Where the Blackbird Flies
written by Dora Scamander
Beth Blackbird is a fifteen year old girl living in the dark year 1924, when Grindelwald is slowly growing in power. She roams the New York streets, homeless, a witty, quick-tongued girl who pickpockets and steals food from marketplaces for a living. Then she gets offered a position as a recruit and spy for Grindelwald himself... Please let me know if you enjoy this story so far. I would love to hear your feedback!
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
3
Reads
495
In the dark
Chapter 1
Beth slipped her hand gracefully into the waistcoat pocket of a man in front of her. Touching something that felt like a necklace, she pulled it out without looking at it and slipped it into her pocket. The whole process took only one second, and then Beth was retreating to a deserted alley off the main street to inspect her days work.
She had pocketed an apple, a bread bun, one wallet, which contained a note and a few coins, and the necklace. Well, that was enough to last her tomorrow. She tossed the apple, caught it again, and bit into it, savouring the sweet juicy taste that filled her mouth. Then she tucked the rest of her prizes back into her dress pocket, gathered her cloak more tightly about her, and set off for home.
Well, it wasn't exactly home. Just a little bank under an old bridge that ran over a small ravine. It wasn't Beth's favourite living place, but it was just temporary. She would find a new place soon. When she arrived, dark was just beginning to come over the sky. The moon peeped out from behind a cloud. Beth sat down on her old checked rug and finished the apple, thinking hard.
Something strange had happened that afternoon. She remembered how she had slipped her hand into the wallet of a rich lady who was talking to a shop keeper, and how she had foolishly trod on the lady's puffy ground-sweeping dress by accident. The police had come, which had happened before, and she had run, which was normal, but then the strange thing had happened. Suddenly, before she had even reached it, she was crouching behind a barrel in the dark alleyway she had been running to, and the police were running past.
How? How had she suddenly been transported to her destination?
'"Psst."
Beth didn't jump, but her body tensed and she straightened.
"Beth!"
Beth looked around at the sound of her name, and saw, through the misty night, a smallish figure silhouetted there, holding on to the edge of the bridge above his head.
Beth recognised the figure, and half sighed, half huffed. "What are you doing here?"
The figure stepped under the bridge. It was a boy, probably about thirteen years of age, dressed in ragged clothes. He had bright blue eyes that suggested a bright imagination. His hair was extremely dirty, so it was hard to tell the colour, but it would have been chestnut.
"What do you want, Terry?" Beth said, examining the wallet she had stolen, tracing the fine threads of the design with one finger.
"I was down at the docks," The boy Terry began excitedly, but Beth interrupted him. "Lower your voice, won't you?" She hissed. "This is the only place I've got right now, and if the cops find it then I'll have nowhere to go."
Terry obliged and went on hurriedly. "I was down at the docks pocketing whatever I could find, 'cause I didn't have good luck yesterday, and then - then something amazin' happened."
Beth raised her eyebrows at the fellow pickpocket.
"I was in the market, see, and there was a row a' stalls selling all sorts a' stuff along the street," Terry continued, pretending not to be disappointed at Beth's lack of awe at his last statement. "And then this gentlemen came walking down the street. Tall, 'e was, and he looked quite proud and haughty, you know? Well, there's I was, just watching 'im, wondering if there's any valuables I could get off him, when he pulled out this long smooth stick thing out his pocket. It was 'bout this long." Terry held out his hands in demonstration, and they were a little less then a foot apart.
"Anyways, he held this stick loosely in one hand, and you wouldn't 'ave seen it if I hadn't been watchin' 'im closely. Didn't know what 'e was going to do with a stick, but that's what he had. Well, he walked along a bit, till he came to this other man in the street, and this one was shorter and scraggly like, with a weasel face. I didn't like the look of 'im. They talked for a while, but their voices was always getting louder and louder, and soon they were shaking their fists at each other. The shorter one looked like 'e might punch the taller, but then the tall man raised that stick and the shorter one backed off. Then the tall one walked off, and I thought that was the end of the matter, but then the shorter one suddenly whirled around, and now 'e 'ad a stick too, and then -" Terry paused for dramatic effect, "Light came whizzing out that stick. The tall man heard it and he turned around too, and ducked. The whizzing light hit the stall behind 'im and it burst into flames."
Beth couldn't pretend any longer. "What do you mean, it came out the stick?" She asked.
"Well, I dunno, do I?" But it's righty mysterious." Terry sniffed importantly. "Anyways, I gotta get back. Thought you'd like to hear 'bout that." He vanished into the night.
Beth lay down. Terry's story had been interesting, no doubt about that. Whizzing light out a stick? That was a new one. But she could tell from Terry's tone of voice that he was not making the story up. Deep in thought, Beth closed her eyes. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
She had pocketed an apple, a bread bun, one wallet, which contained a note and a few coins, and the necklace. Well, that was enough to last her tomorrow. She tossed the apple, caught it again, and bit into it, savouring the sweet juicy taste that filled her mouth. Then she tucked the rest of her prizes back into her dress pocket, gathered her cloak more tightly about her, and set off for home.
Well, it wasn't exactly home. Just a little bank under an old bridge that ran over a small ravine. It wasn't Beth's favourite living place, but it was just temporary. She would find a new place soon. When she arrived, dark was just beginning to come over the sky. The moon peeped out from behind a cloud. Beth sat down on her old checked rug and finished the apple, thinking hard.
Something strange had happened that afternoon. She remembered how she had slipped her hand into the wallet of a rich lady who was talking to a shop keeper, and how she had foolishly trod on the lady's puffy ground-sweeping dress by accident. The police had come, which had happened before, and she had run, which was normal, but then the strange thing had happened. Suddenly, before she had even reached it, she was crouching behind a barrel in the dark alleyway she had been running to, and the police were running past.
How? How had she suddenly been transported to her destination?
'"Psst."
Beth didn't jump, but her body tensed and she straightened.
"Beth!"
Beth looked around at the sound of her name, and saw, through the misty night, a smallish figure silhouetted there, holding on to the edge of the bridge above his head.
Beth recognised the figure, and half sighed, half huffed. "What are you doing here?"
The figure stepped under the bridge. It was a boy, probably about thirteen years of age, dressed in ragged clothes. He had bright blue eyes that suggested a bright imagination. His hair was extremely dirty, so it was hard to tell the colour, but it would have been chestnut.
"What do you want, Terry?" Beth said, examining the wallet she had stolen, tracing the fine threads of the design with one finger.
"I was down at the docks," The boy Terry began excitedly, but Beth interrupted him. "Lower your voice, won't you?" She hissed. "This is the only place I've got right now, and if the cops find it then I'll have nowhere to go."
Terry obliged and went on hurriedly. "I was down at the docks pocketing whatever I could find, 'cause I didn't have good luck yesterday, and then - then something amazin' happened."
Beth raised her eyebrows at the fellow pickpocket.
"I was in the market, see, and there was a row a' stalls selling all sorts a' stuff along the street," Terry continued, pretending not to be disappointed at Beth's lack of awe at his last statement. "And then this gentlemen came walking down the street. Tall, 'e was, and he looked quite proud and haughty, you know? Well, there's I was, just watching 'im, wondering if there's any valuables I could get off him, when he pulled out this long smooth stick thing out his pocket. It was 'bout this long." Terry held out his hands in demonstration, and they were a little less then a foot apart.
"Anyways, he held this stick loosely in one hand, and you wouldn't 'ave seen it if I hadn't been watchin' 'im closely. Didn't know what 'e was going to do with a stick, but that's what he had. Well, he walked along a bit, till he came to this other man in the street, and this one was shorter and scraggly like, with a weasel face. I didn't like the look of 'im. They talked for a while, but their voices was always getting louder and louder, and soon they were shaking their fists at each other. The shorter one looked like 'e might punch the taller, but then the tall man raised that stick and the shorter one backed off. Then the tall one walked off, and I thought that was the end of the matter, but then the shorter one suddenly whirled around, and now 'e 'ad a stick too, and then -" Terry paused for dramatic effect, "Light came whizzing out that stick. The tall man heard it and he turned around too, and ducked. The whizzing light hit the stall behind 'im and it burst into flames."
Beth couldn't pretend any longer. "What do you mean, it came out the stick?" She asked.
"Well, I dunno, do I?" But it's righty mysterious." Terry sniffed importantly. "Anyways, I gotta get back. Thought you'd like to hear 'bout that." He vanished into the night.
Beth lay down. Terry's story had been interesting, no doubt about that. Whizzing light out a stick? That was a new one. But she could tell from Terry's tone of voice that he was not making the story up. Deep in thought, Beth closed her eyes. It was a long time before she fell asleep.
