always. Quirky, nerdy Dipper. He sighs and shoos Mabel off his lap, with a small smile because dang it, there's now glitter everywhere on his pants.

"Come on Mabel, you still have to put on makeup don't you?" Mabel lets out a small cry of excitement, twirls her skirt a bit to show off and then rushes to the bathroom to brush her hair and… Do things girls do, probably. Makeup, that sort of things. He wonders what it feels like, to have foundation on his skin, eyeshadow and lipstick. It's stupid he knows, after all, makeup is for girls, it's obvious.

"Do you think I should wear lipstick or chapstick?" Mabel cries out from the bathroom and he rolls his eyes. As if he would know. "Chapstick it is! It's less womanly but at least if we - oh my gosh oh my gosh - kiss he won't have too much traces on his lips. Aaaah, what perfect lips he haaas…"

And there she goes, Dipper thinks, snorting, singing the praises of her crush.

Marco is a tourist, came with his family to the shack a few days ago. He flirted with Mabel quite a bit - and with Wendy too, but Dipper tries to ignore that and the pain in his gut - and when it was time for his departure, he left his phone number to Mabel. Who, of course, spent the evening wondering when she should call him, driving poor Stan and Ford nuts with her existential questions.

Well, it all worked out in the end, and Dipper's glad to see Mabel happy again, after those awful days following the return of Ford. It had been… Difficult, and even now that they're talking to each other again, with the promise of never turning into the Stans, there's still some awkwardness some time, when Dipper thinks she didn't trust me and Mabel's smile is sort of frozen as she does another thing Dipper dislikes because come on brobro, you have to live a little.

He shakes his head. It's full of nonsense again (and he can't help but wonder, does his nightmares have to do something with it?). The lack of good sleep probably.

"Sooooo how am I?"

And there she is, beautiful and shining with life and joy. She doesn't look that different, strapped in her sweater and skirt, but there's a light in her eyes that wasn't here before and he hopes, oh he hopes it's going to work because she deserves this.

"Awesome." He says and he smiles, offering his arms for a hug before her date. He doesn't know much about dates, or fashion, but he can offer a good luck charm. "Sibling hug?"

"Haha thanks!" She jumps into his arms, her lips kissing his cheek, smearing a bit of chapstick on it (he smells cherry) and they laugh. He feels glad, to know they're still close despite what they had to endure during this summer and he can't help but think about the Stans, Ford in the basement, working for another of his projects and Stan, alone in the shack.

We won't become like them. Ever.

The hug lasts a few more seconds before Mabel giggles and jumps down the couch.

"Okay, I'm off then! And Dipper, go talk to Ford or Wendy, the couch is swallowing you alive." They both laugh, and then she's gone, jumping down the stairs, yelling goodbye to Grunkle Stan and slamming the door. He wonders what they're going to do, Marco and her. Maybe they'll go to Lazy Susan's dinner, or Marco's parents will drive them to the city.

"Aaaaah… Finally alone… Mh, what should I do now?" He yawns, almost tempted to try and nap but he knows (can feel it, at the back of his mind, the whispering and the clawing) he won't sleep well even if he tries. He should probably talk to Ford about it, because if that's Bill trying to mess with him then it's dangerous. He rubs his arms, feels the phantom pain of the forks in his skin.

He slowly gets up, his hand on the back of the couch to avoid getting dizzy and stretches. On days like this, slow days where nothing happens, he usually took the journal on the roof and studied them, but Ford has them now, and he feels too intimidated to go ask for them. He almost knows them by heart anyway and decides to take a sketchbook and think about his nightmares (because his mom is a supporter of analyzing your dreams, to know yourself and all this stuff). He's really not sure it'll be useful, but he doesn't feel like socializing and it's better than brooding on the couch he supposes.

On the roof there's a big lizard (how did it even get up here with its size?), flicking its tongue in and out to smell the air. Dipper stares at it, weirdly fascinated. He's not a big fan of animals, besides the obvious cat and dog, unlike Mabel who would have a whole bunch of them if allowed, but this one, this one, it's… Different.

"Hello Dipper."

It speaks too, and Dipper wonders idly why he's not surprised, and concludes that with all the weird stuff that happened to him, a talking giant lizard isn't that strange. That it knows his name however…

~~~O~o~O~~~

His witch is a boy. He can't believe it – he really can't because that's simply not possible. Witches are women, in their mind and heart if not in their bodies. But this one, this one, he can feel it, he's a boy, an iron-willed boy who believes he has to be strong, and brave and manly. The familiar can feel it, in their link, the doubts and insecurities, and at the same time, that label deeply scarred inside his psyche (I'm a boy, a man, a real man, I need to show it, I need to be worthy of it, protect them, defend them, be the shield and the sword).

He's the familiar of this one, this impossible boy-witch.

"So you talk huh? What are you exactly? Enchanted creature? Human transfigured? Cursed?" He can hear curiosity in the boy's mind – Dipper, and another, magnificent name that needs to stay secret (names are power, no one can know my name – but it's so pretty – it's a secret Mabel – why? Don't you like it? – it's not the point, it's a secret).

"I'm a familiar." He says, trying to be delicate. Careful. The eyebrows of the child rise up, disappears behind the bangs of brown hair. He seems surprised but not ignorant. Good. Someone gave him some knowledge – and knowledge is everything to survive.

"Oh? Then where's your master?"

"It should be a mistress actually…" He pauses, unsure. How should he continue? A lump of, something, stress, anxiety, he's not sure, compresses his throat. He tries to swallow and continues, his voice tight. Why? He doesn't know. "He's here."

"Here?" The child frowns, doesn't understand. "In the shack you mean? Do they know you uh…? That you talk?"

He closes his eyes, feeling annoyed – yes that's being annoyed – and tries to stay calm, his words coming out loud, slow.

"Yes he does. He's a witch."

And his eyes are still so full of innocence yet, yet he can feel it, from their bond, the darkness emanating, the core of magic pulsing, begging to be used, growing and evolving. Soon, it will implode if the magic isn't used, learnt. Humans would probably feel worry at this knowledge but he's a witch's familiar, and all he feels is excitement.

"A w–?" He doesn't let him finish.

"A witch. You're a witch child. And you're mine."