Snippet #2644412

Owls are a common sight in the wizarding world. The silent flap of wings, the quiet rustle of feathers, or the soft hoot of a winged messenger are rarely given a second thought by magical folk, so used to the birds passing in and out of their homes with letters and parcels. Diagon Alley is no exception. Here, in the heart of London’s busy wizarding district, owls are a daily occurrence. Long-distnace business is conducted with the creatures, birthday presents sent in their claws, and private mail wrapped around their legs without a second thought. It is one reason why no one has batted an eye at the snowy owl perched atop the intricately detailed sign for Flourish and Blotts.

To most there would seem nothing out of the ordinary about this owl; pure white feathers mark the majority of the owl’s body, while her back and the span of her wings are decorated with light grey plumage. She’s of moderate size for an owl of her species, not too large, nor too small. But, the intelligent gleam in her eyes and the way her head cocks to the side, as if inspecting the street, are all clues that this owl is not your ordinary family pet. She sits too still, as if waiting for the event that has drawn her and so many of her peers to the alley.

The fact that the majority – if not all – of the alley’s customers are resistance members might be another reason none give her a second glance. Most within the resistance know of Sunmi Ahn’s animgi form, used more often than not to glide within the borders of some reported unmentionable’s abode to seek information for her cause.

A glance at the grey feathers on her back might hint at the truth, for the grey features are gathered in the shape of a larger feather. Or, if that is not enough, the mark on the owl’s claw matches exactly with the ring always worn by the witch. Though, even if the resistance members notice the silent owl perched up high, Sun doubts that few will give her more than a cursory glance. Most are waiting for the battle to commence, it can only be seconds or minutes away. The tension in the alley is palpable, wands within easy grasp, and eyes constantly moving.

Sun’s own sight, enhanced by her owl’s eyes, catches the subtle movement of a gyrfalcon, Gusty. He’s doing a remarkable job of being discrete, considering the majority of the time that they’re flying together Sun is snapping her beak in irritation as Gusty dives after a rabbit or rat. She’s more than a little surprised to find Augustus remaining still and not chasing after a particular vermin, though perhaps that has something to do with Diagon Alley being largely devoid of any delectable mice, lemmings, or rabbits.

The owl’s gaze shifts from her winged friend in favour of once again scouring the cobbled streets. She’s searching for other familiar faces when the first crack rips through the air. It’s followed by a cacophony of more sharp sounds, dark, menacing figures appearing throughout the alley with each one. Above, brooms shoot out of the sky, raining bright spells on their targets. Many wear masks, or have spelled themselves with the appearance of dementors. All make a terrifying sight, yet it is this terror that Sun has dedicated herself to fighting. Rather than jump into the air and flee, the owl glides to the pathway beneath, transforming from animal to human in seconds. Small feet land with barely a thud, Sun’s wand already gracing her hand as she turns the weapon on the closest masked attacker.

A non-verbal spell sends a flash of violet light from the tip of her wooden companion, hitting the unmentionable in the chest and sending him flying backwards. Sun can already see the wizard twisting in the air, attempting to right themselves and counter-attack. She doesn’t give him a chance, fire explodes from her wand, engulfing the wizard in a whirlwind of flame. The wizard screams, water spouting from his wand in an erratic and desperate attempt to put out the fire. He stumbles back down the street, leaving a trail of soot and water in his wake, however Sun’s attention has already turned to the next unmentionable.

This unmentionable screams, high and shrill, her eyes snapping onto Sun like a predator marking her prey. The dark witch raises her wand and a shrieked spell sees lethal serpents thrown from the tip. They hiss as they fly through the air, venom dripping from sharp, protruding fangs. Even as Sun takes a step back in retreat she pulls her wand up, muttering her own counter-spell and sending beams of magical light towards the attacking serpents. She’s almost too slow, the snakes are so close that she can see every individual, glistening scale, feel the heat of their feral gaze, and then her enchantment finds its mark. Before her eyes the snakes transform into twisted twigs, their once fatal fangs becoming harmless wood. The snake-branches fall to the ground and the unmentionable cries in outrage, her eyes beneath the mask popping in fury at her foiled spell.

The other witch’s wand raises again, pointing directly at Sun’s heart. A cold green light begins to appear at the tip, and Sun can almost hear the death spell being recited from the unmentionable’s lips. Sun’s own wand was never lowered, and now she projects her next enchantment out, a shield that she hopes is strong enough against whatever the witch facing her has coming. Yet, Sun never has a chance to find out if her shield can weather a harsh attack, for an unexpected ally swoops down from the sky and carries her rival away. A flash of polished marble, the grating of stone on stone, and all at once Sun’s foe is stolen from the street. Sun blinks in surprise, watching as what appears to be a marble gargoyle carries the screaming unmentionable away in its sharpened talons. If Sun is surprised it’s nothing on the witch she was battling, whose screams of protest and fright can be heard over the loud din of battle.

Finding a moment of relief in battle, Sun’s sharp eyes glide across the alley and she finds what she is searching for within seconds. Atop one of the alley’s shops stands the empty perch that once was home to a carved marble gargoyle, the very same which can now be seen swooping back into the fray to grab another victim. What it did with the witch Sun does not know, nor is she interested in finding out. Instead her attention is pulled once more to the battle of life and death occurring around her. Without a word she leaps back into the fight, her wand flashing as she fires spell after spell at the army of unmentionables. Enchantments rush over her head, one comes dangerously close to slicing through her shoulder, while another knocks her off her feet. Yet, Sun never fails from rising again, determination in the set of her jaw and the flick of her wand. She’ll be damned if the unmentionables win this fight.