Scanning through my room I chose an all time favourite, Harry Potter. But my memories of the characters weren't as sharp as before, I don't remember when the characters had their birthdays or what their favorite school subject was.
So I took the easy way out and came up with my own character, an elderly wizard that missed his train back to wizard-world and had to walk around a muggle town.
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The Wizard and the Street Singer
“Please be in time, please be in time,” muttered the old man to himself as he rushed towards the train station. It was apparent that this old man was in a hurry, and it was also apparent that no one dared to be in his way. Disheveled gray hair, fuzzy eyebrows, and eyes that seemed to turn glassy every now and then. His big black robe flapped with great vigor, one hand holding tight to a purple top hat, the other clutching a weary bag that seemed to have lived a longer life than its owner.
People would afterward say that not even the turnstile dared to oppose him, seeing the elder pass through the machine ticket control without even showing a ticket. But as sudden the elder appeared in front of everyone, he disappeared. What happened to the old man? He was seen taking the escalator down, but never arriving at the bottom…
“I’m sorry, Mr. Vandiril,” said the conductor as the old man tried to catch his breath. “But the train has already left the station.”
“But I can still see it!” exclaimed Vandiril. “Hang on, I just need to…”
“No,” said the conductor sternly and put a hand on Vandiril from raising his wand. “No apparition. You wait for the next train like everyone else.”
Vandiril put down his wand with a grunt. “How long until the next one?”
“Two hours,” said the conductor bracing himself for the incoming complaints.
“WHAT!?” screamed Vandiril. “What am I supposed to do during these two hours?!”
“Sightseeing of course,” said the conductor. “It’s your first time in the city, right? Have a look around.”
The old man wandered grumpily down the streets, the pavement colored in black and white. The stores were bustling with life and the people were busy with their own lives. One thing Vandiril understood about the place was that the location was filled with variations. He had difficulty to pinpoint what sort of culture was typical here since he noticed tendencies and habits from all over the world. Just through the main street, the encounters were filled with restaurants from Italy, China, Thailand and countries from the middle-east. The stores were all sorts, from electronics, costumes, and medicines to hotels and sports gears. “It’s like an advanced form of a flea market,” Vandiril thought to himself.
Wandering through the bustling streets, a catchy tune grabbed the attention of the old man. It was flirty, mysterious and a baseline filled with tension. As the intro ended, a voice started to sing, stumbling on the words and hesitating to sing more resolute. Vandiril followed the music and a few minutes later found the source blocked by a circle of streetwalkers that was just as curious as Vandiril to know more about who was behind the music.
It was a girl barely of teenage years. Dressed in an oversized jacket and worn out jeans, holding a guitar too big for her size, singing for whoever wanted to listen. Her brown hair framed a pair of almond shaped eyes darting from the guitar to the people and then to the ground. The girl's voice would rise and then falter, wavering as the curious bystanders continue with their walks.
Vandiril gave out a holler and started to clap in rhythm with the music. The girl flinched at the sound and sought out the old man’s eyes. Vandiril, in turn, gave out a big smile and started to move in a dance around the girl, holding an imaginary partner. The girl had to stop with her singing to laugh out loud over the bizarre situation.
The other onlookers gave a hearty laugh seeing the old man dancing so passionately, they continued to also clap in rhythm with Vandirils dancing.
The girl was unsure about what to do. She stood still and clapped along with the others to the elder, but Vandiril danced closer to the girl and nudged at her guitar followed with a joyful wink.
The youngling understood and picked up the tune once again. The song was more upbeat, more fun, her voice was also much more confident. The voice was sweet and calming, like a hot butterbeer on a cold day. The voice was precious. All the participants shared this joyous moment, forgetting about their own lives to spend some of their cherished time with strangers. As the song ended, the applause increased in volume.
The old man dropped to the ground, noticing that his feet were a little bit more tired than he expected, heaving and panting for air.
The young girl went around the spectators with a cap which they gladly dropped some coins in. Some even asked for a handshake and took out a small metal-box which made the young girl hold out two fingers in a ‘v’ and smile towards the box.
Well, the moment was over and the public moved on with their lives. Vandiril stood up and grabbed his bag which he dropped on the ground as he started to dance. A few pokes on his side made him jerk and noticed that the girl was behind him. She gave a curtsy and handed him something.
“It’s a CD with my songs and a few covers,” said the girl with a small smile. “Thank you, it was really fun!”
“It was a pleasure,” said Vandiril returning the smile. “Didn’t want to let the magic moment slip.”
She gave a laugh and picked up her guitar, thanking Vandiril once again before leaving.
The old man waved towards the small back of the girl. His eyes then narrowed as he looked more closely at the present the girl gave him.
“What in Merlin’s beard is a CD?”
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