Winged Horses

The mist clears...

There was a distinct difference, Emmy reflected, between those who rode Winged Horses and those who bred them. Take the girl in front of her, for instance; this young lady was pale and polished, complete with the beige jodhpurs, tailored jacket, kid gloves and superior expression that was trademark of a Rider. Emmy, on the other hand, had dirt on her face and trousers, sweat on her brow, weatherbeaten and far from alabaster; and was mulling over in her mind the rather interesting metaphor that the girl before her was the greenhouse plant to Emmy's wild bracken; she was a fake outdoorsy person, clean and cultivated, whilst Emmy was true.

"I'm here for a lesson," the Rider announced. They were the same age, Emmy and she - ten or so - but it didn't feel that way. Both girls seemed and acted older than their age, in different ways; but the real contrast was that this client addressed Emmy as an inferior, whereas they should have been equals. "To whom do I go?"

It was a deliberately pompous way of putting it, and that infuriated Emmy. This girl was deliberately trying to make her feel small; and she had no right to do that. Emmy was forgetting that at ten years old, one feels much older that that - so she judged the Rider rather too harshly, scowled inwardly but plastered a smile on her face. "You go see whoever you've got that lesson with," she replied evenly. "Ma'am."

The Rider sniffed, whether in approval or its opposite, Emmy could not tell. "I have a lesson with Vance," she said. "Emmeline Vance."

The smile remained while Emmy's heart and soul groaned. This was what she hated about living in Vance and Jones Winged Horse Stables; wasting time on clients who weren't worth it. Humans, she had decided long ago, were really quite overrated - if only she could work with the horses alone, and truly horsey people...

"That's me," she said. "I'm Emmy - Emmeline Vance."

"You!" The Rider didn't look quite so polished now - in fact, she looked decidedly ruffled; it seemed that she was not accustomed to that feeling, and did not like it at all. "Aren't you a little too young to be teaching?"

"Maybe, ma'am, but I've been riding all my life." Emmy had recited this many a time, mainly to disbelieving clients both young and old, all with the same attitude as the Rider. "I was born in the saddle."

The Rider looked appalled.

"Not - not literally, ma'am." Emmy said hurriedly, fighting the urge to laugh.

But the Rider's stern expression did not even twitch. "I do not think you are competent enough to teach me," she proclaimed. "Shall we go for a hack instead?"

Could it get any worse? "Very well, ma'am." said Emmeline, and she hurried to saddle up the stables' grandest Abraxan.

There was no way of denying it; this Rider was certainly a talented one. She didn't have Emmy's instinctive ability, but Ethelberta Bones, as she had turned out to be, had an effortless, authoratitive command over the giant palomino, Nalda, who was infamed as the most troublesome horse in the whole of the stables.

"You've worked here all your life?" asked Ethel, as she prefered to be addressed - but not by a mere worker like Emmy. Ethel had kept up a relentless stream of questioning throughout the whole of the hack, as they soared over golden corn fields with splashes of scarlet poppies - it should have been glorious to watch the world go by beneath them and chat; but it had been more like an interrogation than a conversation.

"For as long as I can remember, yes." Emmy replied dutifully.

"Then your relations must own the stables?"

Emmy sighed. "Yes." she said shortly. But Ethel persisted.

"Who?" she demanded.

"My mother and father own it - they're in partnership, business partnership, with a family called Jones." Emmy's mind wandered to her best friend and fellow Stable worker, Hestia Jones, who was a year older and attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nowadays, she saw far less of kind, rosy Hesty as she liked to be called, and Emmy felt a slight resentment towards Hogwarts for taking the girl who seemed like a sister away from her, apart from during the holidays. It was the summer now, and Hesty was thankfully, gloriously home - and Emmy was wasting time on this Ethel when she could be riding side by side with Hestia instead. But no - she wouldn't think about Hogwarts... it was too painful, because -

"You are how old?"

"Ten years old, eleven come January." replied Emmy mechanically.

"We are of the same age, then," Ethel commented, with a rare smile. "So we shall be first years together at Hogwarts."

"You - you've got your letter, then?" Emmy said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Oh yes, ages ago... why, haven't you?"

So it had all been just wishful thinking, Emmy thought, despairing. She had been convincing herself that the pivotal letters, one of which she had not received, were late in being distributed, that soon, anyday now, in fact, there would be a yellowing letter on the doormat, just like there had been for her mother and father...

"No," said Emmy quietly. "I haven't got one." She stared at knuckles, white as they clutched the reins too hard, as though they could supply her with a solution.

"But the Vances are pure-bloods, aren't they?"

Emmy nodded. "But Hestia Jones is half-blood and she was accepted. So I really don't think it's anything to do with blood -"

But Ethel had not listened to a word of her argument. She was staring disdainfully at Emmy, as though she could not bear to be riding next to a girl who was a -

"Squib." Ethel said. "You're a Squib!"

But exactly what she was, he never knew - because the memory had come to an end. He longed to tell poor Emmy that it would be alright, that the letter would arrive - whether because of a second decision or because it was merely delayed in the postage, he did not know. Emmeline Vance would attend Hogwarts and become a most talented witch, he was dying to assure her that very thing; but he couldn't. And he would never inform a young Emmeline of her fate; that she was to rise in status in the world, almost forgetting the Emmy who worked contentedly on a low-key Winged Horse stables, many years ago. Emmeline Vance would join the Order of the Phoenix, pledge to do all in her power to defeat Voldemort, battle in the First War... and come the Second, would be murdered in her own home at the hands of the Darkness.