The Night of the Flood
The days were worse when it rained. The water sometimes rose to nearly Hope's knees- while sitting anyway. It wasn't as refreshing to someone who only bathes once a month as one might think. Indeed, being trapped in a five-foot by five-foot barred steel cage for most hours of the day was already unappealing, but when it rained, the water flow brought the day's debris.
Fallen leaves, candy wrappers, and muck from around other enclosures (whose occupants had less understanding of bathroom etiquette than she did) brushed against her knees. She pulled them up to her chest and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Though, she couldn't blame them for divulging their basic needs. She had them too, but she used the bucket provided in her cage rather than the ground.
Hope watched the Mooncalf mill about their enclosure in repetitive pacing movements, much like it did most nights. She knew it wouldn't find a soft spot on the metal floor. Each night Hope struggled with the same problem, trying to find a comfortable position so that her body heat could warm the floor below long enough to let her rest for a few minutes. However, if she repositioned in her sleep, she was greeted with freezing cold metal against her bare skin.
Initially, she'd been left naked in her enclosure to be treated as the animal she was. Still, eventually, a couple of mothers complained during display days, and she'd been given thin bits of clothing. The fabrics were patched together haphazardly and didn't quite fit, but it was enough to cover her breasts and most of her ass.
That had been a wonderful day. She was able to look around without seeing one of the Poaching Wizards gawking at her nipples. Now they looked at her in disdain, upset they couldn't see through the brown and gray stitching. Through the colder months, they would be moved into tents where they'd have more chance to stay warm. It wasn't for their benefit but for the spectators who didn't want chapped knuckles while observing the beasts in their enclosure.
Because that's what Hope Mikaelson was.
A beast.
Hope pulled her knees into her chest and shivered as another wave of frigid rain pelted her exposed skin. At least it wasn't the hot months. Her skin nearly burned off when touching the metal during those brutal sun-soaked days. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on warming some of her extremities. She focused on her fingers and toes first, wriggling them for much-needed movement when a loud bang sounded against her bars.
Her head jerked up, and she whipped around to follow the noise. Her gaze fixed on the tall, skinny Poacher named Janson, who liked poking at her with a stick when spectators were about. He grinned a yellow, broken tooth smile at her and swiped his greasy black hair back as the rain fell harder.
"Gonna have ta taken 'em in, I suppose," he called to Match, a shorter and burly man with a large mustache and twice as nasty smile, "Rain won't be stoppin' anytime soon. They'd all drown otherwise."
"That would be so bad?" Chuckled Match, tipping his black bowler hat to release the rain it had collected.
"That would be washing money down the drain," Janson laughed, sounding more like a washed-out rat than a person.
Hope pressed her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes, attempting to block out their voices while holding back her shudders from the cold.
A groan of metal sounded, and Hope looked over to see they were using their wands to lift metal enclosures. With a wet slurp, they unstuck themselves from the mud and guided them toward the already-made barn with a levitation charm.
She couldn't help but be a little fascinated by the use of these sticks they called wands to do things that should be otherwise impossible. Before she knew it, her enclosure lifted from the ground and headed toward the barn. Warmth flooded her as she entered. Being out of the rain and wedged between the Hippogriff and the Mooncalf enclosures gave her body a little extra warmth it had been craving.
Hope didn't care if it smelled horrible; it was dry. You get used to foul smells when you're cold and starving, and fresh air becomes less of a priority when compared to frozen fingertips and an aching stomach.
Now that the water had drained from her cage, Hope settled into the corner closest to the silver and blue Hippogriff, whom she'd named Wingedback. He settled down in the same corner and pressed his wing against his side of the cage as if he knew she needed more warmth than others.
After all, she only had fur when the Poachers forced her to.
Just as Hope was starting to feel comfortable enough that she might fall asleep for a little bit, a Poacher tossed in a small bag of oats and a bowl of water. Each enclosure was given the same food but in different portion sizes. She moved forward at a crawl, picked up the water, and poured a bit into the bag. The other animals ate the oats straight from their trough, but Hope found the only way she could get it down her throat was to wet the oats and mash them into slimy balls.
She ate this now as thunder rumbled above them, swallowing large mouthfuls of oats. Their stomach matched the intensity of the thunder, happy to finally be filled after a long day of Wizards and Witches pointing and shouting at her to do the trick.
Hope wasn't opposed to doing tricks for them. She'd played dead once, but that wasn't the trick they'd wanted from her. 'Too realistic,' they'd said, and she'd been punished accordingly.
The poachers all seemed to be gathering around the entrance to the barn, watching the rain outside.
"It's gonna flood the barn next. What'll we do if that happens?" Hope heard one of them say.
They were right. Hope could see the water already starting to trickle inside the barn.
"Hang on," another replied. He walked out into the rain and lifted his wand, pointing it at the barn. Oh, levitating the barn so the water could flow underneath was a good idea.
Or it would have been. If not for the flash of red that zapped his wand from his hand.
The barn inhabitants began to stir in a panic, Hope among them. Still, she moved as close as she could to the front of her cage to watch with wide eyes as red and green flashes mixed with loud shouts began to fill the atmosphere. This wasn't lightning.
It was an attack.
Wingedback squawked beside her, feathers ruffling as he clawed the cage floor.
"Sh," Hope hushed him, "Don't draw attention to yourself."
It was likely another gang of Poachers—a rival gang in the area that wanted to take stock of their enemies. It didn't matter that their alliance matched; little green monsters were tricky beasts.
Different ring leaders tried to get the biggest and best beasts to put on display to the Dark Witches and Wizards, who had plenty of Galleons to spend.
Waiting with bated breath, Hope listened to the shouts outside and the sounds of feet running back and forth through the muddy ground. Her fingers stroked Wingedback's feathers, her heart hammering in her chest. Who would they be forced to go to?
Would they treat them better than the people here? Treat them worse?
Just as quickly as the sound of fighting had begun, it had ended, and oddly enough…so had the rain. Sun streamed through the cracks of the barn above and around them, where water had been slowly leaking moments prior.
Hope ran her fingers through her ragged, damp hair and looked around. Listening for any signs of life. What if everyone beyond the barn had been killed? Maybe the rival Poacher gang just wanted to take them out and leave the animals behind.
Her stomach was cramped in a panicked thought. Would they be left here in their enclosures to die of dehydration and starvation?
Looking around the barn of twenty-two enclosures filled with magical beasts, Hope worried for them. If no one came for them, they'd all endure a slow and agonizing death. Tears of worry and fear began to threaten the corners of her eyes just as she heard another voice.
"They're all in the barn! Yeah, at least twenty. Multiple in each cage."
Hope frowned, moving herself to hide a little more behind Wingedback, who, in Hippogriff fashion, snapped his beak at the sound of new people entering the barn.
"Oh my!" A woman's voice echoed. "This is one of the worst cases of neglect I've seen in so long!" The woman's voice trembled at the end. "How long do you think they've been in their enclosures? The poor dears, oh so underfed…" she tsked as she and a few others weaved in and out of the maze of enclosures. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized how near they were to her cage.
Just as she started to hide further behind Wingedback, a man stepped into her line of sight. She was sure he didn't see her at first, and then he looked down, and their eyes connected.
"Oh…" he breathed, his features lining with surprise as his eyes widened.
He was tall, thin, but not as thin as Janson, and neatly groomed. His hair was messy, but it also seemed well-kept. He was dressed comfortably but tailored to fit. She thought he couldn't be a Poacher; he was too put together.
His most striking features were green eyes that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight and a splashing of freckles covering his face.
Slowly, as if not to scare her, he crouched down so they were on the same level.
"Hello." He offered a soft voice, concern and confusion filling his eyes.
Wingedback snapped at him with a squawk and moved his wing to hide Hope, but she couldn't help but peek around his wall of protective feathers to look at the man. He didn't seem anything like most of the people she'd met. He had too much kindness in his eyes to be one of them.
"Alright," he said, holding a hand up to the Hippogriff but not moving closer, "I'm here to help…easy…" he said gently and slowly bowed to him, seeming so precise and careful with his movements so as not to offend Wingedback. Only when Wingedback bowed back, after a few moments of hesitation, did he pull something slowly from his pocket. It looked like some dried kibble, but Wingedback excitedly stamped his claws. Eating straight out of the man's hand. It was probably the most nutritious morsel he'd had while trapped here.
His hands hardly trembled as he pulled out his wand. He kept his eyes on the now happy Hippogriff as he tapped the lock on his cage and whispered, "Alohomora."
With a soft click, the safety fell away, and he opened the door, letting Wingedback out.
"I think you're in dire need of stretching your wings," he said gently, patting his wing as another person came close with a bag of the same dried kibble, luring Wingedback out of the barn. Focused solely on leading him to the freedom he deserved.
Hope knew he deserved to be free, just as she did, but thinking she might not see him again made her cry. He'd been a good friend.
"My name is Newt," his voice drew her attention from Wingedback and back to his eyes. "Can you tell me yours?" he asked as he, too, tapped his wand on the lock on her cage, letting it fall away.
Slowly, she began to stand on shaky legs. Minimal exercise and nutrition had compromised the muscles in her body, making them weak and flimsy. Her knees wobbled as she slowly emerged; it was better to be out here with this stranger than in that cage where she couldn't stand to her full height. Her thighs looked to be shivering from the weight it wasn't used to; she grabbed the bars before she could fall onto her face. It seemed she wouldn't have fallen anyway, as arms wrapped around her quickly to help her stand upright.
"Easy does it," Newt said carefully, trying to keep his hands on as little skin as possible. His touch didn't make her cringe as the cold grasp of the Poachers had. She didn't realize how much she'd craved soft human touches until she'd been deprived of them for so long—not that she remembered life before the Poachers.
"We'll take it step by step; there we go. Alright?" Newt asked as he helped her walk along the barn floor. The texture of the wood was so different from the smooth metal she'd become so accustomed to. When she wasn't in the cage, she could only lie in the dirt surrounding her enclosure.
"Newt, we're about fini-" a young Witch started and stopped, jaw-dropping. "What…who…" She couldn't get her question out for a moment. "Please don't tell me this girl was in a cage," her surprised expression grew into disgusted horror.
"Can you make sure the carriage has plenty of bread? Maybe some hot soup as well? Oh," he glanced at Hope and swallowed hard, looking at the Witch again, "and some blankets, Sylvia, thank you."
Sylvia nodded, momentarily speechless, before quickly retreating to the carriage.
"It's going to be alright. You'll be well taken care of where we're headed," Newt said as they exited the barn and walked toward the carriage where a pair of Thestrials led the front. She stroked one lightly with her fingertips as they walked past, followed by a surprised look from Newt.
"You can see them?" He asked in a soft voice.
Hope frowned in confusion. He couldn't?
She knew their name, knew they were beautiful, but minimal past that.
Swallowing hard, Newt helped her into the carriage, which seemed much bigger inside than outside. Multiple people were there who stopped in their conversations to stare at her, some with gaping mouths and others with eyes that swelled with tears.
Sylvia, however, offered a warm smile now that she seemed to have overcome the shock of it. "Here, dear," she helped her into a spot between herself and Newt and draped a blanket around her shoulders and lap. The blanket seemed to hug her as if it could press against her. It was one of the most comforting sensations she'd ever had. "You must be starved," she continued on and set a floating tray of plain bread and what looked like chicken broth in front of her.
While it did look and smell delicious, much better than the oats and water she'd scarfed down an hour ago, she wasn't sure she could eat it just yet. Everything had happened so fast that her head was in a whirlwind of confusion, like a tornado had picked up her thoughts and tumbled them around out of order.
Everyone was silent for the first few minutes as the carriage lurched forward. Hope could feel their stares, but luckily, Newt began to converse with Syliva. It wasn't about the Poachers or about her, thank goodness. It was about a place called Hogwarts and a man named Dumbledore. Whatever and whoever that was.
The easy conversation filtered through the carriage, though she knew some continued to steal glances at her. Nothing she wasn't used to; attention was something she tended to ignore now. Finding the privacy of her own mind much more comfortable.
By the time they were out of tree coverage, Hope was sure she was dreaming. She had to be because the carriage seemed to rise from the ground as they moved forward. Wait…she was right; they were already above the trees and starting to climb toward the clouds.
Hope couldn't remember ever flying before. Granted, she didn't remember most things. She remembered that she was a beast and belonged to the Poacher's camp. It was all she'd ever known.
All she'd ever been told.
As night slowly began to fall and the moon replaced the sun, Hope was wide awake despite almost everyone else falling asleep.
"We're nearly there," Newt whispered in a hushed voice beside her, "to Hogwarts, I mean."
She looked over at him to see him looking out the window, looking down at the ground. Curiosity quickly got the better of her, and she inched herself closer to look down at the sprawling countryside beneath them. Hope sucked in a soft gasp. She'd never seen much past her bars, and now, to see what seemed the whole world beneath her sent a wonderful chill up her arms. There was so much to take in as she slowly leaned back, the thrill of the breeze and the sights waking her spirit.
For the first time, she could feel something other than washed-up disdain. She felt… excitement. It was warm and bubbly, like the butterbeer she saw many spectators drinking while watching her, which she had always wanted to taste but never had.
She and Newt sat silently as they watched the clouds roll by, parting in areas to reveal more of the crescent moon. Hope could see tall turrets of light in the far, far distance. It looked like a castle, sitting above a lake that shimmered even from miles away.
"My name is Hope." She finally murmured in a soft voice.
Newt looked over at her, and his lips curved into a gentle smile. "It's a pleasure," he returned with the same softness of voice. He offered his hand to her, which she took. Squeezing her hand, he told her without words that she would be safe here.
She hoped he was right.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone