A R C A N E
(adj.) understood by few; mysterious or secret.
𝕋𝕠𝕥𝕠, 𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕖'𝕣𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕂𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕪𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖
PS and onwards
Edited ()
Unedited (✅)
rewrite of metanoia
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When the end of August, Jamie was ready to leap for joy. Previously, she'd decided the worst month of her life was her GCSE month but after spending August trapped in Number 4, Privet Drive: she was ready to reconsider.
The one positive was that she started talking to Harry. It was impossible not to when the only options were going crazy trapped in the house by herself or getting leered at by Dudley's creepy friends. She'd nearly punched one of them, square in the nose, before she realised she no longer had ten years of boxing under her belt and was about seventy-five pounds soaking wet.
So Jamie turned to Harry. It was almost perfect, except she noticed how Harry's face fell when he made a joke or reference and only got blank looks in return. It wasn't his fault that she was stuck here any more than it was hers. Harry didn't deserve any of this and Jamie's heart broke every time she caught his frown.
So she tried a bit harder to get along with him and throw him a line.
They spent most of their days laying across their beds, socked feet in the air as they tossed facts back and forth from their new textbooks. Their owls went back and forth, bringing gory prizes that Jamie considered slipping under Dudley's bedsheets. In the end, Harry bullied her out of it and put them in the rose bushes instead. Petunia screamed for an hour but it was worth it.
She rolled over on her covers and squinted at her owl, who was sitting calmly in his cage. Hedwig, Harry's owl, was out hunting or doing whatever else owls did. She still hadn't named him, desperate to give her new messenger the perfect title. Harry said she was overthinking it, which led to a pillow launching at his face.
Currently, she had a comic book open over her pillow. One of Dudley's friends had left it behind after one of their sleepovers and Jamie had snuck it into her room. It was an old Disney comic, which she didn't think boys like them would own. The more you know, she thought, flipping the page casually.
One of the characters was a brainy chicken called Gyro Gearloose. Gyro, Jamie considered, looking at the simple comic book script and then at her owl. Book, owl, book, owl, book, owl.
"Gyro," she said slowly out loud, imagining how it fit her owl.
Harry looked up from his transfiguration book. "Is that what you're going to name it? Sounds cool."
She ignored him for a moment, still watching the owl. "Gyro," she repeated. As if he knew she was calling her, the owl turned its head to face her and hooted softly.
"Gyro it is, then," she said with a smile, feeding Gyro an owl treat for his troubles and running her fingers over his soft feathers.
She looked back at Harry, who was reading a potions book, judging by the cover. He was squinting at the pages, mouthing some word.
"How are we going to get there?" she asked, voicing the concern for the first time since Hagrid had left them at the train station. "Should I try and buy bus tickets? I can steal some money from Petunia's drawer. She won't notice."
