If ever your world comes crashing down

DAVENPORT, ARTHUR.

Age: 32 Occupation: Care of Magical Creatures Professor at Hogwarts Portrayed By: Jim Sturgess

BEFORE THE WAR

Born to half-blood parents that left him orphaned at five, Arthur, or Art as he prefers to be called, grew up in Southampton, London till he went to Hogwarts where he was easily sorted into the Gryffindor house. After Hogwarts Art went on to muggle college for the fun and the experience and took up a Biology major and Creative Writing minor. But when it came time to search for a job and a career, Art found his love and passion for animals and creatures of the wild resurfacing. And when he got word that the Care of Magical Creatures position at his beloved former school was open, he just couldn’t help but apply.

Art is generally a carefree, fun loving, spontaneous person but when trouble arises he’s always the one to take the front lines, showing off his inner Gryffindor. Likewise, he’s got a strong sense of nobility and will often rush head first into whatever he believes to be right despite the consequences. He’s a very easy going teacher that likes to have enjoyable, hands-on lessons and is as much of a friend, father or older brother figure to his students as he is a professor, causing him to often forget that he’s in a position of authority.

AFTER THE WAR

Art is one of the many recovering from the effects of the Battle of Durmstrang. Having fought in the Battle of Hogwarts in his youth, he was among the front lines when conflict came knocking once again. He’s doing his best to help his students feel normal again now that all the chaos is behind them, but with flashes of the fight dancing behind his own eyes, he’s finding it a little harder to be everyone else’s pillar of strength. Just as he’s done many times before, Art is trying to relying on his friends, family-those in blood and not-to guide him through a difficult time.

It’s also proven difficult for Art, having two completely different emotions regarding Hogwarts. On one hand it’s been a home to him since he was eleven and the halls have provided him with so much love and joy that he could never repay them fully. But on the other hand the last few years have shown him the loss of lovers, friends and difficult times for young people that Art saw as his very own children. Between the two, he has always been conflicted upon whether he should continue to serve his second home or give in to his flighty feelings and take off into parts of the world that don’t house such sour memories. But now more than ever he’ll have to make a decision and be it a valiant one or cowardly, it will change Art’s life forever.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

+ kind, loyal, understanding, strong-willed - reckless, emotional, stubborn, idealist

It felt weird, coming back into Art’s home, with all the memories he’d shaped there (pretty sure he’d Christened that couch with Al) directly connected with some of the most painful moments of his life. Though he felt mostly nostalgic and content to be here again, a note of sorrowfulness lingered too in the air for all he had and never again would. A tragic reminder of why he’d left this place at first and never even looked back. The very moment he lowered Astrid to the floor, she latched herself onto Art’s leg in a manner she perceived as loving though to a stranger and a victim to her animalistic behavior, it just looked wacked.

"I’m sorry man, it’s like she was raised by cavemen. They told us she’d grow out of it, but that never happened. Obviously, because I spoiled her." he admitted shamelessly, leaning over to ruffle her hair, which only had her leaning further into the older man and tightening her grip around his limb, seeking protection "Daddy is jelly, but me will share.” the little blonde offered, already at ready to head at the kitchen with Art with a plea of “Can me help make a tea?”, and one that completely ignored Scorp’s presence intentionally, again obviously provoking him and he’d usually cave into her provocations for he’d find them too entertaining not to, but he came here for something else. “It’s I, monkey, not me.” he called out after her, making himself comfortable at the couch while the other two went for the tea that he didn’t really agree to, but he figured it was implied he’d be down for a memory lane of tastes unless he straight out rejected it. 

Scorpius could tell that something was out of place and it made sense; they changed and didn’t participate in changes of one another, but they were friends, even more, weren’t they? They should be able to go - well, not go back, but continue from where they stopped, shouldn’t they? With a little bit of work, of course. He spread out his fingers against the fabrics of the furniture’s seats, eyes observing the mostly unchanged interior while the two did their magic at the kitchen. “So- um, where have I been?” he started off, tone a little loud to assure Art would hear him even from the other room. “Mostly working, to be honest.” to which he could hear Astrid enthusiastically adding “Daddy’s a hero.” If only. Perhaps if he’d gone for being an Auror - and oddly enough, it had crossed his mind at most a month ago, because he missed the thrill, the mischief and danger - but he was no hero now. 

"Of course you can come to make tea," he smiled, reaching down to take her hand when she released his leg. "She's cute, I'll give you that," he called back to Scorp as he led the little girl into the kitchen. At this point he assumed she was Scorp's child, especially after the comment about spoiling her. Perhaps she was the child of a family member, but it seemed unlikely; the admiration between them seemed far more personal, something only blood could summon. Of course Art was curious as to who, how, where, when, why, but for now he enjoyed the child's company and decided everything would make itself known in the right time. 

There was a sense of comfort in having his apartment occupied so. He lived alone since his creatures preferred roaming about the castle grounds and the silence became almost too much for Art sometimes. To hear Astrid rambling, to have the knowledge that one of his most beloved people was sitting in his living room, it allowed him to let out a breath of relief.

Somewhat for the amusement of Astrid, Art used wandless magic and the waving of his fingers to summon two teacups and a glass from his cup boards, open up the fridge for milk and his drawers for tea. He assembled two cup of tea and a glass of milk for the child, taking pleasure in Astrid's amused giggles and undeveloped English.

At the same time he listened to Scorp's voice ring through his apartment, which brought forth a sense of deja vu. There had been many times in Scorpius' teenage years that Art had stood in the kitchen making tea while the younger told him what was wrong. 

"And what exactly does work entail?" he called back, not sure which career path Scorp had chosen for himself. He looked down and smiled as Astrid spoke words of admiration for her father. It was sweet, their relationship was sweet; she was sweet. And for a second Art felt a strong sense of regret, not being able to be a part of this child's upbringing.

Art handed Astrid her glass of milk and as an afterthought, a small dish of cookies too. He then took the two cups of tea and headed back into the living room, calling Astrid to follow. He placed Scorp's tea on the coffee table in front of him before seating himself on the sofa across from the younger man. 

His eyes fell just the way Scorp's did at the mention of Albus and even more so when he noticed Scorp's fingers fidget. It'd been years, but that didn't make the reality of what had happened with the middle Potter child easier to accept. "I understand," he sighed, knowing full well how hard it had been to cope. Honestly, he couldn't even bring himself to be angry at Scorp because if the man did what would help him be alright again then how could Art be angry?

Art noticed the way Scorp's features lit up at the mention of Astrid. He let out a breath, "I'm glad you came, I...I'm glad you decided to share this, with me. I missed you, Scorp." The sincerity was evident in his eyes, all the time he'd spent thinking about Scorp, wishing he'd come around, was evident in Art's eyes. He chuckled when Scorp asked about him. "Hold on there, buddy, we're not quite done with you yet. I'd like some details. I'd like to know what you've been up to on a second to second basis because you spent seven years of your life telling things to me that way and I don't see why it should be any different now."

There were grabby hands pointed at him, big blue orbs silently pleading to be picked up. Astrid demanded to be the one to knock on Art’s doors and ever since he’d introduced her to the animated movie of Frozen, even knocking had become a choreographed tradition. She had to be picked up so her chubby little hands could reach the highest point of the wooden doors and place a rhythmical set of four knocks against its surface (Just like Anna does, daddy!). He’d quickly learned that the sooner he caved in, the bigger were chances of avoiding the other necessity of singing do you wanna build a snowman and this day has been merciful to him so far, so there goes a hope it continues being that way.

Astrid was familiar with the story of Art (How can be a history teacher, daddy, when he is an Art teacher - something Scorpius struggled with explaining and Astrid never gave up. Ever.) He’d described him as a father figure and at times, his daughter would even refer to him as to ‘grandpa’ when asking when she’ll get to meet him. She seemed genuinely excited to meet every person he considered important in his life, but Scorpius suspected there was more to it - the obvious more of getting to see Hogwarts. For a while he’d been considering to revisit the place he once considered home and his daughter has grown restless with his answers of ‘soon’ so yet again, he’d found himself at her mercy, unable to say no.

So here he was, smuggling a young witch that wasn’t supposed to come there for many more years to come and both of them were enjoying it more than they should’ve. Him because he was breaking the rules after such a long time of acting like an responsible adult only, and her - well, same. She was his daughter, after all, mischief streaming through her veins. In all honesty, he was a little nervous, standing here and waiting for Art to open the doors; he couldn’t even remember on what ground were they before he left, and he hadn’t checked in in a while. Art didn’t even know he had a daughter and it was a sort of big deal. Was he even here anymore? Would he let them in? Of course he would, his subconscious reassured. 

So when a small knock sounded on his door one day when he knew the alumni would be around, he was still hoping. "I'll be there in a second!" he called out from the depths of his apartment, though he doubted whoever was at the door heard. Part of him took his time making his way to the door if only to prolong the thought of "maybe." "Maybe it's him this time. Maybe." So understandably, when he finally answered the door and set his eyes upon the duo waiting, his face and heart sank all at once. 

For all the hoping he had done he was certainly at a ridiculous amount of loss now that what he'd wanted all along was finally right there before him. So many words and feelings rushed into him that he didn't know where to start or what to do. As a matter of fact it was a good fifteen seconds before he even brought himself to mutter, "Scorp..."

His eye shifted to the little girl in Scorp's arms but his questions regarding her were easily underwhelmed by his surprise at seeing Scorpius again. "Where the-" he refrained from cursing remembering there was a child among them, "where have you been? After all this time you show up here you piece of-" He stopped, not wanting to intimidate the girl who was watching him intently, observing his every move as if to absorb his very being in her brain. His eyes soften immediately and he took a deep breath, offering her the ghost of a smile

"Merlin, come in," Art said, holding the door open. He'd redecorated only a slightly since the last time Scorp had been around but the furniture was all the same, the lighting the same and the apartment the same. He dwelled on the things that had occurred in that very apartment on that very couch for a moment before gesturing for them to sit. "D'you want anything? I ah...I still have chamomile in the drawers...if you'd like," he spoke hesitantly, heading towards the kitchen. 

I sure hope they let me in.