Spells in Silence

Chapter 6: The Ruins

"Sign language": A few people now have asked whether Hazel will learn sign language. There are two big issues I see with this. First, the majority of people do not know sign language, so she would have to go out of her way to find people who could understand her. Second, she has no reason to go looking for it. She already has a means to communicate: writing, which everyone can understand unlike sign language. It also isn't like she's deaf and needs to know sign language to be communicated to. She can hear just fine, she just can't speak back.

So no, Hazel will NOT learn sign language unless someone can point out a major benefit to her that I'm overlooking.
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The sun had already vanished below the horizon not quite an hour before when Hazel set foot in the town of Tavistock. There was nothing special that drew her to this place; it was simply somewhere to stop and rest for the night. She had initially planned to sleep in a little village called Peter Tavy, which was along the more direct route from Wistman's Wood to her next destination – and was supposedly haunted to boot! – but taking stock of her supplies she had found that she was running out of food again. Tavistock was not a large town, but it was bigger than Peter Tavy and would have somewhere she could stop to grab stuff to eat.

Street lamps were already lighting up the streets, and she kept a wary eye out as she wandered down the pavement. She was not worried enough about being seen to cloak herself in the grey smoke of her invisibility, but neither was she interested in the police coming to find her. School may have started already, and there was no way she was giving up her newfound freedom to sit in a classroom all day. Truant officers were therefore a legitimate concern.

The wind blew again, colder even than the last time and with a dampness that spoke of coming snow. She ducked down an alleyway and huddled against the brick wall. She had spent a few nights out in the elements since leaving Little Whinging, but when the worst weather came through she always tried to duck into a building to sleep. She did not trust herself to get through a snowy winter night without some kind of cover. That seemed like a wonderful way to turn herself into a popsicle.

Without warning, the door on the opposite wall a little ways deeper into the alley opened up, and an older man wearing a black apron and a white shirt stepped out. The large rubbish bag over his shoulder was flung into the dumpster nearby, and he turned enough that his eyes fell onto her.

"Dear god!"

Hazel flinched back at the sound of his thought. That was a sharper reaction than she had earned since leaving Privet Drive. She should have made herself invisible.

A moment later, the flash of fear left. There was nothing here to really fear. If he tried to do anything, she could always teleport somewhere else in a single jump. Not to mention that other than the Dursleys, most adults preferred to ignore her. So long as he stuck to yelling at her to go away, she would be fine.

"Calm. Calm," the man continued in his own mind. "Can't scare her away. Hello, little one." He raised one hand slowly in a tiny wave, the care of his movement odd but fitting with the voice he had used when he finally spoke to her. It was the voice of someone trying to tease a wounded kitten out from behind a box. "Mighty cold out here tonight, isn't it?"

She gave him a strange look back before surreptitiously looking down at her clothes. Was something on her that was making him react so strangely? Her jeans were dirty from several days out on the road, and her coat had grime shoved deep into the creases of the puffs, but she did not look that bad.

He must have noticed her look because his face crinkled and his small frown grew. "I think I have some soup left inside. Good thing I didn't dump the pot yet. Be nice to get something warm in your belly, wouldn't it? Come on, girlie. Please just come inside. All I want to do is help."