#pewter purse

[strangesthirdeye]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴅɪᴅ ʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɪɴsᴜʟᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʙʀᴀɪɴ?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Prologue > Chapter 1 > Chapter 2 > Chapter 4

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you both started your 'adventure' by riding the tube in London. Hagrid had to bend his body slightly just to get into the tube and he took two seats in front of the two of you just to fit his massive body which you found quite amusing because some people were surprised to see Hagrid.

Some distance themselves from Hagrid because.. Scared of him. Now you are both settled in the tube comfortably. Hands clutching the letters in your grasp. You who wear a dark brown jumper and checker oversize jacket along with baggy bronze pants which you have to use a belt just to keep it from being loose sits closely to Harry.

You were so excited today that you read the magical letters many times.

"First year students will require: three sets of work robes, one wand." Harry reads out loud enough for you and Hagrid to hear.

You looked at Hagrid interestingly. "Wands? As in sticks that have magic?"

Hagrid chuckled lightly. "Yes, Essential bit of equipment, Y/n, Harry"

You pursed your lips to hold back your excited squeal. This is like the book you used to steal and read in your old school library. And this, it's like come out of a book.

Harry then turned his gaze on his letters back. "One pair of dragon-hide gloves" Harry stopped and shifted his eyes to Hagrid. "Hagrid, do they mean for a real dragon?"

Hagrid looked at him oddly. "Well, they don't mean a penguin, do they?" Hagrid said.

"Dragons exist?" You are more excited.

"o' course they exist, big old rascals! Heh, crikey. I'd love a dragon" Hagrid beamed.

"You'd like a dragon?" Harry said.

You stared at him intently, very interested to hear Hagrid talk about something he liked

"Vastly misunderstood beasts, Harry." he said with his gruff voice. Hagrid then to the woman who seemed to be heard what Hagrid said. He nodded at her and the woman returned it before re-reading her paper.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"All students must be equipped with... One standard size pewter cauldron and may bring, if they desire, either an owl, a cat, or a toad. Could we find this in London, Hagrid? I mean, I can understand if we find a cauldron in London but an animal? Do we have to go into the forest to get it or what?" You looked up to Hagrid, dumbfounded.

Hagrid who was walking next to you turned his gaze on you and stared at your face amusingly before he laughed lightly. "aye, we don't need to hunt animals to get it, Y/n. We just need to go to the right place to find it" Hagrid replied.

Soon, they came across at the corner store, as they got closer, you noticed a sign magically appeared.

'THE LEAKY CAULDRON'

Hagrid opened the door of that mysterious store. You and Harry hesitated a bit to enter the place. Hagrid looked at you two, assuring that this place is not just any place before he motions you both to enter the place.

You both obliged and looked around the slightly dark place. There you two, there are several people in this place chatting and laughing with their friends at every table there. This place is a bit crowded judging by the place has a small space. Not only that, you also noticed some workers who used magic to clear the tables that had been used. They waved their hands and all the chairs were back in order. Without a wand.

"a pub? Hagrid is this really the place?" you shifted your eyes from a group of people dressed in long robes sitting in the corner of the room.

They seemed to be chatting and laughing while drinking what you assumed was alcohol. Did Hagrid really take you two to the pub for a drink or what? Harry looked around with uncertainty on his face. He too feels what you feel.

" it's not just a pub, Y/n." Hagrid noted before he walked forward.

Some of the people who knew Hagrid greeted him. You and Harry followed him from behind. Some people looked at you both suspiciously and some of them seemed to know you both especially you because of your unmatched eyes and this lead to whispers among them.

"Ahh, Hagrid. The usual i presume" said the bartender to hagrid as he wiped the glass in his hand with a cloth.

"No thanks, Tom" Hagrid waves his hand dismissively. "I'm on official Hogwarts business today. Just helpin' young Potter twins here buy their school supplies." Hagrid replied.

Suddenly the man named Tom widened his eyes upon hearing the name. He put his glass cup and cloth on the counter and put his hands on the counter and leaning his body forward to see you both over his counter clearly.

" bless my soul. It's Harry and Y/n Potter!" he exclaimed, flabbergasted.

The pub was immediately silent. They looked to where you two were standing. You looked around awkwardly, very overwhelmed by the attention you were given. So many people stared at you making your hands sweat.

Quickly, a man came to you two and he shook Harry's hands excitedly. An old woman came up to you and shook both of your hands.

"welcome back, Miss Potter! welcome back! Doris Crockford, Miss Potter. I can't believe i'm meeting you at last" she said before let go of your hands.

You awkwardly nodded your head. Not knowing what you did to get this kind of attention among magic people.

'right, this is quite overwhelming' you thought as you shifted closer to your brother's side.

Then came a man wearing a long robe and a large turban on his head. He looked nervous as he moved closer to you both to greet.

"Harry a-and Y/n Po- Potter. C-Can't tell you how p-pleased i am to meet you."greeted the man stammering. He fidgeting his hands as that is his habit.

"Hello Professor. I didn't see you there. Harry, Y/n, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be yer Defense Against The dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts" Hagrid introduced.

"Oh nice to meet you" Harry offered his hand for a handshake but the Professor seems to distance himself from Harry as he hesitantly refuses for a handshake

You knitted your eyebrows at this. 'odd Professor' you thought as you observed the conversation on Harry's side.

"F-fearfully, f-fascinating subject. N-not that you need it, e-eh, Potters? Heheh.." Quirrell awkwardly said.

Hagrid decided it was time, he interjected. "yes, well, must' be goin now. Lots to buy. Hehehe."

Harry nodded his head at Hagrid. He takes your hand before he looks at his soon to be Professor.

"goodbye" he said.

You nodded your head in regards before following Harry and Hagrid to the back room of the winery in front of brick walls.

"See, Harry, Y/n! You're famous!" Hagrid beamed.

"But why are we famous, Hagrid? All those people back there, how is it they know us?" Harry frowned.

"What did we do to deserve such attention? I never felt this overwhelming before" you muttered, squeezed Harry's hand.

"I'm not sure I'm exactly the right person to tell you that, dear." Hagrid huffed a breath and patted your head lightly before he turned his gaze to the brick walls and tapped the brick walls with his umbrella in a clockwise direction.

The blocks then magically shifted and opened up to reveal a hidden busy street called:

"Welcome Harry, Y/n, To Diagon Alley" Hagrid said.

You both widened your eyes in amazement. The place is so full of magic and people who wear long robes and hats. Lots of kids with their parents buying and checking lists, sellers promoting their shop, witchs and wizards talking among them. Animals such as owls and bats perched on the bar seeming not to bother the many people there.

You grinned broadly as you all stepped into the busy street and walked down on it.

"this is amazing" you exclaimed as you let go of Harry's hand and looked around the place excitedly.

"i'm glad yer like it Y/n but best to stick together so yer don' get los' " Hagrid informed as he moved to the side to avoid bumping into people.

You nodded your head and held Harry's hand again who was still amazed by his surroundings.

" Here's where yeh'll get yer quills and yer ink, and over there all yer bits and bobs fer doin yer wizardry" Hagrid noted.

You are still grinning with amazement as you see various shops that are quite unique and magical. You noticed some children who are the same age as you pressed their face to the display of a broom? Now this is quite interesting.

" It's a world class racing broom!"

"Wow! Look at it! The new Nimbus 2000!"

"It's the fastest model yet.

'racing..broom' you frowned as you walk aimlessly with the help of Harry who seems to be pulling you to walk.

Suddenly you and Harry felt nervous. All this takes money. How do you all want to pay for your school supplies? Uncle Vernon himself said he will not pay for this school so how?

"Eh, Hagrid, how are we going to pay our school supplies, Uncle Vernon himself has said that he won't pay for this." you anxiously looked at Hagrid and so was Harry.

"We haven't money" Harry added.

"Well, there's your money." Hagrid pointed his index finger at the tall white marble building. " Gringotts, the Wizard Bank. T'aint no safer place, not one. 'cept perhaps Hogwarts." Hagrid explained as he led you both into the bank.

There you see some creatures that are human like dwarfs wearing neat suits but have long nails along with their crooked noise. Their faces looked very fierce. You and Harry nervously looked at Harry.

"uh, Hagrid, what exactly are these things?" Harry asked, his eyes still on the creatures who were busy working on their desks.

"They're goblins. Clever as they come goblins but not the most friendly of beasts. Bes' stay close, you two" Hagrid muttered as the three of you were finally at the front counter.

You both stick to Hagrid. As soon as you both arrived in front of the counter where the agoblin who was wearing spectacles and a waistcoat, in it was working, Hagrdi cleared his throat.

"Mr Harry and Miss Y/n Potter wish to make a withdrawal." Hagrid said, formally.

The Goblin looked up from his work and looked at Hagrid for a moment before he shifted his gaze to you and Harry.

You gulped your saliva. Your sarcastic and self-confidence disappeared upon seeing the fierce-faced goblin. The goblin then glanced at Hagrid again.

"And do Mr. Harry and Miss Y/n Potter have their keys?" the goblin said.

"Oh, wait a minute. Got it here somewhere." he put his hand in his pocket. " Ha! There's the little devil."Hagrid showed the goblin a key. He then leaned forward a bit."Oh, there's somethin' else as well.." Hagrid take out a letter wrapped in a string. "Professor Dumbledore gave me this.. It's about You-Know-Who in vault You-Know Which" Hagrid whispered as he gave the goblin the letter.

You looked at Hagrid sceptically. Even though Hagrid was whispering, you could still hear him and you were pretty sure Harry could too.

The goblin's face suddenly changed at the mention of it. He looked at Hagrid in disbelief. He then nodded. "very well"

'Right, this is a bit suspicious but well, everything in the bank is a bit suspicious' you walked after Hagrid, silently moved closer to Harry as you found him safe.

Later, you raced down the depth caverns in a cartlike structure. The cart is so fast it makes you a little dizzy and hold Harry or Hagrid's hand tightly as you sit between them. After the last turn, the cart stopped with a jerk. A sound of screeching could be heard under the cart due to metal moved against metal

The goblin named Griphook, clambered out of the cart followed by the three of you.

"vault 678." he announced before he turned back to Hagrid. "lamp, please"

Hagrid hands him the lamp. Griphook took it and walked to the vault. Griphook turned to Hagrid again.

"key, please" he said.

Hagrid hands him the key. Griphook took it and turned towards the vault again. He opened the keyhole and inserted the key before opening the vault. A loud sound could be heard as the door of the vault opened.

You and Harry widened your eyes in disbelief as you watched the room filled with so many coins that it almost reached the ceiling of the vault.

"Didn't think yer mum and dad will leave yer with nothing now, did yeh?" Hagrid said.

"that's..what" you stamped as you entered the vault, dragging Harry behind.

"They know we're going to Hogwarts"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

" vault 713" Griphook announced.

"What's in there, Hagrid?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"Can't tell, Harry. It's Hogwarts business. Very secret." Hagrid said as he clambered out of the cart.

"Is it a dangerous thing?" you asked

"not only dangerous but quite powerful" Hagrid said simply.

"stand back" Griphook said firmly as he slid down his index finger at the door.

The vault opened with magic only to reveal a small white stone package. Hagrid entered the vault and scooped it up. The eerie light shining on the package disappeared. You and Harry looked at Hagrid curiously. Hagrid stared at you two for a moment.

"Bes' not to mention this to anyone, you two" Hagrid said before he slipped the lethal small package into his coat pocket.

You and Harry just nodded in agreement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Right, I think we need to get yer school books firs't" Hagrid suggested.

"You're right. I think maybe I'll browse for a while to find a book to read at home.. I think I've read the Greek Mythology book 63 times. So, I deserve a new book" You uttered.

"and you already memorize everything and annoyingly preach about it like it's scripture" Harry rolled his eyes.

"isn't it melodious, brother dear?" You teased your brother as you poked his cheek making Harry move his head away from your fingers.

Hagrid laughed at your antics. "Well, here we are, Flourish and Blotts. The place where all the knowledge is. The books list is al'eady in the letters, just show it to the owner of this bookstore and she will get it for yer" Hagrid said as he opened the bookstore door.

The bookstore is very big from what you see from the outside. The place is full of books, obviously. People buying and browsing around the bookstore. You can see a folded origami in the shape of a bird, flying in the bookstore. You grinned before dragging Harry to the counter.

A young woman who was probably in her 20s looked at you with surprise.

"Oh, my! Your eyes are very unique there, little girl" the young woman complimented.

You nodded shyly "thanks, mostly people say I'm blind on one side but I can see everything normally"

"Well, I'm not most people, no" she grinned. "So, first year, you two? Let me see the lists, please" the young woman said.

Harry hands her the letters where the book list is written. The woman took it and read it for a moment before she nodded her head with confirmation then walked away to find a book for first year.

"That must take a while..Mind, if i browse around this bookstore, Harry?" You looked at him expectantly.

"Go on, I'll wait here." Harry nodded.

You grinned and walked to the bookshelf there. So many books you don't know due to your lack of magic, having grown up with the Dursleys who despise magic. So all the book titles here are unfamiliar to you, making you more interesting. As you come across the sixth year section, you stopped upon noticing a sixth year potion book.

Advanced Potion-Making

"oh," you raised your eyebrows with interest as you reached the book from where it was. You open the book and flip through the pages one by one. Sometimes you stop to read the info in the book.

Apparently, because you can only eat a small amount of food due to your need to catch up on time, you are left with a hungry stomach so, armed with mint candy as a simple meal, you pop it into your mouth.

"interesting choice of book" said the voice behind you. You can feel their breath on the back of your neck making you shiver.

You shut the book you were reading and turned your body to see who interrupted your reading. There stood a tall and rather thin boy with curly hair who wore a black windbreaker over a white collar shirt with dark pants and strangely a blue scarf around his neck. He has pale skin, eyes that look like gray and green when exposed to the right light and slightly sharp cheekbones over his rather baby face.

'he's probably the same age as me' you thought.

"that book is for sixth year. And you first year shouldn't read that kind of complicated book for the sake of your poor brain to understand all the information in that advance potion book" The boy said, eyes focusing on you.

'did he just insulted my brain' now this triggered something in you with what he said. Anger? Fed up? All of the above.

"Don't worry, my poor brain can digest all these kinds of information well. Although I'm a first year, that doesn't mean I can't touch a books that are years above me" you you said, giving him a malicious smile. An evil smile that betrays all innocence.

Although that boy didn't seem to care about your change of emotion.

The boy narrowed his curious eyes at you. "Well then. Good luck with understanding such complicated information. No need to risk your brain with too much information." And he went to another bookshelf.

You narrowed your eyes at him. You suddenly felt challenged by what he said. How dare he insulted your intelligence freely without care and just walked away as if he didn't insult your intelligence a few seconds ago. Who does he think he is? You chased after him with heart burn with fire. He put gasoline on the raging fire, now the raging fire is ready to burn him.

"Are you always like that?" you asked him as soon as you stopped behind him who was browsing a book on the bookshelf.

"Like what?" the boy looked at you in confusion.

"insult people's intelligence like you have better intelligence than other people" you crossed your arms over your chest.

"I only said the truth" he shrugged.

"Well, let me get this straight, not everyone has high intelligence like you, some of them need time to understand the things they learn and some of them are gifted to understand certain things quickly. I'm not high or low intelligence but I can understand things quickly and well depends on the information I read. I'm not gifted to be as high intelligence as you but I never insult someone intelligence like I'm better than them except it is my cousin which he is gifted to be an idiot. But insulting someone's intelligence does not make you above them. It makes you worse.” you snapped.

The boy is silent. He probably lost his words as he just kept staring at you. You waited for his remark but it didn't come. As if he just.. shut down like a computer. His eyes unblinking and keep staring at you. That makes you anxious under his stare. His gray eyes staring into yours as if he's trying to consume all the thoughts from you. Not only he just stared at you but he froze there. He didn't move every single limbs at all. It's like he's being stunned. You gulped nervously.

"Oi.. " you snapped your fingers in front of him but he didn't show any reaction. Now it's getting creepier.

'what if I slap his cheek?' you thought

Before you do what you think, a voice of someone calling can be heard behind you.

"Sherlock?"

You turned your body to see who was behind you. There stood a slightly tall boy who was wearing a cream colored jumper and dark pants. His eyes are blue, his hair is short sandy blonde, his skins is pale but not as pale as the boy who is still frozen behind you. He looks friendly.

"Sherlock?" the blonde boy called again as soon as he found his friend.

You looked at him in confusion. "Ergh.. hi?"

The boy looked at you in confusion but then he smiled. His cheeks slightly red "hi.. I'm uh.. John Watson"

"Y/n Potter.. " you replied.

"Potter? Like the Potter Twins? The twins whom defeated the Dark Lord?" John looked at you with awe.

"uh.. you can say that" you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck.

"I can see that you are not lying based on your unmatched eyes." John looked down, shyly.

"oh, well uh.. yeah.. people always say that my eyes are not real" you said.

"really, what did they say?" John now in front of you.

"They either say that i'm blind on one side or I wear contact lense to look cool... Uh contact lense are-"

"I know what contact lense are.. I'm a muggleborn.." John said, smiling. "My mother is a nurse while my father is a surgeon.. Surprisingly they got magical child like me..I know you because i read the book Sherlock give me about modern Wizards and Witches for my birthday" he added.

"oh, well.. I guess I need to explain what contact lenses are to witches and wizards who don't know what contact lenses are" you grinned.

John chuckled in amusement. "good one" he said.

"uh," you glanced at the boy named Sherlock who was still frozen. "you know him?" you nodded towards Sherlock.

John glanced behind you before he sighed heavily. "That's Sherlock Holmes.. My best friend.. well he's fine.. He just.. well, he always likes this when he's trying to think or when someone just knocked some sense into him. If you're not offended, what did you done to make him like this?"

You looked up at Sherlock's face which still had no reaction. "uh.. I think I've knocked some sense into his brain about not all people being gifted with high intelligence after he insulted my brain trying to digest such advanced information. He finds me reading a potion book from sixth year earlier"

"i see... Well he's always like that. I know him since we were 8 years old due to us being a neighbor he's always thought that everyone has a boring mind. Me included. I don't know what his older brother gave him impression about other people but he's trying not to be as rude as possible to other people. He's trying to understand people in.. certain ways. He may seem cold, eccentric, serious or rude but I know deep down he is a great person I have ever known. Although he never shows his emotions or feelings, he will show it in his own way. Just give him a few minutes, he'll snap out of it soon" John waving his hand.

"did he always just go to other people, insults people's intelligence?" You asked John.

"well, he's.. uh.. how do i say this.. He sometimes will choose someone he doesn't think he can read or deduce like he said. He's probably find you intriguing and trying to have a conversation with you but he just came out with the wrong impression." John reasoned.

A sound of small gasped can be heard from behind you. You both turned your gaze to Sherlock who had just come out of his frozen state. He looked at you with determination.

"you're right.. I shouldn't have insulted someone's intelligence" Sherlock said, firmly.

You raised your eyebrows while John mouth agaped at what Sherlock said. He never heard that Sherlock proved that someone was right, let alone said it with confidence.

You crossed your arms. "so, you want to apologize to me?"

Sherlock stared at you for a moment. "I apologize" he said, informally.

John was even more astonished. Sherlock apologized. Oh, what a day.

You nodded. "accepted " you paused. "Y/n Potter, though you heard that I gave my name to your friend... I don't know if you heard it or not in your frozen state"

"Sherlock Holmes" Sherlock introduced himself. "I know who you are already judging by the eye you have. It's really are... Unique"

"John said that you can read people or deduce like you said" you looked at him, interestingly.

"indeed. I can deduce people by looking at them. I can find information about them, their secret, their affair and anything." Sherlock said, determined.

"I see.. Well then if you know who I am why don't you deduce me?" you said, cocking your head slightly to the side.

"if you're not offended" Sherlock said.

"I'm not.. I'm basically offering you to deduce me because I want to hear what you know about me just by looking at me" you looked up to this tall curly boy.

"are you sure? Sometimes most people will be offended by what Sherlock said after he deduced them" John interrupted, looking at you worriedly.

"Well, I'm not most people, right?" you said, grinning. "now why don't you start?" you glanced at Sherlock.

"That jacket is not yours judging by the size of it it belongs to a boy. Your stupid cousin, perhaps. You and your twin brother are looked after by your aunt and uncle who are muggles based on your lack of magic knowledge because I noticed you seem to be puzzled by the title of the books here." Sherlock sniffed the air. "Mint candy, you just ate mint candy because I can smell the mint when you talk. And-" Sherlock takes your right hand. "bruise on the wrist. I can see a peek of it when you snap your fingers on my face. I believe your uncle is the cause of it judging by how blue the bruise is."

You are lost for words at that. He's incredible. The way he talked fast and clear made you speechless. He knows just by looking at you. And the way he takes your hand.. Damn that boy really is something. He's smart.

"actually, the bruise is not caused by my uncle.. It's my fault actually. I'm trying to hide behind the walls but my hand seemed to have a mind of its own and bumped into the walls hard." You smiled. "but overall, baggy outfit, stupid cousin and lack of magic are correct. Congrats"

Sherlock huffed disappointed before he let go of your wrist. He took a step back. "That's just what I see, but there's something I can't seem to read"

"Well, I believe I hide my information quite well.. Brilliant indeed" you smirked. "So you guys first year too?"

"indeed"

"yes"

"Well, I believe we will meet at Hogwarts again. I should leave before Hagrid and Harry find me" you said, backing away from them.

"yeah.. See you at Hogwarts" John said, smiling gently.

Sherlock nodded in regard. He squinted his eyes at you. Observing you as you leave them. Well, that's quite something. Did you just make new friends? Maybe. John seems friendly and trustworthy while Sherlock is just Sherlock. He seemed quite determined to know about you which you found him quite eccentric, like John said.

It might be too early to call them friends. You only know their names.. And the bit about John being Muggleborn? Is that what he called? You have a lot of things you need to know about the Wizardry world.

For now, let's just complete your school supplies as soon as possible. You walked back to the counter, there Harry and the young woman from before were with lots of books on the counter. Those must belong to you and Harry, seeing that Harry is like checking the list for god knows how many times. Just to make sure.

But then again, speaking about books, you forgot to grab your free time book like you said. And there goes your quick adventure. You go to the session where a storybook is. And one actually caught your attention.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

It's a simple light blue book that has a hard cover and is quite light to carry. It is medium sized. you eyed the book for a moment before grabbing it and reading the information on the back of the book.

As soon as you finished reading it, you raised your eyebrows.

"I guess this is it" you muttered to yourself before walking back to the counter with the book you chose in hand.

"Right, I think it's done." the woman said lightly as she put the books inside a medium-sized bag?

Does it fit to put 16 books of first year in it? You put the book you chose on the counter but your eyes are still focusing on the bag in the woman's hand.

"how did those books fit in that medium-sized bag? I mean these books are all big and heavy, how did it fit?" you asked

Harry nodded his head in agreement. He to find it quite odd and amazed by magic as he and you have just been introduced to magic not a few hours ago.

"oh, this? it's Extension Charm, dears. A very useful Charm. You will learn it at Hogwarts soon" the young woman smiled as he handed the bag to Harry.

"So it's bigger on the inside?" you muttered.

"yes, it is bigger on the inside, dear" the woman said. "now, you want to buy this book?" the woman nodded her head towards the book you chose.

You snapped your head towards the book on the counter. "Oh, yes.. Err how much is it?"

The woman only chuckled lightly as she shook her head. "nahh, it's on the house, just for you, my dear"

"what.. No, I can't accept it for free, I have to pay for it" you insisted as you took out some coins from your pocket.

Harry pursed his lips as he watched you insist on paying for the book. He knows your heart will feel guilty if you don't pay it. He understands that feeling. Feeling guilty.

"no, I insist. It's on the house, take it as a peace gift" the woman said. "Your brother can choose what book he wants. It's on the house too." the woman said lightly.

"oh, I- I'm not the type of person who likes to read books a lot. So, it's okay" Harry politely refused.

the woman nodded her head. "understandable.. Now, my dear. Just take it, the owner will surely do the same if she knows it's you"

You hesitantly took the book and put it in the medium size bag in Harry's hand.

"Thank you, Miss..."

" Phale, Eleanor Phale, just call me Elly" The woman whose name is Elly smiled genuinely at you both.

"Thank you, Elly. I really appreciate it" you nodded your head gratefully.

"your welcome, my dear. Now off you go, surely you have another school supplies to buy. I hope we meet again" Elly said.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"we still need... A wand" Harry looked up at Hagrid.

"A wand? Well, yeh'll want Ollivanders" he said, pointing his finger to the store in front of them. "There ain't no place better. Why don't you run along there and wait? I just got one more thing i got to do. Won't be long"

Hagrid walked ahead, leaving you two in front of Ollivanders shop.

"and he left." you muttered.

"Luckily he left us in front of this shop" Harry said as he pushed open the shop door.

The bell jingle as you both enter the shop. The place is slightly cluttered and there's no people inside. Empty. The owner too.

"Don't tell me we're coming at lunch time" you muttered.

"really" Harry looked at you, done with you.

You shrugged. "Did you see the owner here? No? That's what I thought"

Harry shook his head as he grinned at your antics. "Well, just let the owner know that we are here" Harry walked to the counter. "hello? hello?" Harry called softly.

You frowned at that. "Do you think he heard you call him that? Seriously?" you chuckled lightly.

Harry rolled his eyes. The suddenly, a noise came from the back, a man appeared on a ladder greeted the sight of you both making you speechless. The man is wearing a brown coat with a white collar shirt underneath along with a tie that is a little messy around his neck. His air is full with white colored hair that is messy showing how old he is.

The man, Ollivanders smiled upon seeing you both as if he recognized you both.

" I wondered when i'd be seeing you two, Mr and Miss Potter. It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wand. Now, shall we start with the older one? What do you say, Mr Potter? Shall we?" Ollivanders looked at Harry.

Harry nodded his head in agreement while you huffed a breath. Older siblings come first. But then again, being the youngest twin has its advantages.

Ollivanders picked a wand from the box before handing it to Harry. "Ah, here we are"

Harry takes the wand then holds it without doing anything. You frowned.

"Nothing?" you looked at Ollivanders, confused.

"Well, give it a wave" Ollivanders said.

Harry hesitated a bit before he obliged and gave it a wave. This causes most of the boxes to come flying out and crashing down. Harry and you jumped. Harry hurriedly put the wand back on the counter.

Ollivanders shook his head in disapproval. "apparently not" he muttered. He then gets another wand from a box and inspects it for a moment before giving it to Harry "perhaps this"

Harry took the wand before he waved at a vase where the vase shattered making you and Harry startled.

"I can see it's not for you, Harry" you muttered to him.

Harry gave you side eyes. Ollivanders shook his head a few times and took the wand from Harry's hand and put it back in the box.

"No, no, definitely not! No matter" Ollivanders mumbled to himself as he walked back to retrieve another box. He then suddenly stops and becomes thoughtful "I wonder..."

Ollivanders walked bad to the counter and opened the box before giving it to Harry who took it and suddenly out of nowhere you could feel a strong wind.

Harry stared at his wand with wide eyes after a gushed of wind stopped.

Ollivanders looked at Harry with surprise. "Curious, very curious" Ollivanders exclaimed, deep in thought.

You glanced at Harry with your unmatched eyes.

Harry gulped. "Sorry, but what's curious?"

Ollivander examining Harry's wand. "I remember every wand i've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the phoenix, whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feathers, just two others. Meaning,.." Ollivanders walked to the back and carry out another box. He stopped at the counter and examined the box before carefully taking out another wand.

[ Picture ]

"13½" long, crafted from Yashino Cherry, and affixed with a phoenix feather core.. A stubborn wand. Give it a try, Miss Potter" Ollivanders gave the wand to you.

You take the wand and suddenly you can feel a very strong aura and a strong wind just like before, making paperwork in the shop flying and blowing your hair up. Once it stopped, you examined your wand curiously. It is quite smooth in your hand.

"As i expect, you and your brother have the same core. It is curious that you both should be destined for this wands when its brother gave you that scar and eye." Ollivander narrowed his eyes at you and Harry. No doubt he meant Harry's lightning bolt scar and your white eye. Ollivanders then examining your wand.

You and Harry exchanged looks. Harry looked at Ollivanders nervously.

"And who owned that wand?" Harry questioned.

" We do no speak his name. The wand chooses the wizard and witch, Mr Potter. It's not always clear why . But i think it is clear that we can expect great things from you two. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great." Ollivanders said, thoughtfully before he hands your wand back.

You took your wand again and examined it curiously. Harry too did the same thing. Same phoenix core like the one who gave you this eye. And people seemed afraid to utter his name. Like whoever uttered his name will be cursed. He's a dark wizard, no wonder what he did to people really did a number on them. But then again, this dark wizard must be the one who killed your parents.

A knock at the window interrupted your thoughts making you and Harry turned to the window. There stood Hagrid who was holding two cages and in them were owls. One is a Snowy Owl and the other is a Barn Owl.

"Harry! Y/N! Happy Birthday!" Hagrid beamed as he showed you two the owls. A Snowy one hoot while the other spread its wings.

"Wow" Harry uttered, looking at the owls with amazement.

"I chose that badass looking Barn owl" you exclaimed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later back in the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid, you and Harry, are at a long table, eating soup. You both stared forward thinking about the conversation between you and Ollivander. Everything is too quiet, Hagrid soon notices this.

"You all right, Harry, Y/n? You two seem very quiet. " Hagrid said lowly.

"He killed our parents, didn't he? The one who gave us this." He gestured to his lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

You looked at Hagrid with your unmatched eyes solemnly. "You know, Hagrid. We're all know you do."

Hagrid sighed before he put down his bowl of soup. "First, and understand this, Harry, Y/n, 'cause it's very important. Not all wizards are good. Some of them go bad. A few years ago, there was onewizard who went as bad as you can go. And his name was V-...his name was V-." He hesitated to said the name.

"Maybe if you wrote it down?" You muttered.

Hagrid shook his head. "No, I can't spell it. All right." Hagrid sighed heavily before he leaned forward. "Voldemort" he said quietly.

"Voldemort?" Harry said a little louder.

"shhh! " Hagrid shushed.

Harry looked around the place, worried if people heard what he said.

"What kind of name is Voldemort? Is he trying to be dramatic or what?" you said lowly.

"It was dark times, yer two, dark times." Hagrid said. "Voldemort started to gather somefollowers, brought 'em over to the dark side. Anyone who stood up to him ended up dead. Yer parents fought against him, but nobody lived once he decided to kill 'em. Nobody. Not one. 'cept you two" Hagrid pointed out.

"That's why we were left with our aunt and uncle.. But why Voldemort tried to kill us. What can two babies who don't know the world do to him?" you thought out loud.

"I'm not the right person to say why he tried to kill you two. But that eye and scar is not an ordinary eye and scar, you two. A mark like that only comes from being touched by a curse, and an evil curse at that." Hagrid explained.

"What happened to V- Sorry.. To You-Know-Who?" Harry asked.

"Well, some say he died. But one thing's absolutely certain. Something about you

stumped him that night. That's why yer famous. That's why everybody knows yer name. You two are the twins who lived" Hagrid explained.

THE TWINS WHO LIVED.

Ironic isn't it? The title that you both don't know but many people already know for the things you both can't explain. Enough to get that title. What you know is that the dark wizard is the cause of the death of both your parents and he also tried to kill you and Harry. Why? You don't know. As Hagrid himself stated that he was not the right person to tell about that. He seemed hesitant.

But you get this nagging feeling that you will know the cause of it soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[gotham-ruaidh]

Who I Am - a 7x07 and 7x08 story

Set in the “Tell Me About Your Family” universe – where William visits the new Big House at Fraser’s Ridge together with Jamie, Claire, Brianna and Roger and their kids, Ian and Rachel and wee Oggy, Fanny, and Jenny Fraser Murray, in an imagined Book 9-ish timeline. He’s known that Jamie is his father for some time, but this is his first “family” visit.

Catch up on the story here:

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10

--

“I thought ye said ye were raised on a farm.”

Jenny Fraser Murray reached across to undo the knot that William had somehow tangled in the wool. “Here. Ye pull the strands apart like this, and then ye wind them together.”

William flushed but kept his head bent to his work. “I lived on my stepfather’s plantation for a time, but I was always busy riding or studying with my tutors or helping him entertain guests. I’m afraid I’m not much of a farmer, Auntie Jenny.”

She tsked. “So I assume ye never learned to clickit, either?”

“Pardon?”

“To make socks or scarves wi’ yarn using needles.”

Carefully he wound the strands of raw wool. “To knit? No, I never learned that either. Though I do remember my grandmother Dunsany had a basket full of yarn and thread and thimbles in her sitting room. I got into it once when I was a boy and she was not too happy with me.”

Jenny expertly tied off a handful of raw wool, and carefully took the wool from William’s hands. “Jamie and I learned to clickit from our Mam when we were bairns. My husband Ian – we grew up together, and one year for Hogmanay before we were courting, we knit each other hats wi’out knowing.” She smiled at the memory. “No��� like I needed one, mind. But it was a nice gift all the same.”

William gathered the tied-off piles of wool from the table and began stacking them on the tray Jenny had brought out onto the porch. “Was that before or after he lost his leg?”

“Oh, before. And he didnae lose the whole leg, just the part below the knee. He took grapeshot to the leg when he and Jamie were mercenaries in Flanders.”

That got William’s attention. “Da was a mercenary?”

Jenny nodded, stretching the cramp out of her neck and shoulders. “Aye, for the year after Father died. He had a price on his heid, so he needed to be somewhere else. He spoke French, so the choice was simple.” She turned to look at her nephew. “Did ye not ken that? Weel, I suppose there’s still a lot you don’t ken about my brother.”

William pursed his lips. “I didn’t know, no. It must have been his first time serving with an army, I suppose. And a foreign one, too.”

They watched a hawk glide soundlessly over the mountain. Smiled at Jem and Germaine sitting high up in the oak tree at the edge of the dooryard, swinging their legs from a high branch.

“He’s no’ spoken to me about it. Ever. Ian came home wounded, but Jamie didnae come back to Lallybroch wi’ him, on account of him being a wanted man. It took months until Ian was back on his feet, and while I mended him he told me a few things here and there about what it was like with the army. But then we turned back to running Lallybroch, and we were marrit not too long afterward, so…”

William stood, and extended a hand to help Jenny to her feet. Carefully he gathered the tray, now heaped high with wool. “Where may I take this for you, Auntie?”

--

It was a fine, crisp late summer evening. Roger supervised Jem, Germaine, Mandy, and Fanny washing the supper dishes at the trough in the dooryard, taking advantage of the last light. Jenny and Brianna’s voices drifted from somewhere inside the house, planning for the next day’s spinning of the raw wool into yarn. Ian and Rachel had retreated to their cabin with Oggy, who had fussed quite a bit during supper and clearly needed somewhere quiet to rest.

“Here.” William looked up to see his father holding out a pewter cup, took it, and shifted a bit on the bench to allow room for Jamie to sit beside him.

“I still can’t believe how peaceful it is here,” William remarked, watching the last rays of sun touch the treetops on the mountain.

“Aye. I’ve a short list of things I’m most happy about in my life. Getting the grant for this land is on it.” Jamie held out his own pewter cup, and William tapped it. “Slainte.”

“Slan-juh,” William echoed, taking a sip, feeling proud he did not immediately grimace.

Jamie smiled. “Good lad. We’ll have ye speaking the Gaidhlig fluently before too long.”

“You speak French?”

Jamie frowned, a bit surprised at the sudden question. “I do. And the Latin and Greek, a bit of Cherokee, and a wee bit of Chinese as weel.” He sipped his whisky. “And you, wee William? You must have the Latin and Greek, if your education was as good as Lord John has told me.”

“Yes. And French, and now some of the Prussian language as well.”

“Of course, on account of the Hessians.”

William nodded. Sipped his whisky. “I’m asking because Auntie Jenny told me today that you had served as a mercenary.”

“In Flanders. Aye. That was a long time ago.”

“Was that your first time serving in an army?”

Jamie stretched out his long legs, exposing his kneecaps as the drapes of the kilt fell away, pocked with scars.

“It was. I didnae have much choice, mind you. I had escaped from the English at Fort William, in the Highlands. I was being held for murdering an officer. I hadnae murdered him, mind you, but there was no reasoning with the garrison commander. That man had had me flogged twice in the space of a week, after all.”

William’s eyes bugged at this information.

Claire emerged onto the porch, medical apron tied over her skirts. “There you are. Is now a good time?”

Jamie shifted his pewter cup to his left hand, and extended his right hand over the rail of the bench. Claire pulled up a chair so that Jamie’s four-fingered hand lay in her lap, and pulled a jar out of a pocket.

William blinked, remembering his manners, and craned his neck to see. “What’s that?”

Claire opened the jar and set it between her knees. “It’s a salve I make for Jamie, on account of the pain he still feels in his hand. Helps to loosen the tension. Especially on days like today when I know he’s been using it too much.”

“Near every bone in this hand was broken when I was no’ much older than you,” Jamie explained casually, grimacing a bit as Claire’s sure fingers kneaded the salve into the tissue. “Pained me for years. And then at Saratoga I injured it again. Both times, Claire mended me. She promised me I’d have a working hand, and I do.”

“My first real surgery, this hand was,” she murmured, massaging the palm with both thumbs.

Jamie leaned over to kiss her forehead.

William cleared his throat. “I knew that Saratoga was not your first battle.”

“But it was yours,” Jamie interjected.

William took a sip of whisky. “Yes. I – I thought I would be better prepared.”

“There’s nothing that can prepare you, lad. I was but twenty years old when I fought my first true battle. I’d done the occasional cattle raid here and there, so I thought I’d be ready.”

“I wager you weren’t.”

“No. Drilling is easy. Knowing what to do in the heat of battle, right after you see your comrades die in front of you…that’s something else entirely.”

William watched Fanny and Mandy carefully carry a stack of clean plates and pewter cups across the dooryard and back into the house. Smelled the sharp, clean tang of the ointment.

“I am ashamed to tell you this, but I do not think I acted too honorably in the first battle.”

“At Saratoga, you mean?”

William nodded, looking down at his hands. “I froze. My comrade…my friend…took a bullet right next to me. All I remember is General Fraser screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear any of the words.”

He watched Jamie’s hand slide on to his, gripping it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. It’s the hell of a shock. I’ve experienced it myself, a time or two.”

“Prestonpans. Culloden. The war with the Regulators,” Claire murmured.

William swallowed. “I recovered, of course, and led the next charge. Though now I realize it was you and your men I was fighting, and that fact makes me absolutely sick to my stomach.”

Jamie squeezed his son’s hand. “Take that feeling, lad, and multiply it by the largest number ye can think of. And then you’ll know just how I felt, when in the second battle I shot your hat right off your heid.”

William raised his mug to his lips, watching the liquid slosh as his hand shook. Feeling his body seize up with tension. “Dear God.”

His vision swam. His pulse dropped.

Steps – Mother Claire. Gently taking away his mug, and resting her hands on his shoulders. “William. It’s all right. You’re here with us now. Breathe deep.”

Jamie’s hand gripping his. “In and out, lad. Follow me.”

Claire undoing his stock, settling a hand on the clammy back of his neck. “Slowly now.”

He did not know if it was minutes or hours that Jamie and Claire surrounded him, comforted him, soothed him.

But when he did return to himself, he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Jamie squeezed his shoulder, and kissed his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, lad.”

“It’s called a panic attack.” Claire felt his cheeks and forehead with the back of a cool hand. “Have you had them before?”

He licked his parched lips. “Yes, but never that strong. Only when I’m truly upset.”

“I can give you some guidance on what to do, should it happen again and we’re not here to help,” she said gently. “But there’s no cure. I’m sorry to tell you that even in my time, these things happen. Perhaps even more frequently.”

William swallowed. “Have men not discovered a way to end all wars, then?”

She knelt on the porch, still holding his pulse between her fingers. “I’m afraid not. You know that Jamie’s endured several wars. I endured a war of my own, in the years right before I met him. England and France and the Americans were all on the same side of this war, if you can believe it. Fighting the Prussians, in the fields of France.”

“They called it a world war,” Jamie added. “Men fighting each other wi’out swords, but with guns, and with bombs dropped from the sky.”

“I worked in an aid station, right at the edge of the combat zone.” Claire looked at him, but her eyes were so far away. “Patched up many men not too much older than you. So, I understand.”

William swallowed. “I – I am a soldier. Being a soldier is what I’ve aspired to for my whole life. To be like my stepfather, and the men in his family.”

Jamie and Claire listened, patient.

“But I like this – being with all of you, here in the quiet. Perhaps I’m more cut out to be a farmer. I love my men, but this life here…”

“We understand, William.” Jamie reached to cup his son’s cheek, for the first time in his life, as if he were a wee lad. “And we will love you and support you no matter what you choose.”

“The Americans will win this war, will they not?”

“They will,” Claire said softly. “Of that I’m certain.”

William set his jaw. “Perhaps I should start spending a lot more time here.”

“There’s nothing we’d love more. But you have a life outside of this place, William – we cannae keep you from it.”

“Being here, with all of you, this past week – it makes me wonder whether this life here is more important. I need more time with you, Da – and with you, Mother Claire – and with Brianna and her family. I need to know who I am.”

Jamie smiled. “You already do, lad.”

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

the ties that bind us -> bernard demarco x susie lamb (wars of the roses au)

au tags - @xxluckystrike @latibvles @p-polaroid @thoughpoppiesblow @derry-rain

word count - 2.4k

An almost uncomfortable silence hung over the hall, pierced only by the occasional clatter of cutlery against pewter plates as the pair ate their breakfast, seated at opposite ends of the lengthy dining table. In the weeks since they had arrived here, they had scarcely spoken more than a few words to one another, each day characterised by pointed quiet and a certain desperation to seek out the company of anyone but each other.

Susannah was frequently visiting and visited by her sisters, and Bernard hosted as many hunts as they could afford, surrounding himself with friends in an attempt to cleanse the sting that came from sharing a house with another whom you could not stand. It seemed this sentiment remained staunchly mutual.

He looked up as a loud whistle echoed through the room, Susannah's lips pursed together as she craned her neck to peer through the doorway behind him. The skittering of claws against stone floor grew louder, until the dog he had gifted her bounded into the room, tongue dangling from his mouth, which hung open in a merry, lopsided fashion. "Here, boy," Susannah called, punctuating the order with another, quieter whistle as she peeled strips of fat from the edges of her bacon. The beast had been bred as a hunting hound, but had never shown any aptitude for the sport - gifting him as a wedding present had been the only way to keep his father from drowning the poor pup. He pushed himself up on his hind legs, chin resting on the arm of Susannah's chair as she hand-fed him her scraps, tail wagging with satisfaction.

"You still haven't named him?" Bernard asked, a hint of amusement in his tone, the sudden words snagging her attention as she looked up from her plate.

"No," She hummed. "Nothing's come to mind."

Susannah had run out of scraps to feed the hound, and he had begun to whine, pushing himself higher up on his hind legs so that he could reach the table, attempting to nip at her plate. She pressed a palm to his nose, uttering her disapproval as she gently shoved him back.

"Bacon." Bernard stated.

She frowned. "Come again?"

"Bacon. For the dog."

"No, I'm not giving him any more of my-"

"No," He shook his head. "Not that. For his name."

The silence resumed as Susannah considered this for a long moment, brow arching as she narrowed her eyes. She had that penetrating stare of hers once more, the one that made him sweat in a way his father would certainly have mocked him for.

"... You want me to name our dog Bacon."

Our dog.

"Well, he'll certainly come when you call."

She laughed then - the sound involuntarily escaping her throat before she could reign it in, before she could recall how much contempt she held for the man sitting opposite her. It came in a short burst, hand raised to her mouth as if to push the sound back down. He'd never made her smile in earnest before - never made her laugh without ridicule. Clearing her throat, Susannah tried to quell the colour blooming in her cheeks as she noticed the way he had begun to smile back at her.

"Bacon it is."

It would have been so much easier if he had been humourless - detestable and dry, easy to loathe. Sometimes he was. When they fought they bore their teeth and screamed words so harsh they sent the house staff running, barring themselves in their separate chambers until their blood stopped boiling. But their mornings were quiet - tired, languid affairs, where one could divulge the day's plans to the other, and any objection was kept to oneself. In the two weeks since their wedding, this had been the way of things, a tedious cycle of bitterness and disinclination.

"The men will be here for the hunt after luncheon," Bernard declared after a period of silence.

"I shall visit my brothers - keep out of your way."

"Gale is bringing his wife," He pressed, an unspoken insistence that she stay. Susannah bit back a jab before it could roll off her tongue, nodding sharply.

"Very well. I'll go this morning."

The house they'd taken as their own was little more than a short walk from the site of her brothers' burials, the Lamb family's sacrifice in aid of the cause of King Henry - a sacrifice that had not gone unrewarded, as much as she often wished it had. If given the choice between restoring her brothers or retaining the family's newfound nobility, she would have rather lived as a vagabond if only they could have stayed with her. It stung to look at her husband - to remember how his family had once ridden for the usurper King Richard, whose army had cut down her own kin as if they meant nothing, as if taking a knife to her very soul had been an easy thing to do. Every hint of tenderness shamed her, every second she forgot who her husband was came as a blight on their memory.

But she did forget - all too frequently for her liking.

Susannah could not leave the house alone - this privilege was not afforded to married women, as much as she detested the fact. Instead, a pair of servants stood huddled together at a respectful distance, talking in hushed voices and pretending to themselves that they weren't watching her as she crouched in the grass beside the two mounds of earth, daisies and buttercups blooming from the dirt.

"I'm grateful that Eleanor won't marry as I have," She confessed to no one but the breeze, rolling the stem of a flower between her thumb and forefinger. "Her betrothed is loyal - his people took no part in the slaughter that took you from me. Not like my husband - it feels wrong to be anything but resentful towards him, but it does grow tiresome. I know the staff are watching me. I don't know if they talk about me to mother or to my father-in-law, and - to be frank - I'm not sure which would be worse. But I think my husband wants me to become friendly with his guests, so... I suppose we'll see how that goes. If either of you could actually hear me, I'm sure you'd be laughing at that."

With a sigh, she pressed her palms into the earth on either side of her, imagining it as an affectionate pat to her brothers' shoulders as she rose to her feet, brushing the dirt away against her skirts.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Returning to the house, Susannah's brow began to furrow, gravel crunching beneath her feet as she crossed the courtyard towards the open front door. Her husband stood in the entryway, deep in conversation with a combination of both staff and guests for the hunt, only faltering as one pointed over his shoulder in her direction. As he turned to face her, his brow furrowed, marching out to meet her in the square.

"You're late," Bernard whispered, a frown ageing his face.

Susannah shrugged slightly. "Apologies."

She moved to slip past him, but he stepped into her path, his body bumping against her front. "I told you when the guests were arriving - there's no reason for you to be late except to embarrass me."

He was right.

She wouldn't admit that.

"Well, if you Yorkists hadn't murdered my kin in cold blood I would not have needed to leave at all," Susannah hissed, jabbing her chin up at him. Bernard's eyes widened slightly, taking a half-step back. They did not talk about the war - had not so much as hinted at it since the very first time they'd met, the willful omission an unspoken attempt at pacifism. Even when they fought over a dozen other things, they refused to fight about that.

"Go inside, introduce yourself to Marjorie, and speak no more of this," He instructed, voice barely more than a grumble. His gaze flickered to her lips, and she could not ascertain if it was in anticipation of a retort or something else entirely.

"As you say, husband," She nodded, tone patronising in a way that made his jaw clench. Stepping deliberately around him, Susannah continued her path into the house, sweeping past the people gathered in the entryway without so much as a glance.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The two women sat on a pair of chairs out on the lawn, Bacon's head resting in Susannah's lap as Marjorie worked away on her embroidery frame, poking in and out through the linen as images of flowers began to take shape. "Does he not hunt?" Marjorie asked with a curious smile, eyeing the hound.

"He doesn't have the stomach for anything but growing fat and spoiled," Susannah chuckled, scratching behind his ear as his tail wagged contentedly. "He was a wedding gift from my husband."

"Ah," The blonde woman nodded. "He is fond of you."

She let out a titter of laughter, hoping the bitterness in her voice was not too apparent. "I certainly would not say that."

"Why? Whenever he attends our home she speaks very highly of you - always commending your wit and praising your beauty," Marjorie argued, smiling sweetly. She was certainly a beauty herself - and a happy wife, too, something Susannah considered foreign to her.

Shaking her head ever so slightly, Susannah forced herself to ignore the heat rising in her face. "He probably keeps a mistress of some sort - refers to her by my name to avoid suspicion."

Marjorie's eyes briefly narrowed at this, lips pinched in a frown. "If the pair of you truly cannot reconcile, at least you shall have your children someday. I know many women whose strenuous marriages are soothed by motherhood."

She hummed in vague agreement. No one could know that her marriage remained unconsummated - unbound in the eyes of society. Their wedding night had opened an escape that they sought all too often, frequently spending the night together to appease the watchful eyes of their household staff, when in reality they did nothing but sleep silently, backs turned to one another. The longer the arrangement went on, the more tenuous the charade would become - soon enough her blood would come, the maids would know, and it would grow all too clear that no effort to produce a child had been made.

"I'm sure you're right."

"And besides - then we could betroth one of your children to one of mine. Our husbands would certainly approve," Marjorie mused, taking another stab at her embroidery.

Susannah hummed. "I think I would allow my children to choose for themselves - I would not force them into a marriage like I was."

"It's not such a bad thing. Betrothals can result in love - mine certainly did."

The remark had been meant kindly - this she knew - and yet it still stung. Some people got all the luck.

"I want that for my sister. Her husband will be the Earl of Leicester one day, and I always pray that she'll be happy with him - that he'll be good to her."

Marjorie looked up, frowning slightly. "You don't wish it for yourself, too?"

Susannah considered this for a moment. Did she wish it? Would life not be better if she could relinquish her resentment - let herself laugh at her husband's jokes without cursing herself afterwards, speak with him as if she were anything but weary and rancorous? It felt naive even to consider it, although she had to admit, the idea was not without its appeal.

The sound of a horn echoed through the trees as the hunting party appeared at the end of the furthest field, horses galloping as a group as the men made their way back towards the house, boasting the spoils of their trip - rabbits and fowl and a single deer carried aloft by the servants that attended them. Marjorie was on her feet the moment they got close, crossing the lawn to meet her husband, the pair beaming at one another as he dismounted and placed a delicate kiss to her hand.

Bernard was the second to arrive, offering nothing more than a polite nod of acknowledgement as he stepped down, still in conversation with his friends. Susannah had risen from her seat, hands clasped across her front as she stood by, watching on in patient silence as the party made their way inside, Marjorie consumed in conversation with her husband as she too passed her by.

He had been about to walk past her, halfway through relaying a joke to John Egan, the pair laughing along together until Bernard's gaze fell upon Susannah once more. But in that moment, she suddenly struck him as so profoundly lonely that it almost broke his heart, guilt tearing at his insides. He had invited his friends to their home, all of them strangers to her, and vanished for the afternoon, leaving her alone with a woman she'd never known. Worse still, he'd scolded her for her lateness - for visiting the graves of her own brothers, for seeking solace in their memory when she had no one within these walls.

Faltering in his stride, her held out his arm to her. Susannah regarded him for a moment, and he almost thought she would decline, but then her arm slipped around his, the pair joined at the elbow, wordlessly walking side-by-side.

"You were right," She uttered under her breath, so softly that only he could hear.

"About what?" Bernard asked, mirroring her whisper.

"I was late on purpose."

She was utterly infuriating. And yet...

He shrugged. "No matter. Your family is more important than my hunt."

Susannah turned her head to stare at him, brow raised slightly. "...You're serious?"

"Yes, certainly. If they comfort you, you should go. And I plan to invite your family to visit us soon."

She could not quite fathom what to say to this, offering little more than a surprised scoff as they crossed the threshold into the house, the privacy of the moment gone as they entered the enclosed space. She disentangled her arm from his, but the movement was relaxed, gentle, not the jerking withdrawal of someone who did not wish to be noticed at his side.

Maybe not all walls had to remain.

Maybe not all tenderness had to be false.

[saintsenara]

scylla and charybdis - a snippet

severus snape/lord voldemort explicit graphic depictions of violence | major character death

I'm procrastinating something i need to do for a fest by writing more scylla and charybdis. featuring lord voldemort really getting into the swing of his organ harvesting era and snape being... into it.

The Dark Lord glided down the stairs, Severus at his heels.

The workbench which had been apportioned to him was even more elegantly equipped than it had been in December. A solid gold cauldron stood on a trivet, bluebell flames already flickering beneath it. Ingredients sat, already perfectly measured out, in small pewter dishes. The same magnificent knife he’d sliced and diced with last time lay, the jet cabochon embedded in the hilt gleaming dully in the cellar’s sepulchral gloom, on top of a piece of parchment. The Dark Lord’s looping handwriting was stark in black ink upon it.

There was an enormous porcelain jug - bearing a cheery blue-and-white pastoral scene, a buxom witch chasing after a nogtail which had stolen her hat - in the middle of the table. It was filled to the brim with a thick, viscous substance, the deep, heavy burgundy of expensive wine.

Severus approached the table and read the recipe. The Dark Lord swept - saying nothing - into the shadows.

The instructions he had been issued made no mention of what the potion was supposed to do, but it was easy enough to work out if you knew the theory (and Severus, unlike so many of the morons with whom he was forced to share a classroom, who just chopped-and-chucked and produced passable brews by sheer luck, knew the theory). The dittany would contradict with the rue, reversing its properties as a coagulant. The tansy would contradict with the rosemary, rendering its purgative effects useless. The foxglove essence would be near-negated by the kava root. The hawthorne and the garlic and the cloves and the copper sulphate and the leeches all made blood flow and vomit rush from the body. The shepherd’s purse and the ginger and the spiders’ webs and the oak leaves and the ajwain all prevented this.

The base of the potion was a perfect balance, designed to ensure a perfect stasis.

[One of the Dark Lord’s crueller inventions, Severus would reflect, years in the future.]

The liquid in the jug would be the thing that disrupted this stasis.

[A potion - one which tasted as harmless and nourishing as beef stock.]

The liquid in the jug which was - the Dark Lord had written with a careless flourish, the way pick up milk might be scrawled on a scrap of paper stuck to the door of a fridge - human blood.

[A potion which the wasted men and women, chained and degraded in the Dark Lord’s various dungeons, would gulp down, with the desperate immoderation the starving have for hydration and salt.]

[A potion which then kept them alive as their bodies were slit down the middle. A potion which held them in stasis - purging and retaining, bleeding and clotting; the gallons of blood which lurked - untasteable - in the liquid triggering a constant loop of haematic production, bone marrow working overtime to nullify what was being lost - as the Dark Lord tortured his prisoner with the slow unravelling of their viscera.]

[He would set up a table before them, deck it with ostentatious chintz - linens in pink gingham, plates with cherry blossoms painted upon them - and begin his interrogation, taking something away with each answer that displeased him. He would question them, and they would attempt to remain defiant, and he would simply smile and place their bowel, then their intestines, then their liver, then their stomach, then their lungs on the twee, willow-patterned cake stand on the table - a macabre afternoon tea made of glistening offal - until - at the exact moment that the potion wore off - he would wrap his long fingers around their heart and hold it - still beating - in a bloodied hand, watching in lazy pleasure as their brain caught up to the fact that its owner had been slowly exsanguinated and collapsed them into death like a veal calf.]

Not that this disturbed Severus.

[He should have run.]

He was simply excited - and, in being excited, able to remain unbothered by any sort of ethical conundrum - to be let loose on some interesting ingredients.

And - of course - he’d worked with plenty of blood before; all Hogwarts students did. They dropped salamander blood into a Strengthening Solution. They stirred sheep’s blood into a Deflating Draught. It would be a bit bloody hypocritical for him to have a conniption about using human blood in something when he didn’t bat an eyelid about using animal.

And a bit bloody stupid. If he wanted to study potioneering further - and the Dark Lord had intimated that he would encourage him in this aim - he’d have to use plenty of esoteric oozings daily. Dragon’s blood, unicorn blood, tiger blood…

And human blood as well. Human blood was used in plenty of perfectly legal things - healing potions, to prevent haemorrhage in childbirth or to cauterise lost limbs; forensic potions, which swept crime scenes for the minute flecks of a perpetrator’s identity; potions which stopped nightmares; potions which kept bank vaults secure.

Veritaserum could be resisted by tainting the vial with a small pin-prick of blood. An overdose of Draught of Living Death could be reversed with a blood transfusion.

[A Horcrux is created by drinking the victim’s blood, with eucharistic reverence, while the air around you glitters gold with an enveloping matrix of magic.]

The blood of someone who’d taken Felix Felicis had the power to bestow residual luck on anyone who came into contact with it.

[The blood of someone whose mother died for them, whose mother refused to stand aside, has the power to repel death itself.]

‘It has been sieved,’ the Dark Lord said, benignly, from his shroud of shadows. ‘To filter out any clots.’

‘Great. Thanks.’

‘And any mud.’

[evoblue]

@alolynn-heart & @gruusha asked: What is inside your muse's pockets / bag / purse / backpack / etc. right now?

While most of her clothing unfortunately lacks the practicality of POCKETS (curse you, women's clothes designers....) Blue does carry a TON of stuff in her daily bag, everything from assorted pokéballs to some rare stones and items required to evolve certain types of pokémon. She still has some Sinistea chips and Bronzor fragments left over from when she was working on evolving her Charcadets to their two different forms.

Other specific items include: her phone inhabited by her shiny Rotom, Romi. Some neutral-toned makeup and moisturizing lip gloss. A nail file. A journal where she documents her findings (her handwriting is nice but her sketches leave a lot to be desired, much to her chagrin). A couple of Ink Joy gel pens in various colors because they're her favorites. Her wallet. A slim tablet. A bag of Pewter Crunchies. A few hair ties. An omamori charm she got from her aunt. Some Hyper Potions and Full Restores. A bottle of water. A bag of berries. A small first aid kit.

Wow, good thing her bag is large!

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer's Month Day 19: Clouds

Fandom: Tangled: the Series

Rating: G

Word Count: 735 (hey! I wrote something short!)

Summary: Rapunzel and Cassandra talk about clouds (that is a terrible summary, but it's really the best one I can think of)

I initially wrote this for Day 18 ('Free'), but decided that I'd rather do a different idea for that day. It all worked out, though, because the next day's prompt was 'clouds' and this fit perfectly! 😁

+++

“Have you ever wondered what it’d be like to be a cloud?”

Not faltering in her attack on the hardened remnants of eggs coating the cast-iron pan, Cass looked over at Rapunzel, blonde head tipped back as she gazed up at the sky and *not* drying the plate Cass had handed her five minutes ago. “Raps...” she sighed. “The plate...”

“I mean, look at them.” The only sign Rapunzel had heard Cass was the mechanical motions her hand was making over a portion of plate no longer shiny with wet.

Shaking the suds from her hands, Cass left the pan to soak (stupid egg might be more cooperative after a drowning) and came to stand alongside the princess, taking up a second still-dripping plate and rag on her way. Obediently, she craned her neck back to look at the mid-morning sky arcing high overhead. Sure enough, a plethora of clouds- puffy, tranquil, innocent- swirled overhead like paintings spread majestically across a chapel ceiling. the sky. They lazily moved across the blue, cottony wisps trailing behind like petals from a young girl’s haphazard bouquet, curling and twisting and changing their shapes so slowly it almost seemed to not happen at all.

“Might rain later.”

“Cass...” Rapunzel looked away from the sky to fix Cass with a playful grin. “Not like that. I mean-“ she turned back to the clouds. “-Have you ever seen anything so...free?”

Cass pursed her lips, tracking a rabbit’s powderpuff tail as it crawled westward. Her dad had always said artists saw the world in weird ways, and Raps was no exception (well, he said 'voyeuristic,' which she knew the meaning of *now,* but Raps wasn’t *that* kind of artist so 'weird' it was). Over the past year she’d grown accustomed to hearing the princess wax poetic about composition and shapes and colors ‘complementing’ each other and learned not to bat an eye at her doing or saying things that made no sense and served no practical purpose, such as spending the afternoon staring at the holly leaves in the gardens (they’re all prickly and all a nuisance to pick out of hair, whether bobbed or seventy feet and indestructible) or wondering if fish had thought lives (somehow more bothersome than the holly leaves since she got Cass wondering that too).

This one though...

Have you ever seen anything so free?

“Just floating around up there,” Rapunzel continued, oblivious to Cass's hand slowing on the pewter. “Drifting into any shape they want, seeing the world without having to worry about roads or mountains or oceans or...other things. Nothing stops them from going wherever they want, *being* anything they want...” She sighed dreamily, letting her plate and rag hang at her sides, completely forgotten. “You know?”

Cass didn’t respond right away, eyes still on the clouds, and Rapunzel listened to her silence with a smile frisking about the corners of her eyes. Cass...wasn’t the personifying type, but the clouds were so beautiful today, so blissfully free, how could anyone feel anything but-

“No.”

Rapunzel blinked, jerking back as though she’d been slapped. “No?”

“They don’t really decide where they go.” There was an edge to Cass's voice that caused the clouds above to freeze like a deer who'd just heard the hunter's footfalls, an idyllic existence coming to an abrupt end. “Or what shape they take. All they do is go where the wind blows them. They don’t really get a choice, so they're not really free. Now come on, Raps.” She turned back to the washbasin, not sparing a glance or a thought for Rapunzel’s slack jaw, and spoke quickly before Rapunzel could try and refute her words. “I want to get these dishes done before the guys get back.”

“O-okay.” Rapunzel nodded, swallowing the protest that had leapt to her tongue and setting down her dry dish in favor of a freshly rinsed one. Cass was back to attacking the pan, elbow-high suds flying as the egg cried uncle in the face of her soapy onslaught, and Rapunzel watched her curiously, more than a little caught off guard by the asperity that had prickled in her voice, the bite to her tone, the unforeseen sentiment they contained, and most of all-

"They're not really free."

-Most of all, the melancholy that had swirled beneath her final words, coloring them a deep, forlorn blue.

Who knew Cass had such strong opinions about clouds?

[fuckedprophet-arch]

The drink freezes a centimeter from the old cherry dining table; blue eyes shifting to spy Gloria perched in the kitchen’s doorway. Lips purse for a brief second before he's drawing a pewter coaster that they’d snagged at a flea market four cities over, the sweating glass of tea being left to rest. It's funny almost, to think how easily they fit their little roles. Where moments between them didn’t seem to be an act, but more real than anything. How when making breakfast, they now navigated around each other with ease of two people who’ve lived together for years, or when getting ready for work he’s quick to clasp her necklaces for her and she is at ease fixing his tie. There is humor all around them, that the very walls they painted together were only purchased to keep who they were once before buried. “ Sorry, I’ll be sure to pray for forgiveness to your great grandmother. I don’t need her resurrecting and strangling me over it. “ He never thought he’d be a domestic, be a husband and here he was smiling in every picture taken of them – instinctively wrapping his arms around her when they went out in public and even drawing her closer when they finally decided to share the bed. 

        Teeth chew the inside of his cheek for a brief second before he’s scooting his chair back and following after her into the kitchen, the sunshine yellow her choice and one he didn’t mind. It felt right, and seeing her with an apron and icing bag in hand – something in his chest nearly cinches. “ Hey, I forgot to ask – the company is having a small BBQ next Friday. Did you want to attend or – “ The question sort of dies on his lips as he watches her look up at him, the icing clinging to her chin and flour that sticks to her v neck shirt stealing his attention entirely.

@medicbled said: “Ah, can you put a coaster under that - it’s my ‘great grandmothers’ dinner table from the farm remember?”

[chilope]

do any of you know of a shop that makes purse frames similar to billyandcharlie.com but out of bronze instead of pewter?

[alyssasoutfitdiary]

2023 03 06 Monday

What I am wearing today to the office.

Today is a transition day in weather, in two ways. Overall, today is the transition from the recent warmth to cold (more like cool, really) that is supposed to start tomorrow. The day itself is also supposed to transition, as the first part of the day is supposed to be sunny and fairly warm, while it is supposed to start raining later this afternoon.

I found an outfit that is a perfect transition look, in my opinion. My top will be bright and cheery, for the morning; my skirt will be mostly gray, but light, and with a print that is full of life, just like what is expected midday, for the transition; and gray nylons and black shoes, for the drab afternoon.

I started off thinking I'd wear black (to match my shoes) or gray (to match my skirt) earrings and necklace, but that introduces drab into the bright part of my outfit, so that doesn't fit. Silver, though, does match gray, yet is shiny, so that seems to be a better match for the theme.

End of day thoughts: We had more sun than expected. It clouded up a little by the time I left the office, but the rain held off until well after dark and I was already home. It was still a transition day, but I think a slightly brighter skirt would have been better for what actually was.

My outfit details:

Weather: Low 30s, sunny ☀️ (morning), Low 60s, cloudy ☁️ (afternoon)

Hair down

Pink button front shirt: Express

Skirt: Target @targetstyle

Pewter nylons (66 denier): Wolford

Silver chain dangle earrings: Target @targetstyle

Silver chain necklace: Target @targetstyle

Silver watch: Target @targetstyle

Beige blazer: Express

Black leather braided belt: Falari

Black purse: Target @targetstyle

Black coat: Target @targetstyle

[zmwrites]

Last Line Tag CCCIII

I was tagged by @kaiusvnoir! Thank you!

From the prequel to Poppet WIP:

“Your services are no longer needed,” Carlenne said primly, shooting her a distasteful look as she accepted her and Aleksander’s horses. 

Dutch crossed her arms. “I’m waiting to be paid.”

“I don’t have five hundred gold on my person.” Her tone was haughty, as though Dutch hadn’t already figured that out. 

“Hence why I’m standing here instead of just taking your coin purse,” she replied with a bland smile. “I’m curious to see how you’re going to conjure five hundred gold out of thin air.”

“And if I don’t?” 

She raised a brow. “Then your life will be forfeit for reneging on our agreement.”

Carlenne’s pewter cheeks went ashy.

I tag @aohendo, @justwriteyoudummy, @did-i-do-this-write, and anyone else who wants to play! As always, no pressure!

[devout-of-the-elder-scrolls]

Zenithar Quick Start Guide

A guide for beginning with Zenithar, intended to help you begin your practice, but not to serve as the only information you use.

Keep in mind most of this post is UPG versus just based on the fictional canon, based on my personal experiences with this entity. It may directly contrast fictional canon and the experiences of others.

ZENITHAR

zen-ih-thar aka. Zeht ◦ Z’en ◦ Xen prns. he / they domain. The Radiant Market date. February 05th

Zenithar is best known as the God of Work and Commerce, though one should never forget His rulership over community and communication. Within other traditions, They also stand as a God of Vengeance and Law. He encourages people to work hard but to also rest and rely on ones community for full aid and support; to defend oneself and to receive retribution.

He is a calm God, who rarely speaks without thinking deeply about what They plan to say. He’s very calm a good chunk of the time, rarely seen angry except when someone manages to enact a great cruelty upon a dear follower. 

Zenithar will be present for you when you work, supporting your job and your life. He stands by you and protects you in the workplace from harm and being mistreated by coworkers and the public. They are a protective God, wanting to keep all followers safe.

A less commonly spoken of aspect of Zenithar is the warrior god, but one who holds the blade in the sheath for as long as theoretically possible. He does not enjoy striking, but shall and will should the situation call for it.

Within Bosmeri tradition, Z’en or Xen is, much like Y’ffre, a God of the Green. It’s unclear in canon how far His reach goes, as it’s only stated as “rumored to be greater than crops and cattle”.

Within Redguard tradition, Zeht is the son of Ruptga (Tall Papa), who denounced His father, leading Tall Papa to make it hard to grow food upon the earth. They are the father of Zeqqi. The White Camel is sacred to Zeht. Gardening tools are often adorned with jewels and blessed by priests.

🜚 terms of respect . . . Term – God • masculine terms Prefix – Lord  Titles – Provider of our Ease

🜲 rulerships . . . work • commerce • trade • labor • communication • community • agriculture • civil law • mathematics • food • toil • vengeance • payment • cattle • crops and farms . . . HELPS WITH . . . working relationships • employment

⛯ main tarot cards & other signs and associations . . .

Tarot Cards — 

I the Magician • VII the Chariot • VIII Strength • XI Justice

Ace of Swords • II of Swords

Ace of Pentacles • IV of Pentacles • VI of Pentacles • IX of Pentacles • X of Pentacles

Other Signs & Associations — 

anvils, esp if golden • scale weights • crafted things • art • blue star

cattle • crops

coins and cash

sprawling farms • farm tools

❂ devotional acts . . .

dedicate a shopping trip to Him

dedicate a workday to Him

thank Him for you having work in the first place

thank Him for your paycheck

do a bit of math

trade something

donate to thrift stores or stuff like that

donate to food drives – not food, only money, it goes much further!

donate to cow care

partake in your community

maintain a small farm

study civil law and the laws in your area

ask Him for vengeance

create some art

crochet, knit, etc

watch videos of people enacting their jobs/craft

watch cattle hoof care videos (tw: it can be pretty gross sometimes)

stand up for yourself in the workplace

stand up for yourself in general

make Him a fresh meal

communicate yourself well and wisely

dedicate a money bowl to Him

keep a pewter scale engraved with a blue star (or with a blue star drawn on it) in a coin purse

burn crops when you’ve had a prosperous harvest

. . . offerings ❦

↘ natural ; 

metals, esp iron and copper

buckeye

buckwheat

jacaranda

alfalfa

↘ foodstuff ; 

basil

grapes

mint

allspice

almond

cinnamon

↘ items ; 

paintbrushes

little anvil figurines

decorative coins

anything you craft yourself

tools of any sort

pewter weights

blue stars

coin purses and wallets

↘ music ; 

orchestral

↘ etc ; 

yellow candles

money before you spend it

🜾 altar building . . .

This is all suggestions. Please build it however you can, if a physical altar is even possible.

As always, you can use offering items to build an altar.

near the front door

yellow candles

red altar cloth

🝊 identity . . .

Zenithar is calm, rarely ever seen angry except when someone enacts a great cruelty. He doesn’t often speak without thinking deeply about what They plan to say. He is protective and caring, and will do anything necessary to keep His children safe.

He is gentle at heart, and doesn’t enjoy having to be angry or cruel – but sees it as a necessary measure. He can be harsh and brutal, as They are still a warrior god. This side of Him is still full of justice and He never acts out beyond Their measures and values, so He will not go too far in Their punishments.

Zenithar mostly appears as a tanned humanoid male, with long gray hair and a gray beard.

He is seen wearing either robes or armor, depending on what aspect He is showing today.

His voice is deep and somewhat scratchy and hoarse.

☘ aspects . . .

. . . The Warrior God ] Another aspect of Zenithar is the Warrior God, most often seen wearing suits of armor. This aspect is full of rage and vengeance, often speaking harshly where it has been earned. 

☉ domain . . .

The Radiant Market is Zenithar’s domain, mostly built of a large bustling marketplace, where all sorts of astral travelers both buy and sell with various currencies from all across the astral planes. 

⛮ working with . . .

Zenithar prefers a “lord” type relationship, and isn’t much for being pampered either.

Zenithar is a protective and giving God, mostly focusing on those two things, alongside money and income. He loves to give and support, blessing the devout with the things they need most. He is also very protective and gives up so much of Their time to support us and protect us.

Zenithar is especially present when people work, supporting your job and your life. He protects from harm and mistreatment in the workplace, and generally watches over us when we are at work in any form to help us stay focused, stay happy and well, and a lot else related to our work.

⚜ holidays & festivals . . .

Zenithar’s day is February 05, and is mostly a day for honoring and perhaps invoking/summoning Him for whatever reason you may have. 

♡ prayers . . .

⛤ 01 . . . O Zenithar, Zeht, Z’en,  I see You, I worship You. You who protects me in the workplace,  You who watches over me on the day,  You who avenges me when I am distraught,  You who provides for my needs. I revere You, I care for You.

⛤ 02 . . . Great Zenithar,  I leave upon you now this offering, as thanks for all that you offer upon me.

⛤ 03 . . . Zenithar! Zeht! Z’en! I call upon Your spirit now, I call upon the Great God, now!

⛤ 04 . . . O Zenithar, I plead of You now. I require the aid of your warrior aspect, as much as I know the usage ails you. Should You deem appropriate and just, I plead of You – Avenge me now.

⛤ 05 . . . Powerful Zenithar, great Zeht, radiant Z’en, Provider of our ease, Protector of the Weak,  You who brings community together, You who aids in communication when it falters, I worship You. I revere You.

⚿ evoking, invoking, summoning . . .

EVOKATION &&° 

wear expensive jewelry

wear gold or other metals

— ☆ — 

Things in [] are for making it a summoning.

WHY AND WHEN &&° 

when you need a new job

when you’ve started a new job

when you need help with money

when you want to do a money bowl

when you need help communicating

INGREDIENTS AND OTHER TOOLS &&° 

yellow candle(s), [carve a triangle into it]

some coins

cinnamon

something to represent Zenithar, even if it’s just His name on a piece of paper

[metal jewelry]

IDEALS &&° 

Time – anytime

Location – near His shrine

STEPS &&° 

[Dress your candle with the triangle.]

Place down your coins, cinnamon[, metal jewelry], and His icon into the center of your circle.

Light the yellow candle(s) and recite: Zenithar, Zeht, Z’en. I call upon Your spirit now, I call upon Your greatness now, I welcome You into my home and into my space, and I wish to have your ear for now.

Do your business.

Blow out the candles.

NOTES &&° 

Zenithar will typically come if just called or prayed for, so this is more of a formality than anything else.

𝌁 other vettable information . . .

When meditating on Zenithar's presence and name, He brings:

visions of: gold anvils • money

smells of: rattling coins

sounds of: anvils being hit

feelings of: being watched over the shoulder

[yesnancycraigposts]

[justtluffythings]

HOME: Book 10 - CHAPTER FIVE

MASTERLIST

As Veronica flitted around Hagrid’s hut making herself a cup of tea, she heard Hagrid taking another swig of Brandy. She had lost count of how many bottles he had gone through since they got back to his hut after speaking with Dumbledore, but she knew he couldn’t keep drinking the way he was. While he was half giant and could drink a lot more than the average wizard, the effects of the alcohol had started to take hold of him, and it made Veronica anxious. He had already been upset when he was sober, but when he was drunk… she wasn’t sure how he would handle it.

After pouring her tea and taking a sip, Veronica turned back to see him placing the fourth empty bottle down on the table and reaching for a fifth. Rushing over, she swatted his hand and closed the liquor cabinet. “Ah, ah, ah. Please, Hagrid, that’s enough.” Watching him slump back in his chair and close his eyes for a moment, Veronica placed her cup down on the table and grabbed the four empty Brandy bottles. Opening the back door, she stepped out into the night air and placed them into a bin outside. When she came back inside, however, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she saw him emptying a fifth bottle into a pewter tankard the size of a bucket. Veronica knew he had hoped to do this without her noticing, but she was glad she had come back in when she did. Rushing over, Veronica was about to scold him when they heard a knock at the door. Without hesitation, Hagrid growled, “come in.”

The door swung open, and Veronica’s eyes widened at the sight of Harry, Ron and Hermione on the doorstep to the hut. Rushing them inside, she shut the door quickly behind them and instantly forgot about Hagrid. “What are you three thinking!?! Leaving the castle so late and on your own? Especially you, Harry! With Sirius Black on the loose, no less.” 

Veronica was fuming as she threw her hands in the air, but before she could scold them further, Hagrid spoke up. “I expect it’s a record,” he said thickly. “I don’t reckon they’ve ever had a teacher who lasted only a day before.”

Hermione gasped. “You haven’t been sacked, Hagrid!”

“Not yet,” he said miserably, taking a huge gulp of Brandy from the tankard, and Veronica cringed, itching to take it away from him. “But it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it, after Malfoy…”

“How is he?” Ron asked as they sat down, and Veronica busied herself with making a fresh batch of tea for the trio. “It wasn't serious, was it?”

“Madam Pomfrey fixed him best she could, but he’s saying it’s still agony… covered in bandages… moaning…”

“He’s faking it,” Harry exclaimed at once. “Madam Pomfrey can mend anything. She regrew my bones last year. Trust Malfoy to milk it for all it’s worth.”

“There’s no way anyone can prove that, Harry.” Veronica sighed as she gave them each a cup and grabbed hers before sitting down across from Hagrid at the table. Fang left Hagrid’s lap in an instant and waltzed over to her, laying his head on hers instead. Veronica scratched behind his ears the way she knew he liked as she turned to them again. “And the school governors have been brought into it, so it’s out of all our hands now.”

“They reckon I started too big,” Hagrid mumbled miserably. “Should have left Hippogriffs for later… done Flobberworms or something… just thought it’d make a good first lesson.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Hagrid. I helped you set everything up for the class, and I didn’t see anything wrong with starting with Hippogriffs. You couldn’t have foreseen Draco being an idiot.”

“It’s all my fault,” Hagrid sighed.

“It’s all Malfoy’s fault, Hagrid!” Hermione exclaimed earnestly.

Harry emphasized her point. “We’re witnesses. You said Hippogriffs attack if you insult them. It’s Malfoy’s problem he wasn’t listening. We’ll tell Dumbledore what really happened.”

“Yeah, don't worry, Hagrid! We’ll back you up,” Ron added emphatically.

Hagrid couldn’t hold back the tears as he pulled Harry and Ron into a bone-breaking hug. Veronica used that as a chance to grab the tankard from the table, muttering “that’s enough of that, for Merlin’s sake,” and made her way to the front door, opening it and pouring the remaining contents onto the grass outside. 

“She’s probably right.” Hagrid could barely speak without slurring his words now as he let go of Harry and Ron, who both staggered away, rubbing their ribs. Hagrid heaved himself out of his chair and followed Veronica outside, wobbling as he went. The trio suddenly heard a loud splash.

“What’s he done, Professor?” Harry asked nervously as she came back inside with an empty tankard but no Hagrid. 

Veronica sighed as she quickly rinsed the tankard before putting it away. “Stuck his head in the water barrel.” Gathering up the empty tea cups, Veronica washed them all and put them away before sitting back down at the table, waiting for Hagrid to come back inside. Fang came running right back over to her.

A moment later, Hagrid came back, his long hair and beard sopping wet, wiping the water out of his eyes.

“That’s better,” he sighed as he shook his head like a dog and soaked them all. “Listen, it was good of you to come and see me, I really–” Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at Harry, almost as if only just realizing he was there. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, EH?” he roared so loudly and so suddenly that they all jumped, including Fang, who went on the defensive to protect Veronica, even if it was from Hagrid. Veronica rubbed his head and back to calm him, and quickly quelled her feeling of fear, making Fang relax instantly. “YOU’RE NOT TO GO WANDERING AROUND AFTER DARK, HARRY! AND YOU TWO! LETTING HIM! VERONICA, WHY DIDN’T YOU YELL AT THEM!?! WHY DIDN’T YOU MAKE THEM LEAVE?”

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him. “Really? I did yell at them, but you were too drunk to notice. And then you started talking to them and being all pouty. What was I supposed to do?”

Hagrid didn’t even seem to be listening to her. He strode over to Harry, grabbed his arm, and pulled him to the door. “Come on!” Hagrid exclaimed angrily. “Veronica will take you back up to the school with her, and don’t let me catch you walking down to see me after dark again. I’m not worth that!”

Veronica rolled her eyes as she stood, saying bye to Fang before passing Hagrid without another word and marching the trio up to the castle. As they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, she turned to them. “He’s right, you know. I don’t want to hear about you three sneaking off to visit him after dark again. Not while Black is still on the loose. It’s too dangerous.” Only after making them promise did she let them slip through the portrait hole, and she waited for it to shut fully before heading back to her office.

As she turned the corner of the hallway that led to her classroom, Veronica could see someone standing by her door waiting for her. She knew right away it wasn’t Snape or Dumbledore, so she slipped her wand out of her pocket, readying herself for the worst. However, as she got closer, she realized it was Professor Lupin. Quickly stowing her wand away, she approached him, but he was the first to speak. “Sorry for scaring you, Professor. I didn’t mean to.”

Veronica quirked her eyebrow questioningly. “How did you know you scared me? You had your back to me.”

Tapping his ear, Lupin smiled shyly. “Sensitive hearing, one of the few perks of being a werewolf. I could hear your heart quickening.”

Veronica’s eyes widened as she nodded slowly. “I see. Well, what can I do for you, Professor?”

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. “Look… I know you don’t know me. And I know you’re friends with Severus, and that he’s probably told you a lot of things about me, true or not, so I was hoping we could talk. I don’t have very many friends here and a lot of the staff are afraid and weary about having me around. But you’ve been kind to me thus far, and so I hope that means you’re willing to give me a chance.”

Veronica smiled brightly as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. It was clear Lupin hadn’t been expecting this as his eyes widened as he stared at her hand. “Of course. I would never judge someone based on one side of the story… especially not Severus’ biased side,” she whispered the last part as she chuckled. “Besides, you haven’t seen each other since you were kids at Hogwarts yourselves, and I’m sure a lot has changed since then.”

Lupin quickly looked away as he tried to wipe his eyes discreetly. Veronica pretended not to notice. “Thank you, Miss Singer. I appreciate that.”

Veronica smiled as she opened the door to her classroom. “Come in Professor, let’s chat over tea in my office.” 

Lupin followed her inside, and she closed the door behind them before leading him to the back of the classroom where her office was. “Please, call me Remus.”

Veronica smiled as she opened the door to her office and let him go in first. “Only if you call me Veronica.”

“Deal.”

As they relaxed and sat on the couch at the back of the room, Veronica handed him a cup of tea, and they talked late into the night. It was clear they were meant to be friends; they got along so well, and she instantly trusted him. He told her about how he became a werewolf and what growing up with his condition was like, and she told him all about Charlie and their time at Hogwarts.

“Wow! You taught yourself non-verbal wandless magic in your second year? And I thought Hermione was the brightest witch of her age. I would have loved to have had you as a student.”

Veronica blushed furiously. “Oh, it was nothing.”

Remus scoffed. “Nothing? Wow, beautiful, smart, and humble. You’re the perfect package. That Weasley boy is a fool.”

Veronica chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

[cookiemom100]

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