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(France) At Home
Author: Gabrielle Delacour
Date: 03-21-08 17:16
Pacing in her room Gabby reads the letter that's just arrived from Rosalinda. It's also from Estella but one of the first things Rosalinda has written is I'm the one writing because we arent' sure of letters written by Nons are going out. We do know that Muggle borns aren't even getting letters in.
From the doorway Apolline Delacour chides, "Less pacing, more work. You have an essay to finish."
"But it's Saturday," Gabby protests.
"Yes, you are correct; nonetheless, you will sit down and complete that History of Magic essay. If you cannot complete the schoolwork here at home, then you WILL finish out the term at Beauxbatons."
"Yes, Mother," Gabby says with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.
With Hogwarts thinking she fits their definition of a pureblood, Gabby was allowed home for the spring holiday. Once home her parents insisted Gabby remain. With Fleur and Bill in France now, with many members of Bill's family in hiding, and with the possibility that someone at Hogwarts or at the British Ministry will at any time now realize that Gabby is not a pureblood at all, the Delacours decided that their youngest is no longer safe in Great Britain. Apolline had even already arranged for Gabby to complete her coursework at home.
As headmistress of Hogwarts, Harriet Snider had protested when Gabby did not return to school after Easter. When the Delacours reminded the woman that Gabby is a French citizen and to take any issues she has to the French Ministry of Magic, Snider quickly shut up. The return of one student whom she believes for now to be a pureblood is definately not worth an international incident.
In a way, Gabby is relieved not to be back there. She has a very vivid imagination on what would happen to her once her less than pureblood status were figured out. It's not something Harriet Snider would take well given how long Gabby's been passing as a pureblood.
At her desk, the History of Magic essay in front of her to complete, Gabby glances at the door to see if her mother has gone then unfolds Rosalinda's letter and starts reading it again.
Ninth Apparition Lesson
Author: Ronan Eastwick
Date: 03-21-08 17:57
Despite the steady rain that fell from the sparse, gray clouds overhead, Ronan felt more comfortable at his ninth apparition lesson than at any of the previous ones. In February, when they'd first begun, it had been incredibly, bitterly cold. It wasn't exactly warm now, but it wasn't the chilly, wintry weather it had been for so long. Spring had definitely sprung and summer wasn't far away.
It had been a whole month since the eighth apparition lesson, which had occurred before Easter break. Ronan did feel a little bit rusty but it didn't take him very long to remember the three Ds and to put them into action. He'd successfully apparated before Easter and soon did it again and again, though not without burning up some energy along the way. Apparition was tricky business, even to the most experienced of wizards.
The only thing that didn't seem to change since the earlier lessons was Professor Gerti Crouch's penchant for belittling all of her students. Also, the Carrows and Willard Flume had filled in for Professors McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick the last couple of meetings. They were back again, the Carrows threatening, though not yet using, the Cruciatus Curse at every turn. With Professor Miller's arrest at the start of Easter break, a new chaperone joined the others. It was Pansy Parkinson, the new Muggle Studies teacher.
She, like Crouch and the Carrows, was very opinionated as to what she thought of students like Ronan and their ability, or in this case, inability, to do anything right. Even a perfect apparition garnered criticism from Professor Parkinson. Ronan had already gotten an earful, though he did his best to tune her out without making it obvious that he wasn't paying attention. He hadn't heard about Professor Parkinson using an Unforgiveable and hadn't witnessed her doing it either, but that didn't mean she wouldn't follow the Carrows' example if she felt it necessary.
Trying to look suitably downtrodden but not really feeling upset (he knew he was doing a good job), Ronan continued to practice apparating, sometimes doing it well, and sometimes simply needing a little bit more concentration to get it just right.
Outdoor Powwow
Author: Emerald Green
Date: 03-21-08 18:55
Olive pulls the hood of her rain coat up and tightens it to keep drops from running down her neck. With the rainfall become more steady and persistent, Etta, Jill, Alexis, and she would have preferred to stay inside at the common commons. Unfortunately, this being Saturday and the weather being bad, the room is on the crowded side. Not exactly conducive for having a private conversation.
Emerald and the other sixth years banished out of doors for their apparition lessons are visible just beyond a slight rise. Olive doesn't wave or do any of the other things she might do to annoy Emerald because with the Carrows there, she doesn't want to make herself a target for a Cruciatus or make Emerald one either.
Jill, Etta, and Olive spread out a waterproof blanket and erect another overhead, making a sort of tent. Alexis arrives a few minutes after that, carrying her bookbag but without any books. She's filled it with snacks and drinks. Although there are four of them now crowding under the shelter, it still seems a little bare without Cora. Alexis has assured Olive that Cora's fine but hasn't ever elaborated on what she knows exactly and when both Alexis and Jill are asked about Professor Miller, they shake their heads and say they have no idea what's become of him.
Olive glances in the direction of the apparition lessons again then gives her full attention to her three friends. "Emerald's boyfriend told her about a muffling charm. I'm not sure where Phin found out about it, maybe it's something the older years get to learn. Anyway, I've practiced it a little and it seems to work."
"But we're outside," Etta says.
"You really think it's safe to talk like normal even if we're out here?" Jill asks.
Etta scrunches up her face but nods in agreement. "Good point."
Alexis passes out the drinks as she says, "So tell us the spell or charm or whatever it is already."
Olive is only too happy to oblige.
Dog On A Mission
Author: Sirius Padfoot Black
Date: 03-22-08 18:28
The small dog, which has the odd appearance of what the offspring between a Corgi and a Shih Tzu might look like, lopes along at a brisk pace, keeping the flapping robes of the Snatcher in sight. When the Snatcher pauses, head turning this way and that as if double checking the surroundings and address, the dog darts behind a bush where it can see the Snatcher but the Snatcher can't see it.
The dog sighs, wishing the rain would slow. It picked up a few minutes ago, a cold rain that makes him want to stop and shake his coat free of drops every few feet. It's also difficult thinking of himself as being this small. He's usually much, much larger when in dog form.
The overly large, sort of shaggy black dog that is Sirius's animagus form would have been far too obvious for today's mission. The small dog is better able to dash out of sight and even when in full view isn't as noticeable. If Minerva were available to do the transfiguring from hulking, black dog to small, mixed colored one, he probably would look more refined, less odd mixed breed. Sirius can think of a few others who would have done almost as good a job as Minerva but none were available so it had been Mundungus of all people who did the final transformation. Having seen what he looks like now, it almost makes Sirius wish he could have done the large to small dog transfiguration himself.
The Snatcher is on the move again, furtively moving ever closer to the front door of green house with black shutters and black front door. The small dog puts on a burst of speed in hopes of sprinting through the door when the Snatcher goes inside. The dog's mouth is coated with the potion that Ron Weasley thinks was used to track his movements.
If he can do it, the dog will nip one of the people the Snatchers are after at this location. If he can get it on the person's skin and if the rain hasn't somehow interfered with the potion even though it's on the dog's mouth, then hopefull the Order will be able to track the person to wherever it is the Minister is sending Nons.
The Snatcher is at the door, pausing a second for the signal to be given for all the Snatchers closing in to burst into the home. The small dog is nearly there. The door blasts off its hinges and the Snatcher rushes in, not noticing the dog on his heels.
Ashton-Hotwell
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 03-22-08 18:44
The small wizarding community of Ashton-Hotwell in Bristol was, as many magical things were, shielded from Muggle eyes by a series of complex spells. It consisted of a circle of narrow rowhouses, a family-owned eatery and an all-purpose store for those wizards not wanting to floo or apparate to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade for the simplest of needs. These homes and establishments were seemingly interposed over the Muggle buildings that occupied the same space. And yet, only wizards knew of Ashton-Hotwell's existence.
Lysander stood in the circle of houses that all looked the same. They were all made of red brick, with steps that led up to the front door and boxes of blooming flowers in the windows. A steady drizzle fell, coating Lysander's black umbrella with beads of water that rolled off the sides and onto the wet pavement of the sidewalk. He reached into an inside pocket of the cloak he wore and removed a small, folded piece of parchment on which he'd written an address. He looked at the parchment and then up at the identical homes, roving from building to building until he found the one he sought.
He tucked the parchment back into his pocket and set forward, both eager to get what he intended to do over with and dreading it all the same. Ever since Charlotte had been left on Lysander's doorstep, he'd had no interest whatsoever in having any contact with Charlotte's maternal side of the family. And it seemed that they hadn't cared enough to keep tabs on Charlotte either. She had a mother, uncle, and grandparents, the latter of whom Lysander had no memory of ever meeting, and none, especially the mother, acted as if Charlotte even existed.
Not that Lysander minded. Charlotte's mother hadn't exactly been the best parent and had any number of psychological problems to boot. How anyone could abandon a child was beyond Lysander. He could never give up on Charlotte, even if he wished she'd had a completely different mother.
He climbed the steps to the house in question and raised his fingers to the brass door knocker. It was in the shape of a fox. Lysander knocked, waited a moment, and then knocked again just in case.
A minute later, footsteps sounded within the house and the door opened. An older woman with dark hair save for a silver streak stood on the other side of the threshold. Lysander recognized her instantly, though he had never met her before in his lifetime. She looked like an older version of Charlotte's mother.
"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked, glancing at Lysander curiously.
"Mrs. Fox?"
"Yes, I am Mrs. Fox. Who is asking?"
Lysander took a deep breath. "My name is Lysander Stratford. I'm the father of your granddaughter."