Albus Severus Potter (bp_albusseverus) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-01-03 15:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 01, character: albus potter, character: severus snape |
RP: Al, Snape
Who: Albus Potter, Severus Snape
Where:Hogwarts Owlery
When: January 3, 2025, afternoon
Warnings:
Summary:Al really likes his birds
'If you ever need any help with the Owlery, just ask!' Al told Severus, and Severus said: 'be my guest.'
Al didn't need a house elf to get to the Owlery; he could find his way there from anywhere, with his eyes closed, or his eyes in a book, which was most likely. And he's done just that for several years during school, walking from the Ravenclaw Tower to the West Tower, in same time it took him to read ten pages.
His feet were light as they carried him up the familiar stairs into the circular stone room, with its windows perpetually open to the weather and the winds.
He took a step inside, glancing up at the forest of perches holding a forest's worth of birds. Underneath, the layer of mice and vole skeletons covered the floor like dirty snow. This bed of bones grew thicker by several inches, from what Al remembered. Mountains of owl pellets were swept by the wind toward the corners. Years of caked owl droppings formed stalagmites underneath the perches. But Al paid more attention to what was above the floor than what was on it.
With another crunching step, the owls closest to the floor began to wake, regarding him with bleary amber eyes. More of them flashed in pairs as the birds opened their eyes and hooted softly.
"Who?" they seemed to ask.
Al looked up and grinned, hooting back with a similar upward shift to his tone, as if also asking a question.
He stuffed his hand in his left pocket where he always kept the owl treats. Then he held them up, in demonstration, tossing the first one upward, toward the perches.
Like a rock down a mountain slide starting an avalanche.
The owls, even the ones who seemed asleep on their seats, swooped in on him in silent explosion of feathers and beaks and talons, and Al lifted his arms up like wings and spun, in this group embrace, in the welcoming brushes of their soft wing primaries, in the slicing scratches of their talons against his hands, shoulders, and face. In the maelstrom breeze created by them as they circled around his head, their wings close enough to ruffle his hair.
"I'm back," he laughed softly, spinning and spinning and finally falling backwards into the bed of dirty feathers and weather-whitened bones. "I missed you all."