The sun cam in through the cracks of the worn tan curtains, an d the fresh from the morning washed away the dullness of the little attic.
Perhaps because of the proximity of the sea, the humidity here is as high as ever. Even in the attick, there is still moss growing in the corner and climbing up to expand their territory, leaving a piece of inexplicable vitality.
When the men in London are still standing with hands in their pockets, or with their lovers, the people of Torpoint are already up and busy.
Of course, all these vibrant images have nothing to do with the residents of Taimo Lane.
Marco is a resident of the dark alley east of Torpoint. Although he was born in Plymoth, what does it matter?
The rich and the poor will naturally have their choices. In this alley full of “ideal” and full of “future”, it is much safer than where the multi-party forces of Plymouth meet.
Here there are not too many official sights, and there are no key personnel of Interpol (tn: chaebol monsters?- no clue) those are in Plymouth! In the dark port city under this light, there are various shady transactions that sink below the surface of the water.
Although Marco is not old, but with his natural cleverness and extraordinary savy, he lived here day and night. Two hours ago, he had just returned from the colorful night scene, and was sleeping on a slightly old bed. There are a few more cargo ships on the dock and he can manage these.
Just as he was lingering in the dreamworld, there was a sudden rush of flapping wing outside the curtains, as if something had landed on the narrow window sill.
There was three soft taps, just like someone knocking on the door. (tn: there is a reason I only made an in math, though i don’t know what it was for. XP)
Tap, tap, –
It was three time, and probably the last time, the old window glass finally caved in and glass fragments fell to the floor. If it weren’t for the curtains shards would have surely gone everywhere. (tn: hope Marco is where slippers)
The dilapidated quilt was quickly pulled off, and Marco sat up with his eyes open. Although Marco is not awake he still looked around.
Outside the window, a light grey owl was standing there, and the big eyes stared at Marco. Not long after, the owl ducked its head and screamed dryly, seemingly a little embarrassed about his mistake.
Marco’s eyes went wide, and for a moment didn’t know what to say. Because he actually saw an owl with the agility and movements only a human would reveal.
“Is the owl’s IQ really that high?” Marco found himself a bit skeptical about the trends of life. (tn: Don’t worry Marco thats completely normal.)
Just as Marco had a question, the owl screeched softly, then extended his left talon and placed a letter on the edge of the window sill.
On the thick parchment envelope, the address was written in emerald green ink, and no stamp was place on the envelop. Marco stunned reached for it. He saw a red way seal and a shield coat of arms on the top. Around the uppercase “H” was a lion, raven, badger, and snake each occupying a quarter of the place.
At the top of the coat of arms, there was a strange and familiar word for Marco.
Hogwarts?” Marco said aloud, full of surprise and confusion.
Instead of rushing to open the envelope, he stared at the coat of arms, and his thoughts drifted further and further away. After awhile he came back to reality.
He quickly through the envelop on the bed and curled his body while holding his head with his thin, pale arms. The dull, black hair was trembling between his fingers, seemingly tell a story of the bitter past. (tn: idk)
Suddenly a sea breeze came in through the window and it was cold.
Yes, today in June it is still hot.
The sun has gradually increase a little, and the touch of warmth returned to the offshore town. Marco sat on the roof slope outside the window.
Looking out, you can see the sparkling waters of the River Thames. The rising sun came up from the water plating the blue water with a layer of sparkling gold.
He looked in the distance with a sly look, but he help the unopened letter in his hand. The letter was so light, but Marco felt at the time, it was as heavy as his heart.
The envelope was gently opened and the two sheets of stationary were neatly folded together and pulled out by Marco. He lifted the corner of the letter and read the beautiful handwriting.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (President of the International Magic Federation, President of the Wizarding Association, Order of Merlin First Class)
Dear Mr. Marco McLean:
We are please to inform you that you have been accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required book and equipment. The semester is scheduled to begin September 1. We will wait for the owl to reply back by July 31.
Marco repeatedly read the contents of hte letter several times and then turned to the next page, but before he even looked at it, he pouted and stuffed the letter back in to the envelope.
“Yes, yes. I have to spend money,” Marco whispered. “Tuition is exempt, but miscellaneous fees can’t escape. I should have remembered!”
He sighed and climbed back into the attic with a sullen expression on his face. He pulled out a few grey papers from the small cabinet next to the bed and put them on the counter. The a dirty, dusty suitcase was pulled out from under the bed, and the lid was open, and a long thin box was pulled out from inside.
This was a pen, although it was not a great brand, it was still the only birthday gift that his deceased mother left him. It is also the most treasured thing in his life, except money.
“Right you still need ink.”
He muttered as he prepared to write a reply. Not far away the pale grey owl was standing on the bed, watching Marco.
Although his penmanship was a bit rusty, he hadn’t forgotten to spell words.
End the end he had to waste a few sheets of paper.
Watching the owl fly away, it quickly disappeared on the horizon, and Marco’s heart was slightly calmer.
For the next two months, for the past Marco, it may have been an ordinary life. Now everything was different.
Marco bid farewell to the small attic that was his home for the last three year and also bid farewell to the bar owner, Angel who gave him his first job. He sold everything he could sell on the black market to the merchants and then booked a ferry to Plymouth.
Only when he arrived in Plymouth could he book a train to London.
“Go and visit mother first.” Marco leaned on the fence at the edge of the ferry deck and look at the opposite end of the river.
The time spent on the river was not long, and the distance between the two shores was not far. Not long later, Marco was standing in front of a slightly messy tomb.
At the time, the 9 year old Marco spent the last of the money left by his father and gave his mother a decent tombstone.
“Mother” Marco caressed the tombstone that was cleaned up by him. Even though it was already noon, it was still very cold. “It seems this is the second time I have called you mother. “
He paused and went on to say: “To tell the truth, I can’t call you so naturally until now. I don’t know if I should say it this way, or if I have this qualification. But. Anyways, now you are my mother. My . . . Mother.”
Just as he turned back, a touch of golden light swayed through his field of vision. In the setting sun, it gave off an unique brilliance.
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