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Distracted
Author: Briar Rose
Date: 10-20-14 20:22
Briar bends at the knee to be more on eye level with Grace. "You got your toothbrush?"
Grace looks goofily at her. "Mummy, I keep one here at Dad's. Remember?"
Briar gives a small smile back. "I do now. Be good for Daddy."
Grace rolls her eyes, thinking Mummy is being silly. After dutifully giving Briar a kiss she scurries down the hall to the playroom to get in what little time she has with the twins before Jasmine and Xavier are put to bed.
Arms crossed, casually leaning against a door jamb, a bemused Julian says, "Forgetting that Grace has certain duplicate items here. You're getting old."
"You're older than I am."
Julian smirks then turns serious. "Distracted because of Somerset?"
"Ethan missing. Grace chafing more and more at the restrictions on her magic. Hendrika's far too slow recovery. Concern for what your sister might pull with the twins." Briar speaks the truth but leaves out one thing weighing heavily on her mind.
Julian steps over to give Briar an affectionate hug. "I don't know what to say regarding Ethan Somerset. Grace, maybe I, or both of us, can let her loose some over the weekend, far away from prying eyes. We have to keep in mind that Hendrika is recovering, no matter how slow it seems. That's better than the alternative. As for Vanessa, if she shows up again, she'll find herself in some serious legal woes, more than she's face so far. Now," Julia takes a step away, gesturing to the door, "I hate to run you off but you do have to be up in the wee hours."
Two of her employees at her Diagon Alley location have both come down with something. One of them works a shift that starts practically in the middle of the night, doing prep work, getting bread and certain pastries baking, etc. This illness came on so quickly Briar has no one else to cover on such short notice. She'll be the one going in and will most likely cover the other employee's shift as well later in the morning. Thank Merlin her Hogsmeade bakery is fully staffed for tomorrow.
Aegean has been off visiting various family members so Briar is also thankful for Grace to be able to stay with Julian for tonight. As she walks from the West Lane to the East Lane, the late summer air warm but with a hint of the coming autumn, Briar's thoughts turn to distraction, if it could be called that, which she left from the list she gave Julian. It's still hard for Briar to believe Kellen Fitzmorris showed up at her house Monday night.
After pronouncing, "Rosalyn, we need to talk," he'd realized the kettle was on the floor, water everywhere. He'd rushed forward asking in alarm, "You aren't scalded are you?"
Practically jumping away from him Briar had yelped again before stammering, "G g get out!" Her wand was in her hand without her even knowing exactly when she'd pulled it out.
"You aren't scalded are you?" he asked again. "The water. Did it burn you?"
Confused as to why he'd worry she'd been burned if he's there to kill her she mutely shook her head. Fitzmorris began rummaging through a few of the kitchen drawers, finding some towels in one, then using a couple of them to begin mopping up the water. It would have been faster and easier to have used his wand but with Briar pointing hers at him she surmised he decided it was more prudent not to produce his just yet.
Unsure of what to do with the wet cloths he dropped them in the sink. As he picked up the kettle from the floor and set it on the counter Briar, her brow knitted, stated in a voice she was pleased to note only quivered slightly, "You said we need to talk."
"Yes," came the simple reply.
"Is that what you told Kristen Leach before you killed her?" Briar asked, having come to the horrifying realizing that Kristen was murdered.
"I didn't kill Kristen. I tried to protect her. I was too late."
"You expect me to believe that? You somehow Obliviated the memories of nearly everyone who knew you. Of those who did remember, they thought you long dead. You were a Voldemort follower. The private investigator Kristen hired to learn more about you vanished and has never been heard from since. He's believe to be dead. Kristen died unexpectedly after finding out more about you."
"Neither death was by my hand. There is an explanation for the Obliviated memories and the faked death. That explanation has to do with my not actually having been a Voldemort loyalist."
Briar derisively snorted, "Now I know not to believe you. Albus Dumbledore himself told me about you."
Fitzmorris gave a small, sad smile. "I've always regretting having to included even Professor Dumbledore in he deception. If there's one person I'm positive I could have trusted with the truth, it was he. The world lost a great wizard he day he died."
"Murdered."
"At least you know that one wasn't my doing." After a pause he said, "Sorry. A poor attempt at levity. You look a great deal like your parents, Rosalyn." He shook his head. "Sorry again. You go by Briar now. I just can't get the image of you as a child called Rosalyn out of my head."
"You didn't come here to tell me that I look like my parents and you have fond memories of a girl named Rosalyn Burnshire. State your business and then leave or I'll make it so you can leave and send for an Auror," Briar said, gesticulating with her wand, reminding him she's currently got the advantage.
He reached for the kettle, "Mind if I put the tea back on? I could use a cup."
That's when Briar noticed his color had gone ashen. Heard the strain in his voice. Saw that his legs were beginning to look unsteady.
"You aren't looking well. Are you ill?"
"Not ill. Injured." He pushed back the light weight jacket he was wearing over medium green shirt. A dark stain bloomed on the lower left, the stain blending down into the waistband of his tan trousers. "I don't know if I can trust you but I had to turn to someone."
Kellen Fitzmorris had then slid down the cabinets to the floor, eyes fluttering closed as he lost consciousness. As she checked him, Briar learned that the wand he carried was partially splintered. If he apparated to Hogsmeade, he's lucky he didn't splinch, or worse.
Reaching the house, not feeling the least big tired, Briar enters, going through the snug cottage to the kitchen and from there down to the cellar. For reasons she has yet to understand Briar had moved him downstairs to the basement. She used her wand to quickly set up a folded cot and put bedding on it before getting Fitzmorris settled on it. She tended the wound best she could and cast a few sound dampening spells. Aegean comes into the cellar but she's gone. Grace rarely comes down, preferring the more airy attic as a place to play but Briar thought it best not to have any unnecessary noise catching her curious daughter's attention. Or anyone else who might be over. Like Julian.
Checking in on the sleeping man, Briar takes the dirty dishes with her back up to the kitchen, glad he seems to have regained a little of his appetite. In her room she prepares for bed, wondering if she should take something to help her sleep, or to at least make her drowsy. Time to leave for The Flour Shoppe in Diagon Alley is going to arrive all too soon.
Climbing into bed, having decided a sleep aid wouldn't be prudent when she has to be up in only a few short hours, Briar shuts her eyes, hoping her racing mind will slow, allowing her to get what rest she can but she can't stop thinking about the man in her basement, Ethan still missing, and all the concerns causing her worry of late. When the time comes to rise and dress, for a brief time a bleary eyed Briar can think of only one thing: extremely strong coffee.
Ornery Owl
Author: Carys
Date: 10-21-14 17:58
The dining room table was covered in festive wrapping paper rolls, self-curling ribbon in various colors, and bows that were suitable for a boy. Carys stood at one long table end and measured out enough paper for a clothing box containing an international league Quidditch jersey. Behind her on a serving cart usually stocked with extra napkins and placemats were other gifts in varying sizes already wrapped. Today was Tristan's eighth birthday.
Carys sometimes had difficulty believing that her son was already eight. How quickly the time had passed! Wasn't it only recently that she had been a student at Hogwarts? In a few short years, Tristan would get his own letter. Would the Sorting Hat place him in Gryffindor, as it had her parents?
While envisioning the moment her son sat on the old stool in front of the entire student body feasting in the Great Hall, an owl flew up to the window and tapped at the glass with its sharp beak. Carys snapped out of her thoughts and saw a big, bushy bird with large yellow eyes perched on the ledge of the window. She crossed to the window and let the owl in, catching a glimpse of a rolled up scrap of parchment strapped to its leg as it flew past her.
She frowned, wondering who would send her such a note. Was it Griffin, informing her hastily of a work emergency of some sort?
The owl landed on the clothing box Carys was in the process of wrapping and extended the leg with the attached scroll. Carys cautiously went up to the big owl and hesitantly reached for the piece of twine tied to its leg. It untied easily, and the parchment scrap fell into her open palm. Carys started to retract her arm, when the owl suddenly bent forward and pecked her.
"Ouch!" she exclaimed, drawing back quickly. She clutched her arm and saw that the animal had drawn blood.
"You're not very nice!" Carys said to the owl, frowning. She had half a mind to throw it out but decided to read the letter first.
She unrolled it and read:
Dear Carys,
I extend my fond wishes to you and Tristan on his eighth birthday. I wish I could be there to celebrate the occasion, but I'm afraid my jailors won't allow it. Please let my grandson know that I am thinking of him.
Your father.
PS: The only owl left in the prison's owlery was the least friendliest one. I hope you escape him unscathed.
Carys looked at the owl critically and said aloud, "No such luck." Then, "I have half a mind to send you on your way without a treat, but I know you came a long way. Wait here."
She set the scroll onto the pile of already wrapped packages, walked a wide berth around the dining room table on which the owl still sat, and moved past both cats, who had decided the feathered intruder wasn't worth their time. Carys came back a moment later with a jar of owl treats. She tipped out a few on the edge of the table. The owl hopped over, ate its snack, glanced sharply at the two felines and Carys, and then turned and left through the still open window.
Carys looked at her arm and the mark left there by the unfriendly owl. Then she looked down at the cats, whose gazes were focused on the speck in the sky.
"You were wise to leave him alone," she said, turning to wash out her wound in the kitchen sink. "Cats are so smart!"
Time Flies
Author: Viktor Krum
Date: 10-22-14 14:58
The morning flew by. Viktor grimaces and then smiles at the bad pun that just went through his mind. The first years had their initial flying lessons. The Gryffindors and Slytherins met at 9 this morning. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws followed at 10:45. Since the inception of the Quidditch league for small children, more and more students arrive at Hogwarts with at least minimal knowledge of flying. Still, a goodly number come without knowing anything beyond the fact that some brooms are used for sweeping while others are used for flying.
Viktor hadn't been all that hungry when his second flying class ended so he'd grabbed one sandwich to munch as he walked to the pitch and took a second for later, after his afternoon class. Once at the pitch he'd gone to his office where he'd had something to drink to help wash down that first sandwich. He looked over the syllabus he would be passing out to the first and second year Fitness & Athletic class, which begins at 1:15, triple checking it for errors.
Viktor also saw that an envelope that he should have locked away was still sitting on the desk. The information it holds has to do with the 2008-2009 recipients of the Kendra Beck Hogwarts Scholarship. To this day Viktor remains anonymous as the person who set up the scholarship and continues to fund it. The four recipients this year are Hydrangea Marchbanks, Ramona Mickle, Caerwyn Valentine, and Gus Van Tassel. As with the previous recipients, the four receive the funds to pay for all of the year's school supplies and a stipend paid out in installments over the course of the school year.
Viktor locks the envelope away in a file that can only be opened by him then heads out of the office to get the equipment needed for class. He gathers a variety of obstacles, mostly in the form of different sized rings, and a number of the school brooms.
Out on the pitch he sets several courses. The ones for the first years are low to the ground. The courses the second years will use are higher and more challenging. By the time he's done, some students are already at the pitch with a string of others coming from the direction of the castle. Promptly at 1:15, Viktor begins with a welcome to the students now sitting in a circle around him.
"Welcome to Fitness & Athletics. Please say here when I call your name."
He quickly runs through the roster, pleased to see familiar faces of the second years who chose to take the course again this term. After passing out the syllabus and running through it with them he gestures to the obstacle courses. "You second years knew what was in store even before I went over the schedule. You first years are getting in added flying practice that your classmates not taking this class won't receive."
Viktor makes short work of going over with F&A students what he expects of them today with the obstacle course. He gets the second years started on their courses then, making sure each of the first years has selected a broom, he starts that younger students on their own courses.
A roster Viktor has is charmed to automatically mark each students score through a course, allowing him to better chart progress. He flies around the pitch, observing, offering corrections and advice to all. Most of the students have a good time with it, enjoying the challenge of the courses. Many of the first years are clearly loving being able to get in more broom time and doing something other than flying up and down and in straight lines. Once again, the time flies and before they know it 2:45 has arrived.
Dismissing class, Viktor begins the job of putting everything away, Rex Applewhite and Bowen Goodnight offering to stay and help, earning three points apiece for their houses, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, respectively.
Once alone again, Viktor eats that second sandwich and drinks a butterbeer while reading a daily sports paper before debating whether to stay and eat dinner at the castle or go on into Hogsmeade, putting time in at the shoppe and eating at home alone. He decides on going to the shoppe but then returning to Hogwarts to eat, not really wanting to dine alone on a Friday night.
Acromantula
Author: Jolyon
Date: 10-22-14 17:56
Jolyon's seventh year students sat in desks in the barn and took notes while he lectured on the acromantula. Although Hagrid had been quite enthusiastic in securing a live specimen for the Care of Magical Creatures class, Jolyon had politely declined in favor of slides. While he could admit that the real thing was better than a drawing or photograph, even the tiniest, youngest acromantula was better left in the wild. Besides, the spiders were very dangerous.
He knew the end of class was near when some of the faces of his students took on glazed-over expressions. Acromantulas were actually quite fascinating, if one didn't suffer from arachnophobia, but it had been a long day and was just about suppertime anyway. Jolyon wrapped up his thoughts and gave out the homework assignment (an essay on Ministry regulations involving experimental breeding) before dismissing class.
His students wasted no time in leaving the barn, enjoying what remained of daylight and basking in the start of the weekend. Jolyon, meanwhile, tidied up the barn and then busied himself with feeding the various magical creatures nestled in their stalls and cages. While he worked, his mind drifted to his personal life, which had gotten exponentially dramatic over the summer holiday.
After the chance meeting with Merrie and Lancelot at the aquarium, Jolyon and Lorrie had had no choice but to go public with their relationship. At their next social engagement, Merrie had asked many questions and had increasingly seemed not at all pleased that her ex-husband was dating her little sister. Jolyon wanted her support, but her opinion mattered much less to him than those of his children.
As expected, Asher wasn't pleased about his dad dating his aunt. What surprised Jolyon more was Arielle's reaction. She seemed taken aback by the revelation, if not a little betrayed. What Jolyon didn't know was that she had been hoping her parents would get back together since the day she'd learned Jolyon was her father. She didn't at all like that he had passed over her mother for her aunt Lorrie.
Jolyon sighed, thinking about how distant Arielle had been lately. She hadn't visited him once outside of class time. He didn't think she would go so far as to attempt to drop his course, but the thought was at the back of his mind. He couldn't know it wasn't on hers. Like her dad, she really liked magical creatures and found his class interesting. She simply felt very disappointed that her dream of having her parents reunited didn't seem likely of ever coming true.
One Birthday Present Not Given
Author: Griffin Price
Date: 10-22-14 19:11
Tyler Casey's father collapses in a chair next to Griffin, face red and beaded with sweat. The padded guards on his knees are slightly askew. "Kids will sleep good tonight," he pants.
Tristan, Tyler, and the other children gathered for Tristan's eighth birthday party are crawling, climbing, and swinging through tunnels, up walls, on ropes, and in ball pits. Carys and Griff had considered having the party at home, taking advantage of the still nice weather to cook out and let the kids run and play in the yard. They'd also gave consideration to other locals such as Burger Wizard, which had been a hinted suggestion from Tristan.
After they'd spending a couple of hours one morning at Blossom's newly expanded gaming center and seeing how much fun Tristan and the other children there had had, Carys and Griffin had exchange a look, knowing they'd found the perfect spot. They'd checked out what sort of party packages were offered and with one fitting perfectly into the budget they had in mind, they'd booked for Tristan's party.
The parents who chose to stay for the party have all been offered knee, shin, and elbow guards taking active part if they wish. Griff has joined in several times over the course of the party. After an extremely vigorous game of try to catch Tristan, which he lost, he's taking a break, having a butterbeer and watching the kids, and some of the parents, playing. Carys, camera in hand, is braving some of the tunnels to get shots of party goers.
A little earlier they'd all taken a break for pizza, cake, and presents. Thoughts of the cake have Griff getting up to get another piece, grabbing a butterbeer for Mr. Casey. He seriously needs to learn the man's name beyond Mr. Casey and Tyler's dad.
No sooner has Griff returned to his seat then Tristan is standing in front of him, wanting a bite of the cake. Not satisfied with one bite he climbs into his father's lap to help Griff polish off the slice. A smear of frosting on his nose and another on his chin, Tristan leans against his father's chest.
"Dad, I liked all my presents but there's one think you and Mummy forgot."
"What's that?"
"A brother. Or a sister but a brother is better."
Next to them, Tyler's father nearly chokes on his drink trying not to laugh too loudly at hearing this.
Suppressing a chortle of his own Griff says, "Tristan, you know that's not how getting a brother or sister works. Besides, how do you know a brother is better than having a sister?"
"Some of my friends say so and I could wrestle and play hard with a brother."
"You do realize that you'd have to wait a few years before you could do that?"
"Yeeeaaah," Tristan drawls out in a way that indicates he had not, in fact, given that aspect much thought. He scratches his nose, making a face at the frosting that sticks to his finger only to then lick it off. "You could always do that 'doption thing and get me one that's not a baby."
"That's something we'll have to talk about another time, when you aren't in the middle of your birthday party."
Tristan heaves a sigh. "Oookay."
"You should go play more."
The eight year old hops off Griff's lap and grabs one of Griff's hands. "Come with me."
He tugs as if to help Griff stand. Griff looks over to Mr. Casey, gives a grin, then allows his son to pull him up. Griff stops, bending to adjust the pads over his own knees, before following Tristan up one of the climbing walls to a platform that leads to a tunnel, thinking as he goes that it's a good thing this party has a definite end time and how it's not just the kids who'll be sleeping well tonight.