The sun rising over the top of the distant trees made them shine like polished emeralds, and Belladonna held up a hand to shield her eyes from the glow. She felt a grin tugging at the corners of her lips and let it come. Was this going to be a good day? She wanted very much for it to be so. Things hadn't been so well this morning, but finally, after settling away all her worries, Belladonna dared to hope that things were going to be alright.
She blew out a breath, resting a moment on the bench she had taken for herself since the children of Magnolia Crescent and those of the neighboring Privet Drive came into the park. She sat there and listened to the innocent laughter underneath the light, the flap of wings and chirps of birds in the distance, and the soft huff of the dog at her feet.
Belladonna turned slightly and looked down at her companion, the dog moving to rest his head upon her lap, the tip of his pink tongue poking out, not seeming to realize what an adorable image he seemed to create right then. She wondered how she could ever have thought this scruffy dog to be dangerous. Despite his overwhelming size, he was nothing but a mello, and if mischievous, old thing. Belladonna rubbed one of his ears and laughed, seeing the pleased look as he leaned forwards, nudging her palm more insistently every time she pulled back.
She found herself nodding. For a moment, Belladonna thought of their first meeting and how terrified she had been, before. She saw it in her mind's eye; the hulking outline in the dark, the gleaming eyes of a deeper obsidian than even Snape. He was as gaunt as Sirius had been, but not at all labored from trekking past Dementors and the Aurors as her godfather had done the previous year.
The dog suddenly drew himself up and straightened.
"What is Romulus?" She tested out the foreign name, her tongue bumping against the roof of her mouth as she sounded it out. Romulus cocked his head before whining, and with a quick flourish, large paws settled on her lap, a wet nose nudging against her collarbone before glancing upwards to the sky. Belladonna followed the movement, tipping Romulus away from her lap, her smile sliding away when she saw it.
She saw it immediately, what appeared to be a small, gray, feathery tennis ball whizzing excitedly like a loose firecracker across the sky. Belladonna's eyes narrowed and she noticed that it was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand – an owl she realized – one with a letter knotted around one of its legs, and if she didn't miss her mark, heading towards Privet Drive.
Belladonna forced a smile. "I should probably get going." If she was right, then that small owl would crash straight through the windows at the rate it was going, locked or not, and startle the Dursleys. They wouldn't think about it for a moment – just throw the owl out before Belladonna could stop them, and turn the letter into an angry mess of confetti, and then fuss about the abnormality she had brought into their home.
She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Romulus looking back, threw him a smile. Romulus tipped his head in a shallow nod, and not for the first time Belladonna wondered if there were canine equivalents to Kneazles.
¤ Ω ¤
Belladonna slowed as she approached number four and for a moment she thought she heard the sound like a bird squawking; but she couldn't see any break in, in any of the windows, up and around were all still intact, and she narrowed her eyes.
There was an unsettling quietness emanating from number four. For a brief moment Belladonna's gaze turned to the driveway – where Uncle Vernon's car was still parked in view – and then back to the open windows – Aunt Petunia's scornful glare absent from the glass – and found herself perplexed. She had lived with the Dursleys long enough not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Belladonna, and thus had expected something.
But there was nothing. No glass or stray feathers, nor Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shooting nervous looks through the window, as though expecting to see some of the neighbours with their ears pressed against the glass. There was nothing at all.
She licked her dry lips, and then slowly went inside. In the hall she waited... for anything. But she was shocked to find neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon lurking behind a door, hoping to tell off Belladonna. Perhaps the owl had simply been passing over Privet Drive?
Astonished, Belladonna moved towards the stairs, about to take them three at a time when she was suddenly stopped by the gruff and short bark from Uncle Vernon, "You. In the living room. Now."
He sounded quite testy, and she wondered if perhaps the owl had broken inside. But from where? Belladonna bewilderedly thought as she followed Uncle Vernon's call from the foyer and into the next room.
"So," he said, sat in his chair and turning to face Belladonna as though he were about to pronounce her under arrest. "So."
Belladonna would have dearly loved to remark, 'so what?' But she didn't feel like testing Uncle Vernon's temper, therefore she settled for looking politely puzzled.
"This arrived in the morning," said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Belladonna and the sight filled her with a sharp chill. So the owl had —
"A letter. About you. Through the postman."
Belladonna's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about her? Who did she know who sent letters by postman (and what about the owl)?
Uncle Vernon glared at Belladonna, then looked down at the letter and began to read aloud:
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,
We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Donna about my son Ron.
As Donna might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.
I do hope you will allow us to take Donna to the match as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the Cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Donna stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see her safely onto the train back to school.
It would be best for Donna to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is.
Hoping to see Donna soon,
Yours sincerely,
Molly Weasley
P.S I do hope we've put enough stamps on.
Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else.
"Look at this," he growled.
He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had come, and Belladonna had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in a minute writing.
"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Belladonna, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make.
Her uncle's eyes flashed, then he seemed to think about it for a moment, as if he needed to draw the information up from a great depth. A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The mustache bristled. Belladonna thought she knew what was going on behind the mustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict.
And then –
"Well, Petunia and I thought about this." Belladonna watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon's face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream. "And you can go to this ruddy... this stupid... this World Cup thing. You write and tell these – these Weasleys they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer there."
Belladonna's hands bunched into fists and she took a deep breath to swallow back the astonished, why, from her throat. Allowing Belladonna to go would make her happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. Despite the other hand being Belladonna would be out of the way for the rest of the summer. But this... She honestly thought she would have to stop there, mention Sirius, and watch the cogs working under Uncle Vernon's thick, dark, neatly parted hair.
But he had cut off any words she could mention. Agreeing, alongside with a very absent Aunt Petunia, to allow Belladonna to go.
Joy took the place of bewilderment. She turned with a bright 'thank you' behind her shoulder, hurling herself out of the living room door, fighting the urge to jump in the air and whoop. She was going... she was going to the Weasleys', she was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup!
Belladonna took the stairs three at a time, and hurled herself into her bedroom.
The first thing she saw was that Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Belladonna with her enormous amber eyes, and clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost at once.
"OUCH!" said Belladonna as the familiar, feathery, small, grey tennis ball collided with the side of her head. Belladonna massaged the spot furiously, looking up to see the owl whizzing excitedly around the room. "So you did come here." Belladonna then realized that the owl had dropped the letter at her feet. She bent down, recognized Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note.
Donna – DAD GOT THE TICKETS – Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway.
Belladonna stared at the word 'Pig', then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. She'd never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe she couldn't read Ron's writing. She went back to the letter:
We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway.
Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work – the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you.
See you soon – Ron (1)
"Calm down!" Belladonna hissed as the small owl flew low over her head, twittering madly with what Belladonna could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need you to take my answer back!"
The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked coldly up at it, as though daring it to try and come any closer.
Belladonna seized her eagle-feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and then –
To her left were the crumpled parchments she had thrown away, wrinkled and cracked, but pressed open by an unsteady hand. Her brows furrowed and Belladonna straightened. It was all her discarded notes for Sirius. Belladonna locked eyes with Hedwig and she kept unusually still, as though determined to show her –
The tiny owl hopped onto Belladonna's shoulder with excitement and she jerked, startled out of her musings. "Right..." She murmured, looking down at the mussed parchments, spread together, with Sirius' name visible in the splotched inky mess. "...the letter."
¤ Ω ¤
There was no wind to trouble the heat that had settled over that summer night in Privet Drive, but, at a secluded spot in between number three and of number four, a breeze appeared from nowhere. Scrubby little weeds, struggling through the cracks in the paving stones, shivered and withdrew. If any had been awake at the hour they would have then seen the sudden twisting and meshed, obscure body, spread through the path and around towards number four. But no one, not even the small feline laying about on a window across the street, were aware of the body that twisted upwards around the outer walls, to the top floor of the building, and grasped its way against the only caged windows of number four. It coiled over the metal with an abnormal strength that caused the iron to steadily creak and groan...
An annoyed hoot reverberated from inside the room, stilling the shade from breaking the bars. It did not however, stop it from slipping through the cracks and into the hushed room that the body had been trying to break into just moments before.
Amber eyes turned immediately when the creature settled inside, awake, alert, and wariness slipping into the owl's bones while she watched the unknown shade move about the room from the safety of her cage.
The owl having never seen such a creature before waited silently, tension clawed upon her spine while the creature moved about the room in a curious manner – jerking and quivering as if having been left out in the cold for too long – left her quite perturbed. Then, as if something clicked, the creature became just a bit more ridged, just a bit more willowy, and just a bit more solid. The creature loomed tall, taller than anything she had ever seen before, and only waited for a beat before gleaming eyes surged into existence – like magic, dark magic – it has no face, it has no face! - and flicked its attention towards the owl.
She sent a reproachful glare at this creature, feathers fluttering in warning even as the thing slid forward, a thin limb rising outwards from the rest of its body – creaking like old wood – and reaching towards her.
It didn't flinch when she shrieked, nor when her wings thrashed against the cage, her puffed body meshing against one side of the bars as far as possible from the unknown creature that came closer and closer – don't let it come closer! –
The limb lashed out, straight through the bars – moving right through – magic! – what is it – and swallowed her mid-squawk, straight into its grasp. Inside she was tucked, her bones grinding against each other and her beak clamped shut so tightly that it hurt to breathe. Without the owls notice the creature slowly removed her from the cage, slipping through the bars with little trouble.
Shadows dissolved in a thick inky mess over the quaking owl, her beak still clamped shut and her wings tucked hazardously through the black, tar-like prison. A smile broke through – just like the eyes – from nowhere – baring fangs from the wide slit. The owl was brought closer with a jolt and she thrashed helplessly.
"Now, now, let me see what you have seen..."
Fangs, longer than her own talons – still jerking, still fighting – glided in a macabre gentleness over her white feathers, feeling the soft and sleek plumage that hid away the pale flesh and frantically beating heart of the owl. But she knew it could smell her, could sense her fear too. It enjoyed it, she knew. Then, without any more warning than an elongation of the mouth – cracking, popping, like the bones of the mice she ate – and a deep inhale, fangs pierced straight through the feathers and flesh and muscle of the owl.
On the other side of the room, where a young girl slept, she did not hear the muffled, swallowed, shriek of her owl. Nor did she wake to see the creature and its shadows twisting around the beautiful white pet, slowly closing over the fading amber turning red...
(1) - the italics are derived from the book; the letters sent to Harry.
I'm so sorry guys! This chapter was meant to be uploaded a week (or at the latest, two) AFTER the first chapter! Not WEEKS later, but things just kinda barrelled, and I had to keep pushing it back further and further. Luckily, I already had it ready, I just needed to check through the outline/draft; tweaked it a bit, and boom. Uploaded. The next chapter is also outlined, I'm hoping to breeze through anything that needs fixing, and have it uploaded after work tomorrow. :)
