Post by Tabitha Lawson on Jan 9, 2007 15:33:42 GMT 10
A fifteen-year-old with flowing, dark hair walked up the steps to the Owlery, listening to the clamor as the birds flew about and argued over whose mouse was being eaten and whether a frog left unattended was fair game for another owl. Tabitha Lawson scanned the perches with a pair of emerald green eyes that squinted as they searched into dark corners.
It was getting late, and curfew for the fourth years was not far away, but the Gryffindor paid it no heed for the moment. Her normal, cheery smile was absent tonight as she searched the Owlery high and low. Tabitha had sent her barn owl, Farica, home three days before with a message to her mother, and the bird had not returned since. Even as those bright green eyes searched the perches, their owner knew that Farica would not be there. The owl would have come pecking on the common room window before she would have returned to the Owlery with a message on her leg.
As it was long after classes had ended that Friday, Tabitha was dressed in an emerald green sweater that perfectly matched her eyes and a pair of blue jeans that were slightly faded at the knees. Her most comfortable white-and-blue sneakers were on her feet, and an expression midway between worry and desperation played across her face until her eyes lit upon a barn owl who still had its head tucked beneath its wing.
Tabitha carefully stood up on her tiptoes and gazed at the bird. From this angle, she couldn't tell if the owl was Farica or not, but she didn't want to wake it, either; if it wasn't, it would not take kindly to being awoken. However, it was just as she was thinking this that a nearby owl shrieked as it fought another one for a piece of frog and the barn owl she had been staring at raised its head, looking distinctly disgruntled, and looked straight into Tabitha's face.
For a split second, the fifteen-year-old's green eyes met the owl's yellow ones, and then the owl suddenly swept down from its perch and after her. Its beak caught Tabitha's forearm as she protected her face, and in the second while it drifted away, still looking furious, she fumbled in her pocket for her wand, backing away as she did so. The bird returned, talons flashing in the dim light, and the fourth year lifted her wand just in time for the owl to catch the hand that was holding it with those steely claws.
As if on command, the tendon in her left hand gave away as it so often did, Tabitha groaned in pain as she clapped her other hand over the old scar and the new slash, and the girl's wand fell with a clatter to the floor. Just as the owl readied itself for another swoop around, footsteps echoed on the stairs, and Tabitha, not daring to take her eyes from the owl, hoped that whoever it was would have both a wand and a usable hand.
It was getting late, and curfew for the fourth years was not far away, but the Gryffindor paid it no heed for the moment. Her normal, cheery smile was absent tonight as she searched the Owlery high and low. Tabitha had sent her barn owl, Farica, home three days before with a message to her mother, and the bird had not returned since. Even as those bright green eyes searched the perches, their owner knew that Farica would not be there. The owl would have come pecking on the common room window before she would have returned to the Owlery with a message on her leg.
As it was long after classes had ended that Friday, Tabitha was dressed in an emerald green sweater that perfectly matched her eyes and a pair of blue jeans that were slightly faded at the knees. Her most comfortable white-and-blue sneakers were on her feet, and an expression midway between worry and desperation played across her face until her eyes lit upon a barn owl who still had its head tucked beneath its wing.
Tabitha carefully stood up on her tiptoes and gazed at the bird. From this angle, she couldn't tell if the owl was Farica or not, but she didn't want to wake it, either; if it wasn't, it would not take kindly to being awoken. However, it was just as she was thinking this that a nearby owl shrieked as it fought another one for a piece of frog and the barn owl she had been staring at raised its head, looking distinctly disgruntled, and looked straight into Tabitha's face.
For a split second, the fifteen-year-old's green eyes met the owl's yellow ones, and then the owl suddenly swept down from its perch and after her. Its beak caught Tabitha's forearm as she protected her face, and in the second while it drifted away, still looking furious, she fumbled in her pocket for her wand, backing away as she did so. The bird returned, talons flashing in the dim light, and the fourth year lifted her wand just in time for the owl to catch the hand that was holding it with those steely claws.
As if on command, the tendon in her left hand gave away as it so often did, Tabitha groaned in pain as she clapped her other hand over the old scar and the new slash, and the girl's wand fell with a clatter to the floor. Just as the owl readied itself for another swoop around, footsteps echoed on the stairs, and Tabitha, not daring to take her eyes from the owl, hoped that whoever it was would have both a wand and a usable hand.
