Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2017 23:07:43 GMT -7
Hogsmeade
March 2024
There had always been something poetic about jobberknolls, in Eliza's opinion. Apparently their feathers were used in memory potions and truth serums, which meant they were also useful, but that wasn't what she found interesting - she'd never been much of a potioneer herself. Nor was it their tiny size, small enough to sit in her hand, and speckled blue colour, bright and yet unassuming. No, she adored that this tiny bird just listened and watched, for its whole life. And it remembered, in the kind of way that only magic can allow, everything it ever heard, and in the moment before it died it repeated it all. Backwards, yes, but the imprint of a life lived, of secrets learned, of the undeniable truth.
The first (and only) time she'd cast a corporeal patronus, she'd known exactly what it was. It had made not a peep and settled on her shoulder, and she’d known in her soul that everything would be alright.
Eliza was only in Hogsmeade to buy a new quill when she spotted a bird cage in a window, and in it a tiny blue bird. She hadn’t even reached the window to check before she was rifling through her coin purse, looking for the necessary Galleons. She’d never wanted a pet before - the only thing suitable for a pureblood lady such as herself was supposedly an owl, and owls were messy creatures - but there was no way Eliza would be leaving Hogsmeade without that bird. ”Hello beautiful,” she whispered through the window, and thought she saw the bird tilt its head at her in return. Had it heard her? She wanted to know, and yet she never wanted to find out because she didn’t want the bird to die.
It was most of her spending money for the year, but she would live with those consequences. It ate insects, after all, and those were in abundance for free. And loose feathers could make a tidy profit if she sold them to Professor Constantine or some of the other students, she suspected. She entered the store and spoke to the storekeeper, and within minutes, Elizabeth Flint was the proud owner of her very own jobberknoll.
She walked out of the store, and held the cage up to her eyeline. ”You’re gorgeous,” she told the bird. Her beautiful bird. And the colour - well, she’d known the name for that colour for years. ”I think that I shall call you Liberty. What do you think?” Liberty made not a peep as Eliza lowered the cage, and began to make her way back to Hogwarts.
March 2024
There had always been something poetic about jobberknolls, in Eliza's opinion. Apparently their feathers were used in memory potions and truth serums, which meant they were also useful, but that wasn't what she found interesting - she'd never been much of a potioneer herself. Nor was it their tiny size, small enough to sit in her hand, and speckled blue colour, bright and yet unassuming. No, she adored that this tiny bird just listened and watched, for its whole life. And it remembered, in the kind of way that only magic can allow, everything it ever heard, and in the moment before it died it repeated it all. Backwards, yes, but the imprint of a life lived, of secrets learned, of the undeniable truth.
The first (and only) time she'd cast a corporeal patronus, she'd known exactly what it was. It had made not a peep and settled on her shoulder, and she’d known in her soul that everything would be alright.
Eliza was only in Hogsmeade to buy a new quill when she spotted a bird cage in a window, and in it a tiny blue bird. She hadn’t even reached the window to check before she was rifling through her coin purse, looking for the necessary Galleons. She’d never wanted a pet before - the only thing suitable for a pureblood lady such as herself was supposedly an owl, and owls were messy creatures - but there was no way Eliza would be leaving Hogsmeade without that bird. ”Hello beautiful,” she whispered through the window, and thought she saw the bird tilt its head at her in return. Had it heard her? She wanted to know, and yet she never wanted to find out because she didn’t want the bird to die.
It was most of her spending money for the year, but she would live with those consequences. It ate insects, after all, and those were in abundance for free. And loose feathers could make a tidy profit if she sold them to Professor Constantine or some of the other students, she suspected. She entered the store and spoke to the storekeeper, and within minutes, Elizabeth Flint was the proud owner of her very own jobberknoll.
She walked out of the store, and held the cage up to her eyeline. ”You’re gorgeous,” she told the bird. Her beautiful bird. And the colour - well, she’d known the name for that colour for years. ”I think that I shall call you Liberty. What do you think?” Liberty made not a peep as Eliza lowered the cage, and began to make her way back to Hogwarts.
