Chapter 1 – First Glance
At first glance the teenager seemed to be an adult; the aura of demanded respect that seemed to emanate from his every body movement only increased this illusion. At second glance perhaps he was a young, but successful business man, just out of college, already climbing up high in the social and work networks. At third glance it was visible that he was only a child, or, should have been.
But he was not a child. He was anything but a child. He had been insulted, ignored, and eventually, kicked out. It had been done with every intention of harm to him. With every intention to hurt him so that he would never recover from the wound. And in a way it had been successful; he would never truly be healed fully; not even time can heal some wounds. It's the ones that you can't see that hurt the most.
No, he was not a child, and never would be again.
But the people that surrounded him didn't bother to glance in his direction three or even two times. He was just another busy person out for his own gain. Another human being out to succeed at whatever cost; as long as he mad a profit out of it, of course. But again they were wrong. He was out for no reason other than to amuse himself. For him it was an opportunity to offer fate a chance to entertain him, a dare, if you will. Fate, it seemed, was keen on taking up the challenge.
It was not one of the busy people whom fate employed however, it was not even a human; it was, in fact, a rather beautiful bird.
As the teenager slowly manoeuvred his way through the London underground it became evident that he had done it before, many, many times. He smiled softly as he arrived outside a secluded shop before pushing the door open and making his way inside. No one saw him go in, and, if they had, no one would have cared.
The shop had not been recently renovated. That was evident by the bare brick walls, the dusty cobwebs that hung at irregular intervals around the walls, the creaky wooden floors, the old glass shop front and the golden tinkling bell that had been set off as he entered. It was a beautiful shop. Lead glass windows lined the eaves with intricate designs, all glowing in the morning sunlight.
He was familiar with it all, that much was clear. He slowly made his way up to the counter, browsing the shelves contents as he went; a slight smile on his parted lips.
He was a very handsome person really. Dyed blond hair, evidently covering sable coloured locks by the dark regrowth at the top, deep blue eyes that seemed to reach into eternity and hold wells of infinite knowledge. Not that anyone was lucky enough to be able to look into them for that long. You could get lost in his eyes.
He smiled as the shopkeeper emerged from the dusty recluse he had no doubt been hiding in and greeted the man familiarly. The man nodded in silent acknowledgment.
"I'll never understand you Sebastian, not if I live a hundred years more than I already have" the dry voice of the elderly man showed how little he talked to others. Sebastian smiled silently before answering.
"No, I don't suppose you will" the subject was dropped immediately by both of them; silent understanding running between each. Sebastian smiled; ignoring the momentary expression of curiosity that had crossed the old mans face. Sebastian was not one to dwell on the past.
"So what can I do for you today Sebastian, I am curious indeed as to the nature of this call" Sebastian shrugged, carelessly running his fingers along the spines of the old books.
"This and that, I'm out to enjoy the dust of an old bookstore such as yours. I'm out to find love and romance, fun and games, adventure and risks" he grinned sarcastically "aren't I always?"
"I'm sorry I asked" Sebastian smiled humourlessly.
"Don't be, it isn't worth it, at all" the old man shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the seriousness in the other mans voice; it was obvious he spoke from experience. He coughed nervously before quickly changing the subject.
"Well then, what can I do for you?" Sebastian paused in his browsing, turning to face the old man full on.
"Oh, I don't know, perhaps I could buy a book?" his entrancing eyes returned to the rows and rows of old volumes with surreptitious ease. The other man raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, you could do that, this is a book store after all" a low laugh was the only reply he received.
"When was the last time that you actually sold a book to a person other than myself, no, when was the last time someone, I'll make that something, we have to include other intelligent species, even entered you shop with the thought of buying a book?" there was a pause as the elder man thought for a moment.
"A good question"
"Do you know the answer?"
"Not yet, arithmacy never was my best subject"
"I'll bet" silence greeted his statement, but Sebastian didn't seem to notice.
"It might have been on the 7th of February. There! Not too long ago!" Sebastian didn't miss a beat however. He looked at the other man suspiciously.
"And what year might that have been in?" the book keeper wilted and mumbled something completely incomprehensible.
"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that?" the man glared at him, but the severity of the gesture was softened by the slight upturning of his lips.
"1863" Sebastian laughed.
"I'm looking for a particular book Tom; I had a rather unwelcome visitor during the night yesterday. I had to turf her out, but I feel she might be coming back. Persistent bugger that she is" Tom's eyes lit up with curiosity and eagerness as he slowly shuffled out from behind his desk.
"An interesting problem Mr Black, interesting indeed. It might help me in solving it if you could perhaps tell me a little more of you visitor" it was obvious he was not expecting an answer as he moved off to another, even dustier section of the store as soon as he had finished the sentence. Sebastian followed him, seemingly deep in thought.
"It was a bird, a rather large, white, and extremely intelligent bird. It had a letter. It was delivering the letter. It was addressed to one Mr. Harry Potter, a plea for help" he spat the sentence out angrily, and a violent breeze flapped around him, unsettling dust and old bits of parchment. Tom shifted uncomfortably.
"A bird you say? Well, what charms have you tried? Have you thought of cursing the owner of the bird to stop him or her sending Mr Harry Potter letters?" the last bit, the bit about 'Harry Potter' was said very, very cautiously. Sebastian frowned.
"Well, the bird's owner is myself; but I disowned her" Tom raised an eyebrow. Again.
"You can disown birds? Why did no one tell me about this?" he was smiling as he said it and Sebastian rolled his eyes.
"The point is I can't disown her, she keeps on coming back with letters to Mr Harry Potter, and I'm looking for a spell to get rid of her. Permanently" the other paused in his examination of the bookcase he was currently standing next to.
"When you say permanently, do you mean permanently or permanently" Sebastian rolled his eyes, but acknowledged the question none the less.
"No, I don't want to kill her. I just want her to go away and leave me alone. And you could have just asked if I was looking for her death. Why do you always talk in riddles? I hate riddles" he inspected his watch and frowned.
"You must be a bad influence for me" Tom only got another roll of the eyes as a reply.
"Look, I have to go, but I'll be back later this afternoon to collect whatever books you've got on the subject. I'm late"
"You've never been late before" Sebastian looked at him incredulously.
"Are you kidding? I live my life in perpetual lateness. Things that should have happened years ago are only just beginning to take shape. Trust me; I've been late since my first transfiguration lesson. But that's not the point, I've got to go. See you round Tom" and he quickly made his way out of the shop and onto the street where he was once again picked up by the flowing crowd. It was going to be a long day, and boy, did he know it.
~^.^~
At first glance the teenager seemed to be an adult; the aura of demanded respect that seemed to emanate from his every body movement only increased this illusion. At second glance perhaps he was a young, but successful business man, just out of college, already climbing up high in the social and work networks. At third glance it was visible that he was only a child, or, should have been.
But he was not a child. He was anything but a child. He had been insulted, ignored, and eventually, kicked out. It had been done with every intention of harm to him. With every intention to hurt him so that he would never recover from the wound. And in a way it had been successful; he would never truly be healed fully; not even time can heal some wounds. It's the ones that you can't see that hurt the most.
No, he was not a child, and never would be again.
But the people that surrounded him didn't bother to glance in his direction three or even two times. He was just another busy person out for his own gain. Another human being out to succeed at whatever cost; as long as he mad a profit out of it, of course. But again they were wrong. He was out for no reason other than to amuse himself. For him it was an opportunity to offer fate a chance to entertain him, a dare, if you will. Fate, it seemed, was keen on taking up the challenge.
It was not one of the busy people whom fate employed however, it was not even a human; it was, in fact, a rather beautiful bird.
As the teenager slowly manoeuvred his way through the London underground it became evident that he had done it before, many, many times. He smiled softly as he arrived outside a secluded shop before pushing the door open and making his way inside. No one saw him go in, and, if they had, no one would have cared.
The shop had not been recently renovated. That was evident by the bare brick walls, the dusty cobwebs that hung at irregular intervals around the walls, the creaky wooden floors, the old glass shop front and the golden tinkling bell that had been set off as he entered. It was a beautiful shop. Lead glass windows lined the eaves with intricate designs, all glowing in the morning sunlight.
He was familiar with it all, that much was clear. He slowly made his way up to the counter, browsing the shelves contents as he went; a slight smile on his parted lips.
He was a very handsome person really. Dyed blond hair, evidently covering sable coloured locks by the dark regrowth at the top, deep blue eyes that seemed to reach into eternity and hold wells of infinite knowledge. Not that anyone was lucky enough to be able to look into them for that long. You could get lost in his eyes.
He smiled as the shopkeeper emerged from the dusty recluse he had no doubt been hiding in and greeted the man familiarly. The man nodded in silent acknowledgment.
"I'll never understand you Sebastian, not if I live a hundred years more than I already have" the dry voice of the elderly man showed how little he talked to others. Sebastian smiled silently before answering.
"No, I don't suppose you will" the subject was dropped immediately by both of them; silent understanding running between each. Sebastian smiled; ignoring the momentary expression of curiosity that had crossed the old mans face. Sebastian was not one to dwell on the past.
"So what can I do for you today Sebastian, I am curious indeed as to the nature of this call" Sebastian shrugged, carelessly running his fingers along the spines of the old books.
"This and that, I'm out to enjoy the dust of an old bookstore such as yours. I'm out to find love and romance, fun and games, adventure and risks" he grinned sarcastically "aren't I always?"
"I'm sorry I asked" Sebastian smiled humourlessly.
"Don't be, it isn't worth it, at all" the old man shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the seriousness in the other mans voice; it was obvious he spoke from experience. He coughed nervously before quickly changing the subject.
"Well then, what can I do for you?" Sebastian paused in his browsing, turning to face the old man full on.
"Oh, I don't know, perhaps I could buy a book?" his entrancing eyes returned to the rows and rows of old volumes with surreptitious ease. The other man raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, you could do that, this is a book store after all" a low laugh was the only reply he received.
"When was the last time that you actually sold a book to a person other than myself, no, when was the last time someone, I'll make that something, we have to include other intelligent species, even entered you shop with the thought of buying a book?" there was a pause as the elder man thought for a moment.
"A good question"
"Do you know the answer?"
"Not yet, arithmacy never was my best subject"
"I'll bet" silence greeted his statement, but Sebastian didn't seem to notice.
"It might have been on the 7th of February. There! Not too long ago!" Sebastian didn't miss a beat however. He looked at the other man suspiciously.
"And what year might that have been in?" the book keeper wilted and mumbled something completely incomprehensible.
"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that?" the man glared at him, but the severity of the gesture was softened by the slight upturning of his lips.
"1863" Sebastian laughed.
"I'm looking for a particular book Tom; I had a rather unwelcome visitor during the night yesterday. I had to turf her out, but I feel she might be coming back. Persistent bugger that she is" Tom's eyes lit up with curiosity and eagerness as he slowly shuffled out from behind his desk.
"An interesting problem Mr Black, interesting indeed. It might help me in solving it if you could perhaps tell me a little more of you visitor" it was obvious he was not expecting an answer as he moved off to another, even dustier section of the store as soon as he had finished the sentence. Sebastian followed him, seemingly deep in thought.
"It was a bird, a rather large, white, and extremely intelligent bird. It had a letter. It was delivering the letter. It was addressed to one Mr. Harry Potter, a plea for help" he spat the sentence out angrily, and a violent breeze flapped around him, unsettling dust and old bits of parchment. Tom shifted uncomfortably.
"A bird you say? Well, what charms have you tried? Have you thought of cursing the owner of the bird to stop him or her sending Mr Harry Potter letters?" the last bit, the bit about 'Harry Potter' was said very, very cautiously. Sebastian frowned.
"Well, the bird's owner is myself; but I disowned her" Tom raised an eyebrow. Again.
"You can disown birds? Why did no one tell me about this?" he was smiling as he said it and Sebastian rolled his eyes.
"The point is I can't disown her, she keeps on coming back with letters to Mr Harry Potter, and I'm looking for a spell to get rid of her. Permanently" the other paused in his examination of the bookcase he was currently standing next to.
"When you say permanently, do you mean permanently or permanently" Sebastian rolled his eyes, but acknowledged the question none the less.
"No, I don't want to kill her. I just want her to go away and leave me alone. And you could have just asked if I was looking for her death. Why do you always talk in riddles? I hate riddles" he inspected his watch and frowned.
"You must be a bad influence for me" Tom only got another roll of the eyes as a reply.
"Look, I have to go, but I'll be back later this afternoon to collect whatever books you've got on the subject. I'm late"
"You've never been late before" Sebastian looked at him incredulously.
"Are you kidding? I live my life in perpetual lateness. Things that should have happened years ago are only just beginning to take shape. Trust me; I've been late since my first transfiguration lesson. But that's not the point, I've got to go. See you round Tom" and he quickly made his way out of the shop and onto the street where he was once again picked up by the flowing crowd. It was going to be a long day, and boy, did he know it.
~^.^~