Muggles & Spark Plugs - Arthur Weasley

19: Simplicity

Happy Valentines Day!
With Love,
The Weasley's

He stared at the words, wondering how there could still be such a simple thing when his everyday life itself was not as simple as it had once been. The letter was nearing a few weeks old; next week would be a month. He kept it to look at, trace the letters with a finger, savor this moment of simplicity, a thing his life had recently lacked.

He kept thinking about that eagle, that dreaded eagle. It had been a daily visitor, a thing of dreams and visions alike, a thing that frightened him day and night. At the sight of those spread wings and sharp talons, that numb shake would take over. He could hardly focus on classes anymore. His grades slipped and he only built them back up when Flitwick told him about it. What was the point? The grades would only slip the next time he saw the Aquila morte. Heck, he would slip the next time he saw that bird.

And slip he did.

He was walking down the corridor leading away from the Divination classroom, so that blasted eagle was already fresh in his mind still. His eyes tired, vision blurred. Divination was becoming sickly repetitive, Aquila morte in everything he touched: tea cups, crystal ball, outside the closed window staring in at him with those beady pale eyes. He blinked and the eagle was gone. He was not in Divinatiom still, he was walking down the corridor leading away from that place. A mighty headache persisted at his temple. All at once, Fred was shaky and numb again. His eyes closed, but he could still see it, see the eagle with its spread wings and sharp talons and glistening eyes staring at him, seeing him as prey.

He fell forward onto the ground, and could still see the eagle. It had flown down to meet him at eye level, it's eyes staring into his. He was no longer shaking, only numb numb numb. Numb with fear. The eagle tilted its head at him. What was it doing, studying him, seeing if he was the next meal? How could he be certain? Simple, he couldn't.

The bird squawked at him, a sound that echoed both in the corridor and in his ears. He winced and rolled away. The bird followed and dared a swat at him with those talons. The tip of them brushed against his arm. Why did it hurt so much? There was no blood, just a thin scrape that burned and ached. It did nothing to prepare him for the next attack. The bird rose up on its legs and the next thing he knew his arm ached and ached and ached. There was blood now, he could see the streams of red. Beneath the aching and blood was that burning, dulled a tenfold with this new increased ache. That burning sweater Ariana had thrown at him was nothing compared to this. He screamed and screamed, a noise the squawking of the eagle combined with. The pain was too much. Tears sprung to his eyes, dripped down his face and mixed with the blood of his arm. Aquila morte. He was facing it once more and this time it had attached him. He was yelling and screaming and crying and aching and burning. Why did it hurt so much? His face was wet now, puddles of the eyes' rain. He yelled and screamed for what seemed like hours before he realized the pain and burning and aching had left, and so had the bird. He sat up and his eyes looked at something other than those of the Aquila morte.

"I-Ivory? Where's - where is the bird? Oh, goodness, my arm doesn't look good, does it? That's why you're staring at me, at my arm like that, is it not? Ivory, you have got to get out of here! The bird could come back and attack you too! It could kill us both!"

"Fred, you're scaring me," Ivory said. "Your arm is fine. And I have not seen any bird and I've been here for a while now. You scream loud, you know that?"

He looked down at his arm. "No, it can't be, it can't be!" The blood was gone and his arm was fine, no scratches or anything. "There was this bird! The Aquila morte here. It attacked me and ripped up my arm and there was blood - lots of it! And it hurt really, oh, so bad! It burned and bloody ached a lot, too. Don't you get it? Tell me you believe me, Ivory. Believe me, please, please, Ivs."