Jet slips out of one of the Department of Mysteries workrooms, making sure he's not seen. That dark little voice in his head is sniggering at yet another successful sabotage of something the Minister has been pushing for that will help her maintain power and control.
The way clear, Jet decides to leave the department for lunch. Normally he eats at his workspace, letting the anti-social part of him that's only been there since whatever happened to him at Hogwarts before he vanished all those years ago. Jet's not the same happy-go-lucky, extroverted, be friends with just about anyone Hufflepuff that he was before the possession or whatever it was.
The dark thoughts are easier to hold at bay and Jet doesn't constantly have the sensation of something sinister lurking but he also knows he could easly let that part take total control. He imagines the result would be something along the lines of a male Bellatrix Lestrange.
Jet shudders at the thought.
Reaching the nearest lift, Jet stands a moment trying to decide whether to leave the Ministry entirely for lunch or to visit the Ministry cafeteria. It's only when the lift stops on the same level as the cafeteria to let someone on that Jet decides he might as well just eat there.
Once in the canteen, Jet goes through the line, selecting the soup of the day, which is really more of a chicken and dumplings, and a ham and swiss on rye. Taking a seat at a table for two right next to a window showing a field of red tulips in bloom under a clear very blue sky, Jet shakes the bottle of juice he'd gotten then opens it, taking a swig.
At the very next table sits Griffin Price, whom Jet has gotten to know through their work with the Order and Resistance. They do not, however, socialize here at the Ministry. In fact, they don't even acknowledge knowing each other. If they pass in a hallway or share a lift, they might nod at each other in that cordial way people do when they work in the same place and see the same people but still don't know each other.
Today Jet doesn't bother with a cordial nod. He sits down without ever giving away that he even saw Griff sitting there, letting his eyes instead go to the very pretty woman Griff's sitting with.
As he digs into the chicken and dumplings, Jet can't help but hear the woman saying to Griff, "I wish you wouldn't make me drag you to eat and if I have to, then why not somewhere nice?"
Sounding tired Griff replies, "I keep telling you, Dulcie, I don't have the time. In fact, you got lucky finding me in the office at all. I came back to get some paperwork that needed a signature for a work order."
Without having to look, Jet can hear the pout in Dulcie's voice. "You're always too busy to spend time with me. When you aren't trying to do the job of an entire department you're off visiting your Tristan and his great-grandfather. I don't want to take time from your son but you need to spend time with me, Griff. I'm tired of being left out and constantly forgotten."
"I'm sorry, Dulcie, but what do you want me to do? Quit this job just so I can spend time with you?"
"No, but you could stop working so much."
"And get fired."
"We're so understaffed, you'd have to really screw up to get fired, like be found out as a spy for the Resistance or something."
Jet grins down at his food thinking that Griff's friend has a good point. Still steadily eating, Jet gives no indication that what Dulcie says next really gets his mind working.
"I don't want to argue, Griff. This day has been bad enough as it is. I got yelled at three times for mistakes other people made. The entrance I normally use was blocked for some reason and those of us waiting to get in that way were directed to a toilet. A toilet! Can you believe? I was not going to risk ruining a new pair of shoes coming in through a loo! I went straight home and Floo'd to work instead."
Jet has no idea where Dulcie's and Griff's conversation went from there. He gets lost in thinking about the recent Order meeting he'd attended. The meeting was a core group of Order members with key members of the Resistance. Griffin Price wasn't there but Jet doesn't know if Griff was invited but couldn't attend or if he wasn't among those asked to join in. Jet is certain his own invitation was based solely on the fact that if not for his Blood Hound device, it's highly unlikely anyone would be any nearer to finding Albus Dumbledore.
During the meeting the overall, general plan for raiding the Ministry was discussed. Using the Floo system and the call box used as the visitor's entrance were outlined in the plan but nothing was said of the other ways into the Ministry. Jet starts making a mental list of those employee entrances he knows about while wondering if Dumbledore, McGonagall and the others simply forgot about possibly using them or if they thought of them but discarded the idea.
His lunch done, Jet buses his table. With the employee shortages, it's expected that one clears one's table and give it a quick wave of the wand to make sure the tabletop is clean for the next person. Making his way back to Level 9 Jet reaches the decision to go talk to someone, be it Dumbledore or McGonagall or one of the others doing the planning. If it turns out they'd not taken into consideration the other entrances, Jet will have to be sure to let Griff know from where the idea does come.
Upset Tummy Author: Blossom Date: 04-01-09 19:25
Blossom emerges from the loo dabbing at her mouth and reminding herself to add toothpaste to the shopping list. She stops short, Gideon standing directly in front of her, eyes more hazel today than brown looking wide with worry.
"Mummy's tummy no good?"
Blossom smiles, kneeling down so he won't have to keep looking up with such concern. "It was a little but all better for now."
"Mummy's tummy didn't feel good yesterday either."
Unsure of how to explain morning sickness to a not quite four year old who doesn't even know yet that come December there will be a baby brother or baby sister, Blossom smiles warmly and ruffles Gideon's thick, dark brown hair.
"Mummy's fine."
"Me won't get icky tummy?"
"You won't get sick, no."
"You sure's you're okay, Mummy?"
"Yes, I'm sure, poppet," Blossom says, using one of the British endearments she's picked up since moving to Great Britain and marrying an Englishman.
Blossom looks up with a start when Molly says from just down the hall, "Gideon, Gran is going to make sugar biscuits. Seth and Larkin are going to help. Would you like to help too?"
"Yeah!" Gideon enthusiastically replies, whirling around to dash down the hall past Molly.
Standing upright Blossom starts the same direction but stops again when she realizes that Molly is looking very appraisingly at her. Closing the distance between them and dropping her voice, Molly asks, "Going to keep it a secret until you practically deliver like Fleur and Bill did?"
Blossom shakes her head. "No, Fred and I didn't want to take away from their impending happy day, especially if things went badly for them again. And then when Victoire did arrive, we wanted to give them time to be their moment of bliss. It's early days for me yet."
"When?"
"Just before Christmas."
"You've not taken part in many of the missions but no more for you," Molly wags a finger.
Hooking an arm with Molly's and steering them towards the kitchen Blossom nods, "No arguing with you there. Now that you know, I need some advice. How do we explain to the triplets?"
Since they're almost to the kitchen and the triplets in question are clamoring for Gran to hurry up and start making the cookies, Molly winks conspiratorially at Blossom. "We'll sit down later and talk about it, dear. Want to do it with Fred part of the conversation?"
"Yes, that's probably a good idea."
"Lovely. Now, while I have the children occupied, why don't you have a lie down."
"I'd like that, thank you."
Giving Molly a kiss on the cheek, Blossom returns back the way they'd come to a room where she can rest a little while, something she doesn't get to do very often with active three year old triplets.
Ronan sat alone outside a café in the market square in historic Schiltach and sipped on "Apfelschorle", or carbonated mineral water and apple juice. It was a beautiful day. Blue skies flecked with white, puffy clouds stretched overhead. A crisp breeze that was cool but not too cold under the dazzling sun gently fluttered the leaves of the ivy that grew on a portion of an adjacent building. The market place fountain, only a few feet away from Ronan's table, had only recently been filled again and its water babbled pleasantly amid the sounds of people bustling about the square. It was very peaceful, and though somewhat solitary, Ronan felt relaxed.
He reached for his glass without looking and found himself grasping somebody's hand instead. Ronan turned his gaze from where he'd been looking at a dog sitting outside the front door of a shop and found himself seeing into his mother's eyes. Not only did he grasp her hand, but he had his fingers on a postcard she held. It was one he'd purchased at the local bookshop not too long ago. He'd meant to question his mother about the image in the postcard as soon as he'd returned home, but she'd been out and by the time she'd come back, he'd promptly forgotten about it.
"Where did you get this?" she asked him, not unkindly. She was merely curious as to why he would have it in his possession. She let go of it and her son's hand and flagged down the waiter serving another table.
Ronan was immediately intrigued by Enid's interest in the postcard. The waiter was finishing his business with the other table, so Ronan didn't wait to respond to her question.
"I bought it at the bookstore. The same image is on the cover of a book I saw in the window. I found it interesting since it's a witch being burned at the stake. I wonder if she was really a witch or if the Muggles––" He stopped abruptly and looked around. No one seemed to notice the strictly wizarding word, if any of the individuals at and around the café spoke any English to begin with.
Enid looked up as the waiter approached and ordered a cup of coffee. As soon as he left, and before Ronan could continue his train of thought, Enid spoke.
"Of course she was a witch," she replied all-knowingly.
"How do you know?" Ronan asked. He looked from his mother's face to the postcard still in his hand and then back to Enid. "How do you know she was really a witch?"
Enid fixed Ronan with a steady look. "Because she's our ancestress."
Visitor Author: Jolyon Date: 04-02-09 16:46
For the second time in as many weeks, Jolyon found himself spending his Thursday morning not at Hogwarts preparing for his afternoon classes but at St. Mungo's Hospital tending to his worried mother and being belittled by his father, who was decidedly not dead.
Last week, upon receiving his mother's letter, Jolyon had gone to the hospital with dread in his heart. Although it would sadden any normal man to lose his father, Jolyon's dread lay in the fact that Emanuel Kent had always treated him badly, so much so that even as an adult, Jolyon could not shake the mental and physical abuse he'd endured as a child. Emanuel had not put a hand on Jolyon or cast a spell against him ever since the son had outgrown the father, but his tongue-lashings had only gotten more vile with age.
Never, as long as Jolyon could remember, had he received praise from his father. Emanuel criticized every decision, every accomplishment. Jolyon getting sorted into Ravenclaw House during his Hogwarts years hadn't been good enough for Emanuel. Surely Gryffindor or Slytherin would have been better. Choosing veterinary healing for a career had been all wrong. Healing wizards would have been far more respectable. Giving up his practice for teaching at Hogwarts?! Even worse. Why would they want Jolyon anyway if his marks had been poor in most subjects?
Jolyon's mother Bridget Kent (née MacFusty) supported his every decision and achievement, but only when she and Jolyon were alone together. She never said anything in defense of her son whenever Emanuel went on a tirade against him, though she didn't join in on the criticizing either. Jolyon found her silence infuriating and couldn't for the life of him see why she constantly stood by a man who never had anything good to say about his only child. And yet, he never said anything about it, because he knew it would upset her, and Jolyon hated to see his mother cry.
Despite being a bad father, Emanuel appeared to be a loving husband. He never raised voice nor hand against Bridget and always saw to all of her needs and cares. Jolyon had often wondered how Emanuel would have reacted if Bridget would have spoken up about the abuse of their child. Would he have changed his ways or would he have, for the first time ever, shrugged off her concerns as if they were nothing?
It would never happen. Not in a million years. For whatever reason, Bridget allowed Emanuel to mistreat Jolyon, and because Jolyon knew that Bridget would prefer him to just grin and bear it, he did. So, at her request and though he would have much rather spent his time cleaning all the toilets at Hogwarts, Jolyon went to St. Mungo's to see his father off to the other side.
Only, it appeared that Emanuel was reluctant to leave. Last Thursday morning, he'd moaned and groaned and wheezed and coughed, and whereas Bridget sniffled at his bedside and feared the worst, Jolyon had wondered if it was all just a show. Between the cacophony, whether real or staged, Emanuel had managed to deprecate everything about Jolyon, from his life to his clothes. Jolyon had left after only an hour, which had felt entirely too long.
Now Jolyon found himself at Emanuel's bedside once again. The older wizard's beady eyes scrutinized Jolyon, as they always did.
"I know why you're really here," Emanuel rasped.
"I'm here because Mum asked me to come," Jolyon replied.
Emanuel started to laugh, which in turn became a coughing fit. Bridget got up and put her hand on his shoulder, gazing at him extreme worry. Emanuel found her hand with his and gently squeezed it. He gazed at her lovingly before fixing his eyes on Jolyon again. The look Emanuel gave him was decidely less lovingly.
"You want me to die so that you can claim your inheritance from me. Don't try to deny it, boy. You probably don't make enough money at that school, or you do but spend it all on feed for your many creatures. Isn't that right, boy?"
Jolyon looked from his father to his mother, who dropped her gaze down and wouldn't look at him again. As a child, he'd quickly learned never to contradict his father, no matter what was being said. He still remembered quite vividly the consequences for speaking against Emanuel and hesitated to do so even now, but there was little the older wizard could do these days except berate.
"As I said before, I came because Mum asked it of me. And quite frankly I'm surprised you ever considered me for your will. After all these years I was sure you had no reason to give me anything."
Emanuel's eyes were like piercing daggers. Jolyon found himself looking away rather quickly. He found his mother, who still wouldn't look at him, and said, "I should head back to school. I have classes this afternoon in need of preparation."
"You never were any good at preparing for your schoolwork," Emanuel stated. "I don't see how they can be paying you to prepare lessons for school children."
Jolyon rose, fully ignoring his father. He stepped around the bed and kissed his mother's cheek.
"Goodbye," he said. He heard her whisper "goodbye" the moment he closed the door behind him.
Listening To Messages (Frannie) Author: Aaron Miller Date: 04-02-09 18:05
Frannie Miller walks into the den to ask Aaron if he wants her to check messages at the London apartment like she's been doing since he was arrested and has continued to do since he escaped that awful prison island. Since Aaron's return Frannie asks him if he'd like to check the messages but he always declines. Frannie's certain it's because of there's one of the rare messages from Saffron instead of her sister or one of the few others in their world who know to call the apartment's answering machine that Aaron would find it too much to bear. It's hard enough having no contact with her and making sure that anyone he sees at meetings for the Resistance and Order of the Phoenix won't divulge to Saffron, Deak, or Sage or a number of others that Aaron is alive, well, and free. Hearing Ssffron's voice might break Aaron's resolve of no contact for the time being.
Aaron's sleeping, his body still trying to regenerate from the grueling ordeal on the island. Knowing he's going to tell her to make the call if she wants, Frannie decides not to bother him. He needs the sleep more than he needs to be woken up just to tell her, "No, thank you. You do it, Mom."
Leaving Aaron in the den, Frannie goes to the nearby office to make the call. She's got the apartment on speed dial so the only number she has to punch in is the answering machine code to retrieve any messages there. Expecting there to be nothing more than the usual telemarketers and scammers along with one from Sassy checking in or from Saffron if she managed to get away to somewhere not saturated with magic long enough to call using her own cell phone. Aaron's regular friends, that is his Muggle friends, long ago gave up trying any of Aaron's numbers. Those closest and most concerned contacted Frannie who then had to come up with a valid reason for why Aaron hasn't returned calls. She'd ended up having to get help from her daughter and others in the Wizarding community to plant thoughts in their heads that Aaron's taken a long term sabbitical and only checks in with her infrequently to let her know he and his family are doing well.
Frannie quickly deletes the first two messages, one telling Aaron's he's been approved for a new credit card and the other something to do with a supplimental health plan. The third message has Frannie frozen in place as does the one right after.
A thin, tremulous voice is saying, "Professor it's Jewel Reily. Not much time."
The rest of the first message is quick with Jewel hanging up to look for an address and geographical reference points to give. The second message is Jewel reading off the address from where she's calling and describing a few landmarks. She hangs up with the reminder that whenever someone can, be it her or someoe else, that someone will be at one of the places she describes after dark. She doesn't know how often someone will be waiting but that someone will be there whenver possible until contact is made.
Frannie listens long enough to determine if there's anything else from Jewel or anything from Saffron or her sister then rushes to the den. Aaron might need his sleep but this is much more important at the moment. By the time she's shaking Aaron awake, Frannie's recalled how it is that Jewel Reily would have the apartment's number. When Aaron was teaching his students how to properly use a telephone, he'd given them that as one of the working numbers to call as they practiced.
Relaxed Author: Griet Date: 04-03-09 15:31
It turned out that neither Oberon nor Gervaise needed stay behind at the villa in San Marino. Dale Mickle, Griet's uncle and the father of her cousins Sadie and Ramona, had not only taken in his kin but the two boys as well. Words couldn't describe how pleased Griet felt by her uncle's hospitality, and she knew Oberon and Gervaise were grateful as well. Never had she heard Oberon utter so much as a "Thank you" to anyone before, but she'd heard him tell Dale that very phrase more than once since the day he'd come to collect them from the villa.
They lived in a small house on the banks of the Cape Fear River in Wilmington, North Carolina, which Dale had rented soon after the Ministry of Magic had begun rounding up wizards who lacked pureblood ancestry. Neither Dale nor his Muggle wife Pearl had any family in the United States, but Dale had visited Wilmington once on business and had found it a very charming city. It was about as far from home as he felt comfortable living and he vowed to stay there until things blew over overseas.
Once upon a time the notion of things changing back to normal had been a very big if, but even though Dale didn't take part in any of the movements against the current regime, he sensed that things were already swinging in a more favorable direction. He hoped the time would soon come to pack up and return home, but he didn't dare go back until everything was definitely normal again.
Griet felt better in Wilmington than she'd had in a long, long time. Finally, she'd been reunited with some of her family. She didn't at all mind that she wasn't with her parents or her siblings (though she missed Cornelia the most out of all of them). However, she did hope that one day she would have her reunion with them. She knew she ought to be upset by her apparent disownment from her parents, but she knew exactly why they'd reacted the way they'd had. Perhaps in their shoes she would have done the same thing.
Dale had thought it best not to notify his sister and brother-in-law about Griet's current whereabouts, though if they listened to the same WWN broadcasts he did and saw the same messages in the papers, then perhaps they already knew.
Somehow, Dale doubted they followed the underground news reports. Johannes and Catharina were the type who would do nothing less than behave like the superior wizards they believed themselves to be. If and when the Ministry of Magic made it legal and socially acceptable to treat half-breeds with equality and respect, then they would accept Griet with open arms again. Until then, they had no interest in doing anything but what the law expected from them.
Dale thought it a shame that his sister was so narrow-minded, that she would cast off her first-born child as easily as she would cast off refuse fit for the rubbish bin. He marveled at Griet's apparent strength, though he knew the abandonment must hurt. A legal adult she might be but in many ways, Griet was still little more than a child who needed her parents for nourishment. Still, the girl seemed to hold her own quite admirably.
She sat on the end of the dock that protruded into the river at the edge of the property and swung her bare feet in the water. It was pleasantly warm. Gervaise and Oberon rowed a small boat to and fro and occasionally attempted to catch fish. So far they were unsuccessful. Sadie and Ramona chased the neighbor dog which had once again wandered into the yard. They laughed, feeling happier than they'd been in ages.
Griet shut her eyes and leaned back, supporting herself with her arms. The sun touched her face and a light breeze caused her loose hair to flutter in the wind. She smiled, feeling at peace, happy, and perfectly comfortable.
