Behind the curtains that hid the floor-to-ceiling window, it was picture of melancholy. Rain beat down onto the glass with increasing force every minute, almost threatening to break the window and bring the storm further in, destroying the bookcases that spanned the room. Like the window, they were also floor-to-ceiling high and covered most of the three out of four walls, only allowing a gap between them to make place for an antique centerpiece that lay on the mantle above the warm, crackling fire. The normally neat and orderly room was scattered with wooden trunks of every size and of ranging shades of brown and black, most stuffed to the brim with books; the floor was in a similar state, littered with books, parchment, quills and the occasional inkpot here and there. It almost looked like the storm raging outside had blown in and set the place into disarray, rather than by the girl sitting in the midst of the mess.
With two books in each hand and two more open on her lap, Noelle surveyed all four volumes of transfiguration aids, wondering which one to keep. She didn’t really need them anymore, did she? After all, she had memorized most of the information offered in the books. With a sigh, she unceremoniously dumped all four of them in a nearby trunk and reached for several more. It pained her to see her precious books put away in a trunk where they wouldn’t be easily accessed – if she’d had a choice, she’d much rather have kept them right here, right where she could read them again and again. But she had a new shipment of books coming in, some international and imported and she sorely needed to make place for the new additions.
You have to go. Noelle firmly placed another set of books in the trunk and closed the latch, sighing in relief. Done. After getting up and latching every trunk and then sealing them with a handy charm, fifteen trunks of books lay before her, waiting to be shrunk so that she could take them to Gringotts the next day. With a heavy heard, Noelle muttered the incantation and shoved the miniature boxes into her pocket, leaving the library and its barren shelves behind.
The next day, the storm had subsided. Early in the morning, as Noelle stepped out for a breath of fresh air, the scent of rain mixed with the earthly scent of the garden made her linger for a little bit longer, savoring the rare chance of being in such close proximity with nature. Normally, she didn’t bother much and holed herself up in the library for hours on end, but today was different. She’d have liked reading in such weather very much, particularly before winter set in in a few weeks, but she had a task to go. Gringotts. She shuddered, an image of one of the goblins popping up into her mind. The creatures scared her quite a bit, making her avoid the place like the plague. Nothing short of storing her precious books in her vault would make her approach the bank, as it was crawling with the creatures that usually eyed her like a criminal.
Her family’s alignment was common knowledge and at times, they still received cold looks from survivors and their families, especially those that had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. But Noelle couldn’t choose her parents, could she? Being neutral wasn’t as bad as everyone always made it seem. Light wasn’t the sole justifiable option, was it?
Heading back inside with the miniature trunks clattering in her pocket, Noelle picked up a stack of four thick volumes and clumsily grabbed a handful of Floo powder before tossing it into the living room’s fireplace. Most of the powder landed outside the fireplace rather than in but it was sufficient enough to produce a roaring green fire. Normally, Noelle would’ve been opposed to Flooing with books in her arms but she had no choice; her wand was too far for her to reach, nestled in its holster that was strapped to her upper arm. It was too late to put them down now – call her lazy but Noelle would be damned before she would be a minute late for an appointment, even one that involved goblins.
The moment she stepped into the fire, it sent her spinning towards the Leaky Cauldron at an inhumane speed, the books nearly falling out of her tight grip. As different fireplaces all flashed by her as she passed, Noelle desperately clutched at the books so that they wouldn’t be sent rocketing out and into some random house. Luckily, the ride was nearly over and Noelle sighed in relief when she felt herself slowing down. However, her legs didn’t seem to be in tandem with her mind and she immediately ran out upon landing in the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace, bumping head on into disgruntled patrons. One elbowed her out of the way with a painfully sharp elbow and sent her books crashing to the ground, along with their owner.
Cursing under her breath, Noelle shot the man a dirty look and picked up the volumes off of the floor before anyone’s gaze could linger on the titles. Guide to Raising Tarantulas and How to Avoid Being Strangled by Plants in Your Sleep were hastily picked up off the floor and back into Noelle’s aching arms, already weakening from the strain. What could possibly be so complex about raising a tarantula that could warrant 900 pages?
“And then it fell over like thiiiis –“ With a flourish, a man in a thigh-high dressing gown tipped to the side, precariously balanced on one leg.
As the mental patient demonstrated the growth of potted plants and babbled nonsensical songs that ‘aided the growth of bread mould’, a young man doodled in his clipboard. He was hard-working enough and all but working in the Mental Ward was enough to elicit even the most diligent of workers to simply doodle and count down the minutes to the end of their shifts. Fortunately – for once –Aiden only had around fifteen minutes left and ten minutes in, he tipped his head to the nurse that acted as an overseer of the ward and left the room.
As he walked down the hallway to the staff room, screams, nonsensical chatter, threats and crying echoed in from every direction, closing in on him. Even after six months of working as an intern in St. Mungo’s, Aiden still found it hard to deal with the cries of the demented, those doomed to live out their days in a bleak, repetitive routine here in St. Mungo’s. Sure, it was temporary, as his internship required experience in every floor of St. Mungo’s but the third, the Mental Ward, was by far the worst. He practically scampered out the heavy front doors and out into the brightly lit street that still harbored the faint scent of rain.
Breathing in deeply, Aiden stood still for a moment and filled his lungs with the fresh scent of rain. It always calmed him down – he felt one with the earth and as he started making his way down the crowded street of Diagon Alley, he felt his heart lighten considerably. Not even being cooped up in the dark wards of St. Mungo’s could dwell on him, not today. Many considered him too light-hearted at times, much too sensitive to his surroundings but that was simply the way he was and he was content with it. Nothing could’ve made him happier, nothing came close to how rain made him feel.
Tapping his wand on a few particular bricks, he found himself in a small, untidy courtyard with a few trashcans and empty boxes leaning precariously, no doubt being held up by magic. His Healer’s robes swished behind him and were nearly caught in the closing brick entrance as he stepped through and crossed the courtyard in a few steps, entering the Leaky Cauldron with a small wave to the owner, Tom.
The Leaky Cauldron was, as always, noisy and filled to the brim, especially at this time of the day. Shadowy characters and veiled wizards sat in the booths adjoined to the walls and in the dark corners. More acceptable people sat in full view of the other crowd, sipping Butterbeer and countless more made their way in from the Muggle world to Diagon Alley and vice versa. He absentmindedly noted a witch carrying a huge stack on books trip and fall as he passed her. A glance at one of the volumes made him snort as he sat down at one of the unoccupied tables and signaled the owner for a Butterbeer. Firewhisky wasn’t a viable option, seeing as how he had no intentions on getting drunk at the moment. His pale blue Healer’s robes made him stand out like a beacon among the crowd and, leaning back and surveying the crowd, Aiden laughed lightly at the girl picking up her books, even as she shot him a dirty look. He would never understand bookworms.
