Written for the International Wizarding School Championship Season Two Round 8
School: Hogwarts
Year: 7 (Exchange 1 standing in for year 7)
Theme: Kings Cross. Look at the experiences of those discovering magic or new magic for the first time.
Main Prompt: [Character] Jacob Kowalski
Additional Prompts: [Setting] Muggle playground, [Word] Superior
Word Count: 1293
Jacob Kowalski walked along the streets of New York with a skip in his considerably oversized shoe steps. The cobbled streets mirrored his thoughts perfectly at the moment. They were too numerous and too intermixed for him to keep his wits about him. But one thing was certain, he was going to open his very own bakery, and nothing in the world would be able to stop him from doing so.
New designs floated across his mind, images of cakes and breads so unique that he couldn't himself fathom how he had thought of it. He felt a little proud of himself, his grandmother had always said she saw something special in him and he was finally starting to feel she might just have been right.
Well, he had always thought that, but this time he might be able to convince other people too. They would be honoured to experience a fraction of his hitherto unseen baking skills. He could see the signboard and the throng of people surrounding his shop—fighting, scratching and clawing their way into the famed bakery. He would humour them gladly, because Jacob was just a kind man that way.
He absently brushed a speck of dust from his considerably oversized brown suit. His suitcase swung in his hand merrily as he made his way to the bank to take a loan for his bakery. The silver egg shells would do wonderfully for a collateral.
He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he didn't notice a hansom careening towards him at full speed. He didn't even notice the driver signalling to him frantically. In fact, he only noticed when it ran full tilt into his suitcase, missing him by inches. His hat flew down gently. He swiveled and fell on the pavement beside, angrily muttering a few choice expletives under his breath. He made sure none of the passer bys heard anything, because Jacob was just a nice man that way,
The suitcase rolled on the road and sprang open, and the man with the considerably oversized headache was predictably the last one of the crowd to reach the crime scene. It was all gone, every last bit of silver 'gold'. He sat down heavily on the middle of the road in disgust, they hadn't even left his suitcase. He politely hailed a passer by,
'Excuse me,' he said politely, reaching for his hat and realising they had taken it too. He matted down his considerably overbrushed hair.
'Yes?' The passerby asked, biting his lip.
'I was wondering if you had a piece of pen and paper? Err… A piece of paper and a pen?'
The passerby handed them over as Jacob slipped a note into his hand.
'Thank you very much,' the confused man said graciously.
Jacob wanted to get over with the writing quickly, but the pen kept slipping from his fingers.
Here lies Jacob Kowalski's heart, as it was snatched away from his grasp along with his bakery and monetary possessions.
He slipped the note in a convenient crack between the pavement and the road, adjacent to the place where he had fallen from the echelons of glory. A tear fell from his cheek, because Jacob was just a sentimental man that way.
The nearest park wasn't far away, and his feet led him straight towards it. There are times, he knew, when one should follow one's heart. And then there were times when one should follow one's feet. His heart had been left behind, so he only had his feet to follow now. Jacob walked to one of the isolated benches, wondering why the sky looked so gray and the grass looked more like sand. Maybe the world was just having one of those days when nothing ever goes right, and it feels as if it could never do anything right, ever. He felt sorry for the world, and whispered a few words of consolation, because Jacob was just a sympathetic man that way. Maybe the world might feel better now, and shine a bit brighter the next day.
The world probably felt like it would need a miracle to set things right. He understood it completely. It needed something to set things right. A bit of magic perhaps, a spark to set off a flame of hope inside.
An old man took a seat beside him, leaning down on his stick with the firm trust, which can only be born out of several hardships, that the ground wouldn't cave beneath the stick. He had a suitcase beside him, leaning on one of the legs of the bench.
The old man's face was filled with more wrinkles than the hair on his head, and it took Jacob's mind off other things as he unsuccessfully tried to count them. The retired baker suddenly felt something land softly on top of his nose. He threw it aside unconsciously, but he had taken his eyes off the old man for an instant.
His eyes widened as he noticed the old man was no longer beside him. A few leaves blew underneath the bench. He frowned, perhaps the ground had let him down this time? It was unreal how fast he had gone, almost like… magic.
Jacob noticed with an irritating twitch in the corner of his eye that the man's suitcase was still lying beside the bench. He picked it up worriedly, and called out for the forgetful old geezer in vain. He ran in circles near the bench, hoping to spot the poor man who had lost his suitcase. But his considerably oversized breaths indicated he couldn't possibly run any further.
He sorrowfully trudged back to his bench, and sat down with a heavy creak of its worn out joints. The green paint had worn off the woodwork, and nails stuck out in the queerest places. Jacob felt he had stepped on something, and found a browned note stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Here lies Jacob Kowalski's heart, as it was returned to his grasp along with his bakery and monetary possessions.
He huffed - what an insensitive joke to play on someone. The pranksters nowadays had absolutely no sense of propriety. He absently placed the parchment on top of the old man's suitcase when something strange struck him. The suitcase looked remarkably like his old one, even down to the scratches in the corner when he had kicked it and stubbed his toe.
It was bulging out slightly. His eyes widened disproportionately to his considerably oversized face when he reread the note he had placed on the suitcase.
It was almost as if a seizure overtook him. This was his suitcase, that old man for whom he had been feeling so sorry had been the one who had stolen his suitcase.
On an indecipherable instinct, he clicked open the latches. To his amazement, his silver egg shells lay shining inside it without a care in the world. His jaw dropped in amazement, this was no mere coincidence, this was sheer… wizardry. Yes, that was the word, wizardry.
Now why did that sound familiar?
Queenie, another word came to the forefront of his mind.
Memories began whirling inside his brain, fighting for room as images flashed in a medley of aimless colours. The old man he had seen suddenly changed into a shy, young man with a… walking twig peeping out from his collar.
'Newt!' Jacob suddenly screamed at the air and beautiful blue sky, shaking his considerably oversized fist and suitcase in an indecipherable mixture of gratitude and anger.
'Newt! You old scallywag!' He shouted once more, not bothering about the people staring at him, because he was just a superior baker to them in every way, and that was all that mattered.