Unspeakables; Rule One

Chapter Fourteen: I Built a Fortress to Fortify My Soul

Celeste and her mother were at Flourish & Blotts, perusing the various books that lined the shelves. She had found an interesting cover and plucked it from its place, adding it to the collection she had gathered. It was a standard summer day for the two Auclair ladies, a sprinkle of rain pattered around the cobblestones outside. Her mother would allow her to pick as many books as her thirteen year old arms could carry, they'd flick through the pages and decide which ones got to come home with them. They had been lucky today, the shop was relatively empty besides the manager and his owl who rested on its perching stand.

"Do you happen to have the second book of this research series in the back?" Her mother asked the older wizard at the front counter, handing over a copy of what Celeste presumed was the first novel. "It has a deep burgundy cover with gold carvings, depicting unicorn hair, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix feathers."

He turned the text she had handed him over."Ah. You're looking for the study on modified wands. Someone was actually just in here before you, looking for the same thing. I believe they got the last one we had in stock, let me check for you." He said as he disappeared behind a closed door.

Celeste set her books down on a small end-table near the tattered cognac leather recliner in the corner; her arms were exhausted. She had meant to be gentle, but the texts dropped with a thud. The barn owl in the corner made a small startled noise; stealing her attention. It flapped its wings, stretching the length of its span before settling in.

Celeste studied the bird, she wondered what it was like, she had never tried to fully morph into an owl.

She splayed her arms out to the side, the dull ache of carrying heavy books already fading. She focused first on her skin, imagining the sensation of feathers folding over each other delicately. Her wrist tickled, as the feathers took place. Next came the beak, replacing soft lips for sturdier-...

"My love," Her mother quickly snapped, gaze darting around the store, checking for viewers. Celeste quickly came back to her form. "You cannot do that here, it is too dangerous."

"I know, I know. No one is here, I'm fine."

"It does not matter, Celeste!" She started to raise her voice, something she never really did when speaking with her cherished daughter. She came closer and brushed Celeste's cheek with a soft hand. "My love... you are too rare. No one can see you do more than simple little morphing tricks, keep to the kind that other Metamorphagus children can do. You would not be safe if others found out you knew how to fully mimic and transform. Do you understand?" She asked, eyes a bright green that were full of understanding light.

The same eyes Celeste shared with her, the only feature she truly found beautiful on herself.

"Oui, I understand. It won't happen again. I'm going to put away a few of these." She gestured to the stack she had set down. Her mother kissed her forehead and nodded.

Celeste hadn't known how being rare meant being in danger. She liked that she wasn't like other Metamorphagus children. Shouldn't that be shared across the world? How could being so special lead to her own doom?

When Celeste's eyes reached down a row of books, she jumped. Standing in the gloom, on the opposite side of the store window was someone there and staring at her. Their robes covered any distinguishable features, all Celeste could see was the book in their folded arms, a deep burgundy cover spattered by rain.

Surely, they hadn't seen her just moments before. No they must've been looking for another book.

The second the whiskey hit the back of Celeste's throat, the memory vanished. She swirled what was in her glass around, listening to the whispers of the people discussing her and Sebastian's success against a full grown mountain troll. He hadn't been wrong, this was quite the place. The second they had sat on the stools in front of the bar counter, the place erupted with appreciation. It wasn't annoyingly loud, and Sirona Ryan had been quite generous. Saving the village from an attack apparently meant many were willing to tip a few a galleons towards whatever her and Sebastian wanted to consume next. Those who came up and introduced themselves to a daughter of the famous Auclair family had patted Celeste on the back, announcing how the Daily Prophet would want to get their hands on this story. She couldn't really worry about what got published. That would have to be the Ministry's concern.