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Paris, France: Things of Old
Author: Carys
Date: 02-18-09 17:36
Carys walked into the room that had been hers when she'd lived with her father before his arrest. It was completely empty, save for a thick layer of dust on the floor and cobwebs in the corners. All the furniture that had once been in the room––the bed, the dresser, the desk––were in storage or had been sold in an estate sale two years ago.
The entire house was mostly bare, since it had been sold and emptied soon after Carys left Paris and moved back to Wales. Apparently the new owners had only lived in the house a few months before abandoning it. Carys didn't know the story behind their rapid departure and she didn't know why they hadn't sold it to someone else. All she knew was that no one had occupied the house since then, until now.
In a way, Carys was glad to be in her father's house again. Although she had hated living there, she remembered quite vividly how she'd felt upon learning that Jean would sell it and then later how it had been sold. She'd felt overwhelming nostalgia for the place that had caused her so much pain and at the same time had been her home.
She wondered what would happen if the people who'd last owned it were to come back, or if it had been long enough for the government to seize the property. Would they get arrested on the spot for squatting, for trespassing?
In truth, Carys wasn't too worried. From the looks of things, it seemed as if no one had paid the house any mind in a long, long time.
She turned around and left the room, and then she went down the stairs and found her grandfather seated in a chair with Tristan on his knee.
"How was your exploration?" Alun asked Carys. "You didn't overdo it going up and down those stairs, did you?" he then queried a little more sharply.
"I'm fine, Grandfather." I'm perfectly back to normal again she wanted to add, but she knew that Alun worried about both her mental and physical health and wouldn't believe anything she told him. Physically, Carys felt fine. She didn't have any complications from her miscarriage. Her mental health was certainly a different matter altogether, but she tried her best not to dwell on the past. She looked toward the future, which she imagined to be brighter and better than anything she'd gone through over the last year.
"I was wondering if you knew where my dad put his things after he got locked up. You know, the furniture and stuff."
Alun shook his head. "I don't know the details, I'm sorry."
Carys shrugged her shoulders. "It's okay. I was just wondering. And I am kind of tired of sleeping on a bedroll on the floor." She laughed, the first time in a long time.
"Hey. Can't I just visit my dad?"
Alun looked startled but then he shrugged. "I don't see why not. You haven't seen him in over two years, and I'm sure he would want to see you."
Carys nodded. "I want to see him too." And even after all the grief that man had caused her, she found that she'd spoken no lie.
Mournful Yet Not
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 02-18-09 17:40
A day after Ron Weasley had made contact with Aaron Miller, Rubeus Hagrid, and Phoenix Everard, neither the guards nor the warden have figured out that Phoenix didn't die in a shark attack. When Warden Bulstrode had looked at the fishing net she'd been told Phoenix had gone into the water to unsnag, she'd sneered, "Not much blood for it to have been a shark attack," to which one of the guards told her, "Wouldn't necessarily be. Current and other factors might have kept most the blood off the net."
Or so Harry had been told that's what was said.
He'd not been on the beach. A couple of others were around to witness Aaron and Hagrid returning without Phoenix and explaining what had happened.
Those who'd been there said Bulstrode shrugged then bitched about having someone more able bodied dying instead of one of the more useless prisoners.
Hagrid had mournfully produced a very mangled, tattered shoe, telling Bulstrode he'd fished it out and it was all he could find of Everard; perhaps that helped convince them. Clearly it hasn't occurred to her or any of the guards that Phoenix's shoes were pretty tattered from having the only the one pair of shoes to wear the entire time he's been at Community Q.
Later, when Hagrid and Aaron could talk to others alone, they'd told the real story. Even then it wasn't hard to continue the ruse of being sad about Phoenix. With not a hell of a lot to be happy about, looking sorrowful comes bloody easy.
They'd passed out the wands Ron had brought, wishing they'd had enough for everyone. Harry hadn't taken one though both Hagrid and Aaron tried to convince him to take one. Neither could really argue with his reasoning that he's the most closely watched and the one who is searched the most often for contraband. For now, Harry will pass up having a wand again if it means the others have a better shot at making their escape successful.
Besides the knowledge that they've been located and help with the escape is in the making and besides having the wands, there is one tidbit of information that does bring some good cheer. It's not enough to have them all outwardly smiling like fools but if the others are like Harry, they feel a little more bouyant, a little like there really is reason to hope.
Right after going into the water with Phoenix yesterday to return to the boat he'd arrived at the island on, Ron had called back up to Hagrid and Aaron. "I nearly forgot to tell you! Albus Dumbledore is alive and well!"
Harry straightens up from the work he'd been doing and wipes his brow. A guard nearby yells, "Oy! No one said it was break time."
Before the guard can physically punish him for slacking, Harry says, "I'm done."
"Oh, well all right then. Warden says your next job is to build her a deck. Better get cracking."
Harry nods then heads for the very nice hut where Bulstrode lives when staying on the island. After studying the plans she had drawn up for a deck, Harry works to measure everything and mark it all out before he gets to work on the frame, the entire time looking as sad and mopey as the other prisoners of Community Q but with a little inward smile.
France: Fine Dining
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 02-19-09 19:46
Ethan sat in the living room of the Turin family home and partook in an aperitif with his hosts while they waited for Ami the house elf to finish preparing the second course of a traditional French meal. Although Ethan hadn't completely recovered from his ordeal at Brecqhou, he had begun to eat a little more normally. Ami still made his portions smaller than everyone else's, but they were steadily growing larger with the passing of time.
Dierna had written from outside Athens, where she was keeping her winged-horses at the farm of a friend. She had done Ethan a favor at his request and visited his Muggle relatives in Bristol a few days ago. As far as they had been concerned, Ethan had fallen off the face of the earth, though his brother Callum had tried looking for him. They were glad to receive Dierna's visit and to learn that Ethan was safe. Even though they asked to know his whereabouts, Dierna withheld the information for fear that someone was keeping watch over the house. She didn't think the Ministry of Magic knew about Ethan's true parentage, since it had been a mystery to Ethan himself for so long, but she didn't want to take the risk of exposing him or the Turins.
Ethan was glad to read that his family seemed well and looked forward to one day seeing them again.
Ami entered the living room and requested everyone adjoin to the dining room. The Turins––Abelard, Hellouise, and Michael––and Ethan sat around the oval shaped, cherry-wood table, which was set with a soup bowl on top of a dinner plate. Ami went around the table with a soup tureen and filled each bowl with French onion soup. She filled Ethan's only halfway, which was just as well since he still had five courses left and couldn't imagine finishing everything even on a normal stomach.
"So, how is your daughter––Sabina, is it?––enjoying Beauxbatons?" Ethan asked his hosts.
"She complains een all 'er letters," Hellouise answered.
"I think she misses home," Michael added in.
"I zink you told 'er too many stories about 'ow nice 'Ogwarts eez," Hellouise told her brother-in-law.
"I would imagine Beauxbatons is much safer than Hogwarts these days," Ethan supposed.
"There's no doubt about that," Abelard said. "France hasn't changed a whit since the Ministry of Magic in London made all its changes. The French have always considered themselves the more civilized country and now I certainly believe it."
Hellouise made an I told you so noise in her throat and used the napkin in her lap to dab the corners of her mouth.
"Zat was delicious, was eet not?"
Ethan nodded. "Oh, yes. Ami is a very good cook."
The very same house elf swept into the room to clear the soup bowls and soon emerged with the main course, fish with pasta and stemmed vegetables. It looked and smelled divine!
Melancholy
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 02-20-09 11:49
A woodpecker hammered at the trunk of a tree, the leaves of which were returning with the passing of winter and the beginning of spring. The bird's rhythmic staccato drowned out the small sighs that escaped the lips of both Annabelle, who sat at the window and stared out into the yard, and Bronwyn, who lounged nearby on the couch with an unread magazine open in her lap.
Annabelle's revelation about her pregnancy and the fact that she and Wotan had had an affair, even if had been accidental (though no less inexcusable), had come as a shock to Bronwyn. But in time, she'd grown to accept the fact that her father and Desi's mother had made a mistake that had led to a consequence that would change their lives and the lives of their family's forever. She wasn't angry with Annabelle or Wotan and didn't think anything ill of their unborn child.
Desi's reaction, on the other hand, wasn't as clear cut. She hadn't said much at all since first hearing the news from her mother. When she was home, she typically spent all her time in her bedroom, but she wasn't home very much. She went to work early and stayed late and even went in on the weekends. Bronwyn imagined that Desi wanted to escape from everything, now that her world had been turned up-side-down.
Bronwyn had intended on returning to Australia in time for Toby's birthday, but she didn't want to leave Desi in case Desi wanted to open up to Bronwyn about what their parents had done. Annabelle appeared to need Bronwyn's company too, since so far she hadn't received any support from her daughter.
Bronwyn's distraction and melancholy had nothing to do with her father's adultery, Desi's silence, or a longing for the husband Bronwyn hadn't seen in over a month. Yesterday, a letter had arrived from Toby with startling news. The community Camp Lollipop, which Drake Bennett had informed her of last fall with the mention that her mother Aemilia had been seen alive there, had been liberated. It ought to have been wonderful news, only Aemilia hadn't been among the prisoners rescued, and Drake was quite sure that they had gotten everyone out of the community. So, where was Aemilia? Why wasn't she at Camp Lollipop anymore?
Bronwyn feared the worst. After all, her mother was only a Muggle and the most expendable in the eyes of those who believed the wizarding world should not be tainted with Muggle heritage. She had a sick feeling in her stomach that her mother was dead. The only consolation was that Aemilia would never know about Wotan's indiscretion, but Bronwyn would rather have her mother alive and divorced (if it came down to that in the end) than dead and gone.
Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes. The woodpecker's constant tick-tick-tick-tick-tick continued in the background, but Bronwyn no longer heard it.
Cheeky Monkey
Author: Georgia Copperpot
Date: 02-20-09 17:35
Isabella is doing a heel to toe circumnavigation on the decorative stones around a flowerbed. "Vair excited, Georgia?"
"Almost as much as I'd be doing 7 or 8 with my sex god boyfriend Sage Porter."
"I wish I had a family member I was being reunited with," Izzy says with longing.
"You will be."
"Yes, but not for two days more and they're cousins. That's hardly the same as getting to see a brother or sister."
"You don't have any siblings," I point out.
"No, though not for lack of giving my parents grief about it."
"I did that for years. Then I got Libby."
"She is rather... unique. Oooh, look! There she is!"
Libby is skipping beside the woman who'd taken Libby in after the children of Camp Lollipop were rescued. Files retrieved from the prison are still being gone over in hopes of helping link the children to who relatives or friends might be. Until then, the children are staying with foster families, much like many of the kids from Happy Haven are. In some instances, even after families and friends have been determined, the kids are staying in fosterage for the the time being.
I'm not sure how long it would have taken for Libby and me to be reunited if depending solely on the files and paperwork. All I know is that someone from either the Resistance or the Order of the Phoenix had gone to speak with Libby to see what she, even at her young age of 4, could tell them about her family members.
Libby had announced, "My Georgia has a boyfriend."
This led to the question, "Who is Georgia, Libby?"
"My sister. I lobe her berry much."
"Was your sister at Camp Lollipop?"
"Hogwarts with her sex god boyfriend Sage Porter."
I got a visit yesterday and arrangements to see Libby were made. We're in a park in Schaan, Liechtenstein. Sadly, I do not know enough yet about Liechtenstein to give it a nickname though I am strongly leaning at the moment Licksalot-A-Go-Go Land.
Libby spots us and comes running at top speed. She collides with my chest but before my open arms can even go around her in a hug, Libby steps back, raises her small hand and slaps me hard across the face.
"Cheeky, cheeky monkey!" Libby scolds.
The woman with Libby, Franka Kügelgen, instantly makes a grab for Libby. My eyes are filled now with a mixture of tears of happiness and tears of pain. I reach out for Libby at well only to to soundly kicked in both shins. Even as Ms. Kügelgen holds on to my little sister, Libby has managed to aim her kicks well.
"Bad Gingy! Leaving me alone!" Libby yells.
Ms. Kügelgen is trying hard to get Libby under control but I could have told her how vair difficult that can be when Libs is on a rant.
Izzy is wisely standing well back in case Libby decides to scold her too.
Libby suddenly goes all puddingy in Ms. Kügelgen arms and she starts to cry. "Bad Gingy to go away. Mummy and Daddy too."
I hang back a moment in case the tears are a ploy on Libby's part to get me close enough to hit again. With Ms. Kügelgen holding her around the waist, Libby's arms open up as if wanting a hug. "I missed my cheeky, bad monkey. I lobe you, Georgia."
Hugging my sister, I tell her, "I lobe you too, Libs, and I missed you. I didn't want to leave you alone or go away but I was forced to."
Libby pulls back and I tense in case she slaps at me again. "Let's play. Meet Sandra."
Libby pulls a small porcelein figure from the tiny backpack she's carrying. I look at it in confusion. "But Libby, that's Merlin, one of the most famous Wizards of all time."
Libby's soft, teary gaze goes hard. "This is Sandra," she firmly says, "and you, cheeky Gingy, are going to help make Sandra a dress. You," she points to Izzy," make Sandra some hair."
Libby shoves the statuette back into her pack and spins around, finger pointing, "Shops are that way. Sandra likes pink."
She takes off with Izzy, a bemused Franka Kügelgen, and me jogging to keep up.
Translations:
vair = very
7, 8 = These would be 7 and 8 on the Snogging Scale, fondling outdoors and fondling indoors, respectively.
sex god = a hunka hunka love
lobe = love
berry = vair
cheeky monkey = a nickname Libby affectionately uses for me
Gingy = another Libby nickname for me that is short for Ginger though since I am not ginger headed, we don't know why Libby has chosen it
Sandra = Libby's new doll that is really a statuette of Merlin the famous Wizard, often called by Muggles Merlin the Magician
Percy
Author: Ginny Weasley
Date: 02-20-09 19:56
Percy stares into the mirror before running a hand over his weary face. The small room contains a bath, a toilet and a sink with just enough room to stand. He had thought that once out of that island prison known as 14-15-14 he'd be able to get a good night's sleep. Percy had thought he'd fall into a warm, comfortable bed and be able to instantly drop off, not waking up until he was good and truly rested.
Since Flooing away from 14-15-14, rest of any sort is the last thing Percy has found. Every time he closes his eyes Percy pictures the warden and the guards killed falling to their deaths on the rocks. Percy tries hard not to close his eyes for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Unfortunately, whether his eyes are shut or not, Percy can hear the warden's scream, echoing over and over in his head.
At first, Percy had stood with Abner. Most at 14-15-14 who talked of escape were all talk, no action. There was something about Abner that translated into a man who'd follow through with a plan, who'd do more than sit around in despair, sighing about wanting to get away while never actually doing anything about it.
Overpower the guards. A good plan. A plan that worked well. Percy had thought that would be it. They overpowered the warden and the guards, got the wands, and got control of the Floo. It should have been a matter then of Flooing away with the warden and guards in custody. When things were still in the planning stage, Percy had offered up several ideas on where they could take the warden and guards. Abner and those closest to him had thought Percy's suggestions had merit. Abner had appointed Percy the liason for when they took those captured wherever they'd decided. Percy had settled on Geneva where the International Confederation of Wizards has one of its main offices.
When the day for the escape came, things got so out of hand. Instead of being a voice of reason, Abner stirred up the 14-15-14 prisoners into a bloodlusting mob. Percy was shoved aside, ignored. Faced with so many seeking revenge, Percy was unable to stop the murders. He knows he wasn't the only one against murdering the warden and those guards but at the time Percy felt so very alone.
In the end, he Floo'd away, the warden's screams already firmly lodged inside his head. Percy had come to this little cabin in the southeast of Ireland. Using different names, Penelope and he had purchased it through an Irish firm. They'd used it as weekend getaways a few times but mainly, with things starting to look questionable after Euphemia Smythe-Jones came to power, they'd agreed that's where they'd go if something bad happened and they got separated. They'd made having the cabin a secret and stocked it with food and clothing and a small amount of money.
Since arriving a few days ago, Percy has enjoyed eating normal, nutritional food again, though he found he can only eat in very small quantities at a time or he gets sick. He's loved taking baths and showers and being clean yet not being damp and wet the rest of the day. He's grateful to have clean clothes again that he can change regularly for more clean clothes. If only he weren't haunted by what happened in the escape.
Turning away from the small mirror, Percy walks into the main room of the cabin and sinks down on the sofa, near the fire. It may be April, a fact confirmed by the WWN programs he's been listening to, and the Irish weather might be balmy but Percy still feels chilled enough through the day to want to have a fire going constantly.
Picking up the day's copy of Britain's The Daily Prophet, Percy turns immediately to the classified ads section. In trying to decide how to make contact with certain people, Percy decided Monday evening to put an ad in the paper. It was printed in Tuesday's paper and now Percy's looking to see if anyone saw it and put in a reply.
He hopes there is one but whether there is or not, today Percy will venture out. He left once to go to the nearby village's owl post office but that took him a total of twenty minutes with the round trip walk. Today, Percy is going to go buy a wand. Unless he can find a decent second hand one, the cost might cut severely into the small funds he's got but without a wand, Percy can't send a Patronus, which is his next step in communications attempt, and he can't apparate.
Eyes scanning the classifies, Percy smiles. Halfway down the third page is what he's looking for.