I can't say I'm not happy that I already have people who enjoy the story.
Disclaimer: No ownership over the original Harry Potter
Almost Magic But Not Quite
I released an impressed whistle once I'd actually gotten to see inside the tree. It was hollowed out enough to fit three of me's. I didn't care much for the more closer details because it is still just a tree.
Ugly, scary tree at that.
No use wasting my time observing it when the scenery around the tree was more pleasing anyways. Pink and yellow flowers swayed gently with the grass and weeds as far as the eyes could see. The tree itself sat on top of a kind of steep hill bigger than the ones surrounding it.
Sitting down on one of the tree roots sticking up from the ground, I watched as the boy's sickly pale face slowly turned red.
"You can't stay here."
I tilted my head at his tone. "Why not?" I looked around, there isn't anybody else. Doesn't appear like private property either. "Looks like fair game to me."
Not that anybody around here cares about what is or isn't private property.
Something dark entered his eyes and maybe, just maybe I realized this kid might be mentally unstable. "No, it's mine."
"Does it have your name on it?" I retorted and I couldn't quite keep the mirth from my eyes. What? Don't judge me, this is the first time in months I've had a conversation with another human being. Even if he does look ready to explode my head.
This made him pause. "No." He sounded uncertain.
Smirking I shrugged my shoulders. "I call dibs then." I was disappointed when this didn't bring more a reaction out of him.
His sunken eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Dibs? What is that?" His accent was prominent in each word. It was actually pleasant to the ears. Though when (if) he hits puberty it's probably just sound like every other English man.
"Ya know...dibs." I became more uncomfortable the longer he stood there confused. Throwing my head back I groaned in annoyance. "Man, you're depressing."
A flash of hurt sprung forth in his eyes then. "At least I don't steal." it was meant as an insult.
"What makes you think I stole this?" I held the remaining stick of bread up and wiggled it. My eyebrow quirked. "Maybe it was given to me."
He laughed bitterly at me and I was tempted to join him. I would have if his large eyes weren't so dark, brown darkened bags underneath, and fuck he looks like the kind to crawl off of under your bed and stare at you well you sleep.
"Fine, I stole it. Who cares?"
He shrugged and sat down on a root himself. Not close to me, but on the other side of the tree completely. I couldn't even see him, didn't look for him either. We sat in silence, except for his stomach growling, and me eating loudly.
Don't look at me like that. He's the one who ruined the food I offered.
I swallowed and immediately wished I had some clean water to drink...well any water that wasn't too brown. Thinking back on my first time ever seeing him, my heart decided to overpower my brain telling my mouth to just stay shut. That the tense silence is completely fine. "So...where'd ya get the bruises?"
"Who cares?" He snapped my words back at me.
Flipping him off, where he could see it, I ate another piece of bread. His cheeks flushed and his stomach made itself known again. I almost laughed before I realized how evil that would be.
If things were better I would have offered the last of my bread to him. But shit wasn't better and I'm hungry too and it's his fault he's hungry so tough titty. Shoving the rest of the bread into my mouth, I stood up to leave.
"I'll be back because I still call dibs," I said loudly enough for him to hear. He didn't answer me back, but I didn't expect him to either.
It's funny actually, really damn funny.
Laughter spilled from my lips hysterically as I slumped against a building that had something sticky and slimy on it. I didn't move like I would have the first two months after I woke up.
My heart slammed against my ribcage, my breathing came out raggedly; hitching here and there.
Rough hands pinned my stomach down as I tried to squirm out. Something inside a trashbag dug painfully into my back.
Her voice shouldn't have sounded so gentle when she spoke. "Give it to me. This will all be over."
My hands flew up, palms shoving violently into my eyes as a scream tore from my mouth. I didn't care to be quiet, the sound of the storm drowning out all other noises.
I hadn't even heard her come up behind me. I was too caught up in my catch to even think of somebody stealing what I have already stolen from me. Never crossed my mind and now I feel like bashing my head against the bricks surrounding me because I'm a damn fool. I let my guard down and I paid for it.
Some part of me knew that I wasn't the only one living in this hell and struggling, but now...now I was forced to acknowledge the fact that there are bigger (stronger) people that are willing to stomp on the smaller to get what they want.
My hand shot up to push against her stomach and I paused when I felt the familiar rumbles and grumbles that still keep me up at night. She took that chance to knock my hand aside and delivered a swift blow to my eye. Then the weight of the warm plate of foods I'd stolen from an old woman was stolen from me.
There is no kindness in the streets of England. There will always be competition for food and shelter.
Competition to survive and I lost this round. I lost, I lost, I lost, lostlostlostlost. My hands pulled on the matted strands of hair.
Something warm sparked, yes sparked, in my chest before plummeting to my stomach. I stared down at my stomach in wonder.
This isn't normal. I suddenly became aware of the hum in my limbs and throughout my body. It was so comforting that I wanted to close my eyes and fall asleep here. But I couldn't because nobody was safe in these streets.
Not even starving children.
My stomach felt as if it was eating itself. I'd long since stopped feeling the pain months ago.
I remember how it is moments like these I wondered if I was going to die now (finally), that I missed home the most. My warm bed, hot food, and the laughter-filling every open space of my mom's house.
Cold, so cold and wet bark dug into my back as I occupied the tree I called dibs on about a month ago. I rarely saw the boy...Severus was his name. We both had separate lives so it was no surprise that we didn't come to the tree at the same time or even close.
I only cared a little; mainly because the silence...the stretching silence that my voice didn't quite push out stayed with me.
Severus and I weren't friends, but his voice filled the silence when I aggravated him enough. I enjoyed especially when he would shout or exclaim. It drove the silence further away than normal talk.
Come back here you little- Somebody stop that thief!-
Besides, it was better than the shouts of angry stall owners.
Some part of my brain told me the only reason they were mad is that with every spoil I got away with was money loss. The money they could use for food or support their own families. But that was some part of me, the larger (angriergrievedhateful) part of me simply didn't care because they ignored me.
A physically five-year-old (I'm guessing, don't know how old I really am) child starving, clothes covered in disease. I'm honestly surprised I'm not dead.
"You're not dead."
Looking up from my hunched position at the base of the tree, I saw the boy...Severus is his name staring down at me with those creepy-ass eyes of his. The light shining behind him shadowed his features.
"I'm not?" I didn't quite know how to feel about the disappointment in me.
I knew this boy was messed up when he allowed a small snort to escape. I loved how the sound echoed in the hollowed tree. My spit couldn't moisturize my mouth. I didn't bother talking anymore.
An apple placed on my boney knee is the only thing that brought my hazy eyes back to semi-focus. On my dried skin, I saw a lackluster rotting apple. Upon grasping it with weak fingers, I felt my tips sink slightly into the apple.
In a past life, I would have thrown away the apple with only a small amount of hesitation. In this life, I used the last of my energy to take a bite out of the old apple.
"It's like that because you never come when I do."
Swallowing hastily, I choked and coughed.
His shadow moved now slightly. I guess he was making sure I haven't gone full-blown cannibal. "This means my debt is repaid. Will you leave?"
"The funny thing about interest is that it goes up every year." I didn't have to see his face to know he is most likely frowning.
Here ya go, folks! Another chapter of Apples because I'm so in love with yall who are interested and you deserve to read more.
Please tell me your thoughts about 'Apples' so far and what do you think the orphaned OC is going to change willingly and unknowingly?
Obviously, things are bound to change because the Ripple and Butterfly Effect is very real.