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For the Greater Good
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 05-15-12 07:00
The broomstick Adriana rode she borrowed from a villager, who had left it leaning against the side of his house. If she remembered later, she would return it, though it would hardly be a loss since it was only a Cleansweep 11. It did its job, however, and under a disillusionment charm carried her high in the clouds towards a tall, stone structure built into the cliffside.
She flew to the highest window, where her quarry was rumored to reside, and peered into the darkened cell. There she saw a thin, elderly wizard in a drab set of robes. He sat in a corner on the hard, stone floor with his knees drawn up to his chest. He appeared to be dozing.
Adriana climbed off of the broom, leaving it hovering in the air, and knelt on the thin ledge of the window with her hands wrapped around its iron bars. The noise she made alerted the cell's occupant, though when he opened his eyes he didn't see anything at first. He peered through the gloom of his cell at the window, which cast only minimal light because stormy weather was approaching.
The man leaned forward and squinted at the window, then said something in a language Adriana didn't understand. He said something in yet another language and then said, "Show yourself," in accented English.
Adriana reversed the disillusionment charm, appearing before him in a set of gray hooded robes that matched the color of the clouds behind her. She tapped the bars of his window with her wand, causing them to bend so that she could enter the small cell.
The old wizard remained seated and seemed wholly unconcerned that someone had decided to break into his cell.
"Who are you?" he asked her after a long moment of evaluation.
"That doesn't matter," she said to him. "You are Gellert Grindelwald."
"Is that a question or a statement?"
Adriana didn't answer.
"Who sent you?" Grindelwald asked.
"That also doesn't matter." Adriana glanced around the cell. It looked entirely uncomfortable. Everything was made out of stone, except for the thick wooden door opposite the window. Adriana wondered how often Grindelwald received food and drink. Once a day? Twice a day?
She finally rested her eyes on the old man, who continued to watch her with mild interest.
"What do you want, then?" he asked her.
"You stole something from the wandmaker Gregorovitch."
Grindelwald's eyes widened slightly, and then he laughed, revealing rotted teeth. "That was a long time ago."
"Be that as it may, what happened to the wand?"
Grindelwald raised his eyebrows. "I haven't seen it for nearly as long."
"You don't know where it is?"
Grindelwald hesitated. "What does an American want with the Elder Wand?"
"I told you that doesn't matter," Adriana replied impatiently. "Where is it? How do I find it?"
Grindelwald processed her questions for what felt like ages. When he finally spoke, he asked, "Does the name Peverell mean anything to you?"
"No."
"No, I suppose it shouldn't. I believe the family has always been in England," Grindelwald mused. His eyes met Adriana's in the gloom. "You want Antioch Peverell. Find him, and maybe you'll find what you're looking for."
"You don't sound too sure."
Grindelwald blinked at her. "I've been locked in this cell for more than half a century. I never have visitors except for those who bring me my meals and empty my chamber pot. I cannot possible know what goes on out there," he said, waving his hand at the window.
Adriana studied him. "Fine. I'll try your angle, but are you sure there isn't anything else you can tell me?"
"Fräulein, you either take me at my word and kill me, or you leave none the wiser and still kill me. The choice is yours."
The pair stared at each other for a long time. Adriana found no reason not to believe Grindelwald, but she did not get the solid answer she wanted. Grindewald seemed wholly at peace.
She raised her wand and pointed it at him.
Reminiscing - Mockridge Townhouse
Author: Nephele Mockridge
Date: 05-15-12 13:14
Nephele sat in the room she'd taken over in the townhouse. The last week had been simple enough, settling in made much easier by the presence of Ibby and Kibby to keep their routine. Things were much less formal without Cloris' domineering opinions on what was and was not proper for young witches, as well as for unmarried ones.
It was easier for Kirley in some ways, Cloris needed him to carry on the Mockridge name. Nephele was more expendable, just another girl to use to gain position and prestige, to marry off as she pleased. But the world was changing, and thanks to Kirley, Nephele had managed to avoid any contracts. None of the house-elves had been able to bring any more such documents to light, and Kirley had ordered them all brought to him.
With their brother's death in 1995, Kirley had been thrust into the role that he'd never wanted. In over ten years, Nephele had yet to speak his name. She had buried it deep, with her grief, hiding it from the world. She had survived, living up to her Hogwarts house as she always had, by being careful, by guarding her emotions, guarding herself. Aside from Kirley and Valeria, only one other had seen past her guard, the night Severus Snape had been given the arduous task of telling two of his students that their brother and sister-in-law were dead, revealed to the world as Death-Eaters, a position they had taken at Cloris' request. When he'd had to tell them that their infant niece had been left to their charge, a pair of seventeen-year-olds who had yet to graduate Hogwarts.
Idly, she twirled her glass, the amber liquid swirling in the fine crystal. She didn't indulge often, but it had been a day full of memories. She had found a few things in her room, things her mother had ordered Jibby and the others to hide away, and while remembering had hurt, it was good too, in a way. Some things, she had put away for Valeria, when she was old enough. Others, she had shown to her niece immediately, wanting the girl to understand who her parents had been. No matter what schoolmates could, and likely would say, she wanted Valeria to be prepared. Slytherins would stand by her, true Slytherins would anyway. Others, well, they could be cruel and Nephele herself remembered that.
She remembered vividly the scarlet and gold tie of a Sixth Year who had asked her out during her Fourth Year. Just as she remembered the smell of his cologne when he'd tried to push her against the wall, demanding she give in, because Slytherin girls were just sluts to be used. She also remembered the way he had flown backwards, pulled by someone she did not see as Kirley had gathered her close. He'd heard the boy's friends talking, repeating the boasts and even the promises of saving them a turn and he'd known they meant her. He'd gotten their brother, then a Seventh Year and the two had come immediately to her rescue, Professor Snape hot on their heels. For her sake, the details had been kept quiet, only the three of them and the boy himself knowing why Snape had given him detention for the rest of the year. She was sure that Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster had been brought into things too, but they had left her in peace.
That was the last time she had gone out with anyone outside of Slytherin. Inside, they protected her choices. Professor Snape had allowed her to assist him with potions, nurturing her natural inclinations toward the subject. From him, she'd learned to control her emotions, to guard herself so that no one saw beneath the shell. That was the birth of the Slytherin Ice Queen. It was also the start of her learning how to experiment with potions, the delicate craft of creating her own. Had her mother approved, she would have continued on, started in the first years of St. Emrys to learn the craft further. But Cloris did not believe in higher education beyond Hogwarts, particularly not for girls, and there was Valeria to consider too. Instead, she had continued her studies on her own, including Valeria in some parts of the process as she could, writing to her former Head of House for advice and to ask him to look over her new formulas before she registered them with the Ministry.
Seeing Professor Snape at Hogwarts last weekend had been good for them. He'd agreed with Kirley on the matter of the contracts, that while these were not binding, it would be unlike Cloris to be finished yet. Nephele had been pleased to show him a potion Valeria had brewed under her supervision, particularly when he'd claimed it far beyond many of the current First Year students. His comment that he almost wished he was still teaching the younger years just to have such a talented student had made both aunt and niece flush with pleasure. He had not had many words for her, just let her know that he had owled her his thoughts on her latest potion that morning, and she should find the letter waiting when she returned home. A part of her hoped that he might have said something more, but the letter had been very professional, nothing personal no matter how she might wish otherwise.
The Firewhiskey burned her throat as she sipped at it, staring into the flames. Limbo, pleasant as it was, was becoming stifling. Valeria would be off to school soon, and Nephele would find herself at loose ends. Idly, she wondered if she could garner some sort of apprenticeship. Going to St. Emrys now wasn't out of the question, but she wasn't sure she could face that sort of life again after being out of school for so long. Perhaps she would begin looking for an apprenticeship. A stifled snort escaped as she imagined that letter and her former professor's reaction.
Prove It
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 05-15-12 20:09
It's early enough that the bookshoppe isn't overly busy, yet. As more students make the trek from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, most of the village shoppes will have a steady stream in and out. Julian adds a sign made last night to a display table full of O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. study aids, 30% off today. There is a wide selection of used and new, with the used items in excellent condition. Lysander and he go through any of the used study aids looking for markeds, answer sheets torn or written on, and so on, fixing everything before it's put out again for sale.
Looking over his shoulder at the sound of the bell over the door, Julian offers a smile to Marigold, one of the women who works at Petals. Like Orchid and a few others, Marigold has become a regular customer. Her tastes are wide ranging, some of her interests surprising Julian when first learning of them, such as philosophy. Also like some of the other Petals dancers, Marigold is a student at St. Emrys.
Getting to know some of the women from Petals has stripped Julian of some of the preconceived notions he held about the sort of women who work as "exotic dancers" but, as nice (Aralyn being a HUGE exception) and as smart as many of them are, Julian would still prefer Petals to be in a location other than Hogsmeade.
Julian's thoughts shift direction when the door opens again. It's another woman, this one not one he remembers seeing before. He nods a greeting to her, adding a verbal, "Good morning," when he walks past her to ring up a customer.
Three minutes later she's barely moved from a spot in front of a display of romance novels. After pointing someone in the direction of some titles dealing with home brewing beer, Julian walks over to her asking, "May I help you find something?"
"Possibly. I'm actually wanting to speak with Julian Valentine."
"You've found him."
"I'm Iola Carew."
She gives him such an expectant look Julian has the impression the name is supposed to mean something to him. Her first name does not. Her second very much does. Still, he plays it innocently. "Yes?"
"Afton's sister."
"I wasn't aware Afton had a sister."
"She never mentioned me?"
"No."
She rolls her eyes. "Figures."
"There's not much resemblance."
"Afton was a metamorphmagus. We looked quite a bit alike when she wanted."
Julian gives a single nod of understanding before asking, "Why do you wish to speak with me?"
"I understand today is a weekend Hogwarts students may come into Hogsmeade. I also understand that Afton's son, my nephew, is enrolled there. If he's to come into the village today, I'd want to see him."
"I've never heard of you until now. I have no idea if you are who you say you are. Why should I allow you to see my son?"
"Why would I lie about who I am?"
"I can think of a number of reasons. Tell me, where have you been the last few years? Why are you only now coming to visit?"
"Since the time Caerwyn was around a year and a half old, I've not been able."
"Why is that?"
"That's not your business."
"I beg to differ. You've never even written that I'm aware of. I'm also not aware of any mention of you in Afton's will."
"It's complicated."
"Until you have some prove you are indeed Caerwyn's aunt and until you care to fill me in on why you've had no contact with him for most of his life, I don't think I want you around my son."
"Not even here, under your supervision? Why in hell not?"
"Afton was not the most trustworthy of people. I have no reason to believe her sister is any more so."
"I'd never hurt Caerwyn," Iola Carew protests.
"So you say, but as we've established, I have no reason to take your word at face value."
"If I bring you proof that I am indeed Caerwyn's aunt, will you let me see him for five minutes under your supervision?"
"Get me the proof and we'll discuss it further."
"I could go out there and ask around for him, you know. I didn't have to come to you first."
"You did come and now you want to get angry that I'm doing my job as Caerwyn's father?"
She glares at Julian for a few seconds before somewhat sullenly saying, "I'll have the proof by noon."
"Then I shall see you here around noon."
Lips pursed she turns to go, one hand reflexively going to the scarf around her neck as she steps back out into the cold.
Watching the Workshop
Author: Errol
Date: 05-16-12 17:08
Wearing a grey and blue tweed coat, her Ravenclaw scarf, and an flowered knit cap that's just this side of the sun shy of being blindingly pink, hands shoved into pockets, Megara Flynn climbs the risers in one set of stands ringing the Quidditch pitch. Taking the seat next to Errol she follows the direction of his gaze as a couple of first or second years participating in today's workshop zip past.
"Going to join in?"
"Thinking about it. Thought you'd be in Hogsmeade by now."
"Slept in. With the apparition lesson going on it meant missing breakfast. I could get something from the commons but I'd rather indulge while in the village."
Errol glances over at her then quickly looks away. Megara gives him a sharp nudge in the ribs. "What was that?"
"What?"
"The wince."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." This earns him another jab. Grimacing at her, Errol reaches across with his opposite hand to cover his ribs. "What was that for?"
"Why did you wince?"
"Because you stabbed me in the ribs."
"Not the second time. The first time."
"If you must know, your hand is painful on the eyes."
"It's a very nice hat, thank you very much. Matches my gloves." Megara pulls her hands from her coat pockets to waggle said gloves in Errol's face.
She did not lie. The gloves perfectly match the hat. Errol moves his hand from his ribs to shield his face. "My eyes. My eyes."
Megara's response is to use one hand to try and pull his hand down while waving her other hand at his face. "Perfectly pink. A very nice shade. You just need to let the color grow on you."
Errol starts laughing, batting at her hands. "You're twisted."
"Just one of my many qualities you know you love," Megara sweetly replies. "If I'd known that all it would take to get you to laugh good and truly laugh was to wear these gloves and hat, I would have had Mum send them as soon as I realized I'd forgotten to pack them at Christmas."
"If you mean try and blind me, yeah, sure, you should have sent home for them sooner."
"I do believe that before going into Hogsmeade I'm going to my room to get the matching scarf."
"There's more?"
"Yes, I just grabbed the wrong scarf when I was leaving the dorm."
"I bet if I go stand somewhere high, like the Astronomy Tower, I could spot you glowing like a beacon in Hogsmeade."
Laughing herself now, Megara slaps at Errol's arm. "You do that. I'll wave and give a special hand signal."
"I can well imagine what special signal that would be," Errol snickers.
"I did not come find you just so you could heap abuse on my apparel," says with an amused grin.
"Why did you?"
"To find out what you wanted me to bring you from Hogsmeade."
"You don't have to bring me anything."
"I know I don't have to. So, what do you want? Butterbeer? Something from the sweet shoppe? A sinfully indulgent dessert from Briar's Bakery?"
"If you choose to bring me something, I will be happy with whatever you bring."
"The jumbo sized ear wax flavored bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean it is then."
"Thank you."
"I was also wondering if you got an owl this morning?" Megara says this apologetically, though Errol doesn't know if she's sorry for being nosy or sorry to ask something she knew would dampen the mood.
Errol glumly shakes his head. "No, still nothing. I don't understand it. I just KNEW Uncle Ross would come to Parents Day. I'm thinking about asking Professor Dumbledore if Uncle Ross and he have been in contact since the infamous orgy."
"MEGARA!" one of her friends shouts up from the base of the stands.
"COMING!" She taps him on the knee. "Do not go hole up on your room or the library. Go get a school broom and participate in the workshop. See you this evening."
"Yeah. See you. Have fun."
Errol watches her go, briefly entertaining the idea of borrowing a school camera from one of the clubs that would have one, climbing to the Astronomy Tower's observation deck, locating Megara's incandescence pink hat and snapping a picture. His attention is drawn back to the pitch where Professor Krum's workshop on flying and Quidditch has been underway for a little while. After another five minutes, he pushes off the seat to return to ground level, deciding that he might as well join in for a little while.