As Lovers Go
Chapter 3 - Soon
Evening was rolling in a little too quickly than Iliana prepared for. It was just three days till the start of the new term, and Iliana's journal was nearly completed with compiled sketches, poems and stories about this mysterious shaggy dog. It was all that was on her mind during her summer vacations; although, there really wasn't much else to occupy one's time on a sullen beach, with a party-crazed sister, was there? Still, Iliana had decided that she'd made the most of it. She could not, however, wait to return to the grounds of Hogwarts, to the safety of that quilted and soft, beautifully-carved bed in her Hufflepuff common room. She couldn't wait to go back and brave the frigid nights, or the cool days to come. She couldn't wait for the first years to march in, and for a new member to be added to the Hufflepuff family. Hogwarts was a home, as many can attest to. Regardless of the homework, the mishaps, the teachers that tend to inhabit that school, its confines … the grounds, the common rooms, the very hallways … although so vast and historical, brought a sense of cosiness, safety, and … ultimately, belongingness. Of course, as customary, each student was sent a letter in regards to their school supplies necessary for the upcoming year as well as the books needed. This meant only one thing … a trip to Diagon Alley. Although Iliana was a witch, she was still underage, meaning she simply couldn't just Apparate or Disapparate to Diagon Alley. One might suggest reaching Diagon Alley by way of Portkey or Floo Powder, and at that, the next obstacle presents itself. Iliana's older sister Arabella with her countless muggle boyfriends has made it her practice not to reveal any sort of history about her magical self let alone anything relating to the magic she is so learned in. Yes, this means exactly what it does; the fireplace where one would use Floo Powder had been sealed up, and all Portkeys were thrown out previously.
No, Iliana had to trek her way up to London and head over to the Leaky Cauldron. The only problem was getting there. Iliana packed her things safely in her trunk and brought several other bags along with her. Jasper was growing restless in his cage, and the daily supply of small fish didn't seem to satisfy him the way mice would when he'd mouse-hunt at the castle. "Soon," Iliana spoke to him. Just then a rather loud drumming sounded on her door. It was time. Arabella agreed that she would take Iliana as far as a nearby abandoned bus stop where she would then catch the Knight Bus, a transportation system only visible to witches and wizards for a stranded witch and/or wizard, and make her way to the Leaky Cauldron. Iliana gave a final goodbye sigh to her room and proceeded out into the kitchen with her numerous luggage. Hastily, so as not to alert or wake the sleeping creature, Arabella's new boyfriend, who was sprawled out on the living room couch, Arabella rushed Iliana to their old, blue truck outside. Having loaded everything in, Arabella and Iliana set out for the nearby bus stop. "So," Arabella started, "excited for another year at school?" Iliana gave an uncertain nod. She wanted to be back in the safety of the castle, but she didn't know if she could face the going-unnoticed-part of her days there all over again. Although she managed to push those thoughts away many a day, the thought that one is so immersed in the crowd, that his/her visibility is lost to not only herself but to everyone around him/her was a strenuous and tiring thought to live out daily. Still, she could have something to look forward to … the black dog she'd thought so much about over the holidays.
There would be a chance to see him once more, wouldn't there be? She'd want to know whether or not the paw she so carefully mended had indeed healed. She'd want to know whether or not he remembered her. It seemed a bit silly worrying about this dog, but she couldn't help but feeling somewhat attached to this creature. It was strange, no doubt, but … comforting. She shook her head. Her main concern at the moment was getting to Diagon Alley, whatever else troubled her would simply have to wait. The car finally creaked its way to a stop, and Iliana swiftly kissed Arabella's cheek before getting out of the car and waiting near the abandoned bus stop. Within seconds of Arabella driving off, the Knight Bus had stopped promptly in front of her. "Welcome to The Knight Bus, a transportation for any stranded witch or wizard-" started the conductor. "Right, right, right," Iliana said, cutting him off, anxious to get to the Leaky Cauldron as the evening air began cooling rapidly. "Thank you," she said with a smile as she lugged her bags in. The rather tall, skinny man stepped aside and muttered what she understood was the word 'rude', under his breath. Iliana gave a small chuckle and made her way over to a nearby bed as she watched the largest chandelier she'd ever seen dangle precariously overhead while the Knight Bus sped on. The thin, unattractive conductor approached her, flipping the switch on the miniature box he carried around his neck and withdrawing somewhat of a ticket, which he handed immediately to Iliana. Giving him a courteous nod, she accepted it and proceeded to relay to him her sought after destination. In moments, the conductor had left her side and returned to the front of the bus. Thinking it impossible that they could be moving any faster, Iliana could have sworn they'd sped up.
Iliana simply stared out of the nearby windows; the black dog flooded her mind once more. She shook all thoughts away once more. This wasn't healthy. This was a dog, Iliana, she told herself. She supposed she was right. It was an animal, a creature! It surely bared nothing of human resemblance whatsoever, so what did make this animal seem so human-like? She sighed, and in just a five minutes later, the Knight Bus had come to a sudden stop. Although she regularly travelled this way especially during the summers and particularly for getting to Diagon Alley, the Knight Bus, like everything else in the wizarding world felt as if it were a new experience every time. Gathering up her luggage, Iliana quickly tipped the conductor and stepped out of the Knight Bus just a second in time to see it swoosh down the alley and disappear. She heaved a heavy sigh and strolled into the inn, where she was given a room near the train tracks as well as a complimentary butterbeer, which she immediately cast aside. Stowing her luggage in the corner of her rather small room, Iliana seated herself on her bed, placing Jasper in his cage on her bedside table. "Very, very soon," Iliana prided as she stroked Jasper's beak. The restless owl, hooted a bit and adjusted its feathers. Iliana smiled once more. Tomorrow, Diagon Alley, and the next day, Hogwarts Express, with just that imagination in her mind, Iliana laid herself in bed with a smile on her face.
Dawn broke into her window not a moment too soon. There was something about going to Diagon Alley that surely excited every young wizard. With its stores varying from apothecaries to pet shops and from broomstick stores to the fabulous wand shop of Ollivander's, everything was almost too good to be true. Iliana eagerly propped herself up on her elbows as she looked out at the bare train tracks directly outside her window. One more day, she spoke to herself. It may have seemed strange anxiously waiting to go back to a place where you were nothing but a face in the crowd, but she couldn't help but feel that Hogwarts, itself … the castle, had brought a brilliant sense of belongingness. This was what she looked forward to - the school, the lessons, the grounds. Iliana let out a slight sigh of eagerness and hopped out of bed, immediately clothing herself in jeans, a t-shirt, and a warm jacket, tying her short, blonde hair back into a ponytail. Grabbing one of the many bags she'd brought with her, Iliana cascaded down the stairs to the crowd of people eating their early breakfast around several wooden tables. Iliana proceeded to the bar area immediately, shying away from stares the busy eaters gave the new face. Politely requesting a bowl of porridge and orange juice, Iliana was served in the next second and sat down at one of the wooden tables. Apparently the local waiters hadn't cleared off the table completely, for the previous occupant's dish and glass were still there along with his/her copy of the Daily Prophet. Pushing all that remained of the occupant to the other end of the table, Iliana started on her porridge, glancing at the newspaper situated beside her.
The headlines seemed no different than that of summer's. Bertha Jorkins, a Ministry of Magic employee, was still missing, and the news of the Quidditch World Cup was plastered on the front page. Just as Iliana picked up a bit of porridge on her spoon, she'd noticed something peculiar under this section. A picture of the Dark Mark along with a lengthy article, which Iliana had to read a total of three times so as to make sure she'd not just imagined all of this, was pasted directly underneath the Quidditch World Cup's headline. The Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup? It couldn't be! Iliana remembered stories of the 'Dark Times' she'd overheard her sisters and her friends speaking about, but never could she had imagined this to truly resurface now. As she looked around the pub, sure that she couldn't be the only person disturbed by this news, she discovered that it had appeared exactly so. Almost every person had a copy of the Prophet in his/her hands; however, everyone had seemed to be deeper into the newspaper rather than the first paper. It was as if ignorance truly was bliss to them, but how long could a problem be ignored until it cast an Unforgivable Curse at you? A shudder had run through Iliana immediately as she pushed the newspaper away. She looked down at her porridge. She'd never regretted going to Diagon Alley in all her years, but this … this was unsettling. The mere thought that any of the Death Eaters might strike once more in public, just as they had done on the date of the Quidditch World Cup, was overbearing.
Regaining a bit of feeling in her fingers now and losing the nausea she had felt nothing but a few seconds ago, she picked up a spoonful of her porridge and filled her mouth. Washing it down with her juice, she left a tip on the table and immediately started off toward Diagon Alley, mustering up a bit of courage. Pressing every brick as she had learned before, in their sequential order, Iliana stepped through the passage way upon the bricks' shifting and marched her way down the cobble-stoned streets. Iliana continued on down, not stopping to make contact with anyone except with the store owners or cashiers. She gathered all her needed supplies, books, quills, parchment, an extra cauldron, etc. as well as food for Jasper. All things necessary were stowed in her bag. As she continued on down the streets, now finished with her shopping after several hours, she fancied herself a muse at the store windows. They were lined with fabulous merchandise such as owls and cats all ready to be taken up by a young wizard, trunks of various sizes in which articles of whatever the amount may disappear in a compact space and may be pulled out just as readily. Diagon Alley truly was a remarkable place. She watched as, no doubt, first years marched they way into Ollivander's wand shop, and toward Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions shop where they were fitted for their robes before given the ties, etc. of their houses. One shop, though, in particular had intrigued her- the broomstick shop where many little boys were gathered around, staring at the latest edition of broomsticks to grace the window. The Firebolt was said to be the fastest broomstick this far; Iliana recalled Harry Potter receiving one on the end of term last year, and she awed at the speed the broomstick and Harry surely flew.
Iliana had a love for flying even though her longest time on a broom would be a mere 30 minutes when she'd unfortunately mistaken one for a regular broom at Hogwarts, and indulging in her curiosity was sent soaring through the, then, empty Great Hall. She wasn't exactly sure how flying a broom was managed, but seeing as she dislodged herself from the broomstick without any damage done, she concluded that she must've done pretty well. Prying her eyes off of the glass window as though feeling a hole in her pocket already, Iliana retreated back to The Leaky Cauldron with her bag of supplies. As she proceeded up the stairs to the room she resided in, Iliana could hear Jasper hooting rather loudly once more. He'd grown restless, they both had. Hogwarts was calling them, and it was as if morning couldn't come soon enough. Iliana packed her supplies away in her trunk and prepared her bags for an early dislodging tomorrow when she'd catch a cab to King's Cross Station. It was now a good half an hour or so after noon. Iliana's stomach wasn't empty though; on the contrary, it was filled … with butterflies, that is. The feeling that she could not be at Hogwarts right now was murder to her. She wanted to be there at this moment. She wanted to be caressed by the warm quilt in her Hufflepuff common room, she wanted to hear the fire crackling in the fireplace, she wanted to look out the roundest window and gaze upon the Hogwarts grounds. She sighed once more and sprawled herself on her bed staring up at the peeled wallpaper on the ceiling. "Soon," she told herself in a whisper, and with that almost as if dosed with a Sleeping Draught, Iliana dozed off to sleep, certain that the next time she woke up, she'd be that much closer to Hogwarts, as well as her newest companion .
"Blasted fleas," the man grunted as he scratched his left ear for the fifth time in his walking. Sirius was now walking through the Forest in search of his winged companion, who, earlier, had gone in search of food. Down several steep slopes, he went, his ears keen to the sounds around him and his eyes set dead ahead. He could hear nor see anything so far. The itching man stopped and gave a slight sigh as he rested against a nearby tree. Buckbeak would find him eventually, he thought to himself, lazily sliding down the tree and sitting cross-legged. Running his fingers through his hair, Sirius looked at his torn pants. What a mess, he concluded. Although he was now freed, in the literal sense as he was still a wanted man, Sirius still had nowhere to go, to wash up, to buy clothes, etc. It was just like prison, but with a larger cell. Still, he hadn't expected anything to come easily to him, and he figured that he would definitely need to lay low had he been released. This, however, was not how he initially planned on 'laying low'. Laying his head against the tree trunk, his back now comfortably rested against, Sirius's mind began to wander further. That girl he'd imagined several times during the course of the summer, who was she? Iliana, yes, but who exactly was she? Would she remember him, when she returned to Hogwarts? Did he want her to remember him?
All these questions, for reasons unbeknownst to him at the time, had swarmed his head in a matter of seconds. The admiration he'd felt for this complete stranger was overwhelming, and he thought it unhealthy a time or two. Perhaps it was the fact that along his journey, besides Harry, she was the only one who'd cared for him in the longest. He couldn't remember the last time someone, unrelated to him, out rightly mended something of his. It was these sorts of acts that kept him thinking at night, but there were more. Her physical features … her piercing blue eyes … her ordinary blonde hair … the beauty in her simplicity was what attracted him. She was an appealing young woman, yes, but she was quite a mystery to him. It was certain that at this point, he'd felt nothing but admiration for this astonishing young witch. Whatever else may come upon meeting her again, he'd have to deeply consider whether or not he'd indulge in those feelings. It was strange though, never had he questioned something of these sorts. During much of his recent years, all his days were gloomy, depressing, grey, but now, with so much colour brought on, especially by this new being, he wasn't sure exactly how to adjust to it. It's easier, he supposed, to paint a canvas all grey opposed to inventing a picture with different colours. He supposed this new life, this bigger prison, with more colour added to it was something to get used to, and in some way, he felt as if this girl … this … pastel of colours … could help him, some how… soon.