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(Alanna) Leaving work
Author: Beck
Date: 08-03-14 18:05
Finding a good ending point to the research she was conducting for a case, Alanna carefully filed everything away and then reached for her purse. She and Jared usually took turns cooking supper, unless they opted to go out to a restaurant or visit family. Tonight was Alanna's turn, and she decided to make it easy on herself. She planned on making a big salad with strips of grilled chicken in it. If The Flour Shoppe had fresh dinner rolls left in stock, then she would get some of those. Dessert would be summer berries and ice cream.
She and Jared currently lived in a flat above Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary. The shoppe below them was generally very quiet, but sometimes the smells seemed to permeate the floorboards. When it was cooler, Alanna and Jared used a lot of air freshening charms to get out the stink. With it warm enough to open windows, they aired out their flat the old-fashioned way.
Other than the curious smells that wafted into their flat from the apothecary beneath them, Alanna and Jared liked their first home together. It was conveniently located and just down the alley from where Anthony, Plum, and Alex lived. Despite the fondness they felt for the place, they didn't plan on living there forever. They'd already put a down payment on a piece of property in the Cotswolds, where they planned on building their dream house.
Alanna slung her purse over her shoulder and started to leave the office, when she saw Reed emerge from the office he had gotten as reward for his recent promotion. Just as Alanna envisioned, the proposal from International Magical Cooperation for Reed to work on having Landon Dragonsblood extradited from Belgium had been well-received by the lawyer and he had been successful at convincing the Belgians to hand over their prisoner. Dragonsblood was now behind bars at Azkaban. Needless to say, Anthony was very pleased.
Reed had no idea that the Becks were behind his success. If not for them, then he may not have received his coveted promotion. Now he had a corner office and more underlings than he could count. He was also making more money than he could ever have imagined.
Alanna hesitated on whether to continue on for the exit or duck back to her desk. She hadn't gone very far, so she chose the latter option, kneeling in front of a cabinet so that she wouldn't be seen unless he looked over her desk. He seemed uninterested in bothering her, however, and left the office. Alanna stood back up and waited a good five minutes before she followed him out the door. She breathed a giant sigh of relief when she made it all the way to the fireplaces without bumping into Reed.
Black Is Dark
Author: Harry Potter
Date: 08-03-14 19:08
"And then he... Are you listening to me, young man?"
"Yes, Mr. Perkins, every word." Harry replies trying not to sound bored.
"Hmmmph. Now I've forgotten where I was."
Harry sees right through Mr. Perkins's ploy to test him to see if he really has been listening. Harry looks down at what he's written. "Flame got his tongue pierced and started wearing one of those spiked mohawks. Each spike is a different color. Yesterday he showed up with a dog collar that looks like it's got barbs all around it. And then he..."
"Right. Right. And then he shows me a new tattoo on his wrist. Skull and crossbones. It's a cover for the Dark Mark I tell you!"
"Has your neighbor's son ever shown an interest in the dark arts, Mr. Perkins?"
"Not openly, but then he wouldn't, would he? He'd want to be secret about it."
"Do you have any evidence he's a supporter of the dark arts?"
"What do you think I've been sitting here telling you about these past two hours?"
"I'm not sure I make the connection between deciding to paint the exterior of his cottage black is evidence of dark arts support."
Mr. Perkins makes a great show of rolling his eyes. "He painted it black. Black is dark."
"The flaw there, Mr. Perkins, is that if the color black is associated with the dark arts then anyone wearing it or having in in their homes is a supporter."
"You can't deny that everyone with the last name Black is one of those people."
"That's incorrect. While there are some with the surname Black who are supporters of the dark arts and who followed Voldemort," Mr. Perkins visibly cringes at Harry's use of that name, "Many are just regular witches and wizards."
"Yes, well be that as it may, my neighbor is a secret disciple."
"There's just not any evidence here, sir."
"So, you're going to wait until he kills someone or creates one of those walking dead Inferius creatures, is that it? I KNEW better than to try to convince you people. That's how You Know Who gained so much power in the first place. Lack of bother by the very people who supposedly are here for our protection."
"I didn't say we won't check into your neighbor, Mr. Perkins. I said there's simply not hard evidence to have us go storming in after him. We will check into him and if we find anything worth pursuing, we'll follow wherever it leads."
Mr. Perkins rises, pointing a somewhat boney, shaky finger at Harry. "You'll find something. Probably has an attic full of dark arts books and a cellar full of cursed objects."
The older wizard takes his leave, muttering under his breath about the inefficiencies of the British Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry waits until Mr. Perkins is fully out the cubical door, listening for the man's steps down the corridor, his head partially visible as he makes his way to the nearest lift, before he sighs heavily. Signing the complaint form he puts it in the OUT box before he too rises. He was supposed to have gotten off work more than two hours ago but Mr. Perkins came in ten minutes before Harry was due to clock out.
Harry tidies the cubicle then makes is own exit, going first to sign out for the day. It's times like this he wishes he were back as an Auror. He's glad he's working for the department still but he's to the point that Kingsley's effort to keep Harry around while helping prove he's not a mole is feeling like punishment. Taking complaints and concerns from walk-ins all day long, most of them almost certainly nothing such as this from Mr. Perkins about his clearly punk loving neighbor.
Stepping onto a lift, Harry is not only ready to go home. He's ready to tell Kingsley he'll take a leave from work afterall.
Daydreams
Author: Jolyon
Date: 08-04-14 11:20
Pressing a throat lozenge into the hand of Waldo Smee, who appeared overcome by a coughing fit, Jolyon then returned to the front of the Great Hall. It was Friday, the end of the first week of OWL and NEWT exams. He was proctoring the Ancient Runes exams, of which there was only a written portion. Jolyon had started out the exam by reading the instructions aloud and then having the fifth and seventh year students break the seals of their exam booklets. They were a little less than an hour into the exam now.
Jolyon glanced at the large hourglass on the edge of the table. Soon, he would jot down the time remaining––two hours––on the blackboard.
Normally, Jolyon taught the fifth and seventh year students on Friday afternoons. Because he didn't have any morning classes and since all of the fifth years and some of the seventh years would be sitting in the History of Magic exam scheduled for the afternoon, Jolyon didn't have any classes in need of covering today. Hagrid had offered to fill in for him and seemed disappointed that fate hadn't worked in his favor this time.
Jolyon was looking forward tonight because he had a date of sorts. Just yesterday when he had been in the village, he'd bumped into someone he hadn't seen or given any thought to in years. Lorrie Westbury, Merrie's erstwhile kid-sister, had recognized him, though she hadn't looked familiar to him at all. Lorrie had been a child when Jolyon and Merrie married and divorced. Now she was grown, older than Jolyon and Merrie had been at the time of their marriage, but very youthful in appearance and very, very beautiful.
It had been her idea for them to get together tonight and catch up. Without giving it a second thought, Jolyon had agreed to the dinner meeting and he had daydreamed about it ever since. Was it because she was Merrie's sister, and Merrie was currently unavailable? Or was it simply Lorrie herself that captivated all his senses? He hadn't felt this way in years… not even with Sarina.
He realized he was daydreaming again when the hand waving back and forth failed to capture his attention right away. Jolyon blinked and focused on Damian Lampwick, who had somehow managed to smash in the nib of his quill. Jolyon cleared his head of all thoughts of Lorrie and got up to give Damian a new quill.
Moods
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 08-04-14 14:59
Lysander turned onto High Street from the little road that led to the East and West Lanes and hummed a song that had been stuck in his head since breakfast. He wasn't sure why, but he was in a fairly good mood. He'd gotten Charlotte up and ready for school without any difficulty and had seen her off without incident. So far, business had been brisk but manageable at the bookshop. Lysander had just stepped out to assist an elderly customer with an armful of books, walking the old witch and her purchases all the way to her doorstep. He probably wouldn't have, had he been in his usual, sour mood.
It came as no surprise that his high spirits wouldn't last forever. Lysander had just passed the building that now stood empty but had once housed the strip club Petals, when he nearly collided into none other than Astrid Thomason. He reached out to steady her but then pulled back his hands as if she had burned him. Astrid took a few steps backwards and shot him an angry look.
"What where you're going!" she exclaimed, moving past him.
Lysander couldn't stop himself from catching her by the arm. He turned her so that she faced him again and then dropped her arm as if he'd been scalded again.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded to know.
"Why is that any business of yours?" she countered angrily. "Hogsmeade isn't YOUR town, is it?"
Lysander expression grew stormy. "No, but you know damn well that I live and work here. You really screwed me over, you know that Astrid?"
"I screwed you over?" she asked, her voice growing shrill. "You're the one who wanted me to pretend––" but that's as far as she got. Lysander seized her arm again in a tight grip and yanked her off the main road, where they might have a little more privacy.
"Don't you ever bring that up again," Lysander said warningly. "It's done."
"You don't seem to be over it," Astrid commented, extricating herself from his grip. She rubbed at her bruised arm and said, "So, what? That whore found out the truth about Charlotte. Serves you right for lying about it from the very beginning."
"You know why I did it," Lysander growled, "or have you forgotten what she did to you?"
"No, I haven't," Astrid retorted, "but don't think I'm not happy you got what you deserved. You treated me so poorly at the end."
Lysander debated which statement to address first, ultimately deciding on the second one. "I was frightened," he began, relaxing for the first time since first seeing Astrid. "I didn't want her to take Charlotte away from me, and your accidental admission about not being Chyler put me into protect mode. All I could think of was Charlotte, and as far as I was concerned, you jeopardized her safety."
He cut her off with a wave of a hand when he saw she wanted to say something. "I'm sorry I acted the way I did. The whole thing was bound to fall apart eventually, no matter what I was hoping."
Astrid started to say something again, but Lysander's change in demeanor made most of the tension leave her body.
Lysander said, "She took Charlotte. Blackmailed me. I was without my daughter for over a year."
Astrid's face fell. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"Charlotte's okay."
"I'm glad to hear it. Did she––did Aralyn at least get what she deserved?"
Lysander furrowed his brow. "You mean you didn't hear?"
"I've been in Sweden all this time. I'm a bit out of the loop," Astrid explained.
"She's in Azkaban for the murder of her brother."
Astrid gasped. "Wow… that's… wow."
"Yeah…" Lysander looked her over and asked again much more politely, "So, what brought you back to Hogsmeade?"
"My fiancé is taking a job here in the village, and we are thinking about moving here or somewhere else in Scotland. It wouldn't be much trouble traveling back and forth, but I sort of miss this place. When I mentioned to Axel about possibly moving back, he jumped at the idea. So, here I am…"
"You're getting married," Lysander murmured. "Congratulations."
"Thanks. So, I don't suppose I could see Charlotte?"
"She's at school. How long are you in town for?"
"Through the weekend. Axel doesn't start his job for another few weeks."
"Why don't we meet up for supper tomorrow night at the Crown & Cauldron?"
Astrid nodded. "Yeah, okay. I'll bring Axel, if that's all right."
"Do that. I want to meet the bloke you agreed to marry."
Astrid smiled. "See you tomorrow, then."
They parted ways, Lysander marveling at the epic mood swing he'd just experienced at seeing Astrid Thomason for the first time in years.
Tired
Author: Maggie Hawthorne
Date: 08-04-14 17:45
Between finals at St. Emry's and working doubles at the cafe, she'd hardly had any time to herself. She hadn't seen her brother and sister-in-law in over two weeks, and she was also anxious to know if they'd picked out names for the baby. She hadn't even seen her friends in ages, and she was eager to spend sometime with someone other than co-workers or text books and term papers.
However, that required more energy than she actually had. She pushed her way into the flat, sighing gently as she kicked the door closed behind her and dropped her bag onto the sofa. Stepping into the kitchen she sighed, she really didn't have the energy to cook something.
Instead she changed out of her uniform and instead headed out to the Pho place just down the block. Grabbing some take away, she headed back home to change into her pjs which consisted of a faded t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She was looking forward to getting out of the cafe, but the WWN said they wouldn't hire her until her last term at St. Emry's and that was still at least another term away because she'd been taking as many classes as she could - five to six classes and still working full time, it was no wonder she was burnt out so easily.
At least next term she wouldn't have to take quite so many, and she would be interning again during the break between terms, and had heard when she'd gone into the office to find out who she would be working under that Bronywn was back to work, and that made Maggie happy knowing that Bron had returned to work after what had happened.
She flicked on the WWN and ate her dinner listening to the news report, and in away, kinda missed the muggle house she'd grown up in with it's TV, something dull and boring would be perfect to zone out to for the rest of the night.
Minutes Before A Task Force Meeting
Author: Ron Weasley
Date: 08-04-14 18:20
Staring at a board on which photos are displayed along with relevant information, Ron doesn't hear Amity DeBlieux asking him a question. She ends up having to touch him on the shoulder, which in turn makes him jump.
"Amity! I didn't know you'd come in."
"I sort of got that when you didn't answer my question," Amity says with a light chuckle.
"Sorry. What's the question?"
"How many are you expecting?" she asks in reference to members of the international task force Ron's been working with for a long while now.
"Only four plus you if you're wanting to sit in."
"And you makes six. Thanks." Amity says this with a nod, turning to leave the conference room.
Ron turns back to the murder board only to look over his shoulder at the departing Amity. "Wait. Why do you ask?"
"It's going on lunchtime. I wanted to be sure to have enough refreshments for anyone who's hungry. Or were you thinking of going out?"
"I hadn't thought beyond having fresh coffee. I've been a little preoccupied. Thanks for reminding me."
"So sandwiches and snacks or want to go out on the Ministry's sickle?"
"What sounds good to you?"
Amity grins. "Dining out on the Ministry, of course."
"Then let's do that. Now, where do we go?"
After a short discussion, Amity and Ron settle on a tavern that has excellent food, a nice selection to choose from, and has a few little nooks available that offer some privacy. The group wouldn't start out a restaurant meal talking the murders and possible Danielle Baatz partner or copycat but, invariably, they always end up doing just that so a semblance of privacy is always good.
Amity leaves the conference room to send an owl off to the tavern to ensure one of those nooks is available for them in a short while, leaving Ron to stare again at the murder board but his mind not on the task force or the meeting.
He can't stop thinking about Hermione's revelation of who the mystery woman is and how she came about the information. Ron wants to be angry with Hermione for doing the very thing he had warned not to do but he can't find it in himself to be anything more than slightly irritated. Too many times over the years he did something he knew better not to do, many times tagging along with Harry. Hermione was right there with them a number of those times. He can't truly be mad at her for the type of thing he might have done himself.
The first of the four expected task force members arrives so Ron is forced to pull his thoughts from Hermione and Leigh Buchanan as he greets Farid Mazouzi.
(Catesby Castle) The Search for Secrets
Author: Callandra Catesby
Date: 08-05-14 06:13
Callandra's room, or rather small suite of rooms, was in the North Tower of Catesby Castle. A stone spiral staircase wound upwards. On each landing was a door into a room that was almost circular because of the shape of the tower: a sitting room, a study and, at the top of the tower with views over the surrounding countryside, the bedroom. It was reminiscent of Ravenclaw Tower at Hogwarts with its airy feel, very different to the Slytherin dungeons that Callie had inhabited whilst at the school.
Callandra sat at the desk in the study facing the window. Roses of a lush, deep red - so dark they were almost black- rambled up the outside of the tower, tapping against the glass as the breeze caught them. She paid them no heed.
She had made the decision to return to Catesby Castle after the visit to the Castle of the Ancients in Romania. The Cypresses was no longer a secure and discreet location if her sister and the Mockridges knew for certain that she was there. They could, of course, potentially turn up at the Castle, but Callandra thought that to be unlikely at present. What with the bookshop, Kirley's job at the Ministry and rumours of an engagement between Nephele and Peregrinus Hartcrofte, there was plenty to keep them all firmly in London.
Just to be on the safe side, however, she had rigged up some alarms to warn her of pending arrivals. Those and the other Charms already woven about the Castle made it perfect for her purposes. Somewhere quiet and secure where she could continue her research. More to the point, it was comfortable, with two House Elves willing to fulfil her every whim. After her time in the backwoods of Eastern Europe, she was not averse to enjoying a few creature comforts.
She glanced at the puzzle box sitting on the corner of her desk. A small, dark smile curved her lips. How foolish of the Solomonari to believe she would truly give away so value an item, even for her sister's life. They had been so ready to believe it though and where such belief existed then the battle was already almost won. The magical simulacrum she had presented them with was identical in every respect to the real thing... but nonetheless a complete fraud. With luck though, by the time they realised that, it would be too late.
"Soon," she whispered. "Soon I will have all your secrets."
Summer Plans & Work Decisions
Author: Josie
Date: 08-05-14 07:25
The History of Magic OWL and NEWT was the last one of the week. Some students looked exhausted, with dark rings around their eyes due to lack of sleeping and I knew the two day pause that was the weekend will give them time to rest. There were others who had walked into the Great Hall with confidence, feeling well prepared for their exam. Some who looked nervous and I noticed one or two fifth years seemed indifferent to everything around them. Perhaps they were already counting in not taking History of Magic next year.
The sand fall quietly down the hourglass, indicating that the time was passing. As my eyes looked around the Great Hall vigilant to any student who might need me, I started thinking about my summer plans. I had been invited again to the National Alchemy Convention that was going to be held in Derby this year and Jack agreed to come with him. Unfortunately he hasn't been able to expand his owl post business to London like he wanted to and so he was considering other cities around Great Britain. I thought going to Derby would be a great opportunity for him to take some time off from his work.
I didn't know how to define my relationship with Jack. We had spent a lot of time together over the past months. I had dinner at his house, he had dinner at mine. Sometimes, when I had to stay at the castle until late correcting homework, we would meet at Hogsmeade and have a drink together. We went to the Muggle movie once. We got along very well and one day when I went to have lunch with my brother he commented that he wanted meet my new boyfriend, the one I was always talking about. I replied to Henry that Jack was not my boyfriend, we were just very good friends.
Later, after that lunch with my brother, I realized that I wanted our relationship to go to the next level but I did not have the courage to ask that to Jack yet. He has never given me the hint he wanted more than the regular encounters we were having. I decided that maybe in Derby I should take a step forward and talk to him. Perhaps a different environment would encourage me to do so.
I heard an angry muttering coming one of the front rows of the Great Hall. Jasmine Doyle was reprehending herself because apparently she had confused the Warlock Convention of 1236 with the 1289 one and she had to write her answer all over again. I reminded her that she must remain in silence during her exam and feeling embarrassed she apologized, her cheeks turning red. She then started to write in a frenzy. The room became quiet again but not for long: Mark Farnon, one of my alchemy students, raised his hand in the need of another anti-cheat quill. As soon as Mark had his new quill, I had to go and assist Beatrix Vanderbilt who had the same bad luck as Mark. She politely thanked me and continued her exam.
I returned to my seat at the High Table and checked the hourglass. This time, instead of thinking about Jack, I put my mind into the 6th year Alchemy exam my students were going to take. Unlike last year I had opted to only do a written exam and although I had half the questions prepared there were still a lot of contents I needed to select and decide which would be part of the exam and which ones wouldn't.