Thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts! :) It goes greatly appreciated. And thanks to xXCookieCrumbsXx and Stromsten for reviewing.
This chappie's a bit longer, but I am kinda proud of the intro into it- kinda how they open up some movie scenes with a wide angle sweep.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the original characters from the series that may show up in this writing.
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Hunton the owl flapped his wings twice, angling them toward the mid-morning sun as he sped away. A heavy updraft threatened to carry him off-course, and he clamped harder on the parchment tucked away in his beak. Below him the city of London bustled, its many muggle inhabitants teeming through the streets. Hunton swooped toward the ground, pulling thickly feathered wings in close. Bits of muggle conversation reached the owls sensitive ears as he flew sideway along a tall line of buildings.
"—way things are going this war will never end—"
"—so tall! Did you hear what he said to—?"
"—look up! D'you—!" Hunton threw out his wings to catch the air, flapping several times to lift himself above the rooftops. He angled east, steadying himself as the air shuddered, like passing through an invisible barrier.
The scene below suddenly changed. A crowded, bustling, cobblestone street replaced the dreary grey road that had just been there. People in cloaks shuffled about, disappearing into a variety of close-set shops along the main street. From the sky, Hunton caught a glimpse of a roaring emerald fire blazing merrily within the Leaky Cauldron. It was out of this fire that a small girl stumbled, tripping over the grate and clutching her elbows tightly.
Silveriat spluttered violently, coughing up a stinging mouthful of inhaled ashes whilst dusting soot from her fine black robes. Why her mother had insisted on garbing the girl in now-ashes dress robes was beyond her. Wiping her feet, the blonde trudged over to a roughly circular table, rubbing her neck self-consciously as it prickled. She knew the dingy pub was crowded with witches and wizards on a regular basis—someone was bound to be watching—but looked up in spite of herself.
Her green eyes were shocked to meet those of a scrawny, dark-haired boy who glared at her with a dubious expression. Silveriat smiled uncertainly at him, shyness marring the gesture. He looked away quickly, turning the force of his gaze on too-big shoes. She noticed his clothes looked shabby and aged on his thin frame, but also so odd. The young witch had never even seen such things on a wizard before; the boy was wearing muggle clothes. Suddenly, he looked back up, dark eyes boring into her. Now it was her turn to glance away, cheeks burning for being caught gawking.
Silveriat turned away quickly, ducking through the crowd until she reached a small wooden door at the back. She shot a glance at the spot the boy had stood, receiving a jolt when she found he was no longer there. Unsettled, she turned her eyes forward again and rushed out the door—only to be met with a tiny, weed-filled yard. Sunlight poured abundantly into the space, illuminating its contents with the golden touch of spring. A line of dirty trashcans piled along the foot of a towering wall gleamed, sending flashes of silver in every direction.
"Huh." Silveriat plunged a small hand into the pocket of her robes, pulling out an ancient wand. From the tip, the end of something fiery and red peeked out, framed by a light, silvery wood. The wand was beautiful, yet decrepit. Thin cracks fissured up and down the shaft, making the Raines family heirloom nearly useless for channeling magic. Silveriat didn't mind though—trotting right over the scattered stones in the yard, she tapped the wall smartly with the wood. From the moment the wand contacted the brick, the sun-washed red stone had begun to melt away. Silveriat envisioned the heat of the sun causing the brick to drip away like ice cream, revealing the majestic archway beneath. 'DIAGON ALLEY' blazed down at her, the metal-framed words caught shining in the light of a still-climbing sun.
She backed up broadly to admire the image, and promptly stepped into someone who had been standing behind her.
Silveriat whirled around; horror dawning on her face in a way so unladylike her mother surely would have reprimanded her.
"S-sorry," she stuttered out. The person she had run into, a boy who couldn't have been much older than she was, pursed his lips and looked at her scathingly. His hair was dark, black like the jets that screamed overhead in muggle air-raids. Cold, grey eyes examined her carefully for a brief moment.
"It's okay." His voice was so cold Silveriat could almost feel herself shiver. She resisted the urge to scoff and throw a stab at his shabby mugg-
Wait.
This was the staring boy from the Leaky Cauldron. A dozen possible responses flew to mind, but she decided to start with just asking who he was.
"Why were you staring at me?" Oops. He looked at her, an expression of curiosity blazing across his face before disappearing into apathy.
"You came out of fire," he said slowly, "green fire." Silveriat tried quite unsuccessfully not to gape.
"So? Haven't you ever heard of the floo network?" She could have sworn his pale cheeks reddened a little, and the shake of his head was nearly imperceptible.
"No."
"Oh." She was shocked. Maybe I should be nicer to him. She frowned, realizing her approach had been rather rude. "Well... It's sorta like a portkey, but you use a fireplace instead. Plus you have to buy floo powder." She recoiled when she noted a flash of frustration in those dark eyes. Did he not know anything? "P-portkeys, y'know? You touch one and it transports you somewhere else?" He shook his head again, glaring at Silveriat with an angry glint that dared her to ask 'why'. She suddenly had an idea.
"Well, come on then. I'll show you some cool stuff. Are you starting Hogwarts this year?" He just nodded, glancing at her suspiciously before following as she practically skipped through the archway. "Okay, so floo powder," she began, leading him past a line of vividly colored shops, "is used to travel. It's this bright green stuff you throw in a fire and—"She paused to see his reaction. He seemed to be hanging on to every word, eyes intent. Silveriat smiled to herself. "—and say where you want to go. Then you just step in and it takes you there."
Behind her the boy furrowed his brow slightly, thinking her words over carefully before giving his answer.
"I'm guessing there's some kind of government to supervise this?" he questioned mildly. Silveriat turned and pulled a face at him before smiling.
"Yeah," she said slowly, "the Ministry of Magic. But they're not too interesting."
"How?" he asked quickly, a hungry look on his face.
"They can trace magic, if they want to. It's simple. That's how they knew someone like you is a wizard," she replied mildly, eyeing his odd clothes. His cheeks colored slightly once again, but this time he threw a dagger to her skepticism.
"And what's wrong with not knowing as much abound magic as you do?" he demanded, gaze hardening. Silveriat felt a jolt of surprise at the question. She really didn't have an answer.
"Well... I—my parents always act like something is," she said uncertainly, realizing even as she spoke that the observation was true. Why, though? The boy looked the same, talked the same, and really even acted the same as all the witches and wizards her parents brought over. What's the big deal then? she wondered to herself.
"So what do you act like?" he questioned, looking at her sharply.
"I dunno. I've never thought about it before now," she said quickly, feeling suddenly reluctant to continue talking. He stared at her in stony silence however, quietly demanding she take a side. Silveriat realized they had stopped, and crumbled to his challenging glare. "I can't really see why it matters," she admitted uncomfortably, "We all start from square one at Hogwarts, anyway. Everyone learns the same stuff." The boy just nodded as an answer, but Silveriat could have sworn she'd just missed a satisfied smirk cross his face. A tense pause hung in the air between the two as he considered her.
"What's your name?" he asked suddenly. Silveriat's tension fell away like dust at the surprisingly amiable gesture, blowing away to float in the breeze.
"Silveriat." She offered him a small smile, hoping he might return the gesture. The boy really did look like he needed to lighten up, if she was honest with herself. A flicker of amusement flickered across his pale face, and Silveriat felt herself go red as she realized why. "Something wrong with it?" she demanded defensively. The boy's amusement seemed to grow even more at this, dancing in his eyes now.
"It's not exactly conventional, but it's alright I suppose. Don't be surprised when you get teased," he warned with a shrug.
"When I get teased," she repeated blandly. At least he's honest... The boy smirked. Silveriat rolled her eyes. "Alright then, what's yours?"
"Tom," he said stiffly, as if he didn't like the sound of it at all. Silveriat's heart jumped to her throat. No, she thought disbelievingly.
"Tom R-?" she stopped abruptly, and tried quickly to cover her mistake. "Er—Raines," she put in quickly, praying it would suffice. But the damage was already done. His curiosity burned into her like fresh embers, but he chose not to question her on the slip.
"No," he said softly, looking at her hard, "Riddle." Silveriat smiled, a strained smile, fighting to keep her expression calm. Her heart seemed to have leapt right out of her chest and onto the cobblestone street below. That sure didn't take long, she thought to herself frantically.
"Do you like owls?" she blurted out suddenly. Oh my God. Could this get any worse? To her credit though, Riddle seemed slightly put off by the question. His cool demeanor recovered almost instantly however, and he jumped to answer her question smoothly.
"Aside from the fact that I've never seen one in person? I suppose so. Intelligent creatures." Silveriat stared at him for a fraction of a second, wondering how in the world he possibly hadn't seen an owl before, when she remembered his muggle clothes. Her face positively lit up with excitement.
"Oh, come on then, Tom! You'll love this!" Without even checking to see if he was following, she raced off, pushing headlong through the crowd as she went. The towering adults around her rumbled discontentedly as she split apart their conversations, muttering about "wild kids these days". Silveriat couldn't help but snort.
At last, she screeched to a halt outside of Eyelops Owl Emporium. The ancient wooden building loomed above, casting her in shadow and tilting at an angle so precarious it must have been held up by magic. The girl scanned the crowd behind her breathlessly for Riddle, grinning as he emerged from a rather haggard group of bent old warlocks. He looked disgruntled, glaring at Silveriat reproachfully from beneath his shock of haphazard jet hair. Silveriat laughed sweetly, turning to revel in the soft harmony of hooting that was just audible above the buzz of the crowd.
"This," she began grandly, "is Eyelops." He quirked an eyebrow and she grinned back. "Your one-stop shop for owls." Riddle's eyes widened ever so slightly, and Silveriat couldn't help but notice the way the sun caught them and made them to shine like some type of grey diamond. With an approving glance at his awe, she slipped quietly across the threshold.
The melody of hooting instantly grew louder, and Silveriat felt more than saw the gazes of many birds turn on her. She laughed, a sharp, musical trill that was lost among rustles of wings and clicks of beaks. Riddle entered behind her, barley concealing his amazement as his head turned to look every which way.
"Aren't they wonderful, Tom?" she questioned dazedly. The skinny girl reveled in the atmosphere of the store, all too aware of how her mother had always forbid her entrance in the past.
"So many," he said, feigning boredom. Silveriat scoffed, having caught his bluff before the boy had even walked through the door. As she did so, her eyes passed over a particularly odd-looking barn owl. Rather than the typical tan that speckled their backs, this owl was painted as if by midnight herself. Dark eyes glared around imperiously at the other owls, framed by brilliant strokes of copper slashed across the bird's facial disk. Silveriat gasped and dashed up to the counter, immediately tugging at her money pouch. The wizard at the counter beamed down at her broadly, revealing a row of marginally crooked teeth.
"What can I get ya' lass?" His voice was curious, a bellow softened in the presence of the numerous night's children surrounding it. Silveriat pointed expectantly at the black barn.
"That one," she breathed. The man laughed a hearty laugh that shook him from shoulder to toe.
"He's mean, that bird there. Sure a lil' girlie like you could handle him?" Silveriat did not look deterred, but her eyes narrowed slightly at the term 'girlie'.
"That's okay," she said pointedly, "I'm sure all he needs is some love." The shopkeeper appeared to seriously doubt this, but pulled out a slick black wand from behind the counter nonetheless. He pointed it at the owl, who perched unsuspecting.
"Accio!" The bird shot down to the wizard's hand, flapping its wings angrily and screeching furiously at the sudden displacement. As the shopkeeper stuffed the bird into a handsome gold cage, the owl snapped its beak fiercely, managing to knick the tip of his finger. Silveriat's eyes widened at the owl's aggressive display. She suddenly felt daunted as it turned hateful black eyes upon its new owner.
"8 galleons for him," the shopkeeper crowed, speaking in an I-told-you-so sort of tone as he nursed his finger. Silveriat nodded placidly and counted out the coins, eyeing the older man sharply. Riddle took the opportunity to come up behind her at the counter and examine her new owl with interest.
"D'you want one?" Silveriat asked kindly, turning to him. He looked faintly taken aback.
"Why?" he asked, looking at her strangely.
"They send letters, of course. They're—"
"No. Why would you buy one for me?" he interrupted impatiently, voice cool.
"Oh. Uh—" Silveriat hesitated for a moment. She certainly didn't think it would be wise to tell him about Dumbledore's letter. "I don't mind, really. I've got plenty..." Riddle narrowed his eyes at her dangerously, clearly not buying her lie. He hesitated, however, considering the offer.
"Sure," he said cautiously, "thank you." Silveriat smiled yet again, not quite sure how to answer him. She herself wasn't so sure, and doubted her mother would approve. Mrs. Raines didn't approve of pets—especially not owls. It doesn't matter though, she told herself quickly, it's for something 'important.'
"Um. Which one?" She gestured to the numerous owls that filled the room as the shopkeeper watched them carefully. He had quieted down considerably since their conversation. Probably hoping for another sale, she mused.
Riddle gazed around the room, punctiliously examining each individual owl. Tawny Owls dominated the population, she noticed, with more than two dozen amber eyes peering down to them. Two other owls stood out from the rest of the peck, feathers were blindingly white amongst the sea of mottled brown. It reminded Silveriat of a Lumos spell with the way the owls seemed ignited amongst the rest.
"Silveriat. Look up there," directed Riddle, nodding at the larger white owls.
"Yeah, they're Snowy Owls. Pretty, but bloody expensive too," she muttered, feeling slightly disgruntled. She'd buy Tom an owl without complaint, but she at least had hoped he wouldn't pick the most expensive.
"15 galleons apiece. And watch what comes out of that mouth, missy!" interrupted the shopkeeper roughly. Silveriat resisted the urge to shoot him a nasty look, while the corner of Riddle's mouth twitched upward. He watched her keenly though, gauging her reaction to the heavy price. She let out a faint noise of protest, and sighed.
"Oh, alright. We'll take one." The shopkeeper looked immensely pleased at the sale, as did Riddle. She pushed 15 more golden coins over the countertop, watching glumly as he caged one of the massive snowy birds—a male with several dark spots barred across its breast.
"He'll be able to carry anything for ya', lad," he tipped his pointed hat to Riddle," and thank ya' much for the purchase. Have a good 'un."
Hours later, the pair had finished shopping at last. Each hefted their own large cauldron, full of supplies and nearly overflowing with odd tidbits such as eel eyes, fresh new wizard's robes, feather quills, and books with strange names such as Tallikan's Guide to Transfiguration Training. Silveriat's new owl had slipped into a coma-like doze, dark head sheltered beneath one elegant wing.
The sun had risen high over the noon sky by the time the pair returned to the Leaky Cauldron, and both eleven-year-olds were running considerably low on change. Silveriat hadn't minded helping Riddle out with some of his pricier supplies, but gulped as she envisioned her mother's reaction. With a sigh, she turned to the corner of the pub, Riddle in step behind. The girl smiled wistfully, almost wishing he could come with her; despite his oddity, Silveriat considered Riddle better than the pureblood bigots her mother often invited over.
"Write me, will you?" she asked, turning to the boy. They had arrived at the hearth of the fireplace, and Silveriat busied herself digging for a small jar within the depths of her pocket. He gave her a look of confusion as the fire crackled merrily.
"How d—" he began, but Silveriat cut him off quickly. Her mother had said to be home by twelve, and it was late afternoon by now. She found the jar, half full of emerald powder, and removed the lid.
"You'll figure it out—don't worry," she said, tossing a handful of the green dust to the flames. It hung suspended like tiny, dazzling jewels for a moment before the fire erupted into a green blaze. "Just tell your owl my name, and he'll find me," the blonde called, stepping right into the fire. "Raines Manor!" With her last words the flames gave an angry roar and leapt up to engulf her. By the time they had died down to the usual orange, she had disappeared completely.
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R&R! Tell me what ya'll think, por favor.
Updates probably not gonna be daily. I just had this written and was sorta impatient to get it out there. :)
-LeopardGecko