In Birth's Unity

[Lorin Finch]

The husk of early morning light dripped through the chiselled stone windows of the Owlery. A large bird with heavy great plumage and vast wings settled itself amongst the rafters and the other large birds already resting there. A soft breeze blew over the grassy banks outside and ushered in the stir of dried straw which seemed to line the Owlery's base, joining the ranks of owl mess and forgotten letters. One such letter, newly buried beneath the wind's arrival, waited silent and patient in the waning gloom as the intended recipient arrived to unknowingly collect it.

Lorin's heart gave a deep thud. He sat at the Ravenclaw table, a bowl of delightfully humming cereal before him, eyes probing over his fellow students as they received the morning post. The young lad brushed a hand into his overgrown fringe, leaning forward on his palm with a sigh: All his classmates were getting letters. At least, it seemed that way to the lonely youth who had yet to receive a single syllable from his mother or father. Nobody had written to him. He felt he had been forgotten, rejected, and ignored. His parents clearly had not forgiven his misfortune at the brim of the sorting hat. He had been cast out without so much as a 'goodbye'.

The cereal continued to hum. Lorin ignored it, stirring his spoon around in never-ending circles of misery. His mind began to wander further into his lack of post. Surely someone must have written him a letter? A cousin? An aunt? Someone who knew him must have wondered how he was getting along. Mustn't they?

Heaving another great and soul-aching sigh before half-heartedly shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, Lorin stood up from the table to leave. He would go to the Owlery and check that no messages had been mislaid. Yes, that's what he'd do. After all, there would be no harm in double checking to make certain of the facts. Besides, Lorin monologued internally as he strolled free from the Great Hall, somebody had to remember.

---

The Owlery was sat in half-gloom by the time Lorin had walked the distance up to the North Tower. His breathing came a little more shallow than before his sprint up the steps, but the child was eager in his quest for knowledge and news of his family. Or anyone's family, for that matter.

He stood silently gazing up at the army of square-shouldered owls. The gentle hoots came in calming rhythms, nursing the boy's dissatisfaction with both himself and his chosen path in life. His eyes had brushed cleanly across the scene in search of something papery addressed unto himself. Low and behold, much to Lorin's visibly exhibited surprise, such a papery object did lay among the scatterings of faeces and straw. Without so much as a second glance, Lorin scooped it up in delight, his heart filling with hope.
But who on earth could it be? His mother? His father? His aunt?
Fingers peeling back the seal, Lorin thumbed out the letter and began to frown deeply.

 

[Alana Finch]

Alana had sworn up and down that she wouldn’t miss Lorin. Why should she? Lorin was always mad at her for something. Alana didn’t know why either. All she did was go into his room sometimes, but it was his fault for making it such an interesting place to be. He always seemed to be doing something too. She could usually hear interesting noises coming from his room, though when she tried to enter, he always told her that he wasn’t doing anything. Glancing up from the spot on the floor where she was playing with some dolls, Alana’s red eyes looked from her mother to her father. They were both distracted with their tasks, so they didn’t notice their young daughter studying them. Neither of them had mentioned Lorin since they’d all received word that he’d been placed in the house that was called Ravenclaw. The young girl didn’t know exactly why it was a bad thing, but she knew that it was definitely bad. Alana had heard the rantings even after she’d been sent to bed. After the rants, there’d just been silence. The red-eyed girl knew better than to bring his name up while her parents were in the same room. It wasn’t as if she was the type to crawl into their laps and share her feelings with them either. That was for babies, and, at nine, Alana Finch was hardly a baby. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder how her brother was getting along. Returning to her play, the blonde quickly forgot about her brother.

It wasn’t until about a week later that Alana got the idea to write a letter to her brother. She had just returned home from a shopping trip with her mother to find her father sending several letters off. The girl had quickly and politely (of course) dismissed herself and run off to her bedroom. Stealing some parchment from her father’s stack had been the easy part. Rummaging around for a quill had proven a bit trickier, but before long she was in her room, laying on her stomach, legs kicking back as forth as she wrote.

Lorin,
You have no idea how much troble you’re in. Mother and Father are still not happy that you’ve been put in ravenclaw. They told me that I had better get into Slitherin, so you better tell me what I need to do to get in. I don’t want them that mad at me.

Do you have any friends there? Maybe if you make a Slitherin friend, mother won’t be so mad anymore. Are there really ghosts at the school? You promised you would tell me when you got there!

What are you going to get me for my birthday? Mother said that maybe I can get a broom, but daddy doesn’t want me to. He says it’s too dangerous and too much money and that I don’t need one. I hope Mother doesn’t listen to him.

Write me back and tell me everything so I can tell Melina and Lily.
Alana

Reading over her large, childlike scrawl, the girl was satisfied with what she'd written. Sealing the whole thing up, Alana crept back downstairs. She was glad to find her father alone, figuring that it would be easier to get her parents to agree to let her send a letter if only one of them knew about it. “Father, I’d like to send this to Lorin please.” Her father had looked up, eyes studying her for several long moments and then studying the open doorway which her mother had no doubt disappeared through. Finally, he nodded and put the letter in his jacket. “Thank you” she added, giving her father a quick peck on the cheek before heading upstairs. As she walked past Lorin’s room, Alana paused, wondering if she should go in. Before she could decide, her mother called her and she quickly ran back downstairs to see what her mother wanted.

 

[Lorin Finch]

The words resting upon the page came in the hand of neither parent nor aunt, but, instead, the familiar childish scrawl of his younger sibling. The dark-haired child knew not want to think for what felt an eternity. Waves of shock punched great blows to his chest, followed by something almost warm in relation to his feelings of his sister: She had remembered him (perhaps a little belatedly), she had written to him and brought to him news of their home life. Of her home life. Of the cold feelings his parents undoubtedly had towards him.

Lorin's eyes stroked over the page again. Typical, he thought to himself, trying to re-engage some level of self-perceived normality, trust dragon breath to write to me. Of all the people. But the words spoken of his mind hardly felt the truth, for at this moment Lorin felt nothing but a saddening, lonely warmth towards his little sister, and cast a glance about to make sure that his next actions were to go unwatched by another: The young boy clutched the inky scribbles to his his chest, closing his eyes and thinking longingly of home, of arguments with his sister, of family scoldings. He missed his mother's acid tongue, her sharp and punishing hand. At least then he had been remembered, even if for the wrong reasons. It was the silence in lack of letters which drew the heavy-handed marks upon his skin.

Deciding now was not the time to dwell, but the time to act, Lorin snatched up quill and ink from within his back, a page of parchment, and began to address a letter in return. Once finished and satisfied in his response, the child rolled it to a scroll fastened by a slip of bowed string, and passed it on to the owl whom he trusted this delivery. "Good luck," he whispered to feathered creature, watching it take flight.
It would be some days before his next return to the Owlery and the hope it could award him.

Alana,

I had pre-drawn conclusions about the sevrity severity of trouble I must succeed in Mother and Father's eyes. It was not a choice I could- or would- have made. I just hope the hat affords you better luck than it did me. Then again, I have no dout doubt that you would fit in most comfortably among the Slytherin students. They seem your type.

I have intentionally selected a more solitary lifestyle so as to pass my studies with grades Mother and Father may be proud of. Besides, social relations are over-rated and unecesarily unecessarily needlessly complex.
There are lots of ghosts at the school and some of them even join us for mealtimes, though, of course, they can't eat anything, what with being dead and all. Each house has its own ghost. I think you'd like the gruelling appearance of the Slytherin spook. Seems the sort you'd fancy.

As for your birthday, little sister, if I told you then that would spoil the surprise.
I think Mother tends to know best. At least, when it boils down to a decision she has a habit of overruling Father's word. Maybe you have inherited the natural talent of flight. Take any opportunity you can to try a broom before you attend. I think I still have my old hover-broom from when I was small. It may come up a little short on you, but if you can find it then have it with my blessing as an early birthday present. Father can't stop you trying that out. Not without looking over-sensitive in Mother's eyes.

Please give Melina and Lily my best wishes.
Lorin C. Finch.

 

[Alana Finch]

As the days had gone by with no reply from her brother, Alana had resorted to breaking into Lorin's room, a habit she had picked up many years before. She had spent some time among her brother's things, finally fleeing the room when she had broken a model train she had discovered under his bed. It served him right for forgetting her. It wasn't until well after her birthday that Alana had gone up to her room one day and discovered a letter sitting on her desk. The young girl had eagerly bounded over to it, wondering over its contents as she so rarely ever got any correspondence. Alana turned over the envelope, her red eyes narrowing as she noted that it had already been opened. Surely, her parents would have mentioned if they had taken a look. Alana's mother was always quite vocal and her father hadn't ever mentioned the letter she had written to Lorin. The girl dismissed the idea, figuring that the envelope had somehow opened during its commute.

Taking the letter out, Alana settled herself on her bed. Her feet dangled as she read over the contents, a smile crossing her face as Lorin confided that he thought she would get in Slytherin. Alana sure hoped he was right. The girl sped through the letter, stumbling over only a few words that she had to sound out loud before she understood. It was the end of the letter that made Alana pause. She re-read a line, sure that she had missed something. When she realized that she had not, a wide grin crossed the girl's face. She abandoned the letter, sliding down to her feet before she froze, her face a mask of indecision. Lorin had never once offered her the use of his toys. More often than not, he was shooing her away from them, fearing she would break one. The sudden memory of the train she'd broken filled her mind as she slowly headed to Lorin's room.

Pausing to be sure her parents weren't on the landing, Alana slowly turned Lorin's doorknob and crept inside. It was a far cry from her usual loud entrance. Tiptoeing to his closet, it took Alana a few moments to uncover the buried hover broom. Her hand slowly encircled it while she held her breath and waited for the catch. When nothing fell on her, Alana figured that perhaps Lorin had really wanted her to make use of the broom. Standing up and dusting off her pants, Alana made her way out, pausing when she reached the doorway. Just to the left of it lay the remnants of Lorin's train. A feeling that she'd never experienced before dropped into her stomach and she quickly bent down to stuff the pieces in her pockets. Once she was done, she left the room, closing it behind her.

Lorin,

Thank you for the use of your hover broom. I didn't get a broom for my birthday, though I got many other gifts and strawbery cake. I have been at it for a few days now and am improving a little, though there is only so much I can do with such a small broom. As you thought, father has said nothing of me suddenly using your hover broom. Neither has mother.

I am very pleased to hear that you think I'm Slitherin material. I mentioned it to mother the other day, and she told me that I had better get in because she wouldn't tollerate having 2 children not in that house. I do think that mother and father will be pleased when you come home with good grades. Make sure you do well in poshuns.

Don't take so long to write back this time and be sure to fully seal your envelope when you send me another letter,brother. It appeared to be open when I got it.

Also, how fond were you of your enchanted train? Melina broke it when she came over.

Alana

Tucking the letter into the envelope, Alana sealed it carefully to show her brother how it was done. Grabbing the envelope with her bandaged hand -she'd scraped it on a fall from the hover broom- Alana searched for her father. To her dismay, he was down in the basement. She was never allowed down there so she sat nearby, pretending to read while she waited for his reappearance. Curiosity at what he was doing burned in her throat, but Alana knew better than to try to sneak onto the basement steps. Last time her father had caught her doing that, she had been smacked and sent to her room. It was rare that her father took such actions, so even the memory of it still smarted. Finally, he emerged, his hair dusty with some substance. Alana stood up and held out the letter to her father. He stared at it for a long moment before slipping it into his robes and heading for the kitchen without a word.

 

[Lorin Finch]

The Great Hall buzzed with life as students tucked heartily into their morning meals. A sudden flustering swoop of feathers signalled that the post had arrived. A grey-faced owl with flecked patterning and narrowed eyes came in to land with precision upon the table. The creature gave a deep-throated 'hoot', politely requesting some acknowledgement for the potentially perilous journey it had undertaken in forming a line of correspondence. The youthful, dark-haired wizard it had settled before, peered up at the bird with a look of surprise in his wide eyes. He swallowed down his mouthful of tenderly cooked bacon, and pushed forward the rest of the buttered toast on his plate as a means of payment. The owl gave a pleasant coo and began to tuck in. Meanwhile, the boy un-strung the letter from the creature's leg. Slipping it open, he started to read.

It brought a smile to Lorin's pallid face to hear back from his sister. It sounded as though her birthday had been a rather fun one (at least, as fun as the Finch children's birthdays usually got). Strawberry cake sounded an absolute treat, and Lorin's stomach gave a nostalgic lurch as he glanced hungrily along the length of the table, almost hoping to find his family waiting there with a cake for him. But they weren't there. Lorin was all alone. The child's heart gave a jolt and he made the conscious decision to return to reading of his little sister's antics. For home was far away.
It came as little surprise to Lorin that his sister's use of his once-favoured toy had failed to raise any suspicion. She could get away with anything, that red-eyed girl, she was smart. Devious. Cunning. Everything an ambitious house like Slytherin could ever wish for. Still, Lorin was glad to hear she was getting in practice. Perhaps she could still bring honour to the Finch family. Maybe she would take up the dangerous pursuit of Quidditch and help to win the cup. Lorin could only hope so. She was the last chance of that.

As he read onwards, Lorin thought achingly of the space beneath his bed back home, the place he reserved his thoughts and inventions. The place he could retreat to when all was not well with the world. And then his mind slipped back to his mother, his father, their disappointment they had felt in their only son. The potions teacher which came across so intimidating a man that he was sure to be allied to Lorin's parents already.

A single tear slipped the fluttering lids of the blue-eyed boy. He did his best to ignore the inky splotches on the page as it absorbed his saddened heart. Another student was watching him from across the table, perhaps concerned, maybe just searching for the next victim. Lorin did not look up from his letter. His eyes began to sketch back over the page and hurry on.
A stroke of fear pulsed electrically through the young boy's body; had his parents gotten hold of the letter and read it over? Was somebody else reading the post? Paranoia was striking the child harder than ever, but he found himself with more worry for his little sister. His feelings towards the girl had once been so stubborn and stunted with irritation, but he cared deeply for her regardless of this. After all, she was his only sibling, and she was the only one who ever spared him the time of day. Now he missed her.

Pleading internally that the whole open-letter incident was mere coincidence, his eyes brushed on. Lorin heaved a sigh as he came to the ending assumption that the cousin accused of damaging his toy was most probably not the culprit. Still, what did that matter any more? Would he even be allowed back home for Christmas? And beside, there were much more pressing matters than the need for a quick repairing spell.
Eager to send reply, Lorin began drafting a letter back on his note paper.

Alana,

I am glad to hear that you are making good use of the broom and that you had such a wonderful birthday. I am very much looking forward to someday seeing you in action at Hogwarts during the Quidditch season.
I hope that you are keeping well and I apologise for my lateness in response, although I must confess that I did not find you letter until a later time.

I shall make certain to be extra cautious in my letter-farstening fastening, save any unwanted eyes should try to read it. I have heard rumour that there can be certain spells used to craft a written page in such a manner that no-one other than the intended recipients may read this. Perhaps that is something that I should further look in to.

As where potions classes are concerned, I seem to be doing a fair job, thus far, and have acheved achieved pretty decent grades throughout my subjects. (Although, I am not entirely sure how well I shall pass my flying examinations, come the time).

I was rather fond of that train, true, but with some of the spells I am learning at school I will possibly most likely be able to fix it when I come back home.
Actually, that is another thing I have been meaning to inqui enquire about; do you know if Mother and Father will be allowing be home during the Christmas break, or have they insina insinuated my staying here?
I really don't mind either way. Really.
My apologies for the damp blotches along the page. I think I must have dripped some water onto it.

Lorin C. Finch.

His writing came to an end. Lorin slipped the paper inside and envelope, tightly sealing it with the wax stamping set he had found abandoned in a supply cupboard. He had been sure to check that it was truly lost before retrieving it. After all, the last thing his family needed right now was an accused thief for a son.
Once the letter was fixed tightly to the owls leg, the great bird (who had only just settled its stomach with the crisply done toast) gave yet another hoot and blinked its eyes at Lorin. The boy smiled, stroking a smooth palm across the owl's back.
"Take this to Alana Finch, please," he said kindly, "and try to keep out of the adults' sight."
With that, the bird turned, flapped its vast wings, and took off for the sky.

 

[Alana Finch]

When Alana’s parents had informed her at dinner that she was to go directly to her room and remain there after dinner, the red-eyed girl had immediately begun to think about what she might have done wrong. When nothing came to mind, she piped up, trying to find out why she was being banished. The look in her mother’s eyes had dissuaded further questions, but by the time she stomped up to her room after dinner, Alana had gleaned that there was to be some sort of meeting in the home. Whether it had to do with what her father and mother had been doing in the basement of late was something that Alana intended to find out. Heading into her room, Alana was just about to throw herself on the bed when she noticed that there was something already there. It was an owl, a rather large, full looking one. Alana glanced at it curiously, wondering what it was doing in her room. She never got owls. Drawing slowly closer, the girl’s red eyes drifted towards the owl’s outstretched leg where, sure enough, there was a letter attached.

With nervous fingers, she detached the letter, realization flooding through her as she recognized her older brother’s writing. The owl looked expectantly up at the blonde girl and she bit her lip as she surveyed the room. Her parents had strictly commanded her to remain in her room, and although she wasn’t against going against their command (she did want to know what was going on), she also didn’t want them to find out that Lorin had written back. If they wanted to keep secrets from her, she was going to keep secrets from them. Besides, she had overheard her parents speaking about him the other day, and although they hadn’t sounded as mad as they had the day they had found out about his sorting, they still didn’t sound pleased. They never sounded particularly pleased,however, so Alana had no indication of whether or not Lorin was still persona non grata in the household. Alana thought and thought and finally moved towards her closet with determination. Rifling in her closet, she uncovered an old candy in one of her pockets. Brushing off the lint, she offered it to the owl. “Take it. It’s all I have” she urged at the owl’s hesitancy.

Hearing the doorbell, Alana turned her attention towards the door. People were beginning to arrive. Perhaps seeing who it was would give her some hint about the purpose of her banishment. Slowly, the girl headed towards her door. If she could just get to the staircase, she would be able to see. Before she could reach her doorway, the girl’s door and window slammed shut. She jumped, frightened by the loud noises. Tugging on the door knob twice, Alana realized she was locked in. She kicked the door out of frustration and then howled at the pain. As the owl on her bed hooted, Alana returned to her bed and plopped down, wondering what her parents were doing. After staring at her ceiling for several long moments and hearing the doorbell’s constant noise, she begrudgingly turned her attention to her brother’s letter, ripping the envelope as she opened it to read. With nothing else to do, Alana sought out a piece of fresh parchment and her red quill.

In her slow, childish scrawl, she wrote, stopping whenever the voices grew loud enough for her to almost catch a word.

Lorin,

You did a good job with this letter accept some of it was hard to read because of the water marks. The owl came directly to me, so neither mother nor father knows that I even got this letter. Find that spell. I want to know more about it. It will be useful when I’m finally in school and want to pass notes. That is something that students do, right? I read it in a book, but I’m not sure if young witches and wizards do that in real life. I hate having to do school work all alone now. Mother keeps yelling at me about my spelling and every time I do something wrong.

I am glad to hear that you are doing well in classes, and I am sure mother and father will be pleased as well. How hard can the flying exam be? Are you too scard to go fast? I bet that’s it. Stop being a scardy cat, Lorin. I can’t wait to play quidditch with a real broom. I’d go super fast on it. You’ll see.

I’m afraid I don’t know what mother and father want you to do for Christmas. Haven’t they written to tell you? If they’ve said anything about it, it has been while I am asleep or not in the room. I would ask them now, but Mother and Father have me locked in the room this evening. I bet they’re planning on what they are going to do to you when you come home and they don’t want me to know. Haha. That was pretty funny, right? The doorbell has been ringing all night so I know they have company. I wish you were here to help me figure out who. I know it can’t be a party because otherwise Lily and Melina would be here.

Alana

Sealing the envelope, Alana wondered what she should write on the envelope. Finally, she settled on “Lorin Conor Finch, Hogwarts New Zealand, ravenclaw House” and hoped that was right. She headed back towards the owl who had drifted towards the window and was hooting at it. It wanted out, much like Alana did. It wasn’t until several hours later that Alana woke up in bed, still fully dressed, to find her door opened. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Alana’s eyes drifted towards her window. Thankfully, the owl was not there. It might have been difficult to explain to her parents the presence of an owl.

Sitting up, Alana reached under her pillow for the envelope that she’d addressed. She made a soft clucking sound, not sure if it would make the owl come to her. It didn’t, but opening the window did. As soon as she did, the owl flew from her closet and landed on the sill. “Take this to my brother” she stated sleepily. After the owl had flown off, Alana headed to the door. Seeing that the lights downstairs were still on, Alana headed back into her room and slammed the door to let them know that she was awake. If they wanted her gone, there was no way she was going down there until she wanted to.