━ figg, arabella.

“you’d be surprised what you can learn from a crystal ball,” effie responded with a laugh, a somewhat mysterious smile appearing on her face. she didn’t offer any further explanation, after all, she had to keep some things a mystery. “some of the flavors are pretty bad but it’s really quite fun trying to guess the flavors!” she replied, “and i’m quite a fan of the candy apple ones,” she finished with a shrug as she looked around for their waitress before returning her attention to arabella. “i love tea! but can you really compare the two? they’re so different.”

Moody felt like you could never be too careful, but he knew that not everyone shared that opinion. He had his house warded heavily even before the war picked up and now he was taking no chances. He was glad Arabella decided to protect herself as well.

He didn’t expect the conversation to take the turn it did, but he supposed it was relevant. “Who?” he asked. He probably knew who they were and could give Arabella more information if she needed it. He certainly didn’t expect her to mention her family. He didn’t believe he knew much about them. “What are their allegiances? Have you let your brother here?”

“Celeste O’Connor,” she answered after a moment of thought to recall her neighbor’s surname. She figured there was no harm in sharing it, just as she figured there was no harm in her. It was talking about her brother – her family – that gave Arabella more pause. But she figured she had to. Figured hiding them and that part of herself only put her in more danger.

Moody felt like there was a lot they weren’t saying. Sure, he would have loved to get in, do his job, and get out, but he felt like with Arabella maybe his job wasn’t just about the wards. He was having trouble reading the members of the Order lately. He suspected it was getting more intense than they bargained for and he couldn’t help but wonder if people would start stepping away.

He nodded, trying to remember which ones Albus had set up last time. He had a few ideas in his head, but sometimes certain wards cancelled others out. He pulled out his wand. It may take a bit of trial and error. He was much better at offensive magic - wards had always been a bit harder for him - but he didn’t want to admit that to Arabella. He wanted her to feel safe. He started inspecting her fireplace before muttering the incantation for a ward. “You’ve been fine since then, yes? Don’t think anyone’s caught on to the move?”

She stood back, lips sealing shut as Alastor seemed deep in contemplation. About the wards, she hoped. Not that she wasn’t willing to listen and respond if he had other thoughts – even thoughts about the weather or the latest sale at Madame Malkin’s – but she doubted he’d share those, and Arabella didn’t want to get nosy. Her hands were clasped in front of her stomach; her grip tightened when he spoke his first incantation and then turned to her. “I don’t believe so, no. I haven’t noticed anyone suspicious. Sappho – my kneazle; they’re good guardians – hasn’t being acting strange.”

And just like that Arabella was proving just how much like mother she could be. Ambrose didn’t feel bad about provoking her. But no longer was he going to underestimate her sister. Ambrose was reminded that despite having months to get reacquainted with his sister, he still did not know her at all. “And do you wish that wasn’t so as well?”

Ambrose flinched when she called Gilderoy a boy. In many ways, that’s what he was. And yet, Ambrose felt offended for the other man’s behalf. That man had more ambition and agency than a lot of people give him credit for. When she threatened to out him aloud, Ambrose grabbed Arabella’s forearm as a warning. “You have to control your temper, dear sister. The conversation you want to have is not one for other ears to hear.”

Did she? It wasn’t a good question coming from him, but it was an interesting one. Would she trade what she had now for a life where she’d been loved and supported when she showed no signs of magic? A part of her answered instantly: yes. But what would that life look like? Undoubtably, she wouldn’t have found Marian in it. Was that worth the trade? But she wasn’t about to get into all of those possibilities and what ifs with Ambrose. With a sharp gaze, she answered, “Would it hurt your feelings if I said yes?”

Where: Gringotts, Diagon Alley Who: Dirk && open

He saw it happening only when it was too late to do something about it. Goblin culture could seen finicky to those who didn’t understand it but it was just like the differences with other wizarding cultures. Certain symbols and actions that might be neutral or even positive for one group could be deeply offensive to others. The difficulty here was that each Gringotts goblin had their own desk and one thing that they found very offensive was others placing their hands on their desks. For the most part, it was okay. This was why their desks were raised so high, not to keep them above wix (although Dirk was sure that played into it a little bit) but to keep those wix’s hands off their desks. There would always be someone who did it anyway, though, either out of ignorance or defiance.

“That’s not a good idea,” Dirk started to warn, but he had left it too late and already the goblin had become snippy and dismissed the customer with a cold and cutting glare. “Too bad,” Dirk said, “but they consider it rude for guests to touch their desks. You didn’t have more business to do, did you?”

Arabella did not understand the relationship between wizards and goblins in Britain. She knew that the general relationship between the two groups was tense, as it was back home, but they had nothing like Gringotts back in the States. Or maybe they did, in a way, but there was one, singular bank for all American wix. First: the country was too large for that. Second: it was strange, wasn’t it? To put a group in charge of all your money who you didn’t understand and didn’t necessarily trust? It was strange to her, but she did her best to be polite when she needed to stop in at Gringotts. Changing muggle currency to magical coins and vice versa was probably a more demanding task than the average patron requested. Didn’t mean she always got it right.

“What’s that face for?” Some days, he didn’t have the energy to start an argument. Those days, however, were few and far between. Much more common was Brenton seeking out a fight for nothing but the thrill of it. Whether it was by finding the perfect way to piss off someone he knew well or “accidentally” knocking a stranger over or just shooting curses at the beetles on the ground to pass the time until someone got irritated by it, it was an endless source of entertainment to him and even better when he did manage to catch someone’s attention.

While Celeste hadn’t known that the other was without magic, she tried not to react shocked or like it was a bad thing. Magic was not always a gift, and just because someone didn’t have it, didn’t mean that they were any less valuable. She had been born with magic, but no one else in her family to her recollection had been. Sometimes she wished that she wasn’t, herself. “Well, that’s not very fair then, is it? You don’t need magic to enjoy sweets.” Celeste gave the woman a soft smile, before continuing. “I know it’s not the same by any sorts, but I was muggle born.” Her voice was hushed, not because she was embarrassed by the statement, but because she didn’t know who would be listening, and this night was not about to be ruined by bigotry. 

“You’ve read my mind,” Celeste laughed, nodding at the mention of honey and caramel. “Even if it doesn’t, I’m still open to trying new things. I think I’ll save that one for last. Which do you think would be your final flavor? You could be bold and save something completely new, or play it safe and pick something you know you’ll like, so that we end on a high note.”

...

“No, it’s not very fair,” Arabella said softly, creases at the corners of her eyes. She appreciated a statement like that, small as it was and even thought she’d figured it out for herself long ago. Her childhood hadn’t been fair, but that was half a life behind her. She responded to Celeste’s admission with a gentle smile. “I wish someone in my family had been.” A quiet laugh passed her lips. “I had a lot to learn when I struck out my own, not the least because I moved across an ocean. I guess I figured it out eventually.”

although clearly pleased to hear arabella say she was glad to receive the invitation, effie chose to remain quiet, rather than continue on about how pleased they were. that would grow old, she thought. “if i’m honest, i might have consulted my crystal ball to find a good day,” she admitted with a laugh, although while her statement was true, she elected not to mention the part where she hadn’t received any clear results. “i can’t imagine they’d be bad,” effie mused, her eyebrows quickly furrowing together as she found herself beginning to doubt the teas. “i don’t see why anyone would want to sell bad tea,” she continued, though this statement was more to herself than to arabella. “oh! i love bertie botts!” she responded, once more finding her enthusiasm, “its so much fun trying to guess which flavor you’ll get!”

Security was becoming more and more an issue lately. It was one thing to be attacked in public, but it was another thing entirely to worry about the safety of your own home. Moody wasn’t sure how common that tactic would be - it was certainly more risky - but it was better to be safe than sorry. The Order was meeting more and more frequently and with that came the need for more places to meet where they wouldn’t be followed or found out. Arabella’s home was one of the obvious choices.

He nodded. “I won’t say no to tea, but maybe business first.” He scanned the room. It shouldn’t take too long. “Has anything been done already or are we starting completely clean here?” There were a few enchantments he always gravitated to, but after what had happened at her old home, he wasn’t sure they’d be enough on their own. “Just need you to guide me around really. Tell me what you want. I have recommendations of course.”

Arabella tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she nodded. Yes, business first. That made sense, even if a cup of tea was unlikely to endanger them. It also made sense for what she knew of Alastor. Which was not much – he seemed like a private person to her, and one who existed in a very different world than her. Had Miriam still be alive, maybe their worlds would’ve been closer, but Miriam hadn’t worked in the auror office so maybe not. Besides… Would she have ever joined the Order if Miriam hadn’t been caught in the crossfire?

“It’s hard to pick just one. Not because the were all uniquely awful, but because they all just blend together. Being ignored. Being hidden. Seeing the shame in my parents’ eyes. Being snapped at for normal behaviors. Having doors shut in my face after being told this had nothing to do with me again and again. All the bad stuff blurs together after I turned eleven. Before then, things were actually good. And I guess... I wouldn’t change any of it. I’d want to, but not if it meant I was still apart of that family.”

location: florish and blots status: open

Marls dry fingers scratched across the pages of parchment while thumbing through the last copy of Beetle and the Bard in Flourish and Blots. “I mean, these are pretty cool and all. But you’d think a place like this would have the classics too you know? Ok sure the Grimm brothers were muggles but honestly. There’s so much witchcraft in ‘em. Or hell the Pentamerone. I’d bet you two Galleons that the dude that wrote that book was a wizard.”

Ambrose looked away, not because he was pretending that he hadn’t seen his sister, but because he was pretending that he didn’t care either way. In the corner of his eyes, Ambrose could see Arabella storming towards him. It was either he tries to run away or he just faces the confrontation head-on. Just to prove that he wasn’t afraid of her or anything she has to say, Ambrose chose to stay.

He tried having the first word but Arabella didn’t allow that. “You sound just like mother.” Despite how much Arabella tried to distance herself from the Kennedys, Ambrose could see it then and there. From the anger in her eyes to her how lips twisted in distaste. She’s still a Kennedy through and through. “Look like her too.” 

Ambrose knew exactly what he was doing.

He pushed himself off the rails and began to walk away. “I have no clue as to what you’re pertaining to, Arabella. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing for me to explain.”

You sound just like mother.

She wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a casual observation or subtle dig. Both, perhaps. There wasn’t a name for the mixture of emotions it kicked up inside her and, because she had no name for it, she chose to ignore them. “I am her biological daughter, even if she wishes that wasn’t so.” She had cut contact. She had ditched the name. They had faked her death than cop to the truth. But she was a Kennedy by blood.

Celeste couldn’t help but feel rather nostalgic when thinking of chocolate frogs. She would always purchase them on rides to Hogwarts, and like many young wix, collected the cards that came with them. Though she had long since discarded the collection to one of her muggle siblings, she had kept one or two for the memorabilia. “You’ve never had one?” The shock on her face was pretty obvious, though she instantly felt regret for that. “Sorry, I suppose that was another assumption on my part. We have to try some, then, it’s a necessity.”

Of course, these were a different sort of chocolate frogs, and while Celeste wished that she could show Arabella the real thing, she figured this would be the next best thing. As she scanned the labels of the frogs, she smiled excitedly, feeling much like a kid in a candy shop. “Oh, I dunno. There are so many interesting choices. Maybe we should a few?”

...

“Oh, well, uh.” Arabella chuckled, though it didn’t sound amused. “Not in a long while. I had the mass produced ones when I was really little, but then I grew up and – squib.” She shrugged. Even if her parents hadn’t been hateful towards her for something she couldn’t control, a squib’s childhood would always be different than the wixen siblings. Not quite muggle, but certainly not magical. It was straddling line that most squibs chose to get off of when they were adults, crossing to the muggle side. She’d tried, but then she’d met Miriam. “I still think it’s a necessity though. It’s been far too long and this is a carnival. It’s about having fun.”

Arabella had just risen her cup of tea for a sip when the floo roared to life. The bright green flames startled one of her cats who’d been sitting in a windowsill near the fireplace. Her eyes followed the cat until it ran into a room out of sight; when she looked back, the fire had turned to green embers and Alastor Moody stood in her house. A welcoming smile spread across her lips as she rose from her chair.

Celeste was a fan of the holidays if for no other reason than she got to spoil people she loved and cared about. While she never typically asked for anything in return, she enjoyed gifting to others, especially on Valentine’s day. However, this year it seemed as though she would be spending it a bit differently, considering she would be spending the evening at a carnival. It was good fortunate that she happened to be in the company of Arabella as well, which made it more exciting. Celeste would be the first to admit that something like this in the middle of a war was slightly surprising, but she would play along, and had her wand in case of emergencies.

All of the different vendors were something that immediately caught Celeste’s eye, since she was so used to seeing them growing up. Of course, those were different sorts of vendors, but it always gave her a bit of nostalgia when passing by some. Celeste was almost too preoccupied staring at one vendor who was selling jewelry to notice Arabella speaking to her until she happened to look up and see the woman looking at her. “Hm? Oh! Yes, I do, but I haven’t had one in ages. Have you found some?”

...

A smile tugged at the corners of Arabella’s lips as Celeste responded. “Yes,” she said, pointing in the direction of the stall she’d spotted. “Artisanal chocolate frogs. I know I haven’t had anything like that.” While chocolate frogs had found popularity statewide as well, they were an indulgence she’d had little chance to enjoy. Her parents had acted as if feeding, clothing, and housing her were a herculean task. Getting her treats? Now that would’ve been a miracle. Only after her Ilvermorny letter hadn’t come, of course.