The pieces of cereal were so violently unnatural in their pigmentations that Joe was amazed to even find them in the magical world. It looked like the kind of product Muggle nutritionists pled in vain for their regulatory agencies to ban. Or like food in a child’s picture book. Or like a bowl of candy – pieces of candy still in their bright paper wrappers.
He shared this last observation with his brother, who shrugged. “Drink enough tea with it and it counts like vegetables,” said John, pointing to the mug sitting beside his bowl.
“John, I think you could eat a bushel of kale with every meal for the rest of the week and it would only start to make that stuff okay,” said Joe.
“Good thing I don’t like kale, then.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” objected Joe. “How much caffeine have you had this morning?”
“I think this’ll make four of these.”
The slice of lemon bobbing in the cup in front of John had lightened the rest of the contents somewhat, so it was not quite the color of tar Joe associated with tea made by his brother, but the tea still looked rather strong. Joe winced. It was barely 8:00. John, if he maintained the same patterns at school that he did at home, got up a little before six for the Angelus, but still. Joe would have been bouncing off the walls. Joe wondered what would happen if John ever switched to coffee. He suspected it would involve either a major prize for advancements in magizoology or an abrupt descent into madness.
He did not share this observation with his brother. Instead, he said, “See? You’ve had all that and you’re still not thinking straight.” He pointed to the bowl. “That much sugar’s bad for your brain.”
“You’re overlooking several variables.”
Joe shook his head. Someone else sat down near them and Joe decided to recruit reinforcements. “Good morning,” he said cheerily. “Would you agree that my brother’s breakfast is a good argument for raising the age where you’re considered an adult?”
John shoveled a spoonful of his cereal into his mouth defiantly. “It’s my birthday,” he said after swallowing it. “I’ll eat blue cereal if I want to.”
16Joe and John UmlandBreakfast of champions.329Joe and John Umland15
Louis was firmly of the opinion that whoever invented mornings should be hung, drawn, and quartered, or at least suffer permanent torment of some kind. When they didn’t suit him (so, pretty much every day), mornings were definitely something he could do without. His alarm had gone off at 7:20 that morning thanks to a large pile of work that he’d been putting off all week, forcing the bleary-eyed sleep-monster that was Louis to acknowledge the new day. Rolling over hadn’t solved the problem of the alarm clock, which had been charmed to keep ringing until he actually got up, and after almost falling out of bed he finally accepted the inevitable. A good twenty minute shower (complete, as ever, with singing) had gone a long way towards improving Louis’s mood, and by the time he’d styled his hair he felt almost awake. Almost being the key word there.
Coffee was his saviour, and it was the first thing Louis reached for as he sat down at the Aladren table. Dressed in his favourite skinny jeans and a maroon hoody, Louis closed his eyes and resisted the temptation to go back to sleep. Whilst he was long past the point of caring about composure, he didn’t particularly want to face-plant the table in front of everyone else, so he forced his eyes open again and located a croissant. Tearing a piece off, he was just dipping it into his coffee when his breakfast was interrupted by someone who was definitely not an Aladren.
Blinking confusedly at Joe’s cheery ‘good morning’ (yes, his brain had woken up enough to realise that he did in fact recognise the Not Aladren), a rather luridly coloured cereal was brought to Louis’s attention.
“Um,” he replied intelligently. “Are you sure that’s com- edible?” It didn’t look edible. It looked the sort of thing that ought to be labelled ‘Toxic’. If it was a plant, he’d assume it was using colour to warn predators that it was dangerous. If he was a predator, he would take heed of the warning and give it a wide berth, especially seeing as he’d just almost had one of his rare lapses into French and hadn’t really caught up with the day yet.
Then he registered the presence of his teammate, and also the defence that said teammate had just raised. “Happy birthday,” he said, raising a bit of croissant in some vague and poorly planned toast. Where was the champagne when you needed it?
He returned his attention to Joe. “I’m not debating anything with John before I’ve finished this,” he informed him, now using the bit of croissant to point at his mug of coffee. He was fairly sure he’d lose a debate with John at any point throughout the day, let alone before he’d finished the torturous process of waking up. “Besides, I’m fairly sure there’s a valid argument to be made for children being more sensible than adults.” There was a point in that sentence somewhere, he was sure, even if it didn’t completely correspond to Joe’s question.
9Louis ValoisAnd of the half-asleep314Louis Valois05
John was not sure what Louis was trying to do with his croissant, but he accepted the congratulations nevertheless. “Thanks, Louis,” he said. “And it’s quite edible. No problems chewing or swallowing it at all.”
“I expect you could say the same thing about death caps,” said Joe.
John chuckled when Louis refused to debate with him before he had his coffee. “Good decision,” he advised his teammate. He was not sure he was quite alert enough for a proper debate yet, either, but the very act of beginning to argue would probably do wonders for his mental condition, plus he had an advantage over Louis anyway due to not wearing trousers which surely provided distracting pain and reduced circulation…He confined most of his grumbling about clothes to what girls wore, but it had to be acknowledged that being male was not in itself complete protection against idiotic fashions. John was sometimes deeply grateful to be someone who bought virtually all his clothes from religious secondhand shops and, even more than that, to have a mother who thought men’s fashion should have stopped after the War.
John wasn’t completely sure what Louis meant by the next bit, but Joe, being Joe, decided to take it as support. “Exactly, Louis,” he said. “Therefore we’re smarter than him and he should listen to us about that not being edible.”
“You’re not really grown-up until you outgrow childish things,” said John. “Including the desire to appear very grown up.” Professor Lewis had put it a little better than that, but John thought he’d communicated the gist of it. “I’ve just done that and am now embracing ridiculous cereal.”
“Don’t bring the Professor into this,” said Joe. “That is not good proper food. That is practically Turkish Delight levels of sugar.”
Joe was probably not wrong. Of course, John actually found Turkish Delight itself quite palatable, if not quite good enough to backstab the whole family over. “It’s not enchanted, though, that’s the point,” he said, going with that. “Er - we're invoking books we have at home," he added for Louis' benefit, as he was pretty sure his pureblood classmate had most likely never even heard of the books in question, never mind studied them. "Can I assume you're going to take my side in the argument with him - " he pointed at Joe with his mug of tea - "about how being cheerful at breakfast should be punishable by law?”
16John and JoeAnd the argumentative, it seems.285John and Joe05
Despite John’s assurances about the edibility - was that a word? It should be, Louis decided, as if not the English language would be lacking a suitable word for him to use in this context - of the cereal, Louis was not about to risk his health in such a way. With a slight look of disdain at the sheer amount of blue in the bowl, he popped another bit of croissant in his mouth.
Louis blinked a few times at Joe’s interpretation of his statement, before deciding that it did actually make sense. Personally he wasn’t sure if his comment had been in support of Joe or John, but he was a little bit more awake now and realised that his Aladren reputation would be forever ruined if he admitted that. He’d probably have to go into hiding on the roof of the Astronomy Tower or somewhere equally dramatic, and then he wouldn’t get to join in the rebellion that Joe was suggesting. Louis liked rebellions.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Vive la révolution!” Another wiggle of croissant followed, this time intended to replace the French flag waving that should always accompany that phrase.
The level of coffee in his mug was now dangerously low, and whilst Louis attended to that very important matter the conversation seemed to become a little confusing. Luckily Joe had an explanation for this, so Louis picked up on the main part that had made sense to him.
“Ooh, Turkish Delight?” Now that it was mentioned, the idea of Turkish Delight for breakfast seemed a very good one, and Louis cast a surreptitious glance around the table to see if any had appeared. None had, and he felt a little cheated.
Despite agreeing with Joe earlier, Louis couldn’t exactly argue with John’s latest theory. Nodding, he decided to turn traitor and switch sides in this revolution. “Mornings are for sleeping, not for cheerfulness,” he explained to Joe, taking another gulp of coffee and sounding a little more cheerful now that he had almost a mug and a half inside him, which almost disproved his point.
An idea occurred to him. “We can punish whoever invented mornings at the same time,” he suggested.
Maybe we can find some pie instead?
by Joe and John
Joe was not sure why Louis was talking about the Revolution, and a glance at John gave him the impression his brother was no wiser at the moment. John probably wouldn’t have any aversion to beheading some aristocrats, but Joe was under the impression Louis really should. Or was he just a very respectable member of the bourgeoisie? Joe knew Valois was a fashion house as well as a line of Muggle kings, and all things considered, it was far more likely that Louis belonged to the former than it was that he was a distant descendant of the latter….
Still, Louis was agreeing with him instead of John, so he could work with that. “Dea – well, suppression to the adult suppressors,” he said. “Can’t say I wish death on him,” he added with a nod to the present adult company.
John did not deign to lower his teacup for that one. He had, Joe noticed, used an engorgement charm on it again. John’s favorite mug at home held half a liter at once, and while he would drink from teacups and normally-proportioned mugs in company, he really did prefer his buckets, especially at breakfast. He was, except for his distaste for putting milk in his tea and affection for those heavy British teabags over the loose leaves most of the family drank, one of those people whose tea Orwell would probably have approved of.
He gave Louis a severe look when the Aladren expressed interest in Turkish Delight. “You’re not helping our case here,” he informed the other boy. It was, he supposed, reasonable enough to argue that the sort of Turkish Delight that had nuts in wasn’t completely without nutritional value, but Joe saw that kind only rarely. At home, Mom bought a box around Christmas, and it was almost invariably the cheap kind that was all rose-flavored, sugar-dusted…stuff. Joe didn’t like it much, but it was part of the family tradition.
Louis must have seen no future in any part of Joe’s revolution, because he promptly turned on him. John, however, frowned slightly at his new comrade as he proposed expanding the law against cheerfulness in the morning to an outright denunciation of the entire concept. “I don’t think we’re up to punishing God, old sport,” he said. Joe stared at him. John had gotten pretty bad about sounding like an old book by the end of the summer, but this was a new linguistic low. “Thank you for the support on the other part, though,” he added considerately.
“Ha!” said Joe. “He’s lying to you, Louis. You’d kill him if you had to live with him, getting up and wanting to read at all hours. I’ve thought about it and I’m his brother.”
“Because I’m not cheerful when I get up,” said John. “You’re still on my side,” he added to Louis.
16Joe and JohnMaybe we can find some pie instead?329Joe and John05