A word of warning, this is a short, short chapter, bit of a bridger, (and I know that isn't a real word) but the next one's not only full length, but ready and waiting for uploading the second this gets validated! :D
A low fire crackled in the hearth. Small silver fish swam around in a jam jar on the mantelpiece as an ancient, battered old hat snored from a shelf above. The dim light of the flames stumbled drunkenly across a vast, white beard. Just as he was about to open a bag of Jelly Tots, Albus Dumbledore heard a knock at his office door. It swung gently open.
He set the inviting yellow packet down on his things to do pile. "Ah, Filius, do come in."
The diminutive man stepped lightly into the dim room.
"Headmaster, I take it you've been made aware of the – ah – arrangements for Delphina's boy?"
"I have indeed. How is he?"
"Not well I'm afraid Albus, taken it as hard as you might expect poor boy. Only family he had left."
Professor Flitwick took a seat with his boss at the ornate desk. The headmaster's bright blue eyes had fallen. He could always sympathise with situations like these.
"Where is he now?", he asked.
"Back in the dormitory I should imagine. Perhaps leaving him alone may be – ah – the best bet, as they say, for the time being. Poor Delphina. I suppose she always knew this was a possibility, at least she was well prepared in the end."
"Yes, quite – Have you read the will?" asked Dumbledore, smiling a little, much to the smaller wizard's dismay, "An absolute delight, quirky as the bizarre essays she used to write me when she was here years ago. I remember once I asked for an analysis of insect transfiguration, and a week later she handed in four feet of parchment on the subject of that odd flobberworm mutation that destroyed most of Hyde park in the twenties!"
"Headmaster, really!", a spark of indignation in the younger man's voice, "do at least try to show a little respect!"
"I was of the utmost solemnity when we discussed her wishes Filius, I assure you. Though her requests were fittingly baffling."
"How so?" asked Flitwick, now curious in spite of himself.
"Well," went on Dumbledore, once again suppressing a smile, "suffice to say, she left him the accumulated fortune of a four thousand year old wizarding family, with the explicit instruction to spend it on the most ridiculous things possible." He drew out a bottle and two glasses from under the desk, "Simply wonderful woman, always was. Scotch professor?"
"Yes, much appreciated, thank you." He took the vessel, considering its murky contents for a few seconds. "To Delphy, the finest of Romania!"
The glasses clinked.
Almost half a mile of twisting corridors away, Sidney lay curled up on his feather-filled bed in the Ravenclaw tower. He had decided he felt a bit numb that evening. He now had nobody. No-one left in the world, and that was not for one second a good thing. He clutched his mother's last letter to his chest in his sweaty palms. Nothing was fair, everything was terrible, and he had nothing.
A dull thud came from outside the tall window.
Actually, come to think of it, that wasn't quite true.
Any other owl and he would have thrown a lamp and some choice words at it, but there was only one owl on the planet that headbutted a window when it wanted to get out of the rain.
He leapt up to the window and threw it open, scooping up his one legged pet into a massive hug in the process.
"APC! Bad, horrible news!" He cried, the owl struggling in his arms as he pirouetted around the clothes-strewn floor. Honestly, all it wanted was to sit down for a bit, not be waltzed around some sweaty sock-filled lair! Still, as he set the bird gently on his pillow, it calmed down a little. He went to address it again.
"APC, my faithful old long suffering owl," He paused for a few seconds. "Mum's not going to be around any more."
His voice was unusually soft. The owl cocked its head.
"She got into a fight – with an absolute bastard, properly nasty bloke", he paused to catch his breath, "and they got her – they got Mum."
Whether Armoured Patrol Car the owl understood or not, Sid wasn't sure, but he didn't seem particularly surprised. Instead, he hooted softly, made several strange gurgling noises, and spat out a small package onto the bedspread.
Sid gingerly picked it up and wiped off the owl-drool on his dressing gown. It was a small lump of something, wrapped up in brown paper and written on it were his mother's familiar initials in that long, flowing script, DV. He carefully undid the binding.
A heavy gilded onyx ring fell out onto the royal blue sheets with a dull thunk.
He held it in his hand, trembling slightly. It still seemed warm. Without even thinking, he slipped it over his finger, and with the faintest of pops, was gone.
Any and all reviews you lovely folk furnish me with will be 'rewarded' with terrible poems in your honour! :D