Written for Hogwarts' Ancient Runes Assignment: Task 2 - Write about someone who does not believe in magic (at first).

Also written for the Garage Sale Competition: clock, Snape Appreciation Challenge: 7. Hiccoughing Potion – write about something annoying, Writing Club: Disney Challenge - Micheal and Jane Banks - write about mischievous children, Lyric Alley: I am not a stranger to the dark, the Insane House Challenge: Item - Clock, Auction: (genre) angst.

Also for the Summer Challenges: Days of the Year:August 11 2018 - Son and Daughter Day: Write a kidfic, Gryffindor Challenge: (character) Dennis Creevey, Summer Astronomy Prompts: August 11 2018 - Partial Solar Eclipse: (restriction) Set your story in complete darkness, and Sophie's Tearoom: Apricot Macarons: (action) Sleeping.

Word count; 608

after midnight

"Colin, Colin! Wake up!"

Colin groaned and buried his head under his pillow, hoping his brother would catch onto his meaning and go away. Moments later, Dennis was shaking him, and Colin sat up in his bed, yawning.

"What is it, Dennis?" he said grumpily. A look toward the clock told him it was way too early for them both to be awake, and he nearly buried himself back under his covers.

But Dennis was staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, and so Colin sighed as he lifted a corner of his covers.

"Nightmare?" he asked, tone softer.

Dennis shuffled in close, nodding. He stayed quiet for a moment, before asking, "Do you think magic exists?"

Colin startled. "No." He frowned. "Why?"

Dennis looked up at him sheepishly. "Well, I was watching the tv, and there was this wizard, and —"

Colin rolled his eyes. "And this wouldn't be something Mum and Dad told you not to watch, would it?"

"... Maybe?"

Colin huffed. "Well, then it's no surprise you got nightmares."

Dennis stayed silent. "Hey, Colin, why do you think magic's not real?"

Colin bit back a sigh. His eyes drifted back to the clock, painfully taking in the still too early hour. "Why do you think it's real?" he countered, focusing back on his brother.

Dennis shrugged. "I… It makes sense." He yawned. "How else would you explain the way Mr. Squiggle?"

Colin let out a surprised bark of laughter, muffling it quickly into his fist. Mr. Squiggle had been Colin's plushie before he'd handed it to Dennis, and it was true that some… weird things had happened around it, like it moving seemingly on its own or drying too quickly.

But it wasn't magic. It couldn't be. Magic wasn't real — if it was, their father would still be there. He would have come back.

Dennis barely remembered him now, his memories replaced with ones of their mother's second husband, the ones they both called Dad now, but Colin did. He remembered the day their father had left for work, and how he had never returned.

But most of all, he remembered how that police officer had given him a slightly ruffled package wrapped in colorful paper — his father's last birthday gift for him.

His first camera.

(No, Colin didn't believe in magic.)

"Nothing can explain Mr. Squiggle," he countered weakly.

"Well, I think it's magic." Dennis pouted.

Colin bit his tongue. He didn't understand it, and Dennis was annoying sometimes (okay, a lot of the time), but Colin couldn't dash his hopes.

Their mother wouldn't like it, and Dennis didn't deserve it anyway.

So, instead of saying the rebuttal he wanted, Colin just sighed. "Whatever. Think you can sleep now?"

"Can I stay with you?"

Colin groaned again, but he knew better than to argue with his little brother when it came to this. "Fine. But you better not hog all the covers. And keep your cold feet to yourself."

Dennis chuckled as he nodded. "Thanks, Colin." He snuggled closer, and Colin let him with nary a sigh.

Colin was almost asleep again when Dennis' voice ruptured the silence.

"Colin?"

"What?"

"Happy birthday."

Colin smiled. "Thanks. Now, please, sleep."

"Alright, alright. I'll sleep."

"Thank you," Colin breathed.

Dennis fell asleep almost instantly after that — of course he did.

But Colin laid awake for a while longer, thinking.

It was his birthday. He hadn't realized it when he'd woken up, and it still didn't feel quite real — it was too early for this, and he was too half-asleep for it anyway.

But… He was turning eleven today.

Somehow, that felt important.