June had been fairly hot, extremely hot, hotter than usual in fact. But heat didn't necessarily always mean sun and today was one of those days. Natalie had originally woken expecting to enjoy her Saturday afternoon in the grounds by the lake, or maybe even sneak through the one eyes witch passage to Hogsmede. Neither of these plans boded well with the thunderstorm that she'd been woken by. Sure it was hot and humid but the pouring rain wasn't exactly the Gryffindor's best friend.
After rolling back over and sleeping for another two hours it was half past eleven by the time the fifth year left her bed and headed to The Great Hall for what was now lunch time where she ate a jacket potato before realising that her nicotine addiction needing feeding too. Not wanting to venture into the thunderstorm for a sneaky cigarette the Gryffindor resorted to her backup location: Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom.
The first couple of times Natalie had smoked there Myrtle hadn't been too pleased, complaining the smoke was only going to hurt her - Natalie pointing out it couldn't for she was already dead hadn't helped either. Now it had gotten to the point that whenever Natalie entered the out of order bathroom Myrtle splashed down into the toilet to escape the red head. Today, however, Natalie didn't encounter Moaning Myrtle. Letting go a sigh of relief the Gryffindor lit the end of her cigarette with a muggle lighter and inhaled.
The smoke was soothing as it filtered through her lips, snaked down her windpaper and into her lungs. She felt a buzz rush to her head in moments and continued to smoke, taking a look in the mirror in front and exhaling into her reflection steaming up the glass momentarily.
Her locks of auburn hair was swept across one shoulder, falling casually over her strap-top. No doubt her hair would be drenched wet through after Quidditch practice that afternoon. Her face was freckly and her eyes, a blue-green, stared back at her. However they soon caught something else. Something different about the bathroom, something that wasn't usually there.
Turning around, her head whizzing with curiosity, Natalie walked to the far end bathroom stall. The door was slightly off of it's hinges, the wood was splintered and she realised that she wasn't alone. There was blood up the walls, red droplets on the toilet seat and a screech owl on the floor, it's feathers crumpled and out of place. Upon a closer look Natalie realised something horrible, something she wish she hadn't seen.
The owl being here wasn't by chance. It hadn't casually flown through the open window into the bathroom it had been attack. Attacked and hurt. Why? Natalie didn't know, but what she did know was that this was no accident, somebody (or something) had hurt the owl on purpose. Hurt. Killed the own. It wasn't moving, still as a rock. Even when Natalie prodded the owl it didn't flinch, make a sound or even raise a wing. It remained motionless.
by Sam Thomas Tue Jun 17, 2014 1:54 am