The Secret of The Serpent | Harry Potter

Chapter 2: Summer 1991

The very next day, Riley is heading down the block carrying a box of homemade pastries for Mrs. Benson. Their weekly brunch over tea first started when Riley was only 7 years old. Despite having family nearby Mrs. Benson often finds herself feeling quite lonely. Despite having a slightly grouchy disposition, she is a very large conversationalist and enjoys talking about a myriad of topics.

So when a little 7 year old boy comes into her corner store and engages in a real, mature, conversation with her, she can't help but become enamoured. So after a while of meeting at the corner store, they started to schedule weekly meetings. And now, 4 years later, they share a special bond and look forward to their regular get-togethers.

So, every Wednesday at 12 p.m., the quaint aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted through the open windows of Mrs. Benson's charming cottage. The sound of the brass bell above the door chimed softly as Riley stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the crisp morning air.

"Riley, dear! I'm so glad you made it!" Mrs. Benson exclaimed, her silver hair perfectly coiffed. She stood in the kitchen, surrounded by an array of china and linen, while the golden sun poured through the window, illuminating the warm hues of the cosy nook.

Riley's heart danced at the sight. Brushed walls adorned with faded floral wallpaper embraced negations of portraits, each one whispering stories of love and laughter. Mrs. Benson had a gift for nurturing her treasures—each teacup was carefully curated from eclectic places, each telling a story as enchanting as the last.

"Just in time!" Mrs. Benson piped, her rich Yorkshire drawl spinning a cocoon of comfort around them. "I made your favourite scones with lemon zest—perfectly paired with my special Earl Grey." She bustled about, her bright red apron swinging dramatically, while Riley settled comfortably at the small oak table setting down his own box of pastries, lined with a hand-knitted tablecloth.

Turning around she peers down into the box, "Ooh, are those your fathers famous blueberry muffins? Make sure to give your father my thanks."

Nodding in reply Riley answered "Yep, I'll make sure to pass on the message".

Within minutes their plates were laden, the light cracking through the window casting golden dots upon their spread. They sipped their tea, indulging in slices of buttery scone slathered with homemade raspberry preserves, and momentarily, the noise of the world outside faded away.

"So, tell me, my dear," Mrs. Benson began, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity, " Have you thought more about attending St. Argus, there is still time to enrol." Riley shrugged slightly, a wry smile breaking free as he toyed with a delicate spoon.

"Oh, Mrs. Benson, I honestly would love to attend, but my parents aren't exactly pleased with the idea of me being so far away," he lies smoothly. In reality, Riley had no desire to attend the academy.

It is labelled as a prestigious school for the gifted, with advanced facilities and highly regarded professors. However, after a scheduled visit at the school Riley found the academy full of rich, entitled, spoiled little brats whose intelligence was no better than the average attendee at the local state school. Of course, he couldn't say that to Mrs. Benson, in her mind St. Argus is the epitome of prestige.

"Riley, you possess a rare talent! Your intelligence and maturity know no bounds—you must share that with the world. How else would they know your beauty?" she insisted, her voice infused with passion.

As they continued to sip their tea and nibble delicious treats, laughter tumbled through the afternoon. They exchanged stories, dreams, and silly anecdotes, growing ever closer with each encounter. What had begun as a simple weekly visit for tea and brunch transcended into sacred tradition—a union of two journeys stitched together with tradition, tea, and lifelong friendship.