The House of Hawke has been called the traitorous, filthy and scum house the entire time that name was known to the living.
Past or future, one would accompany it with the adjective "Horrifying".
It was a matter of grief for the youngest daughter...
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London, England, 1977 August 11th, Mild Warmth
I had an owl.
"Ew."
"What is it?"
"I think it just stood up." I grimaced. "Like actually stood up on his very real legs – fucking legs."
"Language, Elena." My grandfather half-heartedly berated. "Did you really think birds had no legs?"
"I didn't think they could walk like humans!" I argued. Because that was definitely what this devil spawn just did.
As if to time it, his head rotated nearly all the way around, I physically recoiled, on the verge of dropping it.
"Owls do that, Elena. You've studied zoology." He sighed.
"I've never seen it happen in real life." I tried. "Can we not take an owl? What about a cat again? A tabby? Or a Persian – "
"We take an owl." He stated and I pouted all the way to Madam Malkin's.
I've only ever been to Diagon Alley twice. Both times, I was very small and one of those times was with my mother. So it was safe to say that this might as well be my first time with the wide-eyed expression plastered on my face.
My wand was tucked in my waistband but my grandfather insisted to keep it handy. I had no idea why – Diagon Alley did not look dangerous in the slightest. But then again, what did I know?
I had spent my previous years brooding in southern France. The bird squeaked in the cage I was loosely holding in my left hand, bought moments ago from Eeylops Owl Emporium.
We only had to make a few more stops for my sixth-year paraphernalia for Hogwarts. I still couldn't believe it – Hogwarts. I was never going back to the palace of blue ever again. No more controlled giggles, no more mouth covering while we speak, no more pea-sized serving as breakfast and dinner. No more Beauxbatons.
Grandfather led me into a shop called Flourish and Bott's and I remembered being here once before with my mother. Or perhaps I hadn't been here before. Perhaps I liked to imagine I had. Perhaps I wanted some sense of sanity and stability to think that mother and I had been here, together, I had a past that was now buried. I had a present that was budding and beautiful. Not. But it could be.
I stood back, letting grandfather do all the talking as he laughed with the man behind a desk, patting his back as if they were old friends, they probably were. We bought my books and exited the shop where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
It was a vague shop. I loved it.
We passed Leaky Cauldron. And that was when Grandfather asked me, "Wait here. Outside. Make sure you do not move an inch from where you're standing, Elena. I do not joke, this place can be dangerous. I have a few errands to run inside the pub, but I will be back in no time and I expect you to still be here in one piece."
