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(Alanna) Sorry, We're Closed!
Author: Beck
Date: 09-30-13 13:53
Alanna stood outside Petals and stared at the CLOSED sign in the window. What she thought would never come to pass had happened after all. Mrs. Hepplewhite's campaign to have the strip club closed had worked, all thanks to Reed, who had made it his mission to see it done. Alanna didn't understand how such a relatively low-ranking lawyer could close high-profile cases, but Reed had done it more than once now.
He stood next to her on the sidewalk and schmoozed with a reporter from The Daily Prophet. Mrs. Hepplewhite and the other old women who shared her viewpoints about establishments like Petals stood nearby, waiting their turn to give statements to the reporter.
Every once in a while, Alanna observed an ex-employee enter or exit Petals from the side entrance. The ones that left carried out belongings in cardboard boxes. They vacated the premises in a hurry to avoid getting heckled by Mrs. Hepplewhite and the others, though a few gave lingering glances to the reporter. They were probably interested in sharing their point of view with the public.
Alanna felt a little bad for them. Although she didn't necessarily agree with their line of work, she didn't think there had been any legitimate reason for Petals to close. Morally, maybe, but not legally.
"I'm glad I was able to shut down that festering cesspool," Reed announced, grinning for the photographer.
Mrs. Hepplewhite threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. "We're so grateful for what you've done!" she gushed. "Hogsmeade is finally a family-friendly village again."
"As it should be," Reed replied. He extricated himself from Mrs. Hepplewhite's embrace, turning her over to the reporter to be interviewed, and looked at Alanna.
She returned his gaze and said, "I can't believe you did it."
"We did it, Alanna. You and me."
She pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn't want to be a part of his team, since most of what he did seemed highly questionable. What was worse, though? Being the subject of his abuse or getting drawn into assisting him with morally ambiguous cases? Alanna almost couldn't decide.
She turned her gaze back to the shuttered building and frowned.
Pretentious
Author: Sophie McCourt
Date: 09-30-13 14:03
Everything was ready for the wedding with the exception of the bride. Honoria Flannery, the future Mrs. McCourt, was giving the last touches to her look, as she placed more powder in her already naturally pale cheeks.
Sophie observed her future stepmother with impatience. The faster the wedding ceremony started, the sooner she would be able to take off the pink dress she had to wear. She looked at her sister Patricia, who was wearing a blue dress, and seemed delighted to be helping Honoria to get ready. She had asked to have the same hairstyle as the bride, which Honoria kindly agreed and she made all the other McCourt girls wear it as well.
Belinda sat quietly at a corner. From the four sisters she was the one who had the best behavior and she seemed to have an infinite patient. Ellie was the opposite and she just couldn't stay still. The activity outside attracted her and she wanted to go out and join their brother Elmer who hasn't been allowed into the room.
Finally Honoria decided she was ready. She paired the girls, Sophie with Patricia in the front and Belinda and Ellie on the back and they went outside where the ceremony would be taking place.
*
"The cake is delicious," Belinda said, her mouth full.
Patricia looked at her sister, disgusted by her manners. Their father used to say she was an old woman in a girl's body.
"It's good, but Hogwarts' cake is way better."
Belinda looked with disappointment to her plate, but Patricia quickly told her that Sophie was lying and she regained her appetite.
"I am sick of you talking about Hogwarts all the time. It's annoying," Patricia commented.
"I like it. And so does Elmer," Young Ellie said, as the little boy only nodded.
Elmer was the youngest of all. He had a fragile health and most of the times he had to stay on bed at home. This frustrated him because he wanted to play outside and run freely in the gardens just like his sisters. He did not understand why he was different from them and being the only boy he was used to being spoiled and have everyone around him. Elmer's delicate condition was one of the reasons their parents had divorced. Sophie knew her father blamed her mother for his health, while her mother refused to have more children. She defended that Elmer was unique and she was not going to have another boy to replace him, in case the worst happened. Now, hopefully, Honoria McCourt would give many more children to Ian.
"It's pretentious," Patricia said, imitating her stepmother in perfection. She had a great admiration for Honoria and she was the one who liked her the most.
Sophie picked up her wand and pointed it at Patricia, who looked at it terrified. Sophie felt that she had a large advantage over her sister, since she had a wand and knew how to use it. However, Belinda squeaked:
"Sophie, you can't!"
"Thanks a lot for the reminder," she replied, putting the wand away. Patricia was not afraid anymore, now that she was recalled that her sister was not authorized to use magic outside the school. "But nothing will stop me to brew a potion that will make your hair fall. I can slip it into your drink and you won't even notice. Who knows if it's not already mixed in your butter beer…"
"You are awful! I am going to tell dad!" Patricia threatened.
Sophie just grinned and finished her cake, watching her sister touching her hair making sure it was still all there and pulling her glass away.
Not Welcoming the Terrible-Twos
Author: Oreileah McCoi
Date: 09-30-13 17:29
Sunday, July 1st, we'd celebrated Meagan's second birthday with a party in our spacious backyard. Family and friends had come to visit, and the two year old had been given so much that she still had not tired of playing with her new toys. Which, began to pose a problem when bedtime rolled around, or when it was bath time, or meal time or time to do anything other than play with one of her nifty new toys.
Terrible twos were officially in full swing. Temper-tantrums galore.
Right now, she was sitting in time out after pitching a fit when I told her it was time to put her dragons away and get ready to go to bed. Ten minute time out, and the dragons are put away for two days because she threw the Chinese Fireball at daddy and he now has a bruise on his forehead. Thankfully I'd managed to uncharm the dragon before it hit him or he'd be slightly singed as well, and Meagan was very lucky she hadn't gotten singed when she'd closed her hand around the dragon.
There were tears, and already I'd stopped counting the petulant looks and pouting, begging, pleading from my daughter as I finished cleaning up the playroom floor, righting everything and setting her pajamas out on her bed.
"When your time is up, you will go apologize to Daddy and then pjs on, bed and story time."
"No Mommy!"
It was going to be one of those nights it would seem.
"Meagan Amara McCoi-Raynor, if I hear that word once more out of your mouth your new toys will spend two weeks in time out, am I understood?"
Trembling bottom lip and all I managed to get a "Yes Mommy..." and once her time was up she dutifully went and hugged her father, apologizing for throwing her dragon at him and hurting him. Then she met me in her room where she helped me get her into her pjs, teeth and hair brushed and she was tucked into bed after selecting her story for the night. She opted for one of the muggle storybooks that I'd gotten for her, Dr. Seuss' Green Eggs and Ham.
Once she was in bed, night light on, glass of water on her bedside table, I headed out to the living room and dropped down on the couch next to Jim. "Finally, she's asleep."
Jim wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close and handing me my glass of wine. "Good. Now, we can figure out just what we are doing for your birthday coming up soon.."
I groaned. "Really? Do we have to do anything to make me feel old?"
"You aren't that old now hush. I have already talked to your mom, and a few others. I'm thinking just a simple family gathering at maybe The Golden Dragon, or your favorite Vietnamese place?"
I pondered and curled into him, sipping my wine considering a few things. "We can go to The Golden Dragon go ahead and book the reservation for maybe ten or so? We will leave Meagan with a sitter that night I think."
We talked a few minutes longer, before enjoying the rest of the evening's peace and quiet.
At The Cookout
Author: Dante Knight
Date: 09-30-13 18:10
Earlier in the day Dante had been invited to a cookout at the home of his coworker AJ Hodfuffer. He's been mainly keeping a low profile as he's done since accepting a position at Hogwarts and even more so after that Skeeter article. Wanting a little bit of a change of pace from the castle and grounds other than when taking a run, Dante had accepted the invitation, showing up at the house in Hogsmeade after spending a little time in his flat's small kitchen to make a baked bean dish he'd learned once when living in the US. He'd also stopped on the way to the Hodfuffer-Ravensdale home to pick up a bottle of wine, not so much because he wanted some but because he wanted to bring something beyond the baked bean dish.
Sitting on a low slung lawn chair, a plate of food balanced on his lap, Dante nods and smiles at an older gentleman who's walking past with his own loaded plate. The other man pauses then turns, pointing with an elbow to the chair beside Dante. "May I?"
"No one's been using it since I sat down so I'd wager it's safe to say yes."
"Thanks."
As the man sits, something about his manner reminds Dante of his brother. He waits until the other person is settled in the low chair before tonelessly asking, "Why are you here?"
"I was hoping to get through some of what must be really great food before you figured it out." Even as he says this Rocky is ripping off a hunk of barbecued chicken. He eats it with obvious relish, noisily licking his fingers after he's finished off the chunk of meat.
"You do realize I'm obligated to report contact. That guy over there? Geoffrey Blackwell. He's an auror."
"You'll be a good little traitor and snitch, I have no doubt, but not until I'm gone."
Dante gives a dismissive snort. "After what you did? Don't be so sure."
"Yet here we sit and you've not flagged that auror to come this way."
Dante starts to raise his arm, prepared to call Geoffrey over but Rocky puts out a staying hand, leaving barbecue sauce fingerprints behind in the process.
"Now you're just being a brat."
Dante jerks his arm away, glaring at his brother who in turn makes a tsking sound around another bite of food. Mouth half full Rocky chides, "Don't want to draw everyone's attention."
"Maybe you don't, but ,"
Rocky cuts Dante off. "Shut it, will you? You're going to feel like shite if you turn me, or try to anyway, only to learn I'm not Skeeter's source."
"The family has turned me out and you call me a traitor wait, what?"
"I'm not the source."
"So it's Dad then," Dante can't keep the bitterness from his voice.
"As angry as he is with you, Tag, he'd never do that; and, deep down you know it. It wasn't Sunshine. Wasn't Mom."
"Why should I believe you?"
"We might lie to everyone else but since when have we ever been in the habit of lying to each other?"
"There have been times."
"Telling you there wasn't any cake left while hoarding the last of it doesn't count."
"Okay, say I believe you. None of you gave Skeeter what she needed to write that article. Why wait to tell me?"
"Two reasons. One is that right after it came out, you were under greater scrutiny than you'd been under. The other is, well, frankly I wanted to let you stew a bit. The rest of the family thought that Sunshine's telling you before that story broke that none of us would ever rat you out would be enough."
"I never thought it was Mom or sis."
"But have no trouble casting blame on Dad or me."
"Seems a reasonable presumption."
"But a wrong one. You want to know who squealed, look to who else knew before that article came out and look to the British Ministry and ask yourself just how hard it would be to get around protection on confidential files."
With that Rocky leverages himself out of the low slung lawn chair, the amount of food on his plate greatly diminished. "Been great chatting, Tag, but now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to refill this plate then take my leave."
Dante says nothing, already deep in thought about what Rocky has said about a breach in confidentiality within the Ministry. He'll have to have a conversation with Isreal, maybe Ron Weasley too, and see what comes of it, making sure to dutifully report the familial contact in the process.
(Azaelia) Father-Daughter Conversation
Author: Isolde
Date: 10-01-13 09:15
The Biblioteca Nacional de Chile had a hidden, wizarding wing that Muggles couldn't see and didn't know existed. The library contained a copy of all the nation's wizarding literature, as well as major works from other countries, some in their original language, others translated into Spanish. Azaelia liked to visit the library whenever she was in Santiago. It was the place she would have aspired to work, had she not returned to Britain.
After getting her fill of the library, she left and sat down on the steps outside the neoclassical building. It was barely 60 degrees, so Azaelia slipped her coat back on and buttoned it closed. The sun was shining, however, making it feel warmer than it otherwise might.
A few minutes later, she spotted her father across the street. He had agreed to meet her for lunch. Azaelia had intended for it to be just the two of them, because she had something very important she wanted to ask him. She was pleased to see that Robert and her mother weren't with him.
Constantine Bramble waited for a car to pass and then stepped onto the median dividing the road. The median itself was divided by a black metal fence, requiring Constantine to walk around to an opening in order to cross over to the library. Once he got to her side of the road, Azaelia climbed to her feet and took the remaining steps to meet him on the sidewalk.
"Where did you want to go?" she asked him, once he was standing in front of her.
"I know a place around the corner," her father said.
The place in question was a little bistro with tables and chairs on the sidewalk. Father and daughter decided to sit inside next to the window, where it was warmer and they could still have a view of the outdoors. Azaelia shrugged out of her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. She picked up her menu and quickly decided on a sandwich, cup of soup, and some mixed fruit for dessert. Her father decided on a pasta entreé and a salad.
After they made their orders, Constantine asked, "Now what exactly did you want to talk about?"
Azaelia opened and closed her mouth a few times and then asked, "How did you know I wanted to talk to you about something?"
"Just a guess," he replied, smiling. "You've never asked for father-daughter time before, so I thought you probably had something to say for my ears alone."
"It's true," Azaelia admitted.
"So, out with it already!" Constantine said, still smiling.
Azaelia knew he was trying to make it easy for her, but how could she point blank ask him if he secretly worked as a drug lord? She never told him about the Rita Skeeter article. He had no idea that his name had been dredged through the mud along with her own.
"Erm," she began, clearing her throat. Why was this so hard? "The thing is… some allegations were made… about me possibly being involved with substance abuse. None of it is true, of course!" she added, more confidently, "but the thing of it is…" She trailed off, growing nervous again.
"Allegations by whom and for what purpose?" Constantine asked. He sounded calm, almost blasé about the whole thing.
"Rita Skeeter's been writing damaging articles about all the staff at Hogwarts. It's some kind of game she's playing. Most of it is blatant exaggeration or her twisting the truth to soap opera-like proportions, but in some cases, there is a grain of validity to what she wrote." Azaelia hesitated again. "She wrote that the reason I'm probably using drugs is because you ran off to South America to sell them. I don't want to believe her, because it's ridiculous, isn't it?"
Constantine didn't answer for a long moment. He looked up when the waiter returned with two cups of tea and his salad. Azaelia waited tensely for her father to say something, which he finally did after the waiter left and he'd stirred his tea to his liking.
"I'm sorry to say," Constantine began, "that Rita Skeeter's information is absolutely correct."
(Titus) Driving
Author: Tiberius Nott
Date: 10-01-13 12:37
Endhope Abbey might be his home, but there were still many secrets inside the house that Titus was not aware of. And so the boy spent his days exploring the dusty divisions, in search for hidden treasures.
The most interesting thing he had found so far had been a box which contained five wands, that was hidden in a cabinet with a false button. But Tiberius had confiscated the box, inquiring Titus about what he had on his mind when he planned to keep it, saying the wands could have been cursed. Then he was sent to the gardens, because according to his brother, the summer was to be spent outside and not locked inside a house. Titus protested saying he had nothing fun to do and Tiberius had a quick answer ready telling him that there were a lot of weeds he could rip off.
Phyllida and Ferne, Tiberius' guests, were more comprehensible and they tried to entertain Titus from time to time, but he really didn't want to tell his friends he had spent his holidays being baby sited by two witches.
One hot day, while he was chasing a lizard down the garden, he passed by the garage and noticed the door was not locked. Titus looked around just in case but there was no sign of his brother or his guests, and then he slipped into the garage. There were several cars parked inside, but none of them was as clean and well maintained as Tiberius' Bentley.
A smile formed on Titus' lips and he opened the door, occupying the driver's place. This was his car too, he thought, trying to reach the pedals. His hands held the wheel and for a moment he imagined he was driving as fast he could. He turned the wheel to the left and then to right and he found tempted to play the car's horn, but he refrained himself of doing so. He didn't want to get caught.
"The Muggles had never seen such car before! And not even the fastest broom can beat Titus Nott, when he is on the wheel. Look how he flies! Amazing!"
Titus started to make sounds in his mouth, imitating an engine. For a while he had a blast but then he started to get bored again. If only he could drive for real…Moments later an idea started to form in his mind and a smile was born on his lips.
The boy left the car and started to look around the old garage that has been implemented into the house less than a century ago. He knew Tiberius used his wand to start the car's engine, but Titus had read somewhere that Muggle cars would work with a key. So the Bentley's key must be somewhere in the garage.
"Got it!" He exclaimed when he found a set of car keys inside an old chest.
He entered the car again and he tried several keys until the right one fit in. His heart started to beat faster with excitement and fear. For a moment he considered to stop, but now he wanted to see Anton's face once he told him he had driven a flying car. He turned the key and the engine started to work.
"You can do this, Titus. You have watched Tiberius do this a thousand times. It cannot be that hard…" he said to himself.
He pulled the clutch and moments later the car was in the air, a few centimeters from the ground. He used the pedal and the car left the garage and gained altitude.
"Yeah!" Titus exclaimed, raising his closed fists into the air.
Soon the gardens were getting smaller and smaller and spotted Tiberius, Phyllida and Ferne. They looked like ants. He laughed and then he decided to fly away before his brother would stop him. However, he had lost his concentration for a moment and the car started to descend at a large speed. Titus pressed the pedals, held the clutch, used the wheel, but nothing seemed to work. He found himself screaming, in panic and pure terror. The ground was approaching fast.
"Oh Merlin…"
That was the last thing he said. Then everything went dark.
At the Grocer's
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 10-01-13 12:53
Weather permitting, The Magic Neep arranged produce outside the shoppe in bins and baskets lined up in neat little rows and overflowing with every color of the rainbow. There were cartons of blue blueberries and red raspberries, bins of purple eggplant and green broccoli, and containers of yellow onions and white mushrooms. With the perfect weather and lovely selection of fruits and vegetables, the shoppe was somewhat crowded.
Lysander navigated the stands with a basket on his arm. He had meant to do his grocery shopping earlier in the morning but had gotten sidetracked with orders for the book shop and his inevitable tendency to dwell on his lack of progress when it came to finding the Resurrection Stone for Adriana.
Like his previous trips to Greece and Italy, Lysander's visit to Turkey hadn't panned out at all. A baetylus stone had at one time been housed in the ancient city of Seleucia Pieria, near the modern town of Samandag. Seleucia Pieria had been a major port city, only to fall after an earthquake in the mid 500s. The baetylus stone had been in the temple of Zeus Cassius, which no longer existed.
For a long time, when Lysander was sure Muggles weren't watching, he stood by the cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and tried to summon the baetylus stone from the water, assuming it had fallen in with the rest of the ancient city over the centuries.
He had nearly reached his limit when it came to finding the stone, though he had a few more options. If he still couldn't find it after researching the other avenues on his list, then he would simply tell Adriana that he was done and she would need to find the stone on her own.
He reached for a bundle of radishes the same time someone else did. Lysander started to apologize and let the person have them when he realized that Aralyn was standing next to him. His expression immediately soured.
"Take them if you want them," she said.
"I'm surprised to see you shopping, considering you no longer have a job," he retorted, making no move to take the radishes.
"My parents left some money," she replied, snatching the radishes and putting them in her basket when Lysander didn't take them for himself. She didn't add that she and Kristos had both been blowing through the money at an alarming rate. With no income from either of them, they would soon find themselves in trouble.
"How special," Lysander sarcastically replied.
"You know, you ought to be nice to me," she said. "Charlotte is in my care, not yours, and it's up to me whether or not you have permission to visit with her." She scrutinized his appearance and asked, "Why are you so bent out of shape anyway? You've always been on the moody side but you seem worse than ever these days."
"I wonder why," Lysander stated, deciding he had had quite enough of conversation with her. He moved past her and went into the building to look at the seafood.
She followed him, unaffected by his desire to be rid of her. "I don't think this is about Charlotte," she said. "You kind of remind me of Kristos a little bit, the way he's become so obsessed with that dumb swo––" she cut herself off abruptly and cleared her throat.
"That dumb swallow figurine that was our mother's," she amended after some fast thinking.
Lysander didn't even react. He had nothing to say to Aralyn, not about Charlotte and not about the thing he was spending much of his time on. She called it an obsession, but it wasn't exactly that. It was a job, and one that would likely end soon.
He picked up a neatly packaged fillet of trout and carried it and the produce in his basket to the checkout counter. Aralyn didn't try to follow him this time. She watched him pay for his groceries and then disappear through the crowd congregating around the produce bins outside the shoppe.