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Radueriel Benson

in a cavalcade of anger and fear there will be feasting and dancing

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Radueriel Benson

At long last, Radueriel Benson finished the painting he was working on.


The canvas was only about three square feet, and he filled the background with this sort of deep amber that looked, at least to him, like the sky during sunrise. Right there in the center, he had rendered as best he could the most magnificent barn owl, whom he had affectionately nicknamed ‘Chunky,’ owed to the fact that the glorious creature was fashioned in the shape of a sphere. Perhaps not the best for aerodynamics, but absolutely the best in every other respect.


If he ever were to have a pet, he’d want an owl just like Chunky. Or maybe nobody would notice if he just… adopted the lil guy.


In any event, Rad painted him in as much detail as he could. It had taken him weeks, mainly because it was such a pain to get up here that by the time he did, it was usually time to be somewhere else. But the weeks chipped by so many little bits of paint, and so at last Rad was putting on the finishing touches with the thinnest of brushes dipped delicately into black paint.


It was morning, before most people woke up, the best time to do some painting unobserved. But just then he heard the soft sound of feet on stone steps, and with a jolt realized he had no way to hide. The stairs were the only way off the tower aside from the unspeakable, and as much as he loved Chunky, Rad didn’t think the owl could very well fly him away.


He was scrambling to clean up, shrinking down the easel and canvas, shoving his paintbrush haphazardly into his hair, when the curly bob of hair owned by the one and only Simon Reed popped into view. Ugh. Simon. He hadn’t spoken to the Ravenclaw since that duel— but wait a minute. He still had those cupcakes in his bag from Santiago’s class, didn’t he? He’d all but forgotten about them and the revenge he’d planned for Simon.


Better late than never. All he had to do was convince the boy to eat one. “Hullo, Simon,” Rad said, trying not to betray his intentions with his voice.

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