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Worried
Author: Brynn Holden
Date: 02-27-08 13:36
Brynn sighed as the sun streamed through the window forcing her to wake up. Her cat jumped up her bed and rubbed against her chest, purring heavily.
"Ah, there you are Sasha," Brynn said softly petting the cat. She smiled and rubbed her face into the cat's soft fur. Brynn sat up and looked around. Almost everyone else was still sleeping. She stared out the window for a moment and thought of her father and stepmother. She wanted to go home, move away perhaps go to a muggle school but she knew her father wouldn't go.
"I never run from a problem. I stay and fix it and so should you," she could hear him tell her. She shook her head. Some things just couldn't be fixed and unfortunately the school was one of them. She continued to pet the cat absently and let out another soft sigh. As much as she'd rather stay in bed and pull the blankets over her head she knew she had to go to all her classes. Brynn slid out the bed and dressed quickly.
"Come on, Sasha Cat," she whispered. The cat jumped off the bed and followed her out to the grounds. As they walked the cat kept walking underneath Brynn's feet causing her to trip until she finally picked the cat up. She stroked the cat's head and just let her feet guide her.
"Brynn! Hey! Wait!" someone called out. She turned and smiled at her sister.
"Hey, Tasha," Brynn said quietly. Natasha eyed her sister for a moment.
"What's wrong?" she asked finally. Brynn shook her head.
"Nothing. Why?" Brynn answered easily. Tasha folded her arms across her chest.
"Yeah, right. I know you better than that. What's up?" she asked again. Brynn smirked and shook her head. She could tell everyone nothing was wrong and no one questioned except for her sister.
"I just...I just want to go home," she whispered as if she'd get into trouble for saying that.
"I know. Me too, but you know dad," Tasha said placing her arm around her shoulders.
"Yeah," Brynn looked down at the cat in her arms and then up at her sister. "I've been getting this funny feeling, like something is wrong with mom or dad," Brynn admitted to her sister.
"Really? So have I!" Tasha said surprised. Brynn sucked in a quick breath. That meant something was definitely wrong back home.
"Tasha, that's not good...I'm really worried now."
Wondering
Author: Ronan Eastwick
Date: 02-27-08 18:52
Ronan slid into an empty space at the Gryffindor table for nons after unloading his bookbag at his feet. He helped himself to two pieces of dark, multigrain bread and put several slices of smoked turkey and swiss cheese between them. Usually, he wound up eating something less tasty... bland, almost stale bread and cuts of meat and cheese just bordering safe to eat. Evidently, a house elf mistakenly sent something above par to the table. As long as Snider and her watchdogs didn't realize what happened, Ronan could savor a decent meal for once.
He bit into his sandwich and instinctively glanced up at the High Table. Snider sat in what had once been Dumbledore's chair. It was large in comparison to the others (Hagrid's hefty seat having been removed from the Great Hall after his arrest). Her favorites sat at the table with her, while the B-list professors, Ronan's former guardian included, sat in the back row. Ronan could just barely make out Illyria's face between Bathurst Askew's shoulder and Zinnia Marcasite's head. She had lines in her face that marked the worry she felt for her missing family and friends.
Ronan worried also. The only immediate family member he had was his mother, Enid, but she was a pureblood and didn't have anything to fear. Not that Ronan cared what happened to her. He wondered about Urania, who hadn't been heard from in two weeks. Of all the Jones sisters, besides Illyria, Ronan liked and knew Urania the best. He hoped nothing terrible had happened to her. What if all the nons who'd been supposedly relocated were actually being sent to their deaths? There had been instances of prejudice against nons all throughout wizarding history, just never to this degree. It had certainly become very clear to Ronan that in the eyes of the elite class, Ronan was nothing.
He tried not to appear so negative and never once voiced his concerns to Illyria, though he wondered if she ever thought the same thing. Ronan looked away from her and concentrated on polishing off his sandwich before someone confiscated it from him.
Risky
Author: Ginny Weasley
Date: 02-27-08 18:54
Ginny pulls her cape more tightly around her, as if warding off the chill from the gusting wind. She darts her brown eyes back and forth, constantly scanning the street, Mad Eye Moody's voice running through her head to maintain Constant vigilance.
Ginny is certain that the flat is being monitored but she thinks she can get in and out quickly. She could apparate in but that wouldn't give her any sort of chance to see if she can tell if anyone's watching the place. They could be on her before she had time to blink. It's stupid to take the risk but with everyone in the family laying low - at least she hopes Ron is hiding and not arrested - Ginny can't see them whenever she wants or needs, including when she needs money.
Ginny isn't desperate and, thanks to Bill, she was able to get a nice stash out of the bank before he too thought it wise to stay out of sight. Ginny had put been some money aside with each pay check, hiding it where Ron wouldn't stumble across it and have the urge to borrow some. Ron drew a nice salary at Whizzhard Books and as the Daily Prophet's agony aunt, but he was putting every knut away to buy a house. If he had found Ginny's stockpile, he might have liberated a few galleons here and there to treat Hermione to the occasional really nice night out. So, while not desperate for funds Ginny very much wants to retrieve that coin purse because there's no knowing how long she'll be without steady income. For those times she is with family or friends, Ginny doesn't want to strain the finances any more than she absolutely has to.
Ginny enters Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes thinking that she'll be less noticeable using the inside stairs instead of the outside entrance to the flat. She's glad that there are employees being allowed to keep the shop open seeing as how George and Fred aren't easily found these days. Ginny nearly called on Maj at her Muggle grandparents to see about getting some Polyjuice Potion but didn't because Maj most likely doesn't have easy access to ready to be used Polyjuice Potion.
Ginny reaches the doorway to the stairs leading up to the flat. Making sure no one is watching, she quickly opens the door then makes a mad dash up to the landing. She doesn't stop to look around once in the flat but runs at top speed the short distance to her bedroom. Ginny shoves her desk out of the way, pries off a board in the wall, jerks the heavy bag of galleons, sickles, and knuts from the hole there then disapparates.
Only when she's seated on an out of the way bench in a Muggle park shortly thereafter does Ginny's heart stop its insane pounding.
Going To St. Ives
Author: Ron Weasley
Date: 02-28-08 17:22
Ron runs a dirty hand over his face, wiping at the grit around his eyes that makes blinking feel like he's had a fistful of sand thrown in them. The clothes he'd borrowed over the course of the eleven and a half days he's been on the run are as filthy as their wearer.
He reaches over and slides the alarm ringer to off, blinking several more times. The clock, like the clothes, the wand Ron has, and much of the food he's eaten since that Thursday in Diagon Alley, is borrowed. He found one to borrow that is of the simply wind up variety similar to what he's used to. Those that require those battries, batteries, battings, whatever they're called weren't anything Ron wanted to try and figure out when he was already stressed.
The past few days it's taking them longer to track his location but Ron's not taking any chances. He sleeps for no more than 30 to 45 minutes at a time, setting the alarm each time. It's getting harder though to pull himself awake, no matter how insistent the alarm is. Ron is just that tired.
Forcing himself off the pile of old, sort of moldy hay in the loft of a run down barn, Ron stretches even though that doesn't help much. He takes a moment to look around for any signs that he's been found again then climbs down the rickety ladder to the wooden floor below. Again being cautious, Ron works his way to door and then to a thatch of thick bushes to relieve himself. He's equally cautious and as alert as his fatigued mind allows on the way back into the barn. Once up in the loft again, Ron unfolds a paper napkin and slowly eats the semi-hard biscuit it contained, wishing he had something with which to wash it down.
Deciding that he's been in this deserted barn long enough, having gone through one 45 minute nap and two 30 minutes ones with awake time in between each, Ron gathers up the few paltry items he has and disapparates. He appears near a small stream he knew of and kneels down to take a drink. The water is cold, almost to the point of freezing so Ron splashes some on his face in an effort to make himself even more alert. He'd dearly love to bathe, even if the water would turn him blue in seconds but despite them taking longer to track him, Ron is not about to strip down and that be the time they find him within minutes, forcing him to literally apparate away with a faulty and not much else.
The wand is the one he'd swapped in an effort to get rid of everything he had on him when they first tried to arrest him. Problem is the wand turned out to have been cracked and glued back together. From past experience Ron knows just how badly things can go if trying to use a wand that's been broken and repaired by someone other than a professional. Ron keeps the wand for apparating and has been lucky so far that the handful of times he's had to use it when they'd found him again and he was escaping, things only went slightly wonky.
At least now Ron thinks he's finally figured out how they've been tracking him. Early on as a fugative, Ron risked going into the Hogsmeade library. He only stayed long enough to use the card catalog to find out some book titles that might be useful. Ron's next stop was St. Emrys where he borrowed the titles he could find. It's been a bloody pain carrying books from place to place while on the run but after he'd get finished going through a book, Ron would leave it behind if it were a Wizarding world spot or take it with him to the next Wizarding spot and then leave it.
Ron disapparates from the stream, this time going to St. Ives. He chose it because while at the stream Ron somehow remembered looking at the Cambridgeshire volume of a Muggle atlas set of Great Britian Hermione has. Ron remembered studying the map of St. Ives. There's enough light left that he can go sit in a park he'd seen on the map and look more at the book containing the information Ron thinks is what he needs.
Lineages
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 02-28-08 18:53
Despite being thought lost long ago, The Somerset Family Line proved relatively easy to find. Using the information provided him, Lysander tracked down all the known descendants of Aelianus Somerset and queried after the book. It was Lysandra's own fourth cousin, Miri Brightman, daughter of Francesca Somerset (daughter of Camillus Somerset, son of Edmund Somerset, Jr., son of Edmund Somerset, son of the Aelianus), who'd had the book in her possession. Because Miri's paternal ancestry included Muggles, she hadn't been home to receive Lysander on any of his visits. Only by chance did her mother Francesca happen to be at the house one of the times Lysander came calling.
Francesca didn't know how the book came to be on her side of the family. Her great grandfather Edmund had been the youngest of five sons, while Lysandra's ancestor, Terence, had been the eldest. She hadn't heard the story of the burglarly of the treasures of Aelianus and had no thoughts either way regarding the allegations that it had been an inside-job, even though he'd essentially insinuated that her direct ancestor had possibly stolen from his own father.
Francesca didn't want to part with the book but did want to meet with her cousin Lysandra. Lysander made the arrangements, and Lysandra got what she wanted... and also what she didn't want. The Somersets were quite pure, but not perfectly so. If the Ministry of Magic were ever to expand on what made a wizard pure, Lysandra might not make the cut. But that would be true for most, including Lysander himself. The Stratfords weren't without a few black sheep in the family. They never talked about them, and hopefully would never need to acknowledge them.
Lysandra had shown her thanks to Lysander in both a monetary and affectionate way. Lysander certainly liked having Lysandra in his company but didn't care to have a real relationship with her either. She didn't seem to mind and dated other men as well anyway.
Lysander dropped off his earnings at Gringotts and then picked up Charlotte from Blossom's. Even when the business about purebloods and nons first cropped up, Lysander had refused to get in contact with his daughter's mother. He didn't even know where to look, anyway, as she'd abandoned her child on his doorstep and fled to Merlin-knew-where. Lysander hadn't even seen his daughter's uncle around. He figured as long as he was pure himself, Charlotte would be safe in his care even without knowing her exact ancestry.
Lysander certainly remembered the Foxes as being pureblood, but that was also before the rules changed. Were they still considered as such? He knew he should probably find out, even if it meant initiating contact with someone he never wanted to see or hear from again.
Last Word - Part 1
Author: Eithne ni Domhnaill
Date: 02-29-08 12:53
When Francis found her, Eithne was standing before the purple inked notice about the P.U.R.E Organization. She was absently chewing on a fingernail, balancing her Runes books against a hip.
Francis skidded to a halt and challenged her, "Don't tell me you are seriously considering that horse sh..."
"Francis Yao, do not use that language around me."
Francis narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Eithne continued haughtily, "In answer to your question, I haven't made up my mind. I was just looking at the poster, if that is alright with you" She offered the last phrase in a clipped tone.
Francis answered heatedly, "No, in fact, it is not alright with me. I can't believe you are even entertaining the notion of considering this. What has happened to you?"
Eithne narrowed her eyes and turned to scowl at Francis, "Nothing has happened to me. I heard some of the girls talking about how much fun they had in London is all - the group takes outings you know. I don't see why I shouldn't have some fun as well, considering I'm entitled!"
"And you think it's alright that you're entitled..." Francis stressed the word in imitation of Eithne, "while your friends are not due to an accident of birth. And where does your lot get off thinking they are so superior - do you know how many great wizards and witches have been Muggle-born or had one parent who was?"
Eithne pursed her lips and turned back to the poster with a toss of her hair. "It's your lot too, you know." she mumbled.
Franics sighed, "Actually, you probably don't - they don't teach about the accomplishments of anybody but the pureblooded any more."
Eithne turned to walk back along the hallway, saying over her shoulder, "I suppose this old argument is the reason you were looking for me in the first place."
Francis fell into step beside her, "Who said I was looking for you?"
"You were practically running up to me before you knew what I was looking at."
"Oh yeah. Well, in point of fact, you are right." Francis held out his red and blistered hand.
"What happened to you?" Eithne's concern was genuine. She took his hand in her two and gently rubbed the welts.
"You!" Francis responded. He had not intended to be so blunt when he brought up the subject, but Eithne had once again angered him with her willingness to condone or at least ignore the injustices that were abounding at Hogwarts these days.
Eithne looked genuinely confused, "Wh-what do you mean?"
"That was quite some chat you had with Professor Pilliwickle yesterday after History of Magic."
"What are you talking about? You know History is my favorite subject."
"Yes, but I suspect that the conversation spread to more than that." When Eithne continued to stare at him uncomprehending, he went on, "I was called into his office this morning where I was lectured on..." Francis held up one hand and began to tick off fingers as he enumerated, "...what it means to be Pure, the obligations of the Pure, how Pures should support one another and more pointedly, how I should not make you feel bad because you go along with all this horse-shit."
Meaning finally came to Eithne, "You were punished because I told Professor Pilliwickle that it made me sad that we argued all the time?"
For answer, Francis held up his hand again where Eithne could now discern that the charmed "writing lines" pen had once again been employed.
"Oh, Francis," she murmured. "I never intended that to happen."
Francis sighed, "I know you don't intend these things. But this is what I am talking about - you must need be careful about what you do and say these days. Haven't you been paying attention? A woman was murdered...people have disappeared...students are being tortured. You can't just turn your head and pretend everything is alright. I know you didn't mean to get my hurt, but you did!"
Eithne's head had been lowered throughout Francis' lecture, but she quickly raised it and asked pointedly, "Who was murdered?"
"Mrs. Lancaster."
"That was an accident."
"If you say so."
Eithne furrowed her brow and then softly said, "It's fine for you, Francis. You've always been popular. It's easy for you to make friends. I...I've always been a bit of an outsider. I like having friends. I like being in the "in" crowd. First with Quidditch and then other things."
"Yeah, Quidditch." Francis mumbled.
In Pain
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 02-29-08 18:26
Limping into the Great Hall, Fritz heads over to the Ravenclaw table and carefully eases his books onto the table before cautiously lowering himself onto the hard wooden bench. Coco slips into the seat next to him and asks, "Are you sure you don't want to see Madam Pomfrey?"
Fritz shakes his head vigorously and then immediately regrets it. His vision blurs for a second and he feels a dull throbbing behind his eyes. He blinks, turns his head slowly in Coco's direction and says, "No, I'm fine. Really."
Coco doesn't seem to believe him but she doesn't challenge him. Instead, she fixes him a sandwich and then one for herself, from which she tears off little pieces to also feed Pea, who hides in her pocket.
Fritz takes a bite from his sandwich, and although it isn't the best sandwich he's ever had, he already starts to feel a little bit invigorated. Fritz had stayed behind in Professor Flume's (that's Willard Flume, not Carmella) class to ask a few questions. The new Charms professor isn't the nicest person but he isn't anywhere near as horrid as the Carrows and Professor Yaxley, whom Fritz feels he can't approach at all for any reason whatsoever.
Although he knew he would be a little late for Professor Isuki's class, Fritz also knew that he probably wouldn't get into trouble if first Coco informed their DADA professor that he'd be late and second he provided a note from Professor Flume himself. Flume did write a quick note, which might have excused his tardiness to DADA in Professor Isuki's eyes, but Fritz really didn't expect to run into both the Carrows in the corridor on his way to said class.
Since their arrival at Hogwarts, Fritz had somehow managed to avoid their severe form of punishment. When he met them in the hallway this morning, however, he knew his luck had run out. If they hadn't forced him on his feet and off to class, Fritz might have remained on the cold flagstones for hours. His entire body ached from the double dose of the Cruciatus Curse he'd been unfortunate enough to experience. His arrival at DADA had halted the class for a moment, but after reassuring Professor Isuki and Coco that he was fine, that he simply needed to catch his breath and sit down, class resumed as normal.
Still in a lot of pain, Fritz is nonetheless feeling somewhat better. He has an appetite and easily finishes off one sandwich before starting on the next. There's just one thing he's not sure of, and that's whether or not he's actually going to attend his next two classes. He doesn't want to give the Carrows the satisfaction in knowing that they'd really done a number on him this morning if he decides to skip. But if he attends class, he'll be risking more pain and misery, and he's just not sure his body or mind can take anymore of it today. In the end, the desire to avoid the Carrows wins out. After lunch, Fritz goes to his dorm, where he falls into a deep sleep despite his less than ideal sleeping conditions.
Trying Not to Worry
Author: Hermione Granger
Date: 03-01-08 17:53
Hermione stood in the shower at the Muggle house that currently served as one of the Order's hideouts and attempted to scrub the lime and mold off the yellow tiles. She wore rubber gloves up to her elbows and sprayed the cleaner she'd found under the sink onto the walls before rubbing furiously over them with a sponge. Her goal was to scrub until the grout changed from moldy black to the original white. Unfortunately, no matter how much she scrubbed, she simply couldn't get the shower clean again.
She knew she would have no problem getting the shower to gleam and sparkle if she used magic, but Hermione avoided doing magic at the house for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she worried someone might be tracking magic use outside the wizarding world. She knew there was a great possibility that the Ministry of Magic was monitoring absolutely everything these days. She didn't want to expose herself and especially her friends in any way if she could avoid it, and one certainly couldn't be too cautious.
There was another reason why Hermione scrubbed and scrubbed at the tiles in the shower. She found that if she concentrated on the task, she worried less about Ron, who hadn't been seen or heard from in around ten days. Hermione feared that he'd been arrested but also wondered if she might have heard something were that the case. Greater still was the fear that he'd been killed. She hadn't heard that people were dying left and right... just disappearing... but not having heard from him made her worry in the worst way.
Hermione scrubbed and scrubbed, even though her arms and shoulders ached. If only she could get the tiles clean!
"Hermione."
She lowered her arms and turned to the doorway, where she saw Harry standing. Worry creased his brow.
"Janine just cooked supper for us. Well, she attempted to cook for us. Come eat, okay?"
Hermione didn't feel all that hungry, especially after breathing in bleach for however long she'd been standing in the shower, but she nodded her head and decided it would be good for her to do something else for a while. She stepped out of the shower, put the bottle of cleaner on the counter, dropped the sponge into the sink and stripped off her gloves. Hermione followed Harry out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, hoping a home-cooked meal might make her feel better.