The glimmer of the Bezants caught her eye as she stood in front of the shop window. And in that moment—something that most students would have seen as something easy and fleeting—Akerrah almost backed away. These Bezants (the equivalent of sixteen British Galleons) could have given her—them—a good meal or three. They could get her a new pair of shoes with soles not worn down yet. It was almost infinite the number of ways these coins could improve her station. The little eyes starting across the window seemed frivolous in comparison, selfish even.

But one of professors at Beauxbatons had suggested this and so she’d saved for it. She’d saved an entire year for it: for the rustle of wings that would allow her to more easily communicate with her parents, for the talons that might protect her should anything happen, and for the yellow eyes that would see her for who she was. And maybe that was stupid and selfish—she nodded her head—but it was not an isolated truth because she was lonely. As a muggleborn, she needed ways to communicate home. She needed a way to not feel alone.

And yet, she entered the shop on her own—this secret world of magic was still foreign to her parents, who couldn’t take a day off if they wanted. Quickly, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of creatures—many more than she’d found in a muggle pet shop, which were largely limited to dogs and cats. And she had to admit some of them—lizards and the like—were intriguing. Even the common rat held a certain appeal on economic reasons alone.

But she wasn’t here to purchase a pet; she was here to purchase a lifeline. And there was only one animal who could achieve that: an owl. It shouldn’t have surprised her that there so many varieties and colors, but it did. Her brown eyes lapped at the colors of their feathers, which ranged from the autumnal to the arctic. Some were small and some were large. And perhaps worst of all, it was difficult for a twelve year old girl, who until this past year didn’t know you could own an owl, exactly what the temperament of any of these birds were.

She bit her lip and clutched the coins close to her chest. Whatever choice she made here, she had to live with. Recouping these coins would be no easy feat. So, she spent much too much time in the shop, circling it at least three times as she stared into the owls’ eyes, trying to see if they meant her harm or not.

And truth be told, as she swallowed and handed the Bezants over to the clerk, she wasn’t sure. All she knew—and she’d never mention—was that as she came back to this one bird on the second or third time, there had been a moment—a blink—where she thought she’d seen a gentle hand on its head. She hadn’t felt anything. But she’d seen a small dark-skinned hand like her own, and the white feathers that hadn’t flinched. Maybe like the few other times this happened, it was all in her head. Maybe it meant nothing at all. Maybe it was crazy. But that vision was the only piece of trust she had.

So, she did what she came to do and exited with an owl.

Word Count: 560