A modest cottage purchased with a modest salary, the Nest (as it is affectionately known by the Wigginses) is taller than it is wide, but has coziness to spare. Currently occupied by Penelope Wiggins and Weatherby's younger siblings, the eldest Wiggins child spends his holidays here, his single-windowed room occupying the home's highest floor.
Penelope Wiggins took a brief moment out of her hectic day to affix her signature onto the permission slip that had arrived by mail. Sending Weatherby off for his first year at Hogwarts was kindling old memories of her own... fond memories...
She fixed up the envelope and held it out for the owl to grasp in its beak - without a second's delay, the bird puffed up its chest and glided through the window to deliver the mail to her first-born.
A black cloud dissolving into a flock of crows, swirling like a tornado. The birds slowly burst into puffs of smoke, which were whisked away by a swift wind; from where the whirlwind of birds faded away, a figure stepped forward, its body and face wreathed in grey. The form walked forward, and the clouds that surrounded the body slowly solidified into shapes - arms, legs, head - all solid, yet fluid with the grace of smoke and vapor. The face - if it could be called a face - leaned forwards. It had no features - only the distinctive oval of a head. Two black pinpricks appeared, swelling bigger by the second, becoming two, gaping eyes, blacker than night, endless and swirling. The nose swelled forward, protruding, extending - it was no longer a nose, but a beak. A sharp beak, shapeless yet unmistakeable all at the same time.
A man with the face of a bird. He raised a finger to his beak. "Shhh...."it whispered.
The beak opened wide, impossibly wide, revealing an endless maw of endless depth. From the recesses, the flock of crows came forth, dozens, then hundreds, then thousands. Their caws grew louder, a sickening symphony as the grey-shrouded figure became obscured in a writhing black film as the flock grew so thick, it blocked out the world.
Weatherby had been frozen in place. He watched in horror as the images morphed in front of him, taunting him. He reached for his wand - but it was gone. He reached for anything - but it was gone, too. He was surrounded by the black void, an infinite space created by flapping wings and throaty caws.
_____________
Weatherby bolted upright. He was panting. He slapped around himself, getting his bearings - his body, shivering cold, the blankets around him, and his wand on his nightstand. He pressed his palms into his forehead. The dream - the bird-faced man - it kept happening.
Idea missing.
The Wiggins Family Residence, The Nest
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