Jet Black Heart

I raced down the stairs, heart pounding. I heard another scream, and this time I knew it was Sapphire. Why aren’t Jake and Reia doing anything? I thought angrily as I reached Sapphire’s room.

I yanked open the door to see Sapphire being kicked over the head. She was curled in a foetal position, and there was blood coming from multiple wounds. Already, I could see that most of her body was covered in bruises. Before I could do anything, Jake kicked her one last time in the back of the neck and then turned to me. I was rooted to the spot, unable to understand why Sapphire’s body had relaxed, and that she had stopped breathing.

“What are you doing here?” Jake demanded, and I could see the monster behind his kind words. In an instant, I found my anger.

“You killed her.” I said it calmly, still detached from the situation.

“She deserved it. She was banging around, and she woke me up,” Jake replied.

“That wasn’t her – it was me.” I knew that he was meaning the owl at my window, and immediately, I felt the anger surge up within me. Just as Jake went to attack me, he burst into flames, and he screamed as he was burned alive. I couldn’t bear the sight of his face – even though I wanted to watch as he died – so instead I kneeled by Sapphire’s body. Large swellings covered her chest, legs, arms, back, neck and head, and I knew that she had been as good as dead even before I heard her scream. I shuddered. My only friend, the only person I’d ever cared for, dead.

However, I hadn’t cried for years, and I wouldn’t start now. After all, everyone died, so what was there to cry about?

I sighed and took the necklace she’d loved so much from her neck gently. The chain was twisted and warped from the beating, but with only a small exertion of my will, it repaired itself, and I placed it about my neck to remember her by.

Then, sidestepping the still-burning body of Jake, I returned upstairs, wondering where Reia was. I wrinkled my nose as I caught another strong whiff of burning flesh before I went into my room and grabbed the letter. I also grabbed a small bag, which I would’ve used for school, and stuffed in my new clothes, my hairbrush and toothbrush, and a pillow and blanket. As much as I didn’t want to have anything to remind me of Jake, I knew from long years at the orphanage that it was better to have something. I shouldered the back pack, wondering where to go to get my things for Hogwarts, and walked out the front door.

Before I’d gone a hundred metres, I was nearly run over by a phantom bus that suddenly appeared before me. I glared at it before picking myself up from where I’d fallen.

“My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this ev’ning,” a rather gangly boy read from a dirty piece of parchment. “Well, come on, then, we don’t have all night!” I looked at him strangely, and he seemed to look at me for the first time.

“Oh, so you’re a Muggle-born then?”

“A what-now?”

“Oh, beggin’ your pardon. You have non-wizarding parents?”

“I don’t know my parents.” He raised an eyebrow sceptically, but said no more about them.

“So where do you want to go then?” He asked me.

“Um…where can you go to buy these things?” I handed him the second piece of paper from the owl.

“Oh, you’ll be wantin’ the wizard shops,” he replied. “Ernie, take us to Diagon Alley!”

The bus driver in question suddenly swerved to avoid a stray dog, and the head I first thought to be an ornament swinging from the mirror laughed manically. I tried not to let my surprise show on my face, but wasn’t completely successful.

Now that I had time to think, I couldn’t help but let out a quiet sob in anguish for my friend. I didn’t care about Jake or Reia, and I never had. Only Sapphire had I ever cared for, and now she was gone. I had to keep reminding myself that it was normal for people to die, but it didn’t seem to ease the pain. Stan Shunpike saw me crying and came over, narrowly avoiding a stray bed that almost crashed into him.

“Hey, are you alright, uh- what’s your name?”

“Jet,” I sniffed, trying to regain my composure.

“Ok, Jet…are you ok?” I laughed bitterly.

“My friend was just killed by my adoptive father and so I killed him. Do you think I’m alright?” I can never seem to pass up the opportunity to shock people; it gave me almost as good a rush as lying and hurting other people.

Stan’s mouth dropped open.

“Was- uh, was your adoptive father a Muggle?” I looked at him blankly.

“A non-magical person,” he clarified.

“I think so,” I said dubiously. He nodded as if I’d confirmed something important.

My tears had all dried, and I hoped that was the last I would see of any weakness I might have. It was embarrassing crying in front of a complete stranger.

As we approached Diagon Alley – dropping off and picking up other witches and wizards on the way – the sun began to peak over the horizon. It seemed like so long ago when I’d received my letter.

“Diagon Alley! You’ll want to go to Ollivander’s to pick up a wand first, so go down that street there and its right around the corner.” I thanked Stan and got off the bus before walking slowly down the street. People were just beginning to arrive, but all the shops seemed to be open. I reached Ollivander’s and stepped inside. It was completely empty, and I was about to ring the bell on the counter when a tall old man suddenly appeared in one of the aisles that were lined with long boxes.

“My name is Ollivander – what is yours?”

“Jet Black,” I replied, lifting my chin defiantly. After a shocked silence, he chuckled, but his eyes had lost their sparkle.

“I’m guessing you would like a wand?” I nodded. He took out some measuring tape and measured me. I wondered what that had to do with me getting a wand, but couldn’t be bothered to ask. It had already been a long day for me, and it promised to be even longer.

He finished measuring me and disappeared into an aisle before reappearing again with a box.

“Now, first of all, wands choose their owners, not the other way around. You’ll know when it’s chosen you.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Black. We have unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander’s wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same.
And of course you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." He pulled the lid off the box in his hand.

“This is Purpleheart and Ebony with a Hippogriff feather core, 13 inches. Go on, pick it up!”
I did so, and immediately the front glass windows exploded outwards, showering people with glass. I smirked as I returned it to the box. This was fun.

“Reparo,” Ollivander said calmly, waving his own wand. The glass returned to its rightful place, and I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that there was no lasting damage.

“Hmm…oh, here we go, this wand is Redwood with a Dragon Heartstring core, 12 and a half inches,” he took out another box. I had no idea what the difference between wands meant, even as I knew it had to be important.

I picked up the new Redwood wand and made a lazy wrist flick. This caused a sudden domino effect as one of the aisles toppled over onto another, until the whole of the shop was in disrepair. I hid a smirk at the horrified look on the man’s face.

“Nope, not that one,” he squeaked, his voice travelling up three octaves. He waved his own wand around a bit, causing the shelves to return to their places. However, the boxes scattered over the floor would obviously take much time to put away, even with the use of magic.

“We'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

He dug around for the box, and handed it to me. I opened it with barely suppressed excitement and took hold of the wand. Immediately, an eerie wind came from nowhere, ruffling my hair, and the wand gave out a beautiful silvery glow.

“Ah…I believe the wand has chosen, young lady.” I looked up at him and gave him my most charming smile. A shocked and enamoured expression crossed his face briefly before he returned my smile, and I knew he was mine. I suppressed a sigh. It was too easy.

XXX
Before I could buy the wand, he told me to go to the wizarding bank, Gringotts. I was reluctant to leave my new wand, but obediently went to the bank. There, an ugly looking creature asked me my name, birth date – which I knew from the orphanage – and business.

Luckily for me, he (I think it was male) said that there was indeed a pile of money under my name.

“Do you have the key?” He asked me over the top of his glasses.

“Uh…what key?”

“This one,” an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind me. I turned to see a tall man in black robes. He looked handsome, although there was something unspeakably wrong about him, and his eyes were blood red. He smiled down at me charmingly, although his eyes were keen, as though searching me for weakness.

Holding out a key to the creature, who was looking as though the man was death himself, he seemed to study me. Suddenly, I felt a probing within my mind, and immediately tensed.

The tall man looked shocked at first, and anger flashed in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Where did you learn Occlumency?” He asked me in an irresistibly deep voice.

“Um, what?”

“Occlumency – blocking your thoughts from others.” I frowned.

“I didn’t learn it. Why, is it unusual?”

“Very. You must be a natural Occlumens.” He was speaking more to himself, so I didn’t ask him to elaborate for my benefit.

“So, uh, why are you here?” I asked him.

“To find you,” he replied, and his eyes sharpened once again.

“Why?” He shrugged.

“I was curious about the orphan who could allegedly talk to snakes,” he replied carefully.

“How did you know?”

“I have my sources,” he said with a sly smile. “Oh, please excuse my manners. I am Tom Riddle, your future Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.”