#« ft. morcant nott »

[impcrios]

@cvrsedmuses

healers and mediwixes were did not come to the ministry often, so he felt a bit lost being here, as it were. he had been looking for the auror office hoping to entice james and sirius to get lunch with him and maybe find remus as well. it had been a long time since they had all been together and done something. but he was stuck at the fountain and looking at the map that guided to where he was trying to go and somehow found himself in the unspeakable department, but he couldn't go very far without actual clearance. "fuck, i think i'm bloody lost." merlins tit's he thought, running a hand through his hair. "the auror department is probably further up, isn't it?" he asks.

[bcrtiesjr]

barty crouch jr. never bothered to make plans with anyone... or perhaps only once in a blue moon.., but if he scheduled a date to go out, that day everything had to go wrong. it was an unspoken rule. even his father intercepted him before he could step through the ministry doors once his workday was over. as it usually happened, his body tensed at the encounter, and his mind went blank. yeah, yeah, i’m sorry. it won’t happen again. he remembered answering, but couldn’t recall to what. lately, those words came out automatically from his throat. in a bit of a rush, he managed to take a quick shower, select appropriate clothes, and grab a bottle of firewhisky. his hair was still damp when he apparated in front of nott manor. they had spoken about meeting at the labyrinth, but given the delay, barty doubted whether morcant was still there, waiting. after a moment's hesitation, he chose to proceed; at worst, he would have to knock on the front door, and it couldn’t be worse than he imagined. he allowed himself to follow the greenish paths, superficially similar, yet never the same. it didn’t take long for him to find the meeting spot, and an invisible smile appeared on his lips, unseen by the other wizard. " morc, " he murmured, making his presence known with a quiet whisper in the stillness. “ sorry i’m late, ” he muttered with a grimace. “ it was a bloody nightmare, they wouldn’t let me leave. ” he apologised, searching for a place to sit next to him. “ i brought a bottle of firewhisky so we don’t rock up completely sober—still got a bit of time. at least enough for a half. ” he said, his eyes scanning the liquor he held between his hands, and a new smile curved the corners of his lips. “ besides, you know what they say: good things come to those who wait, right? ” and in that moment, the familiar mocking tone slipped from his lips, as if it were second nature.

ft. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓 ( @cvrsedmuses )

[caspark]

among his weekly errands, visiting gringotts was never on the list. the place felt far too big, complicated, and imposing for someone like him—plus, goblins were intimidating. however, his desire to acquire a home in romania had him visiting the wizarding bank more frequently than he'd ever have liked. and when the kneazle approached to sniff him, his mind instantly conjured up a hundred different scenarios—each one concluding on a positive note. cassian had a habit of seeing signs in the most mundane things. “ hey, ” he greeted the creature softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “ oh—don’t worry, it’s alright, ” he added, carefully extending his hand to let the animal sniff him. “ should i be worried? am i in danger? ” he asked, confused, finally shifting his gaze to the other wizard. “ i think it's cute. ” he tilted his head slightly before shrugging. “ it’s been a while since i’ve seen one up close. ” then, adjusting the strap of the bag hanging from his shoulder, he reached out to scratch the furry kneazle gently behind the ear.

WHO: morcant nott & open WHERE: diagon alley, street near gringotts. WHEN: late afternoon

Morcant had a day off, which rarely happened for the unspeakable squad in the Ministry. He considered himself a very productive person, so he decided to put his financial affairs in order. After dropping by to see Alecto, he headed to Gringotts. He had several investments and assets in his name, and although goblins were very reliable to make money, they weren't very trustworthy. There, things went as expected. Some of the most important investments had major drops due to the war, so he had to rearrange a lot of things. When he left the bank, it was the late afternoon and his head felt like exploding. During all of this, his familiar, a black kneazle named Odin, walked dutifully by his side. Right after they left the bank, however, the feline stopped to smell someone. "Odin, no. Come on, stop being rude." He chastened the kneazle, who promptly ignored him and stopped right in front of the newcomer. "I'm so sorry about him. Are you in a hurry? He's being trained to detect magical imbalance, so I think he might be worried about you."

[impcrios]

"hm." she says, knowing what it meant to have an acquired taste for something as ghastly as thestrals. she had loved most creatures, but it was no secret that her love was for dragons. she had raised so many in the last six years of her career, nearly been burnt to a crisp, and flown on one more than once, it was exhilarating if a bit strange for a slytherin who prides themselves on self-preservation. narcissa had that, they would never go too far without protecting themself. cissa was a naturally selfish person but cared for things that she cared about and didn't give a fuck about the rest. "i understand. i just got engaged and i've been truthfully running away from my family at this event because of it." they felt like they got the carpet pulled out from under them. narcissa felt like property now, it left them feeling uneasy. "hopefully everything stabilises itself at work." she offers.

Odin had a great time at playing catch with the baby dragons and the baby thestral today. Morcant couldn't help but feel like a proud dad watching his antisocial son making friends, except his son had the spirit of an eighty year-old grumpy grandfather.

"They are cute, but I guess it's an acquired taste." Morcant's laugh was soft, silence settling in for a few moments. He liked Narcissa, her steadiness somehow made him few at peace. It was like someone created a bubble in space-continuum where his duties and worries disappeared. "He had a great time today, work has been demanding. There's a lot of unstable magical energy these days, he's talented at keeping my aura balanced, but it takes a lot out of him. I'm glad he had fun today. The dragons are fantastic, though. Congratulations."

[impcrios]

hogwarts is a game of survival, and for a moment, mary thinks about mulciber. her head starts to hurt briefly, her smile fades for a moment before clearing her throat. "right, at least no student has died this year, i think. or the past couple of years, now that i mention it." hogwarts would never feel safe anymore for someone like mary, the night of the attack she felt uneasy having to come back but mary loved hogsmeade. "dunno, mate. haven't really thought much about it." she's only known magic for ten years, sometimes she felt like she was still new to this world, and in a way she was. she sees the pureblood families come in droves to this event. her family couldn't come in even if they tried. but she had emmeline, at least, for company. her loyal flatmate and friend. "well, should we get on and be on the look out for the acromantulas? maybe we can get you that weapon!"

"Well, Hogwarts is a game of survival, each day is just a shot in the dark." Morcant rolled his eyes, bitterly thinking about the utter lack of order in that dump. "I hear there's centaurs around here, as well. I would really love to know more about their society and government structure. Do you think they have a democracy, or that is it more an anarchy? Anyway, I think they probably keep the acromantulas in check, their fangs would make fantastic weapons. At least that's what I would do if I was a centaur." He babbled, not really excited about the whole prospect of the ride. "I'm not entirely sure about the ride. Disfigurement by acromantulas doesn't fit my aesthetic for today."

[impcrios]

regulus did not have very many friends, he had many allies but friends was not one that had a handful of. even in school. he knows that it mostly due to regulus cold nature and the inability to actually speak what was on his mind at all times. he wasn't very kind either, but he was loyal. he couldn't sleep tonight, his arm hurt, and he was tired, but not the kind of tired where he could sleep. he was restless. walking into the department of mysteries and the hall of prophecy he had held his wand and lit a lumos so he could see. the light reflecting off of the orbs. he sees morcant and walks gracefully towards him, giving him a nod as well as he stood next to him trying to see what he was seeing. their allyship was an easy one built on mutual interests and knowledge. perhaps they both had a touch of madness staring at orbs for too long. "not yet." he says with a small smirk, trying his best to be coy. "and you?" he asks, raised eyebrow. "which one has taken your interested, then?" he raises his chin up to the orbs, always so curious.

who: morcant and regulus @impcrios where: room of prophecies, department of mysteries, ministry of magic

Neither of them knew, but both Morcant Nott and Regulus Black had already been fucked over by narrative before they were even born. Perhaps they knew, in the same self-aware arrogance where they fished they self-loathing, bit by bit. They didn't know what the Moirai would spun for them in the fabric of fate. Since they worked for the Room of Prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, some would call that poetic justice. The Nott heir stood by one of the shelves, watching the long line of prophecies with the intent of someone listening to music. Crystal balls that looked inofensive enough, but he knew people that had gone crazy while working there. Lucky him, he was halfway there, maybe that's why he almost didn't feel the pull. Working there during midnight was peaceful and eerie, which was his mood of preference when studying their cases. You couldn't be too comfortable over there. — Black. — He nodded to Regulus as he saw him. For someone with the social skills Morcant had —you get more flies with honey—, not knowing how to approach the topic was disquieting. He couldn't exactly be blatant and outright ask him what he wanted to know. — Did you see anything missing or out of place in your hand? He asked, looking closely to the other's face with a somber sort of respect. It was the best resemblance of friendliness he could emulate in the present circunstances.

[nobelandloved]

Elowen knew plenty of things frontwards and backwards. Latin, the stars, what counter curses broke most other ill intended curses. How to speak to her father, most men for that matter and plant an idea of her will to make them think it was their own. She knew how to brew complex potions from memory and knew the words to her favorite novels like she knew how to spell her name. But the one thing she knew better than perhaps even herself was her elder brother. Growing up a Nott came with entanglements and the heaviest of expectations. None more heavy than the one Morcant had to bear. The heir and the spare. It wasn't as if Elowen could carry on the family legacy for the Notts. Her role was far more arbitrary as she was supposed to marry another well off pureblood family and create little pureblood babies who would continue that line- she thought it interesting that men needed women to carry their sons who would carry their names, carry their legacy. Interesting because it was a woman who pained, labored and bled to create those sons. But it was the fathers who felt entitled to give them their names and legacy as if it wasn't their mother who had given them life.

Her feelings on legacy and a woman's role in it all were rantings she reserved for the trusted few. It was a role she had no interest in playing and by meticulously being cruel to any suitor to the point they wouldn't want her Elowen had given herself the precious thing that was slipping Morcant by, time. Such a luxury to have when the brother she loved so dearly could not give himself anymore of it or predict when their father would sign it away. The Nott name was something he couldn't shed. The legacy was his to mold; she looked forward to what he could create. At least when she wasn't worrying for his sanity, his peace and his soul. It wasn't an uncharacteristic ritual for Morcant to end up entombed between the stacks of ancient text and seemingly endless tombs. It was a ritual of sorts, one Elowen had come to expect. He tolling away under dim light, forgetting to eat to drink, to live. She worried and brushed off anyone who offered to do anything about it. That was her job. When the time was right Elowen would do as she always would. Intervene.

The ascent of her foot fall ended at the opposite end of the table. Wordlessly Elowen sat down a mug of hot tea just and curled into the chair nearest by, "You look well rested, Mor". Sarcasm came easy, it was the cradle delivering her care. Leaning over the text Elowen began to piece together her assumptions, "What are you doing?" her tone was free of accusation or weight as she traced a line of text.

who: morcant and elowen @nobelandloved where: nott library, nott manor

The clock ticked by the second in one of the paintings. It drove Morcant to the edge of insanity, once. One step from the void—the void looked back at him, he felt it. But then... Something pushed him to the abyss, maybe it was his father —familiarity breeds contempt—, maybe it was the inbreeding —none of them escaped the madness—. but he guessed it didn't really matter. Show me one pureblood who isn't a mad bastard, and I'll show you the face of a filthy liar. Or something. He knew it was true enough for the Nott family, but if anyone was safe enough from the dangerous type of madness, that person would be his little sister. He liked to believe that. Morcant would do unspeakable things to protect his sister—pun intended, since he was an Unspeakable for the Ministry. Morcant sat between two massive shelves, hidden by the grandiose and enormity of the library. Piles of books and parchments surrounded him, which wasn't a strange sight for someone like him. Neither was the crazy glint in his eyes, or the bags under his eyes of someone who didn't have a good night's sleep in years. Disrupting his intense study session, he saw Elowen's feet getting closer before he saw her face. — Something is about to happen, and we need to make precautions in case one of us die. — Morcant didn't say hi, or hello, or any blasé form of greeting. He didn't think it was necessary, with the two of them. Making small talk was left for high society sycophants and sucking up to powerful people. Not for your other half.

[impcrios]

part of being a black was the rich history of ancestors, all he had to do was look at the tapestry. he wonders about all the names that have been burned off, his eyes always lingering at sirius' name and feeling the ache of it. he wonders within the next couple of years if there will be more. the thought of having children terrified him, but he knows that eventually he must : family duty. it's hard for regulus to even imagine getting older. he won't. he looks at his lantern and thinks about writing a message to his brother, not because of premonition, but because sirius has been gone from the house for so long it feels haunted now. when he gets knocked over the lantern releases in the sky and he has to laugh. "it's fine." he shrugs. "i didn't know what to write anyway."

where: ancestor's lanterns release, samhain festival, hogsmeade when: evening with: open

Morcant really hoped the departed people didn't have access to it beyond the veil. If they did, he was fucked. His heartfelt message to his grandfather, Cantakerous Nott, was along the lines of: "Dear grandfather, thank you for being an even worse paternal figure than my father. No wonder he is a raving lunatic, having you as his father. You are the one who sullies the noble and ancient name of the Nott family. I hope you rot in hell for the entire eternity. Fuck you. A big middle finger, your grandson."

He sighed in relief when the lantern was flying too high to be caugh, and hoped no one saw it. He was about to leave, when he stumbled on someone.

"Oh, pardon me. Sorry, are you okay? I hope I didn't damage your lantern." He asked politely, knowing the ceremony could be a hard time for some people.