You Look Sad? Pet Solo

backdated to end of summer before third year

English ⋆ Parseltongue

This seemed... wrong.

The wind was oddly chilly for what was meant to be a summer day. Mars supposed it was near fall but—well no, maybe the weather was appropriate for the way they felt. There was a hollowness inside, something constantly twisting and sickening, coming up in flashes every now and again. The chill ran through their coat, down their arms, all the way to out to their toes. It was nice, in a way.

But this seemed wrong. Standing outside the Magical Menagerie felt foreign and incorrect. Hadn't it only been a few weeks ago when they'd cursed the wizarding world for existing? Hadn't it only been a few days ago when they'd wished with all their being that they were normal? And here they were, shameless in Diagon Alley, watching the wixes swirl past them in a flurry.

Mars blew out a puff of air. How had they ended up here again? Right. Estella had, in the strangest, weirdest twist Mars could ever dream up, told them to come here. Had said, two weeks from that night on the dot, that their mother would have wanted them to come here. Had forced herself into the dark room, dragged Mars out from under their covers, pointedly ignored the circles under their eyes, and given them a note with messy, scrawled handwriting.

Mars reached into their pocket and squeezed it. "Magical Menagerie," it had said. That was all. A single note with those two words.

They had an inkling of what they were meant to do.

Squaring their shoulders, they pulled open the door and slipped into the shop. There were dozens of wixes in here, milling around the pygmy puff kennels, cooing at the bunnies. They forced themselves through the crowd, thankful in a way because now, they didn't have to explain to anyone what they were doing. What they were looking for. They didn't really want to talk about it.

So they went, past the owls and the cats and the toads. Pasts the ferrets weaving themselves in impossible patterns, past the spiders blinking up at them with eight wide eyes. Pasts the goldfish who glubbed in their tanks, watching with beady stares as they wandered deeper and deeper into the shop. Looking for something that might not even be there. But it had to be, right? What was the point of this note if it was not.

Finally, they hit the back wall. The corner was musty, cobwebs stretching across the length of the ceiling. Piled cages sat dusty with disuse. There were a handful of chocolate frog wrappers littering the floor. There was nothing else.

Mars' hand clenched tight around the note. Of course. Of course. What had they really expected? That somehow, someway, a cryptic note in barely legible writing would lead anywhere but disappointment? They were naive, they knew, always and forever naive.

Mars turned, biting back a sting as they started back towards the doorway.

"You look sad," came a voice from behind them. Mars blinked. They didn't want to be spoken too. They just wanted to leave. They had half a mind to turn and blast, consequences be damned, when suddenly they realized something. Deeper, richer, something in that aching voice was different.

They turned.

"Do I?" they asked, quiet.

"Yes," the voice seemed to quiver, "Quite sad." The voice seemed young and old all at once, as if it knew everything about a world it was discovering for the first time.

"I'm not..." Mars began to say. But then they trailed off. Well, maybe they were. They weren't quite sure, in all honesty. The last few weeks had been a blur. They hadn't really let themselves consider it.

"It's okay," the voice came again, "I'm sad too." Mars bit back half a grin at that. They had not been expecting so frank a statement. It seemed... sincere. If maybe a little misguided.

"Why are you sad?" Mars asked.

"Because no one has come to speak with me in all this time. And I do not like this cage," the voice replied. Startled, Mars hurried back to the pile of cages. Nothing. They spun, looking around with somewhat frantic motions.

Finally, they spotted it. Tucked away on the second lowest shelf, partially hidden by some cardboard boxes, was a singular cage. It had water and the shelf was relatively clean but it was almost as if it had been placed there to be forgotten. Or maybe just, not to be seen.

Mars pushed the box away, and came face to face with a gorgeous emerald snake. It stared up at them with black eyes, seeming to suck eras off their soul.

"Hello," Mars breathed.

"Hello," the snake responded. It flicked its tongue out, as if waving. Mars' hands twitched towards the lock on the cage. They kneeled.

"What's your name?" they asked.

"I should expect yours first."

"I-I'm Mars."

"I am Aristaeas," the snake flicked again, "Come closer." Mars inched forward, placing a hand on the bars. Aristaeas flicked its tongue against the pad of their finger before wrapping its tail around to touch too.

"You are warm."

"Am I?" Mars asked, "I felt very cold."

"No. You are warm," the snake insisted. "I should like to be held by someone so warm." Mars blinked. Then, they smiled.

"I can do that." Carefully, they removed their hand from the curl of Aristaeas' tail and popped open the lock. They placed their hands by the gate, watching in wonder as the snake slithered onto their palms. Its scales were cold. Cold, in the nice kind of way.

Gently, oh so gently, Mars lifted the snake, knees creaking as they stood. Aristaeas squirmed, tongue flicking.

"Can I put you around my shoulders?" they asked, after a second of hesitation. Aristaeas' head swiveled over to them, almost in surprise.

"You want to?" it questioned plainly.

"Yes?" Mars replied, confused, "Is that weird?"

"Your kind is not usually so inclined to display us. Nor to speak the language."

"Oh, well," Mars shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I'm kind of weird."

"Not weird. Good." Aristaeas said plainly. Something in Mars' chest bloomed at those words. The snake, taking that as its confirmation, slithered itself up their arm and settled peacefully around their neck. "Comfortable."

Mars laughed.

"I should like to go now," the snake said, voice reverberating through their ear.

"Go?" Mars asked, suddenly tense. The snake seemed confused as to why its new perch had suddenly gone stiff.

"Yes. Like the others of your kind have taken those species in the light. Home, they said. I should like to go home."

Mars let out what might have been a sob. Maybe a giggle. Aristaeas wiggled, getting comfortable again.

"You seem happy," it said, flopping its head down on Mars' collar bone. The young wix looked out into the rest of the shop, where happy buyers were taking home their new pets, chatting excitedly about food and toys and new experience they might have. They looked down, where the snake seemed to be sleeping against their heartbeat. Their throat burned from the use of so much parseltongue. The good kind of burn.

"Yeah," they said, softly. "I guess I am."

Word count?: 1212
What animal do you wish to purchase?: A snake
What do you want to name it?: Aristaeas
Is this a boy or a girl?: Girl
What is your pet's date of birth?: January 3, 2019