#WILTimeline

[whoisleft-rp]

Timelines Week

A past. A present. And a future. So often in RP, we only get to explore our characters’ present – even though we’ve developed their past and know that they’re on the path to future development (whether decided by canon or our own plotting designs). For many of our characters, we have an idea of the extensive future events that lay before them, as well as the past memories that have shaped them as they are today. It’s part of plotting and developing our characters: what we want for them, what the future has in store for them, how their past shaped them.

It’s not always that we get a chance to hop around and explore all those different plots and moments that may live in our heads. And it’s a shame, sometimes, that we can’t linger in our characters’ past...or jump straight ahead to their juicy/terrible/wonderful/angst-ridden futures.

So, for one week, we want to encourage our writers to do just that!

That’s why we are introducing Timelines Week! Consider yourself gifted with a meta timeturner: you can write your character at any time in their past or their future, all to get the muse rolling and to perhaps shine a clearer light on what’s in store for our characters and the ones around them.

Ways To Participate

We encourage members to start a thread or write a self-para that takes place either in your character’s past or in their future! Remember to please stick to canon timelines for this – but if you’ve been itching to put your muse through the ringer, get a look at their post-war life, or bring them back to a simpler time… here’s your chance to do it in a time travel playground!

Feel like hurting everyone’s feelings and writing your character’s death, or do you want to gift everyone with something nicer; like a future wedding or an unexpected reunion between characters who haven’t seen each other in years? Go for it! The future – and past  – is creatively yours for the taking. Don’t worry too much about hitting topics you might eventually get to again here at Who Is Left if you’re in it for the long haul with us: the admins are big proponents of re-writing old scenes and threads if they still spark some writing passion, and you’d be amazed at seeing how much your writing can change from now until then!

As always, plotting is heavily encouraged! Open starters are a great option to play around with, but starting conversations with your fellow writers is going to be the best way to get amazing threads out of this event. 

OOC Information

This event lasts from right now until 11:59pm EST on Tuesday, June 11th. No new starters may be created after that time, although old starters can still be newly replied to after the deadline. 

Please tag all starters with WILTimeline. 

Please also state clearly in the thread title that it is a Timeline thread, and indicate the date. An opening description would help your fellow writers out a lot - please do NOT leave these vague, especially if you’re hoping for lots of interaction!

Reminder that this is not the same as an AU week event - all threads/edits/inspo posts must be canon. Your character is just traveling forward or backward on their same, canon timeline. 

For instance, Sirius would either be in jail or cooped up in Grimmauld Place if he were to move forward into the future. 

Characters like James and Lily may not be able to go too much further into their futures but open flashbacks and scenes set closer to that fateful Halloween are all on the table.

Chats, paras, self-paras, edits, gifsets, etc. are all welcome! It can also be a fun time to think of past or future FCs for your characters. Happy time skipping!

[benjy-whoisleft]

one last time || mary & benjy || early july 1981

Benjy loved Mary's apartment. He couldn't always place why as it always changed, but it definitely revolved around the woman who inhabited it. This was a place he could come in good times and bad, drop into a chair, and have a cuppa with someone who understood him.

They had never been an outright similar pair, and their experience with the wizarding world had a resemblance in being marked by the worst in people. Too few seemed to get his attachment to the Muggle side. Too few understood how he could live with a foot in each and be happy that way. He maintained he didn't have to pick; that was letting them win as much as anything.

He was back here again, tucked into what he, at least, regarded as His Spot, with his hands wrapped around his mug and smiling for a change. It was subtle, but not as forced as most of his feelings were these days. 

"When was the last time you felt excited about something?" Benjy asked. "Not overly, just looking forward to it. I'm trying to remember, but I can't place it anymore." It was sad, in a way. He found happiness in a lot of the moments with the Order. Deep friendships, outright fulfillment, and unquestionable challenges, but true excitement was another category. Being excited over a mission wasn't like this. That was part necessity. "I'm just curious."

@mary-whoisleft

[gossipgirl-rita-blog]

Dashing Groom || January 1981 {Timeline} || Rita & James

@goingxstag

Ideally, James Potter’s ego would make him a much, much more pleasant candidate for interview than his blushing bride. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances, so she made plans to trap him as well if necessary. This was the first major wedding she was covering and she planned to get a damn good article out of at least one of them, if she had to die trying!

Well, maybe not quite that far.

Unfortunately, she didn’t actually know where he liked to spend his time. She’d spent too much effort on Lily and hadn’t had a chance to research James yet, so her best plan for now was simply to knock on his front door. Which she did. Hard. As soon as it opened, she stuck a foot inside and spoke quickly, not pausing for breath or mental punctuation -- fingers crossed he was another sexist man with a hero complex and would refuse to risk hurting her by slamming the door on her foot.

“Mr. Potter, you may remember me, my name is Rita Skeeter, I was a few years above you at Hogwarts and I write for the Daily Prophet now doing human interest pieces and I wanted to interview you about your upcoming wedding, Lily may have mentioned it, may I come in please?”

[goingxstag]

in times of war || (early) October 1981 || Remus & James

@remus-whoisleft

      After weeks of staring at the same four walls, James was fairly certain they were closing in on him. All he’d heard for the last month is that he had to stay in with Lily and Harry, had to stay under the radar to protect them, especially Harry, from a terrible fate at Voldemort’s hands. It rankled, being treated like a child rather than the capable wizard he was, especially while the rest of the Order continued to wage war against the Death Eaters. He could be out there, fighting alongside his friends, really protecting his child and his wife -- but instead, Dumbledore had possession of his invisibility cloak, and Lily was watching him, constantly reminding him that he was of no use to his family dead. They were all united in keeping James at home, useless and stir-crazy. 

    If that was the end of it, James might not have been pacing a rut in the kitchen tile while Lily put Harry to bed by herself. He would doubtlessly still have been frustrated and feeling caged in, but a recent meeting with Dumbledore, Sirius, and Peter had added fuel to the fire burning steadily beneath his skin. The prophecy that likely referred to Harry as the Dark Lord’s downfall had been a blow to the face, and paired with the idea of painting a target on Sirius’ back to make him the Secret Keeper of their hiding place, James had nearly lost his mind. It was one thing to risk his own life -- risking someone else’s was impossible. And then, after he’d believed the matter settled, Sirius threw him for another spin: he wanted James and Lily to use Peter, instead. Apparently, it was brilliant, since no one would expect the small, unremarkable man to be chosen as Secret Keeper, but all James saw was yet another target painted on the back of yet another friend. 

     The knock at the door startled James out of his sulk, and he touched the wand hidden in his pocket to reassure himself before stepping toward the entrance and peering out the small window to see who was calling so late in the evening. Paranoia was hard to shake in those days, and James didn’t believe in being too cautious, not with Lily and Harry just upstairs. 

    Remus stood on the other side of the door, looking worn and battered, and James sucked in a breath as his stomach turned guiltily in his abdomen. The fourth Marauder had been deliberately left out of all meetings relating to the Potters’ relocation and hiding, had been eased out of most of their meetings -- and not just the ones relating to secrets. Sirius almost always came to visit by himself, bearing gifts for Harry and warnings about their old friend for James. Remus was always gone, disappearing off by himself with no reasonable explanation. Sirius was struggling to trust him, and while James knew to take his best mate’s observations with a grain of salt due to his tendency toward the dramatic, James couldn’t help but begin to worry, himself. 

   The warnings had been enough to make James opt not to read Remus in on their change of plans, and to make him hesitate a moment too long before swinging the door to the house open in welcome, though he hated himself for it. James did not want to be the sort of man who mistrusted his friends, especially one who had been nothing but loyal and steadfast for their entire acquaintance. He did not want to be remembered as the type of person who could doubt a friend’s integrity, or allow foolish bias to affect his perception of a person. And if the concerns had been brought up by anyone but Sirius, the man who knew Remus best, who James knew would die for him, they would have been dismissed outright. 

    As it was, James could only feel tamp down hard on that seed of doubt and the guilt it evoked as he stood, face-to-face with the man. He was relieved to find that when he looked at Remus’ tired face, that spark of mistrust wasn’t enough to extinguish the pleasure that seeing another of his friends alive and -- reasonably well, at least -- wrought. 

    “Merlin, Remus, you’re a sight for sore eyes! What brings you all the way out here at this time of night?” James ushered the other man in the door and waved his wand carelessly at the kettle, knowing well how welcome a cup of tea could be after spending any length of time outdoors in the cool autumn evening. “Lily’s upstairs putting the baby to bed, but she should be done shortly. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

[devilscarrow-blog]

Garden Party|| 1966

The parents were socializing on the large patio, but they might as well have been in a different country. It was the start of summer, meaning the Carrow’s party season was in full effect. 

On the large green lawn, surrounded by luscious and magically enhanced gardens, the sprinklers floated in the air to drench the happy children running underneath. Amycus stopped running to catch his breath, finally out of range from the darting sprinkler. 

He could hear his mother’s pleasant musical voice rise above the rest of the crowd as a hostess’ should. 

“Oh, you’re badddd,” she laughed, nearly the youngest in the patio company. “Come here, you have to hear this! Walburga, you’ve got your hands full with this one, ohh!” she shrieked like she’d been surprised by a cheeky pinch.

Amycus searched the garden for his twin, water running down his face from his sandy-blonde hair. 

“Move,” he ordered. “I wanna hit it.” He showed the rock in his hand, as he prepared himself to aim for the nearest sprinkler. Maybe it would break if he hit it hard enough. If he was big, he’d destroy all of them with his wand. He still had to wait some years till he got his own wand. Till then, a playwand would have to do. That is, until his father took it away from him this morning. 

[savingdavey]

when it gets personal || dorcas & davey || may 1981

It felt like a nightmare. Whenever Davey shut his eyes, the image of his dad collapsing under the weight of a spell was burned there, ready to replay like it had been created by his mind instead of reality. With his eyes open, he could still see his hollow ones on the ground. He felt hands wrapped around him, heard the shouting, and had to make a conscious effort to pull himself out.

The relief of his family seeing him only to follow with questions as to where Geoffrey had a tangible weight to it. It played into the fleeting guilt of not being fast enough, not seeing the spell coming. He didn’t beat himself up, but there was no pretending there wasn’t a small voice reminding him that he had quick resources, he practiced shields for this reason, he had never quite gotten the hang of putting them between danger and others.

He hadn’t spent much time with those thoughts, though. After talking to the Aurors and telling his family, he largely fell into being himself. A hollowed out version, granted. One who wouldn’t be more than a few inches from Dorcas even if she would let him. However, he let that natural comfort bleed out of him, putting himself second through the shock and sorrow that collapsed around him.

He sat on the couch next to his mum, an arm around her while she broke down. The start had been on the radio, of course, enough cause for panic but no one could say what happened until he walked in those doors. He held her a little tighter.

It was only after hours of processing turned into stories turned into planning turned into the comfort of each other’s presence that Davey leaned into Dorcas and whispered, “I want to go home.”

He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t stay here tonight. There would be plenty of nights there to come, but for a few hours, before extended family came and muggle-proofing both their house and their lie began, he wanted to be alone with her.

Davey wasn’t sure how long it took to work their way out and make it here, into the comforts of the hall with their door in sight. He stopped keeping track as the night war on, fatigue bearing down on him but the idea of doing anything about it unfathomable.

Steps away from the place he was happiest with the most important person in his world, he felt it all wear away. Walls he hadn’t meant to put up coupled with a radiating belief that it was going to be okay that he didn’t believe himself collapsed and were followed by silent tears. His first, through all of it. He was too shocked to cry, and it only came more steadily once they were inside.

He turned into Dorcas--he wouldn’t have made it this far without a firm arm around him, but now it was both--shaking with uncontrolled but still quiet sobs. He buried his face against her, willing away the images that arose and trying to sniff it away to a point where he could say something.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him,” Davey finally said against her. “I...don’t know what comes next. Why this happened. I--” He was interrupted by a hiccup turned teary exhale and shook his head. “It can’t be real.”

@dorcas-whoisleft

[caradoc-wil-blog]

To be sorted | September 1971 | Davey & Doc

The very last thing Mum had told Caradoc, when he was leaning out the window of the compartment on the Express, had been And try to make some friends, dear? Some real friends? Of course he’d promised, even if he couldn’t understand what she meant. He had real friends - gramps, gramma, Kit. Kit was a dog, so he didn’t speak much, but neither did gramps, come to think of it. And Alpheda, of course, he thought guiltily, knowing that even if he never told her of these thoughts she’d somehow know he hadn’t counted her.

All of this, however, lead to where he was now. He had promised to make friends, so he was - not. Instead he was standing, back to a wall, quite a bit away from the group of his fellow first years. Caradoc absolutely would (try to) make friends, but. Did it have to be just today? He could fib in the letter home, say he had talked to some, but nothing more in-depth.

Nodding his head, he realised he’d been muttering to himself too. Yeah, make friends, that’ll be easy... there were a lot of people in his year, though, so he did have some cautious hope that maybe one or two of them could be friends? If nothing else, he’d have to share dorm with some of them, and then they’d almost have to be on speaking terms! Satisfied with himself, he looked up from the floor when he heard what sounded like steps coming closer.

@savingdavey 

[narcissa-whoisleft-blog]

Sister Dearest | A & C| May 1977

Disappointment was a feeling Narcissa had often experienced with others, whether it came from a friend or family member, it hadn’t mattered. It had become an expectation that most everyone met at one point or another, or at least she believed they did. Disappointment from others had only become more of a frequent visitor after her wedding and as expectations rose with time, Narcissa found someone else disappointing her more than anyone else had before: herself. 

In the first few years of their marriage there had been excuses made and while they made sense at the time, it was harder to justify the absence as time went on. Years of knowing she would be the one to help carry on the legacy of another family had made it an event she wanted to push back — in a way, it was almost comical that she seemed to have gotten her wish. If only she knew how to find the humor others clearly saw in her situation. 

If only....

Finding herself in Diagon Alley wasn’t out of place in the least bit, there were shops she frequented and though the store owners were elated whenever she walked through the door, they knew when to leave her alone. Sorrow had at one point been the word she used to describe what she felt — overused by that point, she favored the word tired. Still, she wore a smile on her face and held her head high with the knowledge that people were watching. She had a role to play, a role that seemed to only want to be half fulfilled... 

... But she had been so certain.

There was a bag in her hand with items that Narcissa couldn’t recall buying until they cried for her attention. Anger had become an uninvited companion of hers, though it offered an unorthodox gift. “Watch where you’re going.” The smile she had worn out of the store was quick to disappear, tired of trying to hang on, it gave way to a frown that looked out of place. “You could have ruined these and then what would you have done?” The question came as she glanced inside the bag for the first time and was happily greeted by tubes of paint. Perhaps, they hadn’t been as delicate as she had made them out to be but still they had bumped into her. 

Glancing at the person for the first time, Narcissa wished she had simply kept walking. Still she stood her ground, feeling unsure of what to feel — how many time had she wished for her to be there? “Well?” It should have been strong, harsh enough to convey the malice she should have felt towards her. Yet, it was soft and though Narcissa wouldn’t admit it, her words sounded just as she felt: tired. She had never been able to hide anything from Andromeda.

  @andromedablack-wil​

[mary-whoisleft]

my life, but a better version // amos and mary // november ‘81

Out in the world, people were celebrating. They had a right to, didn’t they? It had been one long, hard year after another, each worse than the last, and right when it seemed there was no way to win, a miracle happened. A miracle. People deserved to celebrate something like that.

But Mary couldn’t celebrate. Out in the world, she couldn’t even breath a sigh of relief. She had tried, but she couldn’t take a full breath without feeling like she was chocking. Chocking on something she knew wouldn’t kill her because it couldn’t. She survives. Even as the people she loved died one by one until finally reaching the grande finale. Three dead, one inexplicably turned traitor, and one... she wasn’t even sure where. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the answer to that and so many more questions as long as she was out in the world, surrounded by people happier than she thought she would ever be again.

So, she hid. That was the best way to describe it, as she was now finishing up her second week straight of staying at Amos’s flat. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave when it was the only place she could breath. Amos had been such a stabilizing force in her life, which partly had to do with the support he gave her but also to do with the sheer fact that he was a constant in her life. He was one thing she could still hold onto and she would hold on with all of her strength.

Not to mention Cedric. The young boy, unburdened by the history unfolding around him, was like a firecracker bouncing around the apartment and he delighted Mary to no end. She had just spent the night chasing him around and planting ideas in his young mind about being a Seeker before helping Amos put him to bed. If she could just focus on this -- this life within these four walls -- than she could let everything else fall away.

“He’s shaping up to be a pretty cute kid, huh?” She was trying to keep her tone light, but it was getting to be that time of night when she felt deflated. Like with each day that passed, everything that happened became more real, more cemented in history. “Were you nearly that cute when you were his age?”

@amos-whoisleft

[bellatrix-whoisleft]

meet the devil in the morning sun || narcissa & bellatrix || january 1996 || timeline week

Bellatrix had limited options of where she had to go, where she wanted to go. Falling back into step next to the Dark Lord who she knew—oh, she was so certain—would return to power and return her to his side. Better still, with her wand in toe—familiar black walnut that had stagnated in its bending when she had entered her own stasis. A thought that got her through endless days. Glory returned and rewarded for her penance.

It was enough, more than. She would always demand more—more, more—from the world around her, but this she could revel in. Instead, she was granted further mercies. A freedom she had not felt in fourteen years to not only use magic but to move freely. As long as she was not seen.

As long as she took care of the problems that may arose if she was.

For a moment, leaving at dawn, she filed away watching the world burn—a task she'd stewed on, a mission that felt more urgent than ever.

No, she appeared in silence on the once known grounds of Malfoy Manor. She was not sure if word of her escape had made it this far. She heard hunches at best that they had searched the place as soon as the escape happened, reason for them to not use it as their base for the moment. It was a risk she was willing to take all the same, creeping in through the house elves' entrance and settling on a stool in the kitchen.

She had yet to bathe, had yet to change, without the faculties to do so. Her once slim figure was traded for the skin and bones of malnutrition, having eaten the bare minimum of the poor meals required. The bowl of broth, truly, tasted like the height of culinary excellence. She used her wand—her wand, her wand—to water it down further, still too rich, as she ate and waited.

Her wand in hand, rotating through bony fingers rhythmically. Her sunken eyes with their likely permanent dark circles flicking around the room at any whisper or movement—real or imagined was hard to tell. She laughed, cackled at the fact she was here, reclaiming her place in the lavish world she called home. It rang hollowly; she relished in it. 

She paused in her movements to run her tongue along it, relishing in in the sting of magic after being deprived for so long. It was drained from her, never given, never channeled.

Oh, this was her time. She was stronger than ever. Let Lucius be home. Let him challenge her or—

The door opened. She did not start but her shoulders cheated towards the noise before her head and eyes followed suit, flicking around like it could have come from somewhere else—it could have, it might have. spells to throw noise or memories drawn forward.

She settled on her sister and her lips drew into a wide smile. An acidic quality lurked just beneath the surface, and she put in no effort to hide it anymore. After everything she had been through, she lacked the energy. After everything she'd been through, she knew the value in letting it shine.

"Cissy," Bellatrix said, rolling her head towards her. She did not set down her wand—it felt impossible—but it was not raised in her direction. Not from comfort, no. From instincts blurred. From knowing she was still fast enough with her guard down. "Oh, Narcissa."

@narcissa-whoisleft

[lily-evans-wil]

unease | open | mar, 1980

It sure felt too hot to be the middle of March. The trees were bare and the sky gloomy as ever, even as the first day of Spring was fast approaching, every indication it was still crisp and cool outside. Yet Lily broke a sweat doing just about anything. It had been that way for the past four weeks or so now, and the little one in her stomach was certainly to blame. According to the Healers, the symptom wouldn’t last long, but Lily was starting to give up hope on that. Now, at half way through her pregnancy, it only felt as if more symptoms were popping up each day.

In addition to being particularly warm, Lily’s mouth was unrelentingly dry today. It didn’t help that she was rubbish about drinking enough water due to being annoyed with how frequently she peed. It was as if every horrible stereotype about pregnancy was coming for her one by one. But Lily didn’t let her frustration show on her face, or at least not often. Today, the baby was getting the best of her as she sunk down into a chair, resting her hands atop her growing stomach. “Please tell me you have some water on hand. A gallon of it preferably, I’m feeling a bit faint.”

[ava-avery]

wishing, wanting I Evan & Ava I May 1970

The past month had been spent driving her parents up the wall through constant begging. The second three owls had sailed through the windows of the Avery Manor, Ava had been ready to go get her school supplies. She had waited for this moment for years, the last stretch up until September first felt like a lifetime. It was finally happening; it was finally her turn to board the crimson train with her brothers by her side, off towards the castle they’d been told about all their lives. The letter, neatly kept on her nightstand, had been the catalyst but now Ava wanted more. Sage kept off on the trip to Diagon Alley, promising that they’d go soon, but soon was too far away. 

After a morning of pleas and promises that they’d all be angels all summer, Sage had packed Ava off and sent her on a playdate. Normally Ava would have protested a playdate (she was eleven, after all) but an afternoon at the Rosiers didn’t sound too bad. She’d had every discussion about Hogwarts that she could think of with Aiden and Archer, and now wanted Evan’s opinions. 

So she went along, practically skipping up to her friend, starting right on in lieu of a proper greeting. 

“What animal are you thinking of getting?” she asked him, knowing her mom would be horrified of the lack of hello and not finding herself caring. Soon Sage wouldn’t keep track of any of her bad manners, and the thought both worried and excited her. “For Hogwarts, I mean. I’m thinking an owl would be fun, but I also think a cat would be nice. Anything but a toad- Evan, if you chose a toad we can’t be friends anymore.”

@evanrosier-wil

[benjy-whoisleft]

once more with feeling || benjy & gretchen || early july 1981

Benjy slept on his decision and slept well. That distinction had really made up his mind for him. He gave it a second blissfully restful night off duty after seeing a normal friend before he went in and told Moody that he wanted to shift teams to work research. He firmly believed he could help it move a hair faster up against the impossible, and he, Dorcas, and Vince had always worked well together. He had a knack for this.

He left off that being in the field was actively killing him and promised he'd take it on again whenever they really needed him. They were hurting for people in every way.

He slept again. Closer to his usual four or five hours, haunted by racing thoughts that kept him up and turned into nightmares when he was finally pulled under. His specialty might have trended wards and shields, specifically their signatures and getting through them, but that had hardly spared him over the years. This wasn't what he was meant for, and it had taken a lot to convince him he had plenty to offer off the battlefield.

Benjy felt like he should look radically different. The dark circles were still under his eyes, wrapping too high and giving him that familiar, sunken look, but maybe, a bit of the hope was back. The bit for what he was in it for was unwavering even up against brutal tactics and unending fights, he believed this was worth it. This was for the improbable chance he survived it. Alive, and as himself.

Smiling didn't feel right, but he was still lighter. 

The closest he'd come to feeling this way in the past couple years was when he was blatantly ignoring the wizarding world for his Muggle one, and even then, he was followed by the knowledge it was unsustainable.

He tied back stringy hair, shrugged into his coat, and set off for headquarters. He passed the room he would soon call his base in search of the one person he felt he owed an explanation to. Benjy didn't expect to find her so easily in the war room despite having slept late morning into the afternoon today. He had been prepared to wait, not for this.

"Hi," Benjy said, still a bit hollow but for different reasons than his usual. "What do you have for us today?" He leaned forward on the table in the center of the room as he always did, in the typical start to their routine. If there was anyone he owed explaining the switch to, it was Gretchen. With all her constant support and training; she was both the reason he was here and why he'd survived this long.

He was a lot more afraid of letting her down than he was Moody. Or anyone else, for that matter.

@gretchen-whoisleft

[gossipgirl-rita-blog]

Eligibility || January 1979 {Timeline} || Rita & Evan

@evanrosier-wil

This was shaping up to be quite possibly the worst piece Rita had ever written in her entire life. Including her very first ever “interview” with her older sister at age eight.

She supposed it was just what she got for being so stupidly talented. Whoever’s idea this had been, though, Rita intended to find and hide somewhere very far away where they could never submit such ridiculous proposals ever again. Honestly, an “eligible bachelor” profile? On Evan Rosier?! It was preposterous and had no business in the paper, even if it was for her Valentine’s series. But someone, somewhere, wanted it done, and so she had no choice but to do it.

He was going to be absolutely unbearable about the whole thing.

They’d agreed to have the interview in a mostly public place. It would make it much more difficult to get away with hexing one another, no matter how badly she wanted to. So she sat in a semi-secluded corner booth at a restaurant in Diagon Alley, and waited for him with a distinctly unpleasant scowl on her face -- which only deepened when he appeared.

“Mr. Rosier. A pleasure, as always. If you don’t mind, I’d like to jump right in so that we can get this over with as quickly as possible. Do you have a middle name I should be aware of?”

[goingxstag]

just like home || July 1976 || James & Sirius

@sirius-whoisleft

      The Potter home was entirely too still and quiet for James’ liking. Granted, it was fairly late in the evening, and his elderly parents had gone to bed – but even as a young boy, before he’d gotten used to the constant movement and noise of a boy’s dormitory, James hadn’t liked the silence. Fleamont and Euphemia had given him everything he wanted that they could provide, but a James was entirely too extroverted to enjoy the solitary existence they led in the country after his father’s retirement.

      Now, though, after five years of spending nearly all of his time surrounded by his friends, the summers were particularly dull. James was always happy to see his parents, especially his father, and he luxuriated in home-cooked meals and his father’s undivided attention. But there were few people in the world able to keep up with James’ seemingly endless reserves of energy and enthusiasm, and while Fleamont certainly tried, he was no longer a young man, and there came a point in the evening when James had to entertain himself. There was no one to play Quidditch or plan pranks with, no where to use the cloak, or practice his shape-change to stag. He’d even considered doing his summer coursework in a fit of total boredom earlier in the afternoon, which showed more than anything how dire the situation had become.

     And, worst of all, James had yet to convince any of his mates to come spend their holidays with him. Remus was spending quality time with his parents, and Pete was somewhere off on holiday with his own. They were absolutely no help, and, worst of all, James couldn’t even be irritated that they wanted to spend the time they could with their families, since he would do the same for his own. 

      Then, of course, there was the real cause for James’ irritation: he had no bloody idea what Sirius was doing that was more important than rescuing his best mate from an utterly wasted summer. James was absolutely not worried, of course. He’d admit to feeling a bit ignored, and more than a little miffed by the sudden lack of communication, but Sirius was a big boy. If he wanted to blow off his best mate to -- do whatever it was that he was doing with his free time-- then that was his prerogative. There wasn’t anything James could do about it, aside from giving him a piece of his mind when they got back to school for the start of term. And he wasn’t his mum; he refused to fret over it. 

   As the clouds shifted outside to reveal a rather spectacular sunset, he found himself sprawled across his bed, releasing a pilfered Golden Snitch, allowing it to float above his head, and snatching it back, over and over again until he couldn’t take it anymore. Exasperated with himself, James slid off of the bed and grabbed a pair of tennis shoes, planning on going out for a run. He could work off some excess energy that way, enough at least let him feel a bit more settled, and then he could–

   Oof. James bounced back from the unexpected visitor on the other side of the front door, rubbing at his shoulder. Perhaps one day he would get in the habit of thinking before he charged forward; James had a tendency to run into others while rounding corners and exiting rooms at top speeds, but he never worried much about it. Tonight, it was slightly concerning, since there shouldn’t have been anyone on the porch – but he didn’t have time to panic about the apparent intruder or grope for the wand he hadn’t brought along before catching a glimpse of familiar features in the rapidly fading sunlight.

   “Bloody hell, Padfoot, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” James griped, backing up enough to look at the other man with a narrow-eyed expression that didn’t quite succeed in masking his relief at the other person’s presence. “What are you doing, lurking out here? I was starting to think you’d fallen off the face of the earth!” James was hard-pressed to hold grudges where his friends were concerned, and if he was honest with himself, he was too relieved that Sirius was standing in front of him unharmed to be overly upset about the cold shoulder he’d been getting since summer began. “Seriously, mate, where have you been? Did your owl fly the coop or something? Did you break your hand and lose the ability to hold a quill? Should I be worried?”

   James waited a moment, anticipating a reply -- likely a smart comment or joke in return to his own sniping -- but when one didn’t come quickly enough to suit him, James huffed and gestured at the door. “You know Dad fixed the wards to let you in without special permission after third year, yeah? You don’t need to wait for someone to let you in.” Raising one eyebrow, he added, “Are you coming in? Because you know I like camping out as much as the next bloke, but only when there are tents and bug-repelling charms involved.”

[devilscarrow-blog]

Dark Arts|| Antonin & Amycus|| Nov, 1997

@antonin-whoisleft

Amycus felt like he was on top of the world. As the only job he’d ever had, his position at Hogwarts was one where he could be with his twin, and make some real change. Amycus never would have considered himself a visionary, often pegged just the ‘stupid one,’ but the work he was doing behind these walls was significant. 

He knew the Dark Lord was proud. The things these students were learning and the speed at which they were catching on, they were going to be unstoppable once they graduated. So the news of Dolohov’s visit came as a shocking surprise. Why was he here? Was He not happy with their work?

Snape gave him strict orders to meet him at the gates. Antonin was to be met and wooed and not to be left alone. Amycus assumed Snape must feel the same pride about his new position, that he did. After all, the poor sod had been through the worst of it, hiding under Dumbledork all these years. Good riddance–– the astronomy tower was Amycus’ favourite place to lecture to his students. 

“Ahhh, brother!” He greeted with a smile, his demeanour having changed quite a bit in the short time he’d kept his post. He just felt different. It felt good to have something to do in the mornings, a place to go, young minds to shape and mold. 

“Keeping well?” He extended his arm to embrace the visitor, aware of the wandering eyes from students passing by. His tattoo jumped and swirled on his skin. 

“Don’t you all have somewhere to be?!” He growled, causing panic and hurried steps from the young ones. That’s the one downside about the job. Children. 

He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous standing beside such a loyal and Great follower like Antonin. The smugness of having escaped the fate of Azkaban had left him long ago, and rather now he saw the true opportunity of loyalty he’d missed out on. Amycus liked to think that after all these years, him and his sister had more than made up for it. But standing with Antonin, he was reminded that where the Carrows were forced to prove their loyalty every day, Dolohov just was. And he was a favourite too, that was easy to see. 

Amycus admired, hated, emulated, and enjoyed Antonin. 

“Lemme show you to my office,” he suggested, dropping the formalities and slipping into friendship. “I have an office now,” he sang proudly, casually making sure his ‘deputy Headmaster’ pins were clear to see.