Calyx was annoyed, all his brother did was jeer and chip at his sanity, little by little.  He was tired of it, but what could he do about it?  His father would just blame him for anything Quirin ever did, and his mother was... powerless.

So he did nothing, after all, the last time Calyx retaliated didn't end all that well.  He ended up going to bed with a bruised arm, a black eye, and no dinner.  Yes, Calyx had learned his lesson.

"Dear?" his mother.

"Yes, mother?" he asked, a charming smile flooding over his features.

"You're heading to Diagon Alley, I was just wondering if you needed anything before hand." Yes, Calyx would be going alone.  He might run into his brother every once in awhile, but for the majority of the time, he'd be shopping in solitude.

"No," Calyx said, wondering what he could possibly need besides his list, everything else was already at Diagon Alley. "Thank you though, mother."  Another charming smile, another small smile in return.

It was a shame his mother was so skittish.

Their family was supposed to stand proud, like their ancestors before them.  Not like a cowering dog.  His mother was a kind soul, but she had no back-bone.  Something Calyx wished she had, because she ended up doing more harm than good.  Calyx himself had always been fairly quiet, but also respectful and charming.  Something his mother made up for with beauty and her families money and reputation.  He knew how to get his way, but he also knew when he wouldn't.  And in the Travers household, he wouldn't. 

Just like his mother.

At the thought of his ancestors, Calyx began thinking about the future, how bleak it would be.  There was a war brewing, that much was certain, and secrets were hidden.  Greed was covering the landscapes, the dream he'd gotten years ago was proof of that.  It was strange, Calyx had always wondered why the dream hadn't ever faded from his mind like all the others, it was clear.  The only thing that had faded was the girl, all that remained of her was those deep, dark blue eyes. 

That was on his mind the entire time he was inside Gringotts, the foreboding sign on the outside only strengthening the thought, then again as he walked into the Travers Vault.  Filled with gold, silver and bronze.  Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.  They covered the large room, hiding the floor, along with them jewelry and books.  All expensive things people like to gloat and show off.

Things people black-mailed others with.  Reasons the Travers family weren't wanted criminals.  Reasons they were so prestiged.  The reason they were so powerful.

The majority of the Slytherin Pure-blooded families weren't the people other's should look up for, that much was certain.  They were Slytherin because of their determination to get what they want by any means, abiding by the law or not.  They were Slytherin because of their ambition, theirs having nothing to check it.  They were Slytherin because their pride.  They just didn't understand that too much of something wasn't good.

Too much of something was bad.

It was Calyx's ambition that brought him to the wand shop first, wands, after all, were what most wizards used to tune their magic.  He strolled up to the old building, knocking respectfully on the door.

He knew better than to be disrespectful, he knew when to stop.  He knew it, just like his mother.  The only difference was that he could build up a lie and learn to live it, or at least seem like he accepted it.  His mother was forced to live it, and never thought about change.  They were the same, yet they weren't.  Both prey, but some were smarter than others.

He was smarter.

"Mr. Olivander?" he called questioningly when the door didn't open, not daring to open the door and snoop around.  People wouldn't catch him anything less than perfect.

"Hello, Calyx Travers," the door opened.  "Your mother had acacia, unicorn hair, nine inches, fairly bendy, indeed?"

Calyx thought for a moment, trying to remember before thinking of one of his mother's bedtime stories.  Going to Olivanders.  "Yes, Mr. Olivander, she does."

"Well come in, come in," the old man ushered Calyx in, leading him to the back where he saw stacks upon stacks of wand cases stored on shelves.  "Let's see..." a tape measurer was already busy, measuring his height, width, circumfrance, hands, legs, ankles, all his joints.  "Ahah," Mr. Olivander took out a long, narrow case, opening it up to reveal a wand. "Fir, unicorn hair, ten inches, rather supple," he supplied, handing the wand over.

"Erm," Calyx took the wand in hand, lifting it up, ready to wave it around like a lunatic, when a crash was heard outside.  Mr. Olivanders hands reached out like a bullet, snatching the wand from his hands and replacing it with another wand.

"Pine, dragon heartstring, eleven inches, bendy."  Fail.

"Hazel, unicorn hair, nine inches, reasonably supple." Fail.

"Holly, unicorn hair, twelve inches, swishy." Fail.

The two went through countless wands, each time Mr. Olivander got more and more excited while Calyx got droopier.

"Poplar, dragon heartstring, nine inches, surprisingly swishy." Fail.

"Mr. Olivander-" Calyx began hopelessly.

"Silver lime, unicorn hair, ten inches, quite flexible," Mr. Olivander cut him off.

With a sigh, Calyx raised the wand up in the air, spinning it around, waiting for something to crack or explode.  Nothing.

No, not nothing.  The boredom pent up inside his soul seemed to disappear, being replaced with content.  Yes, that was it, content.  A very rare thing for Calyx Travers.

"I think," Olivander started, the twinkle in his eyes brightening, "You've found your wand."

"I think I have, Mr. Olivander," Calyx agreed, a grin spreading across his face. 

"I think learning to wield it would help you quite a bit in your future," Olivander said, his expression suddenly somber.

"Yeah?" Calyx asked, ignoring the dread pooling in his stomach.  He can't know, he can't-

"Learn from your mother," Olivander continued as if he'd never spoken.  Learn from her mistakes, the old man caught his eye, conveying the silent message.

On the way out of Magical Menagerie, with a silver tabby kitten in hand, Calyx was still mulling over Olivanders words.  Before, he was so sure it was about the dream, but now he was wondering, Is it the war, dream, or both?  He just didn't know anymore.

That night, the little kitten went to bed with a name, "Goodnight, Chara."

Goodnight, Joy.

(A/N - Chara is a star that means joy, I just thought it was fitting since Calyx needs a little joy in his life.  Also it's a kitten.  Kittens are... kittens.  They're adorable.  Sorry if you thought it was short)