Harry Potter was a special child. But not for the reasons the Wizarding World were intent on making him.
His connection to magic was far more in-tune than his peers yet at the same time it was separated. Like his Magic adored his Soul, but his Soul...
Deep in the belly of the Alaskan Mendenhall Glacier Ice Caves, within a crevice unexplored by humans, a mass of crimson furred darkness slumbered away. Long echoing breaths slipping from its curled from.
Without warning, the sounds of flapping wings and incessant hoots echoed against the walls of the cave. A pair of sharp shining teal eyes appearing in the mass of darkness as they glared at the crevice's opening.
A ruffled Spotted Eagle-Owl stared haughtily at pair of glinting eyes releasing another hoot. Sticking out its leg to reveal the letter strapped neatly to it.
A gruff groan escaped the furred mass, as it stood. Sunlight passing through the ice overhead revealing the seemingly bipedal creature. With foxlike features, it was covered mainly in dark grayish fur. A pointed muzzle, with red lining around it eyes and mouth, combined with sharp teal eyes, and a fluffy black ruff of fur around its neck. Possessing a long, voluminous spiky crimson mane with grey tips, near its mane's end a teal-colored bead band encircled and held it like a loose ponytail that likewise resembled a tail. Its three red claws as sharp as ever, on both its hands and feet, digging into the thick layer of ice.
Clinks sounded as joints popped, creaking at their disuse as their owner stumbled towards the crevice's lip. The owl stared unimpressed, squeaking indignantly batting away the creature's sharp claws.
An annoyed growl escaped the the creature but it removed its paws, glaring at the impervious owl.
A soft flash of light, and in the creature's place was a grumbling man. The creature's long voluminous mane remained, spiked with black tips which fit oddly with its wild roguish look. The unnaturally large teal-colored bead holding its end together.
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The man-once-creature scowled as his bare feet settled on the icy wet ground. No fur, padded toes, nor extra fat and muscles to keep them warm.
Oldish loose brown cloth robes decorated the man, a thin collar of fur around his neck. Off-red bandages wrapped around his wrists until just before his elbow. Despite owning pale white skin there was an almost olive tint to it. The man's face was sharp, aristocratic features defined by a sense of grace despite the prevailing look of mischief and eccentricity missed in. Silvery grey eyes flashing teal when hit by the sunlight just perfectly, and glowing when the shadows envelope them just right.
The definition of a rogue. It could be seen in the man's posture, the twitch of his lips, and wildness of his hair.
A man descended of a higher class, born into wealth and riches, but an overbearing strictness and order which gave rise to chaos and eccentricity. The birth of a chaotic and easygoing personality.
There was little doubt that the man had likely been disowned or was in the very least estranged from his family, even despite bearing the full gifts of his bloodline. Most likely due to roguishness which was little accepted within the upper class of his home.
Even still there was the slight feel of a predator behind those unique silver eyes which gave off a small feel of superiority.
Despite this the Eagle-Owl was having none of it, a predator itself, glaring at the man sticking out its leg imperviously. It had been forced to fly an extreme distance to deliver its quarry to this annoying man, and it could tell with ease that it would not be receiving a well due reward from its target.
"Tsk." The man clicked his tongue, "Stupid owl."
Avoiding the sharp talons which swiped at his hand as he retrieved his letter. The man's annoyance rising at being disturbed from his brooding vacation. There was no reason for him to be receiving any post from the Wizarding World, as far as anyone was concerned he'd died years ago, another victim of the Second Wizarding War.
Looking over the letter answered his questions however. Gringotts. The Wizarding—no, rather Magical—Bank run by the Goblins.
| Alphard Black Alaskan Mendenhall Glacier Ice Caves Gringotts Wizarding Bank |
There was very little that could fool the greedy little creatures. The man was proud that he could say his illusions were one of those things. Unfortunately, not even he had the ability to fool the Goblins into thinking he was dead.
Sighing, he ripped the envelope. Pulling the annoying parchment out, he prepared himself for what was very likely another annoying summons about the future of the Black Family. Near moments after however he clutched the letter as though his life depended on it.
Emotions swallowing him as his eyes prickled with tears both of sorrow and happiness. His voice cracking as he whispered the password for the jeweled portkey.
"Miracle."
Without pause, he was whisked away back to England. Specifically, the North Side of Diagon Alley in London, England.
• ———— • ———— •
Dear Mr. Black,
As of the moment you have received this, we are pleased to inform you that you are no longer alone.
We have received a small foxy guest that is very much in need of assistance and guidance from his own kind. Not to mention a guardian.
If you are interested in such a position, we ask that you with most haste activate the portkey attached to this letter. The activation phase is "Miracle".
