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Meeting Pomona
Author: Minerva McGonagall
Date: 02-25-13 10:10
As Minerva walked purposefully down High Street, she kept her sharp eyes peeled for any sign of Rita Skeeter, a reporter she very much wished to engage in serious conversation. The pesky Daily Prophet journalist had been spotted in the village often as of late, but appeared to be absent at the moment. A shame, since Minerva was in a challenging sort of mood this afternoon.
She entered The Three Broomsticks and swept her gaze around the not-so-crowded interior, finally settling on her friend Pomona Sprout, who raised a hand and waved her over to the table she had staked out for them both. It was very near to the hearth, where a fire crackled pleasantly and warmed everybody in its vicinity.
Minerva took off her cloak and folded it over the back of her chair.
"Hello, Pomona," she greeted. "How are you finding your retirement?"
"Hello, Minerva. I fill my days with projects around the house and garden and have discovered that there is always more to do. However, there are times when I do miss teaching. How are Lawrence and Marzipan managing?"
"I have no complaints regarding Marzipan," Minerva replied, "even if Rita Skeeter thinks I should."
Pomona pulled a face. "That horrid woman. I saw her recent piece on AJ."
"He is the fourth staff member affected and certainly won't be the last," Minerva replied, glancing around in case Rita Skeeter happened to be lurking about, but she was no where to be seen.
"I suppose she can't be stopped, can she?"
"She is free to write whatever she wishes," Minerva said, "though if she isn't careful, someone might accuse her of libel and take legal action against her."
"Let us hope your staff members get the last laugh," Pomona said.
She looked up when Madam Rosmerta appeared at the table to take their orders. A short while later they each had a mug of spiced cider and were awaiting their lunches, shepherd's pie with a garden salad for Pomona and smoked chicken, corn and roasted potatoes for Minerva.
"How are your great nephews doing?" Pomona asked. "It must be exciting having family at Hogwarts again."
"Madoc is doing exceedingly well. He's on the Quidditch team now."
"How wonderful! Another athlete in the family!"
"Yes. However, I'm not quite sure what to make of Malden."
"Oh? Is he much different from Madoc, then?"
Minerva sighed. "He reminds me a lot of his grandfather."
Pomona's eyes widened in understanding. She and Minerva had been school friends, so she knew all about Menelaus and how he had been estranged from the rest of his family for decades until Madoc started at Hogwarts.
"I see," she murmured. "And how is Menelaus these days?"
"Deceptively civil," Minerva replied.
"You don't believe he has turned a new leaf?"
"I don't know what to think. I fear that he will slip back into old habits, now that Adriana Fairchild seems to be picking up where You-Know-Who left off."
"Perhaps now that he has grandchildren, things will be different."
"I hope, for their sake. What a disappointment it will be for them if Menelaus decides to support Adriana the way he did her 'spiritual father' all those years ago."
(Elgiva) Intruder
Author: Rowan Westwick
Date: 02-25-13 12:09
Elgiva Finch appeared on the doorstep at Westwick Grove, armed with a basket of cleaning supplies. It was her greatest wish that the Westwick home be liveable again by Christmas, not that Rowan or Willow would be able to move back into their home until the eldest reached her majority. Nevertheless, Elgiva thought it might make a nice Christmas gift for the girls to have the home as good as new again.
She fit her key into the new lock on the front door and stepped inside, waving her wand at the sconces lining the foyer and the hallway that extended beyond it. The house looked clean and clutter-free for the most part, but a little bit of work remained. Most rooms appeared empty, as much of the furniture and household items had not be salvagable.
Elgiva stepped into the living room and started to set the basket she carried onto the lone chair near the window, when she noticed sooty footsteps on the floorboards. She froze, listening hard for the presence of somebody else in the house. Her heart beat wildly, as if it threatened to break free from her chest. Surely if another person were in the house with her, he or she could hear it thumping. So loud was it to her own ears.
She quietly put the hot pink, plastic basket down on the chair and clutched her wand tightly, but still she heard nothing. Elgiva slowly made a turn about the room, and then a dirty hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her shriek. She raised her wand arm, but another hand came down on her forearm, causing her to lose hold of her wand. It clattered to the ground and rolled across the floorboards.
"What business do you have here?" a wizard's voice growled in her ear. His breath was foul, and a bit of spittle landed on her cheek.
Elgiva shrank within his grasp and tried to stamp on his foot, but to no avail. She couldn't get away from him.
"Where has everything gone?" he asked.
Even if she wanted to answer, she couldn't. His dirty hand still covered her mouth. She made a squealing sort of noise and felt a tear streak down her cheek. Who was this madman who'd broken into the house? His lack of hygiene suggested he might be homeless, or perhaps on the run…
"What did you bring?" the wizard asked, eyeing the basket on the chair. It contained potions like Everklena and Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, and scrub brushes and wash cloths.
"No food?" he asked.
Elgiva had a granola bar in the small crossbody purse she wore, but she couldn't tell him that, not with his grimey hand over her mouth. She whimpered and then fell quiet in an instant, when she heard the front door open.
"Elgiva?" Cyrus called out.
She made the loudest noise she possibly could. Half a second later, the wizard let her go and lunged for her wand.
"Cyrus! There's someone here!" she cried out.
He barreled into the room, his wand held aloft, and fired a stunning spell at the unknown wizard the moment he laid eyes upon him. The trespasser had only just gotten his fingers on Elgiva's wand and crumpeled to the floor, unconscious.
Cyrus kicked his wife's wand away from the wizard's fingers and then went to his wand, enclosing her into an embrace. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" he asked.
"He didn't hurt me," she said, "but I was so scared."
"It's all right now. Get your wand and I will get someone to take him away." He released her, pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and then went straight to the fireplace to contact the authorities.
Elgiva picked up her wands and held it with trembling hands. Who was the shabby-looking wizard on the floor, and what had brought him to Westwick Grove?
Every Day Feels Long (Etta)
Author: Jared
Date: 02-25-13 13:50
Thursdays always feel long to Etta, most likely because Thursdays mean double Herbology, double Charms, and double Defense Against The Dark Arts, followed by Fitness & Athletics. Then again, every day this term feels long. Etta is taking ten NEWT level courses. She misses Astronomy a little and wouldn't have minded Arithmany & Divination but as she feels overloaded already, she's glad she chose not to take either. She could have skipped F&A this year and she didn't have to take Alchemy but as F&A is one of her favorites and doesn't require putting in massive amounts of time studying for an end of year NEWT she couldn't see dropping the course. As Alchemy is new with many potentially interesting topics, she wanted to take it and get an idea of whether it's something she'd want to pursue more of later, particularly if she attends St. Emrys as currently planned.
As DADA comes to an end, Etta gets off one last Metrallus, pleased that all the bits of metallic shrapnel hit the target where she'd intended. During Tuesday's class she'd gotten progressively better and this class period Etta thinks she's continued to improve. The demonstration given at the beginning of today's class by Professor Isuki, that is Professor Weatherby - Etta thinks her husband is too cute for words - was interesting. Professor Weatherby showed why Metrallus isn't used that often in fight situations. She'd made everyone stand in a certain spot and put a shield around the spot. She'd then moved to another part of the room, aimed her wand at a dueling dummy around which she'd also put up a shield. "Metrallus!" she'd firmly stated then immediately put up her own shield. The numerous metal shrapnel bits hit the dueling dummy's shield nad began ricocheting all over the room. Some bits embedded in the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. Others bounced off Professor Weatherby's shield while still others bounced off the shield she'd put around the seventh years.
Etta flinched the first couple of times shrapnel hit but as she wasn't the only one flinching she didn't feel that self conscious about it. A few pieces of shrapnel bounced from shield to shield to shield, one bit going for a full three minutes before deflecting off into a wall. Only when she was certain all the shrapnel had stopped bouncing around the room did Professor Weatherby lower her shield and remove the one around the group of students, a slight smile on her face when she stated, "And that is why Metrallus is used sparingly."
As she puts her wand away and gathers up her satchel to walk with Alexa to Fitness & Athletics, which is inside at the heated pool rather than out in the cold and snow, thank Merlin - Quidditch practice in the dark and cold is quite enough - Etta also pulls out an owl order catalog to thumb through on the short walk.
"Christmas shopping?" Alexa asks, hitching her own back to her shoulder.
"Yes, for one gift in particular at the moment, the Secret Santa one."
The popular gift exchange was announced a few weeks ago, giving students and staff plenty of time to sign up. Names were only recently passed out to those participating, just in time for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Etta's recipient is a first year who is in a house other than Gryffindor, which means she's had no reason to know the girl and isn't even sure if she's even so much as said hello. In the few days since getting the first year's name, Etta's been trying to learn a little something about her so she can better select a present. She doesn't want to fall back on a token gift that has no real thought put into it. She's hoping with looking through catalogs and browsing around Hogsmeade on Saturday, she'll come up with something that's more than just a giant bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.
Holding the catalog for Alexa to see a particular item she asks, "What do you think of something like this?"
With their minds on Christmas gifts, Alexa and Etta reach the school pool before they know it. Quickly getting changed into their suits they continue talking potential gifts, by that time joined by a few others including Marjania, Jill, and Olive, until Professor Krum calls the class to order.
Tired and Rundown
Author: Coco Nutt
Date: 02-25-13 19:15
Coco completes the exam so quickly she wonders if she's missed some questions or if answers she's written aren't adequate. After spending several minutes going over the exam, reading over answers and looking for any questions inadvertently skipped she finally concludes that the exam had simply been much easier than anticipated. After turning the test in she steps into the corridor, debating where to go. She's not been on the work schedule much this week, neither at MacFusty's nor Nutt's & Bolt's, but she has an urge to at least go check in with Indigo if he's still there or with Hannibal Hayes, the other veterinary healer, or there's Matt who lives above the shoppe and checks on any of the animals in the shoppe or staying overnight in the clinic. What she should do, however, is grab a bite of supper and get in one more review for her final exam first, which is first thing in the morning.
Turning to walk the short distance to the Floo conduit that's just at the end of this hallway where it intersects another corridor, Coco knows if she goes to the clinic she'll find reasons to stay, possibly for hours. It's not that Coco hates studying or dislikes attending class and doing the work. She likes learning, doesn't mind studying, and though she doesn't love all her classes she likes them well enough. It's not even that she doesn't feel she needs to do one last review. It's that for the first time in her life Coco is feeling a little rundown and, well, for lack of a better expression, blah.
Before throwing some powder into the Floo, Coco considers what there is to eat at home. Only leftovers, of which she is somewhat tired, unless she wants to cook. At the moment the act of even heating up a tin of soup seems too energy draining. A bite out somewhere then. She's tempted to go to Hogsmeade and then she could drop by the clinic with the excuse of just dropping by on her way to grab a bite. Shoulder's slumping a little she knows she shouldn't even if a soup and salad from Brews & Stews does sound appealing.
Throwing the floo powder in, Coco calls out the name of a small place in Bristol former Hogwarts roommate Gertrude Hatcher introduced her too. Its menu is not as large as that of Brews & Stews but it does offer a decent variety of soups, salads, and sandwiches, and it's open late enough that she won't be walking in near to closing time and feeling as if she's keeping part of the staff there longer than they would be otherwise. A minute later she's seated at a table and looking over the menu trying to make a decision on what to order. Once she's decided and told the server what she'd like, Coco dutifully pulls out the notecards she's made through the course of the class she has the one exam left to go, trying not to dwell on the fact that she's depressed and the reasons behind it.
To Be a Slytherin
Author: Mary MacKenny
Date: 02-25-13 21:41
Professor Flitwick glanced at his scroll and called, "Mary MacKenny."
At the mention of my name, I didn't move forward and sit on the empty stool like the others who had gone before me. My eyes glazed and I stared into space. Staring at nothing in particular, I felt transported to the Isle of Skye. Skye, my ancestral home since the time of the Vikings, was never a happy place. There, I was Christened as Mary Margaret MacKenny, but known as certain names I shall not recount.
Mary Margaret MacKenny. Oh, I've always hated that name, but how I hate it even more with the recent turn of events! Mary is such a common name. How many Marys have I met? I don't even know. It's the same with Margaret. My parents made it even worse by bestowing me with both names. MacKenny is such a common name as well. How many MacKennys have I met? All I know is that Skye is full of them and they've all disowned me except for one.
"Mary MacKenny," Professor Flitwick called again.
This time, at the mention of my name, I did make my way over to the stool and sat down. Professor Flitwick placed the Sorting Hat on top of my head. It was so quiet for quite sometime that I wondered if something was wrong. Was it unable to sort me?
"Mary MacKenny," greeted the Sorting Hat, "where shall I put you?"
"Yes, where shall you put me? I wondered, remembering the conversation I had with my cousin, Roger Bexley, or "Bex" as he likes to be called, about the four houses of Hogwarts. He himself had been sorted into Slytherin. Would I be sorted into the same house? He might be my cousin, and the only other magical person in the MacKenny family, but we're different people.
"You're brave. Perhaps in Gryffindor, where you'll find friends who'll aid you in your chivalrous deeds? You're a hard worker. Perhaps in Hufflepuff, where you'll find friends who'll understand your arduous hardships? You're intelligent. Perhaps in Ravenclaw, where you'll find friends who'll challenge your intellectual boundaries? You're ambitious. Perhaps in Slytherin, where you'll make friends who'll help you achieve your long sought for ends? But where to put you?"
I considered the enchanted hat's ponderings, biting my bottom lip in anticipation.
"SLYTHERIN!" decided the Sorting Hat finally.
Suddenly, I was no longer in the Great Hall being sorted in front of the entire faculty and student body of Hogwarts. I was staring at the bed-hangings of my four-poster bed in the Slytherin dungeon. Everything was out of focus. Slowly, my vision cleared. I rubbed my eyes, which still felt strange, and let them adjust again. Feeling my sleepiness slip away, I pulled back one of my bed-hangings and looked around the dormitory for the first year Slytherin girls. No one else had theirs drawn open. Sighing with relief at having avoided another confrontation, I let mine fall back into place. I adjusted the covers and lay back down.
But I didn't close my eyes. Instead, I stared off into nothingness as I recalled my dream. It wasn't unusual for me to dream and to remember them in great detail. I suppose it would come in handy when I take Arithmancy and Divination, from what I hear, that's if I take it. That's a couple of years away, so I have time to think about which two extra classes I will be taking. There were four options: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Divination, Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies. As if I want to study about Muggles! I could feel a sneer coming on.
Changing the subject, I directed my thoughts towards Arithmancy and Divination again. I suppose I would like to know what my dreams mean. I would like to know what everything means. I just don't know what to think about anything anymore. My entire life changed, obviously for the better, not too long ago. What else would I learn about in Arithmancy and Divination? Maybe I should start looking into it along with Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures to see which classes I'd like to take in the future. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and Divination would run hand-in-hand. However... Care of Magical Creatures would be interesting as well. I already have some experience with creatures-
"Maryyy..." greeted the common European adder snake that I had befriended some time ago. I could feel her, above the covers, slithering her way towards me.
"I told you not to call me that, Eve," I reprimanded, slightly shifting myself to allow her to coil herself near me.
"Then what do you want to be called?" questioned Eve as she settled down close to my face.
My brows furrowed in consideration. It was a question proposed before. And it was a question I didn't have an answer to. I despise my Muggle name, but don't know what my magical name should be. It's not from lack of trying. Since my introduction to the wizarding world, I've taken great care to notice everything about it. So far, from this year's schedule, I enjoy History of Magic the most.
While I'm not particularly fond of Herbology and Potions, I'm quite apt in both subjects. It isn't a wonder considering I come from Skye, where I was taught to pick mushrooms, oysters and the like. Growing up in the small and isolated island seems to be like growing up in the pure-blood world, surrounded only by your kind. Not that I consider the people of Skye my kind. Nor do they consider me their kind. It's always been that way, even before I received my letter from Hogwarts.
As for Muggle and magical names, I haven't noticed much of a difference due to some magical folk being Muggle-born and Half-bloods. Pure-bloods have, however, more unusual names. So far, I haven't found much of a pattern. The majority of them were just unusual. It left me at a loss as to who to reinvent myself as.
"Maryyy..."
"Yes?" I answered, scowling. I truly despised being named Mary Margaret MacKenny. Looking at her, I swear I could see a smile on her face. My scowl transformed into a smile and a snort escaped. Truly, she was the only one who could do that.
"How was your day?"
"It was like every other day," and I described my day until I fell asleep.
Possible Progress
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 02-26-13 21:02
For getting to meet with Peter Pettigrew, Kingsley Shacklebolt had Harry's boss put Harry on a team given the task of reviewing every form used by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and determining if there are any improvements that could be made to each. The team is also supposed to make suggestions for improving the system used for finding information in the massive amount of files the department keeps. In other words, something tedious and boring as hell to ensure Harry is too occupied between the team's work and cases he's on to even think about pestering Kingsley further, whether it's pestering concerning Adriana or Pettigrew.
Part of his morning has been spent in a team meeting during which all that was accomplished was half of those present argued for a particular set of changes to one form while the other half argued that the form did need to be changed but put forth different changes. Harry was one of the few who thought valid points were made on both sides. He said as much then remained quiet because in his opinion it's pointless getting so heated about cosmetic changes to a form rarely used and that no one actually cares about.
After the meeting ended he'd gone to see a witness with some follow-up questions and then came back to the Ministry where he was to be available at the court's convenience to testify in a case. He didn't have to go sit outside the courtroom for an indefinite time waiting to be called in so he spent the time searching through records for any reference to the tome Pettigrew told him about.
From what Pettigrew remembered the book's title translated to something along the lines of Arcane Silver. The title itself was in what he thought was German or a similar language. Going on that Harry consulted a linguist who gave him a list of possible titles. Since then whenever he's had a little time Harry's searched for anything that matches something on the list or comes close. Nothing showed up in the Ministry's library, the public library, or the libraries of St. Emrys or Hogwarts. He's checked a few bookshoppes but has more to visit. When unable to look outside work he's been looking through records.
After being called to the courtroom where he spent all of three minutes, 17 seconds the morning was far enough along that he could soon take a lunch break. Harry decided to spend the short amount of time until going through more records. He's on the verge of stopping, thinking he'll see if Ron's around and offer to treat his friend to lunch when something in a file catches his eye. Extracting the parchment with the salient information, Harry reads through it three times and compares words there against his list no less than five times.
Exiting the records room, making note of which records room it is, clutching a just made copy of the parchment containing the information, Harry experiences a sense of giddy elation. All thoughts of going to lunch gone for the moment, Harry is nearly to a lift when he remembers protocol of letting the office know where he's off to. That done, he hurries to a lift, eager to get to Hogsmeade and find out what Julian Valentine can tell him about Geheimzinnige Zilver.
Haven
Author: Mildred
Date: 02-27-13 12:14
Joseph had a small private room at the school. He would spend his breaks there and it was the place he kept his working tools, although Mildred knew that unlike Filch, he used magic to keep the school clean and in order. The little witch liked to spend her time there, with or without Joseph's company. She found in the little room a refugee, and its smell of peppermint tea had become quite familiar to her.
Joseph not only kept his tools there in a cabinet, but he also had a wide variety of books, all of them connected to the art of healing. When Mildred had asked him about it, he said he read those books to be prepared in case one of the students got hurt and he happened to be the one near him or her. Joseph read the Daily Prophet and not the American newspapers and he seemed to be a feverous supporter of the Holyhead Harpies, considering the little flag he had pinned in the card board on the wall, next to the some notes on student's schedules and other useful information.
There were no photographs in his office, but there was a painting of what seemed to represent the underground of London. If the painting was observed carefully it was possible to notice a little symbol in one of the stone of the walls, something that resembled to an eye.
Mildred enjoyed spending her free time in there, away from the other students. Joseph did not have a fireplace but the room was always warm and she thought there was some sort of spell there to keep winter's cold away. Today she was seated in the caretaker's comfortable small brown sofa and reading one of her school books.
"Are you hiding again?" Joseph asked, entering the room and closing the door behind him.
"I am not hiding. It's just nice in here," she replied, not even looking at him.
They had developed a sort of friendship: most of times the caretaker would act more like a friend of her age than an adult figure. But today the role Joseph had chosen to perform was the adult one, when he started to tell Mildred she could not hide forever.
"You want to spend the rest of your school years stuck in a caretaker's office, without anyone of your age to talk to?"
"I feel better in here than outside. "
Mildred didn't want him to expel her from there. This room meant security and she was at peace with her solitude. However, Joseph defended that she should hang out with people of her age and make friends.
"That or you tell your aunt you want to return to Hogwarts. Both of us know that it is what you want the most."
"I can't tell her. She arranged things here for me, she bought the house near the school on propose and everything…"
"She didn't guess you wouldn't get well here. But if you stopped hiding and tried to get along with the others, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But you isolate yourself and that makes the other students feel less and less attached to you."
Mildred knew Joseph was right and she promised him she would think about that. He nodded and then he offered her a mug with some peppermint tea, which Mildred gladly accepted. She had already decided she was not going to do anything about her current situation at Salem. The caretaker's office was her haven and she thought she could handle spending the time between classes in there. Little did she know that Joseph had a plan of his own, in case Mildred decided not to act by even trying to make friends or talk to her aunt.
Gentleman Caller - Blackguard Offices
Author: Peregrinus Hartcrofte
Date: 02-27-13 19:21
It had been over a month since Pip had last stepped foot inside the headquarters of the Blackguard. Much of that time had been spent at St. Mungo's, under Ministry-mandated observation. Pip's insistence that he had not inhaled the gas had made no difference, since there was no way to be sure that the potion wasn't absorbed through the skin.
After his release from St. Mungo's, Pip had elected to postpone his return to active duty for a while. His handling of the bombing of Platform 9 ¾ had been a dreadful embarrassment. Thankfully, Ellenora had managed to repair the team's reputation with the Ministry during his absence.
His absence had done little to repair his self-confidence. He ambled into the office looking like he had just euthanised his favourite pet. Not even Winnifred's perkiness could turn his frown upside-down.
"Good morning, Mister Hartcrofte!"
"Allo, Winnie. You're looking well."
"Fit as a fiddle, sir! There's plenty of work in the Fishbowl if you're ready to 'get back on the horse,' otherwise I do have a few messages for you. Mister Mawrth dropped by to see if you were in, and asked me to let you know that he had been removed from the case. Another fellow from the Ministry dropped by after that, a Mister Roger Bexley, who is to be Mister Mawrth's replacement, asked that you send him an owl as soon as you're back on your feet. Oh, and your brother Percy dropped off a vial of some manner of potion for you, it's in your office. Speaking of Percy … I suppose he's seeing someone absolutely gorgeous, isn't he?"
Winnie's crush on Perseus Hartcrofte was enough to bring a grin back to Pip's lips. "Percy's not seeing anyone at the moment, much to Mother's chagrin. He's been asking after you, though. Do us a favor, will you, love? Send Bexley an owl to let him know that I'm at his disposal, and send another to Nephele Mockridge, asking when would be a good time to call on her."
"Oh? Is this a professional call or personal?" Winnifred let the innuendo hang off the word personal as if the owl were to arrange a torrid affair.
"Both, my dear," he said with a wink. "Both!"
Moving On
Author: Desdemona Diamond
Date: 02-27-13 23:09
The end of the Michaelmas Term at the university, and with the confession of the killer signaled the end of my temporary assignment . Monday I would return to being a regular Auror again. Until then, I was going to relax. At the moment, that involved watching a movie with Orion.
Well, I wasn't watching it. Vaguely listening would be more accurate. Orion was watching the movie, I think. I was curled up to him on the couch in my apartment, my head using his shoulder for a pillow.
"You know this guy would be dead in two seconds flat, right?" Orion suddenly said. He really was watching.
"Mmhmm," I sleepily replied, not really awake enough to say anything. I adjusted a little, getting just a bit more comfortable.
"So, why am I watching this again?"
"Cat fight," I replied after a moment to wake up enough to answer, "Near the end."
"Ok…"
"When James Bond is fighting the badguy, the girls duke it out, with knives."
"Hmm… In that case…" I lightly tapped him in response, still not really awake enough to do anything.
A few minutes passed before Orion spoke again, "So, you never told me, what you thought about what Bronwyn said."
"Hmm…?" I responded, on the edge of being completely asleep.
"I was wondering if you had decided if you're going to visit your family."
"Hmm?"
"Your sister's request…"
I sat up and glared at him.
"Hmm. I take it that's a sore subject." I just continued to glare in response.
"Desi, it's been two years since you've gone over there. No one expects you to forgive your sister, but you shouldn't punish the rest of your family."
A moment passed before I finally stopped glaring at Orion and returned to laying on him. "I guess you're right… Maybe we can do Christmas there or something…"
"Only if you're ready for that…" Orion said patting my shoulder.