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Muggle Studies Trip Discussion
Author: Aaron Miller
Date: 05-06-12 14:49
To the droning of Professor Wylkie Twycross's three Ds mantra, I arrange stacks of information then starting with the stack to the far left, pick up the top one. Going down the line I do that with the other stacks, straighten all the pages, fold them, then stuff then in an envelope, tucking the flap in. Quickly falling into rhythm, I have about ten done when a colleague asks in a low voice, "What is that you're doing?"
"The last of the information packets for this term's seventh year Muggle Studies sponsored trip. My actual seventh year students have information packets but these are to give out to visiting parents today." After stuff another envelope I hold it out. "Take one. As you know, any staffer wishing to go is welcome."
"You do realize there is an easier way to do this than by hand?"
"Yes, and I've used magic on most of them. I thought doing it by hand in here would help keep me from wanting to bash my head on something at having to listen to that." I give an ever so slight head tilt in Twycross's direction.
"Valid point." Parchment rustles as the pages are extracted from the envelope. "A tour of Germany and Austria this year. Tell me, how do you decide the destination each term?"
"Generally, just before Christmas break, I bring ask my seventh years to start giving serious thought to where we might go. When school resumes, we list everyone's ideas and start dissecting them, giving critical thought to each suggestion, and doing research. When we've narrowed it down to three, they vote. If votes are split, we have any seventh years who attend Muggle Studies Club but aren't in the class to vote as well."
More rustling of parchment. "Your information is thorough. Cover letter. Proposed itinerary. Paperwork and information for obtaining passport. Suggested list of clothing and toiletries. Information on cost of typical items bought by tourists in Germany and Austria and how those costs translate to galleons, sickles, and knuts."
"Each trip I've done with a class has helped me better organize, helped me know what information students and their parents want, and helped me anticipate questions asked."
Further discussion is interrupted by the screech of a student splinching. We both hurry over to help then once the student is good to go again and the third apparition lesson resumes, I go back to stuffing envelopes while my colleague studies gives closer study to the proposed travel itinerary.
Medium Blush & Dark Carnation (Liannah, Marlow & Jasper)
Author: Aaron Miller
Date: 05-06-12 15:33
Marlow screws her face up in fury. "YOU HAVE TO SHARE, LIANNAH!"
"Do not."
"DO!"
"Grandmum sent me the package."
"AND SAID TO SHARE!"
Liannah cradles the box of candy close to her chest. Slowing reach in with her other hand, she selects a caramel and pops it in her mouth before smirking, "Do not."
Marlow's jaw is set, her eyes narrowed. In a low growl she threatens, "If you don't give me my half, I'll tell Dad when he and Mum get here. He'll not only make you share, he'll tell Grandmum not to send you another package."
For being fourteen Liannah makes a very immature face, sticking her tongue out a little, head wagging from side to side, nasally mocking, "I'll tell Dad." She gives a derisive snort, reaches into her bag, and pulls out a box identical to the one she holds. Shoving it at her sister she snottily says, "You're such a whiny baby, Marlow. Can't even take a joke."
Marlow grabs the box and angrily flounces away, waging a heavy internal debate on whether she should mention this and similar incidents to her parents or not. Liannah watches her go, continuing with the immature expression and gestures before suddenly grinning and holding the her box out to cousin and best friend Jasper. "Want one?"
"Thanks. You're grandmother always makes the best candy. Why are you always so mean to Marlow?"
"Because I can be. She's so annoying."
"Her not being my sister, she doesn't usually seem all that annoying to me. Then again, Eden doesn't either. She sometimes can be. So can Alastor."
"Trust me. Marlow is one of the most annoying people ever. One of the only few who can top her is Lauren."
Jasper holds his tongue, knowing it's no use pointing out to Liannah that she's prone to exaggerating her sisters' faults out of proportion. He switches gears instead. "Don't forget I need to borrow your Potions notes from yesterday." Jasper had tripped on his way to Potions Friday, cracking his wrist and fracturing a finger in the process. Madam Pomfrey got him fixed up and he's fine today, if a little stiff.
Liannah digs around in her bag. "I've got them right here."
Jasper studies the notes she's given him before commenting, "You do know that pink ink on pink paper is not all that easy to read?"
"The parchment is medium blush and the ink is dark carnation."
Jasper holds the top page close to his face before neutrally replying, "If you say so."
Liannah rolls her eyes but in a much friendlier fashion than she had her at sister. "The difference is slap you in the face obvious."
"Okay."
She starts to list the differences in the two shades of pink then decides it's not worth the bother. Offering him the box again she asks, "Another candy?"
Relieved that Liannah didn't press her point about the pinks, Jasper reaches for a chocolate dipped caramel. "Yes, thank you."
Disgusted - Mockridge Dower
Author: Kirley Mockridge
Date: 05-06-12 17:21
Kirley eyed the paper his mother sat in front of him. "Have you gone totally barking mad?" he asked in a dangerously quiet tone.
"Kirley, I was trying to ensure our future," Cloris replied, missing the tell-tale flicker in her son's eyes.
"Yes, and that worked out so well for my brother," he ground out. His mother sat back, shocked that he would dare bring up the family tragedy. "I told you, years ago, I would not agree to any arranged marriages. That you did this without my knowledge and against my will does not sit well, Mother. Have you done anything of this sort for Nephele or Valeria? Because you know you have no right to do so for my niece, that decision is up to Nephele and myself."
"Well, I tried for Nephele, but her reputation as, oh, what was that vulgar term? Oh yes, the Slytherin Ice Queen, has made it decidedly difficult."
KIrley got to his feet. "I have to get to work. This discussion is not over, this contract will be voided. I don't know how yet, but it will be done," he said, pushing to his feet. "And honestly, after this, I think perhaps Nephele and I will take Valeria to one of the other properties. You will stay here in the Dower, as it's the one property that is yours outright." It wasn't often that Kirley exercised his role as the head of household, but this was the last straw.
"Before I go, Mother, how many contracts are there?" he asked. He knew the woman and her schemes too well, there was bound to be more than one contract.
"There are a few. I could not risk losing the opportunities, and we needed to keep up the family ties," she said.
"You mean you wanted to keep your precious society position because you think they will turn on you, and they probably would, the bloody vultures, like they did on Lucius Malfoy, and on the Grimshaw-Spores." He shook off the hands that grabbed for his forearm before he called for Jibby.
"Yes, Master?" the house-elf squeaked out.
"Alert my sister and my niece that we will be beginning an inspection of the other family properties this afternoon. I need to go into the office for the rest of the morning. My mother is to remain here, but Nephele, Valeria and I will be moving to one of the other properties." The bulgy-eyed creature nodded and disappeared with a crack. Kirley turned to his mother. "I know you've been getting into other things, that I probably don't want to know about," he ignored the sputtering. "Really, Mother, for a Slytherin, you're appalling at hiding things. I don't want Nephele or Valeria caught up in whatever mess you're getting into."
Cloris eyed her son before she spun on her heel, walking out with a spryness most would not suspect the older woman of. Kirley turned on his heel and disapparated with a crack, wondering if perhaps Kingsley Shacklebolt could help him find a way out of these blasted contracts of his mother's and hoping one of the family properties would prove habitable.
Dull and Duller
Author: Illyria
Date: 05-06-12 19:17
Illyria sat in the corner and watched the apparition lesson currently underway. Last night, Jolyon had asked if she could fill in for him as monitor so that he could go to St. Mungo's in the morning to check on his father. Illyria had readily agreed, not having had any plans for her Saturday morning.
She was starting to wonder if she'd made a mistake in agreeing to help out her colleague. Watching the lesson was quite dull, though she attempted to appear interested for the sake of the students. How would it look to them if she kept yawning or seemed to wish to be anywhere but right there in the same room with them?
Of course, it wasn't the students who were boring her. It was their instructor.
Illyria tuned him out but kept her eyes on the students as they practiced disapparating. Some were already managing partial apparition, which required intervention from the teachers to reverse the splinching. Illyria remembered the first time she'd splinched herself during one of her own apparition lessons. She'd left behind half her arm and it had been incredibly painful.
She unconsciously started rubbing her arm and allowed her mind to wander to Parents Weekend, which was scheduled to start after the lesson ended. None of Illyria's family was coming, as far as she knew. She wouldn't mind seeing some of them, especially her parents, but she kind of hoped that Urania and Nathan wouldn't think about stopping by for a visit. Illyria hadn't talked to Nathan since receiving his flowers, and he hadn't contacted her to see whether or not she'd gotten them.
She was afraid of what her reaction would be if she saw him, so it would be best for everybody if he kept his distance.
There was one person she was looking forward to seeing today, however, and that was Roland. He had sent her a quick owl just yesterday mentioning that he would be stopping by for a quick visit. He had some new Ministry-approved Astronomy textbooks that he wanted to share with both her and Celeste. They were by no means required to use them, but he wanted to give them complimentary copies for their perusal. Illyria loved free books, especially when they related to her own field of study. She guessed that Celeste shared her sentiments.
A loud crack startled her from her reverie. One of the students had successfully apparated, though he had missed his hoop and landed very close to Illyria's chair. He looked baffled to find himself so far from his target but thrilled nonethless. He trotted back to his starting position to try again.
Illyria, meanwhile, got up from her seat and starting roving the room. Maybe if she stayed on her feet, she wouldn't get too distracted by the thoughts in her head.
Lunch
Author: Alyssa Ryan
Date: 05-07-12 14:29
Alyssa rolled her eyes at Meg's statement allowing for Meg to run off with her boyfriend while opening the door to Brews and Stews Café. She sat down at one of the tables with a huff and reached in her bag to pull out her latest read, a muggle-written book that her parents' elderly neighbor Marie. It was a mystery called The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. Published in 1916, it was to have been her first and introduction to well written stories.
And so Aly was excited when Marie gave it to her to borrow. She paused before opening the book for the first time to order a salad.
She planned on eating her lunch and starting the book in peace and quiet, but that was soon shattered when some guy sat down across from her. She barely recognized him, only recalling that he was from Hogwarts.
She wanted to ignore his presence but that was a bit hard since he started bothering her with some nonsense about Quidditch, the one thing in the world she really didn't care about. She did enjoy the watching the game from time to time but it wasn't a big deal as her friends-and family-made it out to be.
She felt her planned lunch and time of quiet, a rarity for her, was thwarted as she was forced to be dragged into a conversation about who did what and the sort. It wasn't even a real conversation because she let him do all the talking and she also wasn't following it much since she didn't care one bit about it.
Aly became in luck when the door to the Café opened and Court walked in, forcing Aly to walk with her to Honeydukes Sweetshop to help pick out some treats for their little cousins Henrietta, Jennifer, George and Richard who were coming to visit with their aunt and uncle.
As Aly walked out the door, she felt the eyes of that guy on her as well as Court's who was opening her mouth to do that sisterly taunting she did whenever Aly was with any guy. She ignored them both as she walked off, hoping that she wouldn't have to run into him again. That though she knew wasn't going to happen.
Westwick Grove
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 05-07-12 19:20
Westwick Grove had seen better days. The once manicured lawns and gardens were overgrown with weeds. Many of the hedges and bushes had died years ago, the only sign of their existence being, if anything, spindly, bare branches. At least the hazel trees that lined the property had seemed to endure life without the care of their owners.
The house itself had fared no better than the grounds. Many of the windows were broken, and at some point over the years, the front door had been kicked in. It hung askew on its hinges and creaked everytime the wind blew. All of the rooms had gotten ransacked, with the more valuable items lost to burglars and the rest overturned and abandoned.
Rowan Westwick stood in her childhood home and looked around with sadness weighing heavy in her heart. It felt like only yesterday that her family had been sitting down for supper, to find their meal interrupted by a visiting Death Eater. Had it really been over two decades since that night?
She took a good look at herself in a broken mirror hanging over a Victorian credenza. She looked no older than she had been that night, but she did look a little worse for wear from her brief time on the streets in London.
A thick layer of dust covered the surface of the credenza. All the locks were broken, and a few of the doors were missing. Everything in the house looked as if it had been untouched in years, though it had all been touched at some point. Rowan wondered if the looting had happened soon after that fateful dinner or if it had happened over the course of her family's absence.
She could tell that nobody had been in the house recently. There weren't any bedrolls or food stashes. Even if Westwick Grove was home, she didn't want to stay there if she knew squatters were staying there too. For all she knew, they wouldn't even allow her to stay if she tried.
It didn't appear to be something she had to worry about today. She went up to her room, which looked as if a tornado had blown through it. The sight made her breath hitch in her throat, and tears began forming in her eyes. She didn't want to cry, but she found that she couldn't control herself. How had her life come to this? She stood in the doorway for quite some time and sobbed into her hands. One still clutched the little nesting doll, which she refused to let go.
"Rowan?"
The voice caused her to jump. She looked around wildly but didn't see anybody. It took her a moment to realize that the voice had come from somewhere beneath her broken bedframe. She climbed down onto her hands and knees and peered under the bed. Bed stuffing, dust bunnies, and other detritus littered the floorboards.
But then she saw it, a little painting that was face down on the floor. She pulled it towards her and flipped it over, finding it slashed diagonally from one corner to the other. A witch who looked only around ten years older than Rowan peered out from one side of the deep gash in the canvas.
"Laurel," Rowan gasped.
Laurel Westwick was her many great grandmother on her father's side. Rowan had taken a liking to the only portrait of Laurel the family owned, mainly because everybody had always said that Rowan resembled Laurel. Laurel had been the first family member to live at Westwick Grove.
"Rowan! It is you!"
"Laurel!" Rowan started crying all over again. She had felt so alone since the night she'd mysteriously emerged from the display case in Borgin & Burkes, and though she had the little nesting doll, it had given her only a small amount comfort. Laurel's portrait couldn't give Rowan the embrace she needed, but it could talk to her in soothing tones. It took some time, but Rowan stopped crying.
From her portrait, Laurel eyed the cuts on her descendant's hands. She wanted to know everything, but she didn't want to upset Rowan any further at the moment. Instead she asked, "How did you find your way home?"
Rowan wiped the tears from her cheeks and said, "I stole some floo powder. I almost got caught, too." She shivered. It was very drafty in the house.
"So the fireplace is still connected."
"Yeah, I guess so," Rowan murmured.
"Rowan, I want you to change out of those clothes. Put on something clean and warm."
"Clean is probably a relative term," Rowan remarked, looking at the dust and grime that covered every surface in the room. But she got up and did as she was told. She found some of her old clothing on the floor and beat at them with a large wooden spoon she found in the kitchen. When she thought most of the dust had fallen out of the clothing, she put them on.
"Now, build a fire."
Rowan didn't know how to do that. "I don't have my wand," she told Laurel's portrait.
"You don't need a wand. Just follow my instructions."
Rowan cast the portrait a doubtful look.
"Don't you trust me, Rowan?"
Rowan sighed. "Of course I do, Laurel. Tell me what I have to do."
Bloody Bad Mood
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 05-07-12 20:57
Stepping from the Floo with a stack of boxes in his arms, Harry slowly navigates from the large kitchen fireplace by feel. Reaching the sitting room, he puts the boxes down, lining the stack along the wall where other boxes sit. At a noise he turns and gestures. "The more I see this color, the more I think we should have gone with the other."
Ginny drops the box she's carry. One hand going to a now cocked hip, eyebrows arching. "Seriously? We discussed this at length. You picked this one."
Not fully understanding why such a simple, innocent comment would have her riled so quickly, he nods. "Yeah, I know. I'm saying I was wrong."
Ginny gives Harry a look before wordlessly spinning around and going back to the kitchen. Starting that way he can hear her rooting around. Before reaching the doorway, she's already back, clutching something in one hand. She slaps that something against the wall, holding it there while retrieving her wand. Harry sees that the something is the color swatch with the "other" color on it. One wave of the wand later and the entire room undergoes a color shift.
"There. Happy now?"
Harry does a slow turn, taking in the entire room done in the second color. "Now that I see it like this, I think both colors are wrong for this room."
Ginny takes a stack of the color swatches from a pocket, tossing them at Harry. "Have at it."
She snatches up the box, continuing on to another room. Harry watches her for a second, mentally shrugging, having no idea why she's so bloody irritated. Stooping, he picks up the swatches, sorting through them till he finds the one that had been Ginny's initial choice. The wall color changed, he finds the swatch with a complimentary shade for the trim.
After another slow turn to take in the change, Harry admits to himself that they should have gone with her color to begin with. A glance in the direction Ginny went and another mental shrug, Harry disapparates to Wildwood to get more boxes. There, he uses a simple charm to make two more boxes lighters, stacks them, and repeats the trip through the Floo to Grove's End, wondering as he does why he finds side-along-apparition with a grown person so much easier than with inanimate packed boxes.
On the fourth such trip after the paint incident, Harry realizes that Ginny's not been back to Wildwood to get more boxes. Putting the new load down he ventures through the house, calling from halfway down the hall, "Ginny?"
Receiving no response he walks to the master bedroom, peering through open doorways along the way. There, he leans against the jamb, watching Ginny putting clothes away in one of the few pieces of furniture they've moved in so far. She knows he's there but ignores him until she moves to leave the room. When Harry doesn't shift position she takes a step back, staring but not saying anything.
Harry's first thought is to wait her out until she speaks. His second thought is, "Bad, bad idea." Ginny's already ticked about something. That would just piss her off further. They might be married but Harry holds no illusions that Ginny wouldn't put a curse or hex on him if she's sufficiently irked.
"I'm sorry I second guessed you."
"Thank you, but do you really think this is about changing your mind on a color you chose?"
"It's not?"
Ginny shoves past him. "No, Harry, it's not."
Regaining his balance, he trails after her. "Care to enlighten me?"
"Not particularly."
"I can't apologize properly if I don't know what I've done."
"I don't want an apology if I have to tell you what to say."
Harry gets in front of her, turning as he does, arms spreading out somewhat pleadingly. "Telling me what I've done is not the same as telling me what to say."
Ginny gives Harry a look that manages to be both cutting and pitying at the same time. "Sometimes, Harry, you have to figure these things out on your own." She ducks under one arm, going to the far side of the sitting room to select a box to carry to the master bedroom.
He watches her movements until she's out of sight, heaves a hugely exasperated sigh then disapparates to Wildwood, running over the morning in as much detail as he can recall, trying to figure out exactly what the hell he did to put Ginny is such a bloody bad mood.
Late Morning
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 05-08-12 18:27
"I don't know whether to be flattered or alarmed that so many fans know my given name," Toby said to Bronwyn over a late breakfast. They'd slept in after a long night in which Bronwyn had talked Toby's ear off about what she had learned from Fallon.
Toby set the fan letter that had arrived just this morning next to his coffee cup and picked up a crispy piece of bacon from his plate.
"I suppose the diehard fans would know if they've read up on your life," Bronwyn murmured a bit distractedly. She wore a fluffy pink robe and had an extreme case of bedhead.
"Still," Toby reasoned, "I don't go around introducing myself as Tobias, so I don't know why some of these girls insist on calling me by that name."
He had already taken a quick shower and was dressed only in the bottom half of his Quidditch uniform. The Falmouth Falcons had a match later today against the Chudley Cannons.
Bronwyn still hadn't decided if she would attend. The Cannons hadn't improved their record at all over the years, so even with her husband playing, she couldn't imagine the match being very exciting at all.
"Allegedly a scout is coming out to make recommendations for the national team," Toby said, switching topics. He picked up a second piece of bacon. "I can't imagine why they would choose this match, though."
"Mmm-hmm," Bronwyn murmured.
Toby looked at her. "You're not still thinking about Fallon, are you?"
She sighed. "How can I not? When she said in her letter that she had gotten married, I figured it had only just happened. Come to find out, she's been married for years and then there's the fact that she has kids. KIDS."
She fumbled for the photograph Fallon had given her, at some point having stuffed it into the pocket of her bathrobe. It was of two boys, one around eight and the other around two years old. The boys looked like their mother, sharing her brown hair and blue eyes. The younger one had his arms around the older one's neck. Both of them laughed at the camera.
"At first I figured, what's the big deal in telling Arley? You eloped, so what? But then she showed me this," Bronwyn said, waving the photograph at Toby.
"It's not your job to tell him," Toby said, not for the first time.
"I know," Bronwyn replied, blowing hair from her face. "I just don't want to sit on this for very long."
"Look at it this way," Toby began. He pushed his plate out of the way and leaned forward over the table. "Fallon practiced her conversation with Arley on you. She finally told her big secret to somebody, and not just anybody… to someone close to her brother."
"Yes, but she hasn't talked to him yet."
"You don't know that," Toby said. "Could be, she's having that conversation with him right now. Maybe she even had it last night."
Bronwyn frowned. "Maybe, but if she hasn't, I hope she does it soon. I don't like keeping secrets, especially when they are this big."
Toby reached over the table and took Bronwyn's hands. "I don't want you to stress over this."
She gave his hands a squeeze. "I'll try not to, I promise."
"That's my girl. So, are you coming to the match or not?"
Bronwyn thought it over for a moment. "Fine, I'll come, but you have to promise to impress the scout so should England make it to the World Cup, I can say my husband is on the team!"
Toby grinned. "I'll do my best."
Don't Wear The Pants
Author: Ron Weasley
Date: 05-08-12 19:23
When Hermione and Ron had arrived to help with the move from Wildwood to Grove's End it took all of about two seconds to pick up on the tension between Ginny and Harry. While Hermione jumped in with helping unpack boxes in the kitchen, Ron's been going back and forth between the two houses getting the rest of the boxes and some area rugs. It's not until Harry and he are taking a break, Harry handing Ron a butterbeer before sliding down the wall to sit beside him on the floor that Harry says something that's not directly related to the work or to Quidditch.
"Ginny's so mad at me I wouldn't be surprised if she chooses to spend the first night in the new house alone."
"What was the fight about?"
"That's just it. There wasn't one. I realized the color in the sitting room wasn't the best choice and then realized that the second choice wasn't very good either. I ended up changing it to her first choice."
"So why is she mad?"
"I have no idea. I apologized for second guessing her but that wasn't what she was wanting. Or it was but she was wanting more than that. She won't tell me. Says I have to figure it out for myself."
"Hermione does that to me sometimes. It's annoying. It's so much easier, far less frustrating if she'll just tell me what I did wrong, let me apologize for it and promise not to do it again, then move on."
"Exactly."
Both take swings of their butterbeer, Ron wondering why women have to be so difficult.
Rolling his half empty bottle between his hands Harry states, "You do realize that neither of us wear the pants in our marriages."
"We're talking about Hermione and Ginny. Was that ever in question?" Ron snorts in amusement.
Knowing an answer to that isn't really required, Harry points his chin at some of the larger pieces of furniture. "I was thinking to just send each item to Grove's End as is but if I'm here, I couldn't see the arrivals to make sure nothing's in the way. You could do that but there'd still be the chance of me sending something in when you aren't ready or hitting one of the girls."
"Shrink it down then?"
"In the big picture, seems easiest. That's what we did when we moved what's in the master bedroom."
"I'll grab a box and do the front bedroom." Ron drains the dregs of his butterbeer, hands the bottle to Harry, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "Think back over the past few days to everything related to the move. Maybe there's something there."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks."
"Anytime." Ron takes one of the few boxes left that's also entirely empty and gets busy again, thinking that when at Grove's End again, he'll suggest to Hermione he get lunch for everyone.