Odd Encounter

It was a chalky overcast day on Carlton street, and everybody who lived there would tell you that today was one of the nicer days. The byproduct of being next door to the largest iron smelters in all of Britain.

But this was life. People needed work and the factory was hungry for workers. So despite the noxious air that smothered Carlton street more and more people flooded in every day.

The hustle and bustle unceasing as people and carriages moved to and fro through the muddy cobblestone streets.

Just off the street, a boy stood concealed inside an alleyway. He was dressed in riff raff patchwork faded blue garments that hung looses over his slim frame, the sloppy stichwork evidently his own handiwork. And a frazzled brown cap sat snug over his dirty blonde locks, partially shrouding his the hard lines etched onto his face, but not so much that it covered the grime that stuck to his face like a rash.

He stood concealed inside the shadows between the building and his honey brown eyes stared out under his tattered cap. Scanning the people scurrying past. His gaze was furtive and calculating, a guile unsuited to a child that young, but that went unnoticed by everybody that walked past. The lone child hidden in the alley, ignored as easily as trash on the side of the road.

His eyes gleamed as they drew towards a man wearing a somewhat worn linen dress shirt and vest. But that wasn't what caught his eye, instead it was the handkerchief that sloppily hung from the vest breastpocket.

And with that the boy moved forward towards the man. His gait unnatural, almost scuttling he bumped through the crowd and due to a mixture of his size and demeanor people quickly forgot him.

When the boy reached the man walking the other way he angled towards his breastpocket and in a single motion took the handkerchief and continued blending into the crowd. The subsequent scream of the man only coming when the boy was half way across the street and once more entering the side alley beside the local pharmacy.

And from there he kept moving. Navigating deeper and deeper through a complex array of dank alleys and small holes in fences. The filthy residents in the alley eying the boy as he scuttled past, appraising his small hunched figure with languid interest.

The boy eventually leaving the labarinthian maze of alleys and coming out on a bustling cobbled road, lined with storefront stalls.

"4 pennies! It only cost 3 last week." Screamed the voice of a stern looking plump woman, who waved her hands incensed at a greengrocer who smirked in faux consternation.

"I'm sorry Helen, times are becoming difficult and things are looking to get worse. The bakeries are charging higher prices because the Army are mass purchacing supplies to prepare for war with Russia," the man said plactatingly as he took a silver shilling and four bronze pennies and handed over a bag to another customer.

"Chh, fine. Charles, give me two loaves," said Helen with a sour face as she fingered 8 pennies onto the table and took the bag giving the grocer a scathing look and storming off.

The boy heard all this as he passed but his target wasn't the grocer and instead his eyes roamed past the assorted shop signs hanging over the street.

'Thorn and Son's - Reputable tailors since 1734,' a stuffy store surrounded by well worn men and woman, who observed the well polished window displays filled with tailored suits and exuberant frilly dressed

'Divet's fantastic pharmaceutical emporium,' a somewhat dodgy looking store, with wacky purple and green colours covering the chipped wood and an offputting pungent odour wafting out from the wide open shop door.

'Willy Wallers confectionery - Since 1841,' this one made the boy stop for a moment his eyes gleaning with desire for a moment, but an unnatural coldness shook him from his momentary stupor. His eyes peeling away from the red and white stained wood storefront, and its windows filled with rows of chocolate and sweets in all shapes and sizes.

The sound of the squealing awed children shrouding the store, and the chasternation and mirth of their parents almost imperceptably turning the boys face downcast.

'Union street attorney's office,' another dull snooty store for the kind of adults the kid saw living in Mayfair.

'The cloaked dagger,' Upon seeing that last sign the boys pace increased through the crowd and moved towards the somewhat shabby looking public house. He entered through the small from outdoor benches outside, where several men and woman laughed and drank uproariously, allowing his entrance to be largely unnoticed.

Inside the pungent fumes of smoke filled the air, but the boy could also smell the alcohol and the odd sour sweatlike smell he could never quite pinpoint. But the boy only frowned and adjusted quick, already somewhat used to the Cloaked Dagger.

"Waitress get me anotha bitter, put it on me tab!" shouted one man as he smacked the ass of a young blonde waitress in a frilly blue and white dress. The woman giving a small unamused look at the group of men who were laughing at the actions of their friend, but nonetheless giving him a small smile and walking over to the bar.

Ignoring the almost deafening noice the boy stared through the low hanging smoke across the several oak stained tables filled with plates of food and tankards of ale that raucous patrons consumed. His eyes only briefly stopping on the large mural on the wall of a rusted orange dagger and bayonetted musket that hung encased on the wall. Both engraved with a half withered half living tree.

'In memory of Cpl Roger Kirkson, the cloaked dagger, who died in his service of king and country to prevent the french scourge during the Napoleonic wars. December 19th 1784 - June 30th 1815.'

He remembered the owner talking about his grandfather, claiming so many things about the man with the epiphet 'the cloaked dagger'. And he'd more than once asked about odd engraving that always seemed to transfix his eye, but the owner was clueless, instead making some grandiose claims that maybe his grandfather was secretly the bastard of some noble.

"Why if it isn't Elfric," shouted a jovial voice through the clamour, making the boy swivel at the name. His eyes being greeted by a barrel chested man with a wide smile, staring at him leant against the bar.

"George," the boy responded succinctly as he moved towards the intimidating man whose smile still stuck to his face, but Elfric saw no warmth in it.

"Ah cold as always huh. Well never mind. You got something again for me ey?" George sighed, his jovial smile melting away as he gave a bored glance at Elfric. His question eliciting no response from him but only the slapping of several handkerchiefs and a small silver metallic pocketwatch.

George's large hand devoured the items, and scrutinised them in his palm. "Glad to see your doing well for yourself," he said, lightly tossing the watch in the air and snatching it back.

"Tell you what the for the 4 handkerchiefs and the fob watch I'll say give you a 12 shillings," he said, his smile returning but this time all joviality had vanished, their was only a cold calculation remaining.

Elfric rustled at the price and fixed gazed with the older man. The short clash of eyes only lasting a moment George leaned over the bar and grasped Elfircs skeletal shoulder, sending a jolt of pain through the boy and dragging him closer. "12 shillings," he whispered, a cold finality in his tone.

Elfric levelled the man a searing look of hatred at his words, but George ignored them easily as he pocketed everything casually and placed 12 shillings before Elfric. The boy snatching them up so quickly that nobody would have believed the shillings were ever there.

"But say I'm not completely cold hearted, just purely from my charitable heart I'll chuck in a free meal. After all you're looking real skinny these days, you wanna look after yourself, I wouldn't want you to end up another filthy street rat dead in the streets of London. Consider this an act of a good samaritan, to keep the streets clean," George said, removing his hand from Elfric after imparting his words. Elfric bristled at his words but said nothing and walked away without another word.

After taking George up on his act of charity Elfric left not taking another glance at George and leaving the cloaked dagger behind. The early onset of dusk had darkened the sky and the lamplighters were already crawling the streets, filling the air with smoke and the horrible smell of gas. His eyes alert as he weaved throughout the now calmer streets.

The caution lessening as he entered the complex network of alleys that Elfric knew like the back of his hand. A torn hole here and rooftop there and soon Elfric had left the cloaked dagger far behind him. The sky now fully black, filled with inumerable glistening stars, though the haze of incandescent orange from the thousands of lamplights tried their hardest to keep the starts from view.

His tense shoulders relaxed as he pushed away a large metal panel fence and entered a large forested grove. His feet leading him almost by instinct to the almost indiscernable path that had become overgrown form years of disrepair. The path leading strait to a huge moss covered building that sat eerily dark compared to the burning brightness of the rest of the city.

Unconsciously his feet seemed to speed up until his vision was completely filled by the massive three story building that stretched as far as his eyes could see.

"Mister Ordell, I presume," said a cold baritone voice, making Elfric stop like a startled cat. His eyes desperately search for the intruder who had called out to him, as he began to back up in slow measured steps. But besides the eerie gaze of an owl he saw nobody in the vicinity.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. It might be awfully traumatising if I have to stun a new student.

Can't be losing you now can I. Took me long enough to find you…" the voice grumbled. Making Elfric freeze uncertainty paralysing him. He knew the voice was telling the truth, if he moved he'd regret it.

"What do you want!" Elfric shouted, projecting his voice as loud as possible, hoping the others inside might here him.

"Oh dear, I would appreciate it you'd keep it down, I find that with age my ears are getting more sensitive. And we wouldn't want to wake your little friends inside now would we, not after I made them sleep so soundly," the voice drawled, a detached amusement lingering in the echoing voice.

"What have you done to them?" Growled Elfric, his eyes flashing a faint gold as he stared around.

"My how peculiar. Are you doing that on purpose. Well no matter, it doesn't matter. To answer your second question nothing. I've just administered a harmless little sleeping charm on each of them. Best night sleep they'll ever have I guarantee it," echoed the voice, again he felt he was telling the truth.

"And for the first question… Why, what I want is you," the voice said after a dramatic pause, the words stilling Elfric for a moment until his eyes flashed again, and he felt another jolt in his head. He was being misleading.

"Clarify," responded Elfric, the familiar burn making confidence return to him. It hadn't lead him astray yet.

"Facinating," the voice once again echoed, an undertone of curiosity in his tone. "Ahem. To clarify, i'm here to bring you yout acceptance letter and to clarify any of your doubts before you collect your school equipment and enroll."

"Acceptance letter? Enroll? where, to like a school?" Elfric responded confused by the whole situation. What acceptance letter, he hadn't applied to anything.

"Why Hogwarts of course," said the voice this time clearly coming from one direction and Elfric watched in horror as he saw the owl move from its perch and fly towards him. Its body morphing until it turned into a tall blue robed figure before him. "The finest magical institution on all of the world."

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Unedited as of 04/12/22