Albus Severus Potter (bp_albusseverus) wrote in breaking_point, @ 2010-01-08 22:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | *complete, 2025 01, character: albus potter, character: severus snape |
RP: Al Potter, Severus Snape
Who: Albus Potter, Severus Snape
Where:Hogwarts Owlery, Hogwarts, the sky
When:early morning January 9, 2025
Warnings:
Summary:Al proves that dead things do not have to stay dead.
Cleaning out the Owlery floor in the morning, Al had noticed something round and white in the corner.
An egg, no bigger than a goose egg.
At first his heart jumped at the discovery, but then he came closer and confirmed that it was just a shell of an egg, impaled on a sharp bone. The egg was large enough to belong to one of the owls, not their prey.
There was no telling how old the eggshell was. Any contents must've drained long before Al discovered it.
Carefully, Al reached out, and freed the eggshell from the vole rib bone that pierced it. Something rattled inside. He peeked in, identifying bones and beak of a fully formed owl fetus.
Whatever happened to it long ago, it never had a chance to break out before the fall. The liquid contents of its egg acted like glue, hardening and cementing the owlet skull against the inside of its shell. Several vertebrae hung from the skull, but the wing bones and the talons rattled loose, polished clean by insects and weather.
It must've been here all through last summer to be stripped to bone, Al thought.
He sat in the corner, petting the smooth shell of the egg as if it was still alive, warming it with his touch and moist puffs of his breath.
He took a quill out of his pocket. He held the fragile eggshell up in front of his face and drew the first line with the sharp nib in its surface.
He kept scratching more lines, straight and thin, never piercing far enough to force the shell to crumble, but etching it nonetheless, carefully, gently, one miniscule piece of calcium dust at a time. Forcing the white oval prison to take a new angular shape around the owl bones inside it.
Al was very focused, very detailed. He carved until the sharp edges began to stand out of the oval shell. Minutes, perhaps hours passed and at last, it was done. Al shook the rattling bones out, blew at the chalky dust and broken bits. He left the skull bones and the vertebrae intact inside, as part of the carving which wasn't an eggshell. Not anymore.
It was an owl, born from remains of one. White and fragile as a feather.