Chapter Text
Kravitz isn’t surprised when the house across the street sells; sure, it’s been on the market for ages, it’s expensive for the area, and there’s a rumor that the man who had lived there before died inside. But he isn’t surprised, really; he’s much more alarmed than anything else.
He was used to the emptiness of the place across from his. His own house is an anomaly in this neighborhood, smaller (he prefers to call it cozy), and since he prefers his work remain as private as possible, it was nice to not have anyone looking into his house from across the street, noticing the odd hours he keeps or the flashes of light and clouds of smoke he encounters all-too-regularly.
So he sits in his office at the front of the house when the moving truck arrives, curled back into the darkness, holding a book open to seem as nonchalant as possible.
He watches a stocky, kind-looking man hustle around nervously, opening doors and tugging boxes out of the truck, followed closely by a young boy dressed in a schoolboy uniform, holding a ragdoll cat over his tiny shoulder, both of them fluttering around a thin, slender figure with blond hair.
It takes him entirely too long to realize that there are two of these blonds, nearly identical, one with hair cut close to her chin, the other much longer, but it’s tied up, messy, and Kravitz can’t tell exactly how long.
He watches the man step back, glancing up and down the street, before nodding, and he and the short-haired blonde draw out wands.
Now Kravitz is really interested; this part of the world doesn’t see too many magicians, especially not anymore, so when the other blond holds his arms out and takes the cat from the little boy, Kravitz practically vibrates to see the child pull out a wand of his own, and the three begin hushing boxes into the house, levitating at awkward levels but all fitting in nonetheless.
Kravitz watches the lone blond as he paces down the driveway, then back up, and he looks somehow familiar; Kravitz doesn’t get out much, but he’s certain he’s seen him before, an elf, as he comes to the end of the driveway and his figure is a little clearer.
His face is tired, shoulders slumped in, and he’s downright woeful where he observes the world around him. The cat is limp, leaned into his neck, and his eyes suddenly dart up to catch Kravitz’.
His eyes are cloudy, tired, but a tiny flash of surprise crosses them when Kravitz freezes, prop book in hand forgotten.
He doesn’t have time to react before the elf turns away, head tucked down into the cat’s side, and rushes briskly into the house.
He disappears inside, and for the rest of the afternoon, Kravitz watches the other three move boxes by hand.