⋆𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠⋆ - 𝐓.𝐌.𝐑

𝟎𝟏𝟎 - 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

⋆

𝗢𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟭𝟰, 𝟭𝟵𝟰𝟰

There was a pigeon in her oatmeal.

It also had a parcel with it but that didn't matter because it was eating her fucking oats.

Musty, Mopey Myrtle did not get parcels.

And certainly not from bloody, breakfast-stealing vermin.

It was a cosmical joke played at her price that had her seating facing the Slytherin table on the morn of her birthday, fighting with all her might to not let her eyes meet that of the cursed Adonis ruling the green house and her thoughts with an iron fist.

People were staring at her, which; of course they were, because there was a pigeon in her fucking oatmeal – eating the handful of red currents she had sprinkled atop her bowl and vying for the attention she refused to give it. There was also the fact that, once again, she had never gotten anything sent to her in the entirety of her four and a smidge years of schooling – ever.

Yes, it was her birthday today – 16 years on this unacknowledged circle of hell and all eternal torment that entailed – but that meant little. Because the only person who had ever gotten her a gift, Jacques, did so in the summers when she came back since he had no intention of endangering an owl by keeping it in St. Joan's and within reach of the nuns.

Which meant someone was trying to fuck with her.

She couldn't have that; she was the 'Harbinger of Hogwarts', a walking omen of misfortune – she did not let people fuck with her without retribution. She sincerely doubted Hornby or even Droope would stoop so low as to train a pigeon when they could use owls, and though Prewett and Lupin were arses and half in their own right, they did not have enough braincells between the two of them to come up with something like this – besides, it wasn't their style.

Elizabeth flicked her wrist to release her wand from its holster and it slid into her hand smoothly, a murmured incantation from her lips had yellowish light ingulfing the newspaper and twine wrapped parcel and her mind was immediately assaulted with the results of the scanning spell. It was meant to check mail for any malignant interference and was taught early in first year Magical Defense by Professor Merrythought.

Clean.

Huh.

A quick glance at the newspaper articles still legible on the wrapping told that those were muggle papers, which only confused her further because she doubted the nuns would acknowledge her presence enough to try something as elaborate as this. Was it some hazing thing that her bullies forced on some poor ickle firstie? It seemed unlikely but nevertheless likelier than anything else she could come up with.

Her nails dug into her palms as she stared at the pigeon who was still making its way through her breakfast, her eyebrows furrowed and she looked up to see that people were still staring at her throughout her internal musings, most looked away upon meeting her eyes but one didn't.

Blue eyes, so, so blue – it made her feel like she was drowning.

His brows were raised in askance and she made a face at him, scrunching her nose and all – the curious fuck, it was none of his business. Elizabeth was reminded that her wand was still in her hand as its wooden grooves bit into her skin, she resolved that whatever was in the parcel, she'd deal with it later and within the privacy of the 'Come and Go' room. She hadn't planned to go there today, canceling her ballet practice as a personal gift, but it seemed that her plans for the day were now being completely foiled by the pigeon who was still eating her fucking breakfast.