Chapter1:
Edward Hoodhud sat up in bed waiting. Waiting for the owl that would …
He sat up just a little straighter as a speck appeared in the deep blue sky. Then as it came just a little closer it could be identified as an owl, it's winds beating rhythmically, then suddenly they stopped, it became perfectly still, gliding quiet as a ghost towards his window.
Edward got up off the bed and carefully made his way across to the window. He stepped carefully, measuring every footstep, avoiding every squeak and groan of the floorboards beneath his feet. Then he reached the window, leaning forward tentatively he slid the it open, careful not to wake the two boys laying fast asleep in their beds. Then he flinched, the hinges let out a low pitiful moan, he looked down at his sleeping brothers, neither moved, apart from the gently rise and fall of their blankets from their deep untroubled breathing. Then the window was finally pushed open to its very widest, the owl sawed in, brushing one long wing along the length of his cheek as it headed for his bed.
As quietly as he could he came back to the bed, the owl looked up at him, waiting, but Edward had had enough of waiting, he reached forward. The owl snapped its beak at him. Edwards hands withdrew watching his sleeping brothers, Peter let out a deep sigh. Edward stiffened. Peter turned round, curling himself into a wall and returning to his original breathing rate. Then finally the owl held out its leg.
With tremblingly fingers Edward carefully removed the letter that was tied there.
The moment he was finished the owl spread its huge wings, turned its head from side to side, checking for enemies, then it took off and with heavy wing beats passed through the open window and into the night.
Edward watched it disappear wondering where it would go next, it could go anywhere it wanted, do anything it wanted. The small spot vanished into the darkness. With a sense of regret Edward turned back to his letter.
It was addressed in black.
The formal print of a typewriter, these people didn't want to know who he was, they didn't care what the letter contained. Somehow even his name seemed detached. Impersonal, a series of keys that had to be pressed slowly so they wouldn't jam.
d
m
s
The words printed on the parchment envelope were formal. Each letter stood alone, not adding to the next to make a word.
But what did it matter? What was in the envelope was what counted.
His fingers trembled slightly as he attempted to prise the letter open. Then the seal broke, the letter fell open in his hands. The piece of parchment he removed was almost completely blank.
But at the top of the page were written some words, some words that would, or would not make his dream possible.
S
: ( O )
( E )
( A )
: po o r ( P )
( D )
( T )
:
: O
: E
: O
: O
: O
: O
: O
He stared down at the paper for several seconds, taking in each letter, slowly one at a time. Then he saw the one he was looked for. The E suddenly seemed to leap out of the paper as his eyes travelled down the list. Mocking him it seemed larger than the others, it's three points seeming to physically injure him as they stabbed at his eyes again, and again.
He looked away, it was stupid, he knew for most people an E would be what they always wanted, people like Betty and Rosie. But he was not one of them. Finally he looked back down that the list. It was a good set of results really he told himself. And he had to admit it was true, although he had hopped for the extra O, but it couldn't be helped.
And just as he thought it he felt the corners of his mouth lift. He was grinning despite himself. And suddenly he was fighting not to let out a laugh.
But then everything went cold. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as a cold bead of sweat slowly trickled down his neck. Every muscle in his body tensed he looked around.
Two dark eyes were staring at him, their pules wide with innocence and a lack of light. He knew he should relax, should feel the muscles in his back begin to un-knot themselves but they did not, he continued to stare at his brother as though petrified.
"What are you doing Edward?"
Edward suppressed a shudder, it could all be okay, he could still hear the sleep weighing thick on Haralds speech.
"Nothing," he said courteously, he certainty didn't want to get Harold intrigued.
"What are you doing?"
Edward bit his lip, this was precisely what he didn't want. "Go to bed or you'll wake peter."
Harold ignored him. "What are you doing?" He asked again, more persistently this time, "I see you awake almost every night, what are you going?"
Edward looked at his younger brother, trying to show him the danger he was in. But Harold just kept on talking, "what are you trying to hide? It must be something or you wouldn't be up ever night."
Edward tried to speak convincingly attempting not to grind his teeth together, inwardly cursing his own stupidity, how easily people like Mary must have it. "You must have been dreaming."
suddenly Harold was angry, "I HAVE NOT BEEN DREAMING!"
"shhhhhhhhhhhh!" Was Edwards immediate response, "you'll wake Peter."
But the damage was already done.
Edward felt his heart begin to race, if it beet any louder it would surly give him away.
"What's going on?" came Peter's groggy voice as he slowly raised his head off the pillow squinting at Edward.
"Nothing," he said immediately feeling something slip into his voice. Then before it was too late he saw what he had done. Peters head began to sink back into his pillows.
Edward took a scarp intake of breath. Surly he hadn't …
"What did you do?" Harold demanded.
"Nothing." And he had done nothing, or so he hoped, "please just go to sleep."
And sighing deeply he did as he was told. Tuning his face to the wall and closing his eyes, slowly but surly his breathing slowed as sleep slowly crept back over his body.
For a brief second Edwards eyes shut too; he was listening, but all was quiet apart from the quiet rustling of the tree in the orchard as the wind floated through the old and twisted branches.
But then there was another noise, one that could barely be distinguished from the rustling branches. Edward sat completely still, concentrating all his thoughts on the simple sound, trying to pick its beating gate from between the winds low moans. Then he sat up strait, there was suddenly no similarities at all, what he could hear was definitely coming closer.
Edwards eyes flew open.
He was not mistaken. There was indeed an owl flying towards him, a letter clamped in its beak. Perhaps it was from Mary, wanting to know what result he'd got, or perhaps it was from St. Mugoes, or maybe he really had received the best N.E.W.T results ever, as had been predicted, and this was a congratulatory letter.
The owl was grey. Its eyes were wide as they stared at Edward. Edward stared back unblinking. Then the owl opened its beak, the letter dropped onto the bed.
D
M
The letter fell face down, all that could be seen was the address, written in block capitals, the font was wide and square, each letter seeming to take up for too much room. But there was no seal, no stamp, no indication of who had sent it.
Edward flicked the letter over with trembling fingers. The owl spread it's winds, blocking the letter from slight, then it took off out of the open window.
Edward watched it go, trying to let his mind wonder to anything but the letter that now lay face up on his bed. Finally, taking a deep breath through his nose he looked down at the envelope.
It was completely black, barley a mark were it was sealed, still no indication of who had send it.
He let out his breath slowly, trying to let his anxiety leave with it.
But the letter still lay unopened on his bed.
Edward stared at it. The envelope seemed to stare back, the opening seemed to widen, grinning at him, leering at him as though telling him, mocking him for what he would find inside.
'You managed seven years without this happening, it will destroy you,' now the mouth seemed to whisper, then as it seemed to grow fangs two pointed spikes making to pears his flesh with their letters.
He could stand it no more.
The parchment fell to the bed as the the top jaw was wrenched off the envelop. It lay innocent and folded on the plain white sheets of his small wooden bed. But as he stared he could see it twisting, the cracks and creases seemed to move lighting fast slashing his with there mean expressions, laughing, mocking, sneering at him for what he had done.
'Stop!' he finally screamed. 'I know!'
But they were unrelenting. The paper seemed to mould and bubble, creatures bursting to the surface. But then the worst happened. The paper begin to tare, the cracks becoming deeper as colour seemed to spill across it in a storm of unforgiving memory.
Two eyes stared out at him, set deep in the drown weather beaten face. He tried to pull back as the hard lips began to mutter.
'Edward … Edward …'
But he did not want to hear that voice, not saying his name.
'Edward …' the voice was louder now, as he tried to pull away he felt his eyes glue to the face in front of him, with its shin like crinkled parchment, it's dark eyes accusing.
'No! I didn't do it! Please believe me!'
But the eyes did not believe him, he could see that.
'Please,' he whispered one more time.
And then he was falling, falling backwards the room spinning around him. He felt his head hit the wall with a resounding crack. He looked around. Everything was quiet.
The letter still lay untouched on the bed.
Edward did not want to go near it, but then he would never find out what it said, and perhaps, there was still the faintest hope that it might still contain good news.
Dear Mr Hoodhud,
We have received intelligence that a sleeping spell was used at your place of residence tonight (July 27. 1914) at three minutes past midnight.
As you know it is a breach in the international confederation of warlocks' statute of secrecy for any witch or wizard to use magic in front of a member of the non-magic community (muggles) and any such activity on your part in the future may lead to future imprisonment in the wizard prison (Azkaban).
You're sincerely,
Barnabas Flinks
Improper use of magic office
Ministry of magic
The hope was gone. There was nothing left, 'why did you do it Edward?' he heard the voice echoing distantly in his head.
'No I wont go! I promise!'
'You always knew you would pay.' Quite of their own accord Edward found his limbs begin to move, wrapping his long this arms around his knees as he began to shake. The bed frame squeaked slightly and the wind rustled the curtains. He felt the first tear role down his creek, it was wet, and felt perfectly round as it began to role down his cheek, finally touching the corner of his mouth, it tasted salty as it trickled into his mouth. And then there was another, and another, he could feel his eyes begin to squeeze shut, trying to halt the endless flow if misery, his whole body shook as he tried to hod back the shaking sobs that tried to burst through his chest. 'why me?' he thought, 'why me?' he began to shout, 'why me? What did I do wrong?'
'You know what you did,' the voice informed him coldly. And it was true. But he couldn't think about it, he tried to take deep breaths, concentrating with all his might on the next breath. Slowly his breathing began to even out and the shaking began to subside.
He began to try and uncurl his body, tried to move his arms, but misery still held them fast. And then a thought crossed his mind, fleetingly as it tried to make a stand against the huge waves of sorrow wreaking their havoc in every happy memory he had, it's small voice spoke out, trying to give him hope.
'Mary,' it whispered.
Screaming filled his head.
'Mary,' the voice said again, a little louder.
Slowly one fist uncurled.
'Mary.'
Then the other.
Finally he sat up state and looked around the dark room. At his two peacefully sleeping brothers.
'Look what you did,' the voice tries to steal his happiness.
'GO AWAY!' He screamed.
And finally it did, with a reminding whisper: 'remember what you can do.'
Not that he was likely to forget he thought bitterly as he reahced under the bed to get a quill and some parchment.
He would tell Mary what had happened.
Or some of it anyway.
Dear Mary,
I hope you're having a nice time at home, missing you greatly. Will I see you at St. Mungoes? I have my grades, do you?
You must come and see my family soon, I've told them so much about you. They are all looking forward to seeing you.
I got an official warning today, I did magic by mistake, it must be so much easier for you.
Will all my love,
Edward
'It must be so much easier for you,' he thought again. That certainly was the truth. But he would live with it. He would manage to never do magic again. He would do it.
Then he stared back down at the letter, it was short, but what more was there to say?
Then he carefully closed the ink bottle, with every turn at the lid making sure not to get any spots of ink on the mattress, his family were already suspicious enough.
Then he stood up, placing his feet deliberately with every step he made his way back to the window.
As he reached it he felt the wind through his hair, it felt refreshing against his face as he looked out into the velvety darkness.
Waiting.
But he did not have long to wait. Sure enough a speck appeared in the distance, rapidly growing in size as he flew towards his, it's powerful muscles driving it's wings up and down. Until they froze as it come to land in a perfect glide.
"Hello Ales," Edwards low voice greeted the owl. "This is for Alice."
It rustled it's feathers, Edward looked around fearfully, but all else was quiet.
"You know where to find her?" the owl did not respond, but took off instead.
As he watched it go he suddenly felt very alone, standing in this room with both his brothers.
But they were not like him, and they could never understand him, mostly because he could never tell them the truth.
Never.
He went back to bed.
It must be well past midnight he thought as he gazed at the ceiling.
'Maybe tonight will be the night without the nightmares.' He thought before falling it the restless terrifying sleep of past ten years.
The next morning the sun shone brightly over the cottage and dust swirled on the small narrow track that lead through the village.
Ales swooped down low over the church tower, high on the hill. Over the graves and down the track to the small row of houses near the river.
The owl came down lower, over the chimney of the familiar brick building with its deep red tiles shimmered in the sun. Then swooped low over the chimney, briefly the owl could see down the black soot filled hole to the fireplace at the bottom. There was no fire lit, there was no need, it was warm enough, no point wasting wood.
Then spread in front of him was the garden, with its neat rows of vegetables. A Hoodhud was digging, the plants were in flower, small stars of purple gazed up at the owl as it flew over.
A slight twitch of a wing to glide smoothly towards the orchard.
The boy looks up, his deep brown eyes locked onto the owl. It was Peter, the youngest of the Hoodhud's.
A swift beat of the wings sent Ales gliding fast towards the orchard, away from the boys stare.
Then he saw his target, Edward, tall and dark haired was collecting apples that have fallen early.
He didn't look up as Ales came to rest in the treetops. The owl looked around, he had been warned many times not to approach if people were around.
The river was nearby, Ales could hear its waters from here, and see the shafts of sun that bounce off its moving surface.
Laughing, chattering, the owls head turned. A group of people made their way along the riverbank. Mostly boys struggling through the deep mud near the waters edge. The girls were more careful, staying further away, jumping lightly from clump of grass, to stone, and then to a clump of grass again.
They were getting closer to the orchard. There might just be enough time to deliver the letter before they come close enough to see through the fence at the end of the orchard.
One of the boys leapt forward.
"Hay Hoodhud!" He called.
Edward turned to look.
The boy smiled, a mocking sneering smile.
"How's the big posh school?" he asked his grin widening.
Edward turned back to his apples.
"How do you afford it? Poor biters like you," the first boy was joined by a second, the whole group was nearly at the fence.
"Why leave your mother to work, you're the oldest in the house aren't you?" It was a girl who spoke then, she has long blond hair down to her waste, she could be beautiful the owl suposed.
Edward had turned back to the group.
"It is none of your business how my my family is getting on," he said through gritted teeth.
"Your mother's worried about you you know Edward," the girl said. "Seventeen-year-old without a love."
The rest of the group laughed as the girl entwined herself around a boy.
"Not that anyone would love a creep like you Hoodhud," she continued.
The laughing continued.
Edwards hands were shaking now, deep inside his pockets.
He mustn't, he mustn't lose his temper.
"We'll be off then, got a feast to go to later," someone said.
They started to move off.
"Oh Hoodhud where will you be working?" One of the boys called.
Edward turned away. He mustn't lose his temper.
"The sewers?" Another one laughed before they left.
It was quiet again. All except the continuing splashes of the stream and the breeze in the tips of the tree.
Ales ruffled his feathers, preparing for the short flight down to the ground.
"Hey Edward!" Harold came skidding into the orchard. "Look what I found!"
Edward was immediately tense. Then he turned slowly to face his younger brother. "What is it?" He asked trying to sound uninterested.
"It's some sort of liquid. Look!" He held out a small glass vile filled with a deep gold liquid.
"Where did you find it?" Edward demanded. He was becoming more nervous by the second.
"By the boots," Harold relied.
Edward founded. "Give it here!"
Harold threw the tinny bottle. The liquid inside began to leap up the sides, as though trying to escape. The vile spun and began to head for the ground.
The golden liquid sparkled in the shafts of brilliant sunlight. It seemed to move in slow motion as it came closer and closer to the dry mud bellow.
Edward stretched out his hand, trying to catch the tinny bottle.
The bottle continued to spin, round and round, then finally it landed.
Soft and safe in Edward's hand.
He let out a sigh of relief, he would need to find a new hiding place for the vile of Felix Felisis.
Little did his family know that all around the house, hidden where spell books and potion ingredients which Edward had hiden.
"What do you think it is?" Harold asked eagerly.
Edward looked up. He had completely forgotten about his younger brother for a second.
"I don't know," he then shrugged, he couldn't possible say the truth. That was Ministry law.
"Well mum says you and I need to go and collect more wood," Harold said before turning to go.
"All right."
Edward looked back down at the tinny bottle, he would need to find a new place to hide that. Then he returned to his apples.
Ales turned his head from side to side. No one near by, he could deliver his letter.
Edward was trying to decide where it would be safe to hide the lucky potion when he heard wing beats. Ales had returned.
He immediately looked up as the owl landed in front of him and held out its leg.
A letter was attached there.
Swiftly Edward removed it and unfolded the piece of parchment.
Dear Edward,
I'd love to visit your family, I'll come whenever you want. I also got the grades for the apprenticeship. Mother and Father are so happy. They really want to meet you, and your parents.
With all the love in the world,
Alice
Edward smiled.
"Thank you Ales," he said.
Ales hooted.
¡°sssssshhh!" He hissed.
The owl looked at him.
"Sorry Ales," he whispered. "But you know what will happen if I tell them."
Ales continued to look. But he knew. He knew the constant danger Edward lived in.
"I'll reply in a second, let me just talk to mother,"
Ales shook his wings, then took off back to the top of the apple tree.
He knew whatever Edward said, this could take some time.
End of chapter