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Professorial
Author: Sirius Padfoot Black
Date: 06-06-09 21:33
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!"
"Me too, Daddy!"
Sirius moves behind the swings to a position where he can use his left hand to push Mira and his right to push James. Their cat Wendy and Hermione's Crookshanks lie under the swings, batting at the children's feet as they swing past, causing the twins to giggle and gleefully kick their legs.
Sirius hears footsteps crunching on the dirt and gravel path. Without turning to look he says, "Would you please get me something cool to drink, sweetheart?"
"I do not think I am who you were hoping, Sirius though if I was, I am flattered to be called sweetheart. Whether I am sweetheart or not, I shall be happy to get you a cool drink."
Sirius looks over his shoulder with a grin, "Sorry, Professor. I thought I heard Drucilla." Gesturing to wrought iron chairs around a matching wrought iron table he says, "Please, sit down. I'll get refreshments. Back in a minutes, kids."
Trotting towards the house, Sirius enters through the kitchen door, returning soon after with a tray of freshly made lemonade and an assortment of biscuits, some Drucilla and he made with the children just that morning and some from Briar's Bakery. Setting the tray on the table, Sirius pours a glass for Professor Dumbledore then calls to the children, "I've got lemonade and biscuits if you'd like, James and Mira."
"Me, me!" they joyously yell. Sirius waves his wands at the swings, which have a charm on them to swing at a low level once given an initial push and then releases the safety spell that keeps the three year olds from falling off.
Passing them plastic spill proof cups, Mira's with dancing dragonflies and lady bugs and James' with fluttering, flying snitches, Sirius allows them each to pick two cookies from the platter. Once the twins are happily crunching away on their biscuits, Sirius turns to Albus Dumbledore, who's also happily crunching away on a biscuit.
"You've picked a pleasant afternoon to drop by."
"Your garden is extremely nice, Sirius. Perhaps I shall drop by more to enjoy it."
"You know you're welcome whenever you wish, Professor."
Professor is why I have come. I should like you to teach the first through fourth years in Transfiguration."
Sirius chuckles. "I'm not sure I'm suited to teaching the young."
"I bet to differ. I have witnessed you with your children and with other children, such as the various Weasley young. You also have experience with teaching basic Transfiguration at St. Emrys. I believe you to be immensely suited to the task."
Sirius takes a sip of his lemonade, mulling over the offer. He had been thinking of accepting another position at St. Emrys. He supposes he still could if he taught only in the afternoon and evenings there, not that he needs two jobs. Maybe he would do both if he didn't have a wife and children now. So, take just one of the jobs. But which one?
Teaching at St. Emrys does allow him to tailor a schedule around his home life and whatever needs Drucilla has, especially if she takes another job, part-time or full-time. Then again, if he's only teaching four of the years at Hogwarts, which would be eight sections if there will be two sections per year as when he was a student, his schedule wouldn't be packed.
At length Sirius says, "I'm tentatively saying yes. I would like to talk with Drucilla. I'll let you know definitely in the morning."
"I was optimistic of a positive response. I brought these for you," Dumbledore says, handing Sirius a bundle that he'd somehow not noticed before. "The first four editions of The Study and Practice of Transfiguration. I have also included lesson plan forms so that you may begin writing them should you wish."
Picking up his glass to take another drink, Sirius chuckles again. "Maybe I'll simply tell Dru that you told me I would be teaching at Hogwarts rather than asked."
Albus Dumbledore bows his head towards Sirius and returns the grin. "If it helps secure you in the position, then by all means," he jokes.
Forced To Be A Volunteer (Zuberi)
Author: Viktor Krum
Date: 06-06-09 23:35
Crinkling his nose, Zuberi Batuti reaches the decision that all people over a certain age smell old, with old being a mildewy musty, stale piss, onion breath smell. He'd never noticed before but that could be because until recently he'd never been around so many decrepit people gathered in one place.
The room is long but not all that wide. Zuberi thinks he heard one of the adult volunteers say it used to be a reception hall. He's not exactly sure what that means. Reception as in wedding receptions or reception like when a diplomat is meeting with others in an official capacity or something else?
Not that it matters.
The room is now a centralized location for a number of the elderly who had been classified as Nons, arrested, and sent to prison camps. All had suffered greatly with the effects of near starvation conditions, beatings, exposure to the constant bad weather, work that was hard and harsh, and disease having brought many to the brink of death.
This former reception hall was donated for St. Mungo's. The hospital chose to set the place up as a therapy center for the elderly because so many of those who'd been in the camps are in need of long-term care of some sort or the other, ranging from more supervised diet and nutrition regimes to intense physiotherapy.
Zuberi is here because Viktor and Theodosia decided working with those who'd suffered would be a good way to spend part of each day when not helping Viktor in the shop or at the stadium and when not studying. Zuberi still doesn't get why he's got to study during summer holiday. He's got to repeat a year of school because of his poor grades and then being suspended for the last weeks of term. If he's going to do fourth year again, why should he study for it now when he's already done it once and will be doing it again?
Just thinking about having to do fourth year again sets Zuberi's teeth on edge.
"OW!"
"Sorry, Mr. Bagshot," Zuberi says, honestly apologetic for once.
Concentrating more on helping Mr. Bagshot do leg extension exercises without putting too much pressure or force on the 97 year old man's legs, Zuberi shoves away the thoughts of having his younger sister in some of his classes, as Marjani will be a fourth year as well. Instead, Zuberi wonders who it is a 97 year old man who is small in stature and build was able to survive in a nasty prison camp for as long as he did.
Maybe part of the old person smell comes from the ill health they all have now. Maybe that's why Zuberi had never noticed the smell before. Maybe the smell comes from being both old and in poor health and poor physical condition.
Finishing up with Mr. Bagshot, Zuberi wipes down the area then looks to see if Mrs. Hensley is ready for her leg exercises now.
On His Own
Author: Ronan Eastwick
Date: 06-07-09 14:08
The second trial of Enid Eastwick had gone much like the first Ronan had witnessed nearly two full years ago, though with obvious differences too. Gone was the haughty woman who'd been so proud of her schemes, replaced by one humbled from losing her beloved oldest son and very nearly losing her youngest as well. The crimes against her had been the same, most notably three counts of murder, and hadn't been up for debate. The new question had been her prison term.
Previously, she'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban. The woman she'd been should have rotted there forever, but what had followed her early release had changed her, and what's more, she'd turned herself in willingly to resume her original sentence. In the end, the Wizengamot's judgment resulted in a reduced sentence. Five years per life taken and then an assessment of whether or not she would truly be fit for reintroduction into society. If so, then she'd be free to live her life outside Azkaban's thick walls. If not, then back to her cell she would go.
Ronan was pleased with the new terms of his mother's imprisonment, because it meant that one day they would be reunited again outside of the prison fortress. He'd gone to visit her every few days since her incarceration, but soon his visits would come more infrequently.
He'd received a letter from Hogwarts inviting him to return for his seventh year, which would have occurred last year had he not been whisked off to Happy Haven School For Nons. Ronan had also received the status of prefect, which served as all the more reason to take up the offer and go back to Hogwarts.
Before receiving the letter, he hadn't been sure what he would do with his life. Find a job, he figured, but what and where? His time at Happy Haven, however brief it was (though it had felt excruciatingly long), had seemed to stunt him in every way possible. He felt like he didn't have any skills (other then chopping up firewood and sweeping up snow) and that he'd forgotten a lot of what he'd learned while at Hogwarts from disuse. Going back to school was probably the best possible thing for him. Maybe he wouldn't feel so aimless a year from now.
Ronan looked around the empty house, unsure of what to do with himself when somebody knocked on the door. He crossed to the foyer and peeked out through the vertical window next to the door. A smile spread onto his face and he opened the door wide.
"Illyria!"
"Ronan! I was hoping you'd be home."
They exchanged hugs. Once upon a time, it might have been awkward for Ronan to hug Illyria because they'd once been student and teacher but Illyria had become his guardian after Enid had first gone to prison. Her guardianship over him had been shortlived, but Ronan was ever grateful for all she'd done for him during those hard times.
"Come in. Do you want something to drink? I'm sure there's tea... not sure how to make it but I think I can figure it out," Ronan grinned and led Illyria to the kitchen.
"Tea sounds fine, and I'll show you how." She set down a little clutch purse she'd been carrying and joined him as he rummaged through the cupboards.
"So, how are you? I heard about your mum."
Ronan set a few cannisters of tea onto the kitchen island and said. "I'm well, all things considered. Tell me everything about you, what happened and what you are doing now, and then I'll tell you my side of the story."
"We'll be sitting here all day," Illyria replied with a small smile.
"I don't mind," Ronan said a bit too quickly. He was lonely without somebody else in the house with him.
Illyria smiled warmly and filled a teapot with water. "Well, it all started when the RAC came for me the day you left Hogwarts for Kings Cross Station..."
Taking A Meal With Edmond
Author: Pyrrhus
Date: 06-07-09 14:41
Standing on a corner at a zebra crossing, waiting for a traffic light to change, for once Py is glad of having regular contact with the Muggle world though his dad Paul's side of the family. He knows of too many witches and wizards who find even a short walk to the street-side entrance to the Leaky Cauldron somewhat overwhelming. As automobiles, lorries, and busses whiz by along with the occassional roar of a motorbike, as people walk along talking on their mobiles, playing handheld video games, music pounding from dozens of different sources, the whine of a jet plane overhead, and all the jarring noise associated with a construction site just down the way, Py can easily see why those of the Wizarding World can go on a sensory overload of confusion if not used to any of this.
The light changes as does the zebra crossing sign. As a throng surges forward to get to the other side before the light changes, Py gets swept along and thinks the way they swarmed he would have been forced to cross whether he wanted to or not.
Once on the other side, Py turns right and walks another three-quarters of a block. Entering the Indian restaurant, Py's somewhat surprised to see a long queue. That's often a sign that a place has good food so if nothing else, Py now thinks he'll at least get a decent meal out of this.
With most everyone appearing to have already spoken with the hostess, Py's wait isn't long. "I'm Pyrrhus Fine, meeting Edmond Jeffers."
"Mr. Jeffers is already here. Follow me, please."
Py follows the hostess, who's dressed in a brilliant sari as befitting the restaurants theme even though she herself has pale red hair, equally pale green eyes, and even paler skin. At the table, Edmond partially stands but waits until the hostess has given Py a menu before saying,, "Hello, Pyrrhus. Thank you for coming."
Reaching across to shake his biological father's hand, Py replies, "Good to see you, Edmond. How have you been?"
"I'm excellent. How's your family? Everything getting back to normal after that nasty business with the Ministry?"
Although the place is packed, Edmond doesn't bother lowering his voice when speaking of the Ministry. He's not said anything specific so anyone overhearing would have no idea what political entity is being discussed.
Py nods, looks up to tell the waiter his drink order, then says, "Yeah, everyone's good. Getting settled back in. The Ministry is steadily making improvements."
They pause talking because the waiter was extremely quick getting Py's drink and is now asking, "Have you gentlemen decided or do you need more time?"
Py points to a daily special, "I'll have the Tandoori Chicken."
Edmond holds his menu out for the waiter. "The Lamb Vindaloo for me, please."
No sooner as the waiter walked away to put in their order than another approaches with a starters plate. "Aloo Paratha?"
"Yes, thanks," Edmond nods, moving a water glass out of the way for the plate. To Py he says, "I ordered one of my favorite starters. Help yourself."
Py's only had the potato and flatbread dish once but had liked it so he doesn't hesitate to reach for a helping. Edmond grabs one as well, saying as he does, "I never mentioned before that I've had an on again-off again relationship with a woman for years. We have a son together."
Py nearly chokes on the bite of Aloo Paratha he's just taken. He reaches for a drink to help wash down the food, Edmond watching him closely to gauge his reaction. When he can speak Py asks, "I have a half-brother?"
"Yes, Mason is eleven, just turned in mid-May. I'd been debating mentioning him at all," Edmond holds up a hand indicating for Py to hold what he was about to say. "I should have told you before now and shouldn't have debated at all whether or not to tell you. My hesitation is due to a number of reasons, one of those reasons only recently put to rest with the Ministry changing of hands."
Edmond stops, looking searchingly at Py as if waiting. Py stares back, saying nothing because at that moment he's more than a little speechless. Finally though the implication of what Edmond has said sinks in. "You didn't want to draw the Ministry's attention."
"No, not only because of not wanting it public knowledge as to who I really am but also because even though I know Mason's name would show up in the book at Hogwarts, I was hoping that they would ignore children who weren't already part of that world."
Py swallows another mouthful of Aloo Paratha before stating rather than asking, "Mason got a letter in July."
"Mason got a letter. I've sent a reply but Mason doesn't know about any of it yet. I was hoping you could help me."
Not knowing what to say to that, Py says the only thing that comes readily to mind. "Ummmm, okay. Sure."
They spend the rest of the meal with Edmond telling Py all about Mason and how best to tell him about the world his father is really from and about having a half-brother who is also part of something Mason doesn't know exists.
Impressions
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 06-07-09 15:47
Astrid Thomason had visited Twice Told Tales several times since first meeting Lysander on High Street. She'd gotten to know Julian, Grace and little Charlotte during those visits, and each time they'd learned a little bit more about her too. The children had never met Chyler and therefore didn't notice any resemblance between the cousins, but the similiarities in appearance had been as obvious to Julian as they'd been to Lysander.
The reason for Astrid's many visits to Hogsmeade in recent weeks was the fact that her boyfriend had just taken over management of Scrivenshafts, the stationary shop down the street. For reasons unknown, the knowledge that Astrid had a boyfriend bothered Lysander. He'd met Varus Ingram in the meantime and found nothing wrong with him personally, but he just didn't think Astrid needed to be dating him. He had voiced his opinion on the matter to no one but himself, though Julian knew him well enough to know exactly what he thought about the situation.
Astrid herself had grown up in Sweden, where her mother's family came from and where she'd coincidentally attended the same English-speaking school Helena Tufton had gone to many years earlier. Like Chyler, Astrid also had an older brother. His name was Kristian, and he currently worked for the Swedish Ministry of Magic. Astrid herself had worked odd jobs over the years and was currently unemployed. She'd been seriously thinking about attending university and had put in a late application to St. Emrys.
Presently, Lysander and Astrid sat in the park in Hogsmeade while Grace and Charlotte played. Astrid was talking about something––what Lysander didn't know since his own thoughts had blocked out anything she'd told him so far. He found himself studying every aspect of her face and hair while she spoke. Did her hair feel like Chyler's had when Lysander ran his fingers through it? Were her lips as soft to his touch as Chyler's had been? He wanted to trace the contours of her face and to bury his nose into her dark mane. The likeness was uncanny, and yet he didn't confuse her for Chyler. The subtle differences were just enough for him to know that Astrid was a completely different person and that yes, Chyler was still dead and gone.
And yet, he was fascinated with Astrid. If he couldn't have Chyler back, she was the next best thing. But would she want him? He was older, nine years to be precise, and she already had a boyfriend. And what would others think if Lysander started dating or even married his dead wife's copy? Did he even care?
He realized he was staring and forced himself to look away and concentrate on the children. If she noticed the lingering looks he gave her, she didn't indicate. She knew quite well of her resemblance to Chyler and understood how dreamlike it must feel for Lysander to find himself face to face with someone who looked so much like someone else he never thought to see again.
Her voice cut through the thoughts that still whirled through Lysander's head.
"So, are you dating anybody these days?"
Lysander turned back to Astrid and attempted to gaze upon her neutrally. "Nothing serious."
"No? No one at all?" Astrid leaned her head to the side and smiled.
"Well, there is––was one. Lysandra."
"Lysandra?" Astrid threw back her head and laughed. "Lysander and Lysandra. How funny!"
"Yes, well, as I said, it's just casual. I haven't seen her in weeks, actually, so the relationship––what it was, anyway––may have run its course."
"That's too bad." She flicked her wrist over to study the face of her watch. "Oh, should you be getting back to the shop?"
"It is about that time."
"I can stay with the girls a bit longer since they probably don't want to leave yet and then bring them by when they've had enough," Astrid suggested.
"Sure, that'd be fine," Lysander replied. Any excuse to see Astrid again.
He rose from the bench and called out to Grace and Charlotte, informing them that they could stay with Astrid for a little while longer. They were more interested in their game and paid him little heed. He shrugged his shoulders, shot Astrid a smile, and sauntered off to the book shop.
Surreal
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 06-09-09 17:46
Being back at Hogwarts felt almost surreal to Ethan. He'd visited several times since abruptly departing from his post as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor over six years ago, but never did he think he would return to the castle and resume his old position.
Six years, and more! How time had flown since that fateful day when he'd felt so cornered by Dumbledore and Dierna ní Cíaran to find it necessary to abandon his job and his students. But then, he hadn't quite been himself, and as a result, hadn't cared a whit about his work or the impressionable young minds he'd taught until that point.
Much had changed in the meantime. Voldemort no longer had a hold on him or anybody else, being more than three years deceased, and Ethan had overcome not only that challenge but the most recent prejudices that had plagued the majority of the wizarding world. He, like the world, was in a much better place now. The future could only be bright.
He met old colleagues in returning to Hogwarts, like Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick, and new ones as well. AJ Hodfuffer, Declan Douglass, and Illyria Jones hadn't been teachers during the 1996-1997 school year, and there were plenty of other unfamiliar faces too. Certainly, Kissy Isuki hadn't been there, having broken the Defense Against the Dark Arts curse after her successful first school year several years ago. Unquestionably, Ethan had met some of the newer staff before during his visits to the school on Career Day, but it would be the first time to work alongside them.
Giving up his position at the Ministry of Magic, which he'd only just resumed, wasn't entirely easy. Luckily, he didn't have to cut the cord completely. He'd been asked to do some consulting work, particularly because of his great interest in and knowledge of many of the open cases. A great number of individuals had been rearrested in recent weeks, though a good deal were still at large, like Ethan's own adopted parents Dorian and Maren Somerset, and Nero Noir.
He looked around his new classroom, assessing it for readiness come fall. He knew this go around would be better, but he still couldn't help but remind himself of the past. Dumbledore was a wise man, though, and probably knew what he was doing in inviting him back to Hogwarts.
The classroom looked as ready as it would ever be, so Ethan decided to check out the obstacle courses Kissy had set up in the castle.
(Seattle, Washington) It's Time
Author: Desdemona Diamond
Date: 06-09-09 17:53
Saturday the 23rd, I was having lunch with Angela. We were at a muggle restaurant. It was warm and sunny, like Seattle tends to be in August.
“So, was Bronwyn the only beautiful woman you met in England?” Angela asked.
“When? When I was going to school or when I went a couple weeks ago?”
“The second one silly.”
“She was the only one I talked to,” I answered.
“Pity she doesn’t have a twin like you.” She said with a sigh.
I laughed at her, “You say that about all the girls you like. You even said it about me!”
“That was before I met your twin!” she laughed.
“What, never get decked by a chick before?” I asked.
“Not like that!” She laughed. “Ok, I have another question.”
“Big surprise,” I sighed.
“How is it you didn’t end up acting like Bronwyn after spending so much time with her?”
“Bron and my sister act a lot alike. When my sister isn’t violent.”
“No…”
“Yes. You’d be surprised.” I told her.
“Ok, have you ever seen Bron without clothes on?”
“That, is something you don’t need to know,” I responded with a bit of a laugh. At that same moment, my cell phone rang. It was my sister.
“So you have!” Angela exclaimed, she paused when she saw the look on my face change to one more of confusion, “Who is it?”
“My sister, she’s never called me before.” I answered the phone. My sister said two words and hung up. I jumped to my feet and grabbed my stuff. “I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you later.”
Angela looked confused, “What?” I didn’t respond because by then, I wasn’t paying attention. My mom was on the way to the hospital, to deliver a baby.