Rain bolted against the floor-to-ceiling windows in the library where Alcina was sprawled over a loveseat, reading through the newest issue of Which Broomstick. The heavy, overcast skies made her heart hang low in her chest. It had been almost a month since the party and this was her last day home before she was shipped off to the Malfoy's. She had spent most of her days like this, locked away, for her mother had confiscated her broomstick. Aldora Valcon had been none too keen about her daughters disappearance that night, one might say furious. And in that raging fit she stomped up to Alcina's room and nicked the precious thing.
Alcina frowned into the leaflet .She could see her mother now. Sneaking off into the night to burn the one thing Alcina truly loved. Dancing around the flames and cackling while embers filled the dark sky like a million fireflies. She could see the absolute glee that had filled her mother's eyes as she had left to pick her Octavia up from the train station. She might not have done something quite that crazy and cult like as dancing in the woods, but Alcina knew she would never see that Silver Arrow again.
The antique clock that sat demurely on the mantle of the fireplace began to toll. The dying flames beneath it seemed to dance along with the monotonous rhythm. It was five o'clock; Alcina had wasted the whole day moping around the manor. Cursing at the rain, packing and re-packing, and she must have read Which Broomstick at least five, if not more, times. The new Firebolt model staring at her with every flip of a page had caused the drool stain on the front of her shirt. Although that might have come from earlier when she had fallen asleep in the study.
In pondering over her enthralling day Alcina didn't notice the large, black post owl swoop through the library door, dripping wet. It had only gained her attention when it landed on the rosewood table across from the love seat with saturated post in its beak. The owl shook out its wings causing Alcina to groan. She hauled herself from her seat and pulled the post from the bird's beak. It snapped at her sharply looking for its payment so she pulled a sickle from her pocket and stuffed it into the leather pouch around its neck. She had decided that she no longer liked owls.
The post consisted of a Quality Quidditch Supplies leaflet stuck together with a smudgy letter. Alcina pulled the pages of the leaflet apart. Inside broom tails ran together and goggles were just black and brown smears. There was no use in trying to make any sense of the sales so she moved to the letter.
A dripping A and L where the only letters she could make out of the receiving address. It could be for her mother, Aldora. The sender address was just as runny as the brooms in the leaflet and when she turned the letter over deep green ink stained her fingers looking like she had just pinched a leprechaun. Rubbing her thumb over my other fingers in an attempt to remove the ink she saw the seal keeping the letter closed. The glittering gold of the wax seemed to smile at through the dank room, pressed into the wax was a talon.
Alcina would have sworn that her heart had stopped beating if it hadn't been for the sound of blood rushing through her veins at a doubled rate. A chill ran up her spine and blossomed into a smile on her face. There was not a way in the universe that she could be holding a letter that had to be addressed to her from the Holyhead Harpies.
She wanted to do so many things at once. Rush to her father to show him, find her mother to rub it in her face, jump and scream, run and hide her joy from everyone so she could savour it for as long as possible.
"Do you know what this means!" she laughed to the midnight coloured owl who had not left, most likely waiting out the rain.
The owl cocked his head mechanically to the left. "I may have a chance!" During her time a Beauxbatons Madame Maxime had held Alcina's quidditch skills high above the rest, being the teams keeper. And, knowing her interest in the Harpies, suggested that she send them a letter expressing her interest along with a few photographs of herself playing. Maxime had supplied the recommendation.
Alcina remembered the letter she received in return those six years ago, during her last year of schooling, perfectly, word for word. They, unfortunately, didn't have any open spots but would contact her for a tryout the moment they did. She had then received a letter three years later for a tryout, which she secretly went to. Only her father knew about it because he was the one that had found her crying in her room after she hadn't made the cut. She ripped open the seal and wasn't surprised when she couldn't read a single word that the writer had written.
Later that evening, as the complete Valcon family sat down for dinner, Alcina was contemplating whether or not she should tell her parents and sister about the letter she received. Seeing as she couldn't read it, her mother would say "throw it away," in a pitch that would tingle the spine of a Peruvian Vipertooth and her father would tell her to just disregard the letter all together, "If it's that important they'll send another." That's what he'd say. But she kept thinking of the, now, wrinkled mess of a letter in her pocket.
"Was there any mail this afternoon, Alcie?" Mordecai asked. This caught Alcina in mid thought and completely off guard.
"Yes, anything for me?" Octavia asked, a little too starry eyed.
"Yes, I got a Quality Quidditch Supplies leaflet, but it was well soaked," it had been decided, she wasn't going to tell them about the letter.
"Bah! When will those ingrates at the post learn," Mordecai growled whilst scooping yams onto his spoon. Octavia nodded as well.
Trying to ignore Mordecai's annoyance, Aldora took Alcina's mind from her letter completely. "Are you all packed for tomorrow Alcina?" Aldora had sucked all of the joy from Alcina's body with a single question.
"Yes mother," Alcina droned.
"Well I'm not so sure about that," Mordecai said quietly and my mother rose her dark, well plucked eyebrows when she glanced at him.
"What do you mean?" Alcina looked to her father sitting perpendicular to her, whom suddenly became very interested in the pile of peas on his plate.
"Yes father, what?"
"Do be quite, Octavia." And with that no one spoke for the rest of dinner, except to excuse themselves.
As Alcina made her way back to her room she pulled the messy letter from her pocket. There wasn't a spell she could remember to fix smeared ink, she even remembered learning something in class and the Latin was at the tip of her tongue but was too shy to leave her mouth. She threw the paper to the floor and ground it into the rug in anger. As she stomped off she saw, from the corner of my eye, a house elf grab the letter from the floor, probably to throw it away. But she never saw my mother standing there to snatch it from him.
That fateful morning, the one Alcina had been dreading for almost a week, had finally pulled its way out of the darkness of tomorrow and became the sunlight of today. Of course she figured that if she kept my eyes closed she wouldn't have to confront anything. Maybe they would think she had died? That would be good, she wouldn't have to move from this spot... That is until they had to bury her corpse. And then she thought about how she should think these things out before proposing them.
Alcina sighed from under her blankets. There was no way out of this. "Make the best of it," she whispered to herself and sat straight up. To her surprise there was a long box at the end of her bed. Dread dripped down her body. It had to be another horrid dress her mother had picked out for her. She stared at the careful and precise wrapping topped with a large bow trying to decide if Aldora would have picked the boring beige colour to match the dress. Hopefully not.
She looked to the door to see if anyone was hovering, waiting for her to wake up and open the package, no one. Alright, she'd take the bait. Crawling down the bed and pulling the package onto her lap Alcina opened the wrapping. She would have never of guessed what was inside. Sitting in the crinkly tissue paper was an old and well used broomstick. She pulled it from the box and cradled the slender ash handle in her fingers, a Moontrimmer. Suddenly, as if on cue, Mordecai popped his head into the door.
"Do you like it?" His eyes were very close to kind, at least the closest Alcina seen them.
"Was this yours?" She asked as she picked it from the box. Running her hand over the neatly placed tail she waited for his answer.
"My first and favourite," he replied giving, what could be considered, a smile, "Do you like it, Al?" Alcina nodded and he slipped back out the door, probably to get off to work.
A/N: Hey everyone! I know I haven't updated in a loooong time but here is number 5! And six will be soon I just have to edit everything together. So Hope you all enjoy and I will try to get writing more often than I have been lately. I've been really into writing short stories lately that are, dare I say, not Harry Potter related. My own characters and everything. But anywho, I'm planning on working on a sequel to Ellie's Father and the next chapter of In My Locket which I hopefully can wrap up soon :). Thanks fore reading R&R please.