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(McCray Manor) A Life of Sorrow
Author: Wisteria Carew
Date: 08-23-13 20:18
Wisteria waited, patiently, for her brother. She had inquired with Diarmad as to whether or not her brother visited him, and as suspected, Ailbe did not. She was not her brother's keeper and would not consider becoming so, and yet she found, for the sanctity of their family name, that she must question his health. She needed to ensure that he was of a ready mind, especially since he planned to contest with Charles one last time. He was never one to admit to failures in his health, and if her were found out, he would not consult with the proper specialists. There was no shock in that.
The McCrays were never one to admit when they needed help. And if they were in need of help they would consult with the Sinclairs – and only the Sinclairs. The two families went hand-in-hand, having a deeply rooted alliance for centuries. The friendship was unbreakable and even bound by blood; every so often there would be a marriage between the families. The McCray and Sinclair children were raised as playmates, often building a strong friendship that would last until their deaths.
She, Ailbe, and poor Freddie were raised with Diarmad and his siblings; Magnus, Ailsa, and Lucy. Diarmad was three years her senior and headed his family. Magnus was disowned for a series of events, and went into hiding in his mid-thirties. Ailsa was a housewife, loving life on a small farm. And then there was Lucy. Poor Lucy was victim of tragedy; when she was eight she parted the world. She was a frail child apt to illness. In spite of the persistent work of her caretakers, she died.
Lucy was her best friend and though deceased, was still alive. Her spirit never left - a curse that surrounded her family's Baroque home. A witch scorned by her lover, an already married Sinclair who headed his family, cursed them. Any Sinclair that should die in the house would never leave, to never have their eternal peace.
Ailbe descended the stairs to the main hall slowly, struggling as he gripped the railings. In his right hand he held their great-grandfather's cane, used near the time of his death. Wisteria did not like it, what she thought to be a precursor of her brother's inevitable fate. But she couldn't deny the clarity of his rampant decay and so she could not argue. She owed it to him to play fair, to no longer utter a word against his late wife, and to do all he asked.
She eyed him tenderly and smiled. "Hello brother." Her eyes settled on the purple cane, and she offered her arm.
"Oh, no, no." He waved his free hand, his own eyes leading to the cane. "Never thought I would use this blasted thing." He chuckled as he tapped the item against his foot.
"Nor thought Father, or Grandfather before him." She did not join in his laughter, instead drawing her lips to a firm line. "We should be going. Diarmad is expecting us shortly."
She led him through the front doors, leaving the gravel path for the green yard that separated McCray Manor from Spring House, home of the Sinclairs. All the while during their walk she could not stop thinking of her brother and his fate, whatever that might be. She hoped the best for him and prayed he kept his life; if he were to die her only blood would be her children and niece. Many faults surrounded her family, one of them being untimely deaths.
The McCrays were always apt to try new things, experimenting with magic and partaking in dangerous feats. Their quest for knowledge and the truth exceeded everything in life, and they would leap without thought for any chance to expand their mind. And then there was that devilish and always present rivalry. There had been many boisterous McCrays who would stop at nothing to smite their enemies.
There were many McCrays who came to a bitter end; but there were also those that accomplished what they set out to do. Her father was one, who was more than pleased with life when he passed. Wisteria hoped that Ailbe would be happy with his, once he passed. The past many months had been hard on him, she could tell by the look in his eyes. So she hoped that he wouldn't be easy to give up, that he would continue as strong as any McCray. She wanted him to be at peace when it came time for his parting, just as she wished to be at peace when it came time for hers, whenever that would be.
"You remember when we were kids," her brother said. "We would run throughout these fields all day, playing many games."
"Of course." She smiled, thinking back to her childhood days. "Freddie would insist we always collect things from the ground. Ailsa helped him, while we would play something else. Magnus, of course, preferred to chase around his dog."
"Have you seen Diarmad recently?" He asked.
"No, not since our falling out." She replied. "Of course we sent each other owls, as I was quite curious as to how you got on. I needed to make sure you weren't doing anything rash."
Ailbe chuckled. "Rash? Me? No, never!"
(Adriana) Memory
Author: Bill Weasley
Date: 08-24-13 10:06
"How is he?"
Malarie McEvilley raised her head and replied, "Alive, but unchanged."
Adriana turned to the two blackened hands mounted on her wall and mulled over her thoughts. Malarie regularly visited St. Mungo's Hospital to check on Harry's status, under the illusion that she was visiting a relative who was a long-term patient in a nearby room. Some time ago, Malarie reported that the heavy guard that had once surrounded Harry's room had dispersed. She warned against Adriana visiting Harry, since she suspected any visitors he might have would face heavy scrutiny. Malarie herself never entered his room, only catching glimpses of him through the narrow window on his door.
"You may leave me," Adriana stated, without turning back to the other witch.
Malarie dipped her head and then backed out of the room.
"I want to know who tried to kill him," Adriana said aloud to herself.
"My Lady?"
Adriana turned and saw faithful Ivanova standing in the doorway.
"May I assist you?" he asked.
She waved her hand. "I was merely thinking aloud," she replied. "What news is there?"
"Yannick writes that he has infiltrated the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes as their newest obliviator."
"Perfect!"
"Yes, I imagine it will be very beneficial having someone with his privileges and abilities on your side."
"Very much so. Thank you, Ivanova."
He bowed his head and slipped from the room. In that moment, a flash of memory assailed Adriana's mind, causing her to stagger backwards from the suddenness of its unexpected arrival. The memory was one not her own, but one belonging to her spiritual father.
In it, she saw him seated on a throne-like chair of dark, solid wood. Kneeling at his feet was a witch and a wizard, neither dressed in Death Eater robes, nor wearing masks. Adriana did not recognize either person.
"You have done very well," Lord Voldemort rasped. "I am not known to bestow gifts upon my followers, not even to my inner circle. However, for your service to me, I will reward you with a token of great value. I only ask that you keep it safe and hidden."
"Yes, my Lord," the wizard said. "Whatever pleases you."
Lord Voldemort rose from his throne and moved his wand across the air in front of him. In the whirlwind he created, a long, shiny object materialized. It was a sword with an emerald encrusted handle.
The wizard and witch gasped.
"You know the signficance of this treasure," Lord Voldemort stated. "Honor it and me with its safekeeping."
He gently lowered the sword so that the wizard could grasp it by the handle. The wizard hestitated, and then wrapped his hand around bejeweled hilt. A smile lit his face.
"Thank you!" he exclaimed. "We will ensure its safety, or die trying."
Voldemort sank back onto his seat and draped his arms over the armrests.
"As it should be. You may go."
The witch and wizard rose and disappeared in a jet of black smoke.
The memory dissipated, and Adriana found herself collapsed on her own chair, her chest heaving with heavy breaths. She did not understand the memory, but she knew it must be important to have come to the forefront of her mind. She needed to find that sword and its owners.
Heading Home
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 08-24-13 11:06
"Okay, I think we've covered everything for tomorrow's show," Bryce Monroe said, setting down a stack of large index cards on which he had written notes for various segments to be covered the following day on the Morning Show. "Any last things before we call it a day?"
"Don't forget that we're announcing a partial line-up for Emrys Fest on Friday's show," Bronwyn said. Like in previous years, she was consulting with her former university's WWN studio on the planning for the annual summer music festival.
"That'll be a good tease to get us through the next few days," Bryce said. "Milla?"
"I've got nothing," she said.
"Then I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow morning," Bryce said. He scooped up his notecards, got up, and made haste to leave the office.
Milla lingered behind with Bronwyn. "So, are we expecting anymore drama between the various members of the Wicked Wizards of the West and your close personal friends?"
Bronwyn chose to ignore Milla and walked out the door of the conference room. Without stopping, she grabbed her purse from the back of her desk chair and exited the building. Not having an owl of her own, Bronwyn walked to the post office to mail a gift to Karma. She had meant to do it earlier but had gotten sidetracked with other things. The gift for baby Nuri was a soft yellow blanket and a matching lamb with a rattle inside its plush belly.
After visiting the post office, Bronwyn decided to head home, even though she felt the urge to shop for other things, including fashionable wizarding attire for Sagitta. Bronwyn resisted, however, and disapparated to Greenwich.
She appeared at the base of her front walk and made her way to the front door. In the brief time it took her to put her key into the lock, Bronwyn felt as if she were being watched. It was the second time in recent memory that she'd had such a feeling. She looked around, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The only other person outside at the moment was a blonde-haired woman of similar build walking in the direction of the cemetery at the end of the lane. Bronwyn didn't recognize her from the back, but then she didn't know everyone who lived in her neighborhood.
She turned back to her door and quickly stepped inside, securing it firmly behind her. The feeling of being watched had passed, but Bronwyn's nerves were nonetheless going a little haywire. She decided the best way to calm herself was to eat a big bar of chocolate. And maybe some ice cream, too.
Downturn
Author: Ella
Date: 08-24-13 12:02
For Francis, this week would be a busy one. Finals were taking place at St. Emrys, and in between taking his exams, he planned on getting in as much studying as possible. A letter from Dunstan Harville had him adjusting his schedule somewhat, though.
After his morning exam ended, he grabbed a quick bite to eat in Orange before turning up at the Harville home. Dunstan met him at the door.
"What happened?" Francis asked, stepping inside the house. He abandoned his book bag against the wall in the hallway and followed Mr. Harville deeper into the house.
"I don't know," Dunstan said, sounding weary and helpless. "She was doing so well. I don't know what brought on the sudden change in her disposition. She was happy, I think, and now she's holed up in her room, refusing to get out of bed."
Francis frowned. "Maybe it's some sort of delayed reaction to everything that happened during the last year. Maybe everything Zane did to her and to you has finally caught up with her."
"I wondered that," Dunstan began, "but I'm honestly not sure that's the issue. I think it's something else entirely, but she's not opening up to me. Maybe she will talk to you."
Dunstan and Francis stopped outside Ella's bedroom door. "I don't know if she will," Francis said, "but I'll listen to whatever she has to say to me."
Dunstan put a hand on Francis's shoulder, and then knocked on Ella's door. "Ella!" he called out. "Francis is here to see you."
"Go away!" Ella shouted back. "I don't want to see him!"
"Ella, talk to me," Francis said. "Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't want to!" came the reply.
Francis and Dunstan exchanged looks, and then Dunstan opened the door. Over the older wizard's shoulder, Francis could see Ella in her bed with her comforter pulled up to her chin. Discarded tissues littered the bed and the floor.
"Please, leave me alone," Ella said, in a voice of someone on the brink of tears.
"Ella, we only want to help you," Dunstan said. He choked up a little and turned to Francis.
Francis stepped past him and sank into the chair at Ella's vanity table. Dunstan chewed on his lower lip and then slipped through the door again, giving the two young people some privacy.
"Won't you talk to me, Ella?" Francis asked. "Won't you tell me what's got you so upset?"
Ella rolled onto her side, a tissue clenched in one of her hands. She shut her eyes, squeezing out a few tears that rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her blanket.
"It's the most awful thing," she finally murmured.
"Whatever it is, Ella, we'll get through it. You've got me and your dad to help you along the way. What's wrong? What's happened?"
She took her time in answering, such that Francis thought she would never tell him anything. But then she propped herself up on her arm and stared at him. Her tangled hair and tear-stained cheeks tugged at his heartstrings. He knew without a doubt that something was seriously wrong.
"Francis," she began, "I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."
Transfiguration Practical (Caerwyn)
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 08-24-13 14:27
When it comes to Transfiguration, Caerwyn finds the course somewhat easy. During the written portion he did have to stop himself a couple of times to think about what the best response to write was but for the most part he breezed through the exam, giving him loads of time to go back through the test, making sure he was happy with his answers and making sure he hadn't overlooked a question. Still, he had plenty of downtown after, choosing to spend it with head on folded arms, and coming close to falling fully asleep.
When the time came for the practical portion of the Transfiguration OWL, Caerwyn wasn't overly worried like some of his classmates. The only concern he had was blanking on whatever the examining professor requested of him. Even then he wasn't overly concerned because he knew if that happened all he had to do was take a deep breath and relax and it would come to him. Transfiguration is like that with him, feeling natural and second nature, unlike say brewing a potion.
With the last name of Valentine, Caerwyn is one of the last of the fifth years to be sent into the Great Hall by Professor Ravenscroft. She sends him to Professor Griselda Marchbanks. The elderly witch greets him with a smile. "Mr. Valentine, you look somewhat like your father, one of my favorite booksellers. I tested him for his Transfiguration OWL. I expect you to do as well as he did."
For the first time Caerwyn feels a twinge of pressure at taking the Transfiguration practical. He quickly shakes it off as Professor Marchbanks says, "Let's start with something easy." She places a pincushion on the table in front of her. "Pincushion to hedgehog and back again, if you please."
A transfiguring Caerwyn doesn't have to think twice about. He readily makes the pincushion change into a hedgehog then just as easily changes it back. Each challenge Professor Marchbanks presents turns out not to be much of a challenge for him. the second nature aspect of the transfiguration taking over.
The time speeds along so quickly for Caerwyn he feels he's only been at the professor's table a minute or two though knows it has to have been longer than that. Offering him another smile Professor Marchbanks tells him, "I have just one more request of you."
Using her wand she has what looks like a portable dressing room appear. "I understand you are an animagus, Mr. Valentine. Indulge me by stepping into the dressing room and changing into your animagus form."
It's nice that she thought to give him a place to remove his clothes but Caerwyn no longer needs to worry about that sort of thing. "I can do that for you, professor, without needing the changing room. No pun meant."
Right in front of her, and in view of anyone else who might be looking his way, Caerwyn changes, clothes and all, to his Golden Retriever form. Professor Marchbanks's smile becomes a grin. "Thank you, Mr. Valentine."
He transfigures back to his usual self as she says, "Quite impressive for one who's still fairly new to being an animagus."
"Thank you, Professor Marchbanks."
"And thank you, Mr. Valentine. You are excused."
Caerwyn exits the Great Hall by way of a different door than he'd entered, fairly certain he just aced the practical portion of the Transfiguration OWL.
Mysterious Initials (Ravenscrofte Rare and Antiquarian Books, Knockturn Alley)
Author: Cassandra Catesby
Date: 08-25-13 04:41
The journal drew her like a lodestone. It was a nondescript little volume - it's green cover was frayed around the edges, it's pages dog-eared - but it had a magnetic pull that Cassandra found hard to resist. Was this where she would find the truth behind all the secrets and lies?
She opened it up to the first page. At first glance, the text appeared to be meaningless gibberish. Cassandra drew her wand and tapped the page, murmuring a charm to reveal its true meaning. As she watched, the symbols transformed and moved about on the page. She recognised the code Callandra had used, it was one they had developed together as children based upon Cornish, a language both of them were as fluent in as English. It was a convenient way to keep secrets; few in either the Muggle or Wizarding understood it these days, despite the revival amongst the Muggles in recent years. The mundane and magical forms of encryption simply added extra layers of protection.
Once the letters had returned to their correct position, she began to read.
The island is known as Grimsay after the wizard Aethelfred the Grim who lay down the mists which surround it. These mists are both useful and inconvenient, at least for those other than G-S, who passes through them with no bother at all. Without his presence, others are greatly hindered.
G-S. Grimshaw-Spore, she presumed. It was another confirmation that there was at least a grain of truth amongst Rita Skeeter's tales.
The ghosts are a minor annoyance, especially that of Rosie, who will persist in singing nursery rhymes for hours on end. I think with unexpected longing of Peeves when I hear 'Row, row, row your boat' for the umpteenth time. Surely even his tricks were not so bad...
L tells me that R has been in contact again. Their persistence is exasperating...
L? R? R could be Rita Skeeter, but why would she have been in touch with L, whoever L was, at this time? Cassandra wondered. That said, if G-S was Grimshaw-Spore, did that mean L and R were the first initials of surnames, not first names? Deciding to keep notes, she pulled a piece of parchment and a quill towards her and jotted down the initials.
By the time she reached the end of the volume, her piece of parchment had several more initials added to the list. There had been several more references to L, and something about the way Callandra had spoken of them made Cass think L was a man. R had not been mentioned again.
Who were these people? Was one of them the source of Rita Skeeter's information? She was determined to find out.
Tension
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 08-25-13 10:11
Fritz enters J. Pippin's through the staff door and immediately heads to his cubby, where he stows his belongings. It is still before opening, so the potions shop is empty save for Fritz and his co-worker Elias. Elias is busy putting the money in the till when Fritz steps out from the back room to see what else needs to be done before opening.
Elias glances up at Fritz with a wary expression on his face. His hands hover protectively over the money still spread out over the counter, which he had just counted to ensure the correct starting amount.
Ever since aurors from the Ministry of Magic took Fritz in for questioning, Elias treats Fritz like a common criminal, even though Fritz was never under arrest nor faces any legal ramifications for his part in the Berthold Beatenberg affair. While at the Ministry, Fritz spent many hours answering questions and wrote out a lengthy statement regarding his connection to the dark wizard. In the end, law enforcement determined that Fritz was the victim of Beatenberg's manipulation, though he had obviously used very bad judgment on his part.
Thankfully, Fritz's manager doesn't share Elias's sentiments, or Fritz might no longer have a job.
Fritz ignores Elias and moves about the shelves, straightening up stock that had gotten jostled around by shoppers yesterday. A few items are totally out of place, as sometimes happens when a shopper decides not to buy something but is too lazy to put it back where it belongs.
By the time Fritz is finished straightening up, Elias has the till closed. Elias says only, "It's time to open," and then heads to the front door to unlock it.
Fritz steps behind the counter, thinking how fortunate it is that he is only working a half day today. He has a final at St. Emrys this afternoon and is rather looking forward to it, compared to enduring tension at work!
Schooled
Author: Finley
Date: 08-25-13 14:30
The children of Winchcombe Children's Home, depending upon their ages, walked either to Winchcombe Abbey Church of England Primary School or Winchcombe School, the only schools in the small town. If not for her admission to Hogwarts, Finley would start at the latter next fall.
She had mixed feelings about leaving what she knew and expected for something she still couldn't believe was real: magic. If not for the strange things that sometimes happened around Finley, then she would have taken for mad the old witch who'd visited her all those weekends ago.
Finley sat in her maths class and worked through long division problems on a worksheet her teacher had passed out at the start of class. Leroy sat beside her and scratched out his answers instead of rubbing them out, causing his worksheet to look messy and cluttered.
"Miss Islip! Finley is cheating!" cried out Charla, who sat behind Finley and often kicked the back of her chair.
Finley opened her mouth in protest, but before she could defend herself, her teacher stepped forward and stated, "Finley, go to the head teacher's office."
Finley said, "But, Miss Islip! I wasn't cheating!"
"Yes, she was!" Charla exclaimed. "I saw her looking at Leroy's paper!"
Leroy's face was as red as a tomato.
"Finley, go to the office," said Miss Islip in an even sterner voice.
"I wasn't cheating!" Finley cried out, but she nevertheless rose from her seat and pulled down the hem of her dark gray skirt. "No offense," she added for Leroy's benefit, "but why would I copy off of him when he's got the worst marks in the entire class?"
"Finley," Miss Islip said warningly.
"Fine," Finley replied. She walked to the door, where she paused and looked over her shoulder at Charla. Charla was staring at her with a smug expression on her face. It made Finley so angry, that she couldn't stop it from happening. The lights above Charla's desk popped, showering glass onto her and her immediate neighbors.
Several students shrieked. Leroy fell out of his chair.
Miss Islip rushed forward in an attempt to calm them down and to assess them for any injuries.
Finley didn't waste any more time and slipped from the classroom. She stomped down the hall to the head teacher's office, still very angry but also a little shaken up from what she had just done.