wanted coast to coast

solitude: name three things your muse couldn’t live without.

his family, his magic, and his 1943 moontrimmer broomstick

ghosts: has your muse ever seen something they couldn’t explain? 

he still hasn’t been able to explain how he disappeared. everything around the incident those few months ago is completely black in his memory.

needles: does your muse have a strong stomach?

//

She arched a single eyebrow, but said nothing in response to his joke, instead letting her gaze flicker to the spine, hoping to catch sight of the title. Florence pressed her lips into a polite smile, mimicking his movements and leaning back into her chair herself. He was right, of course. It wasn’t often she made personal visits to the aurors offices. It never felt like the benefits outweighed the risks, and as she’d gotten older, Florence didn’t often lean into risks. Of course, it felt as if all that was about to go out the window – something violent was brewing, and she had a feeling that this time, she’d be more hands-on than before. “I thought perhaps I would come offer my services,” she replied, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Florence wasn’t one for small talk – not with Aurors, especially – and she didn’t want to waste any time. “I imagine it’s a bit unorthodox, but I can’t imagine much progress has been made in hunting down the suspect or figuring out how he did what he did.” She paused, examining his face for a moment. “I think I could help.”

///

Monty tilted his head to the side, thoughtful for a moment. He pressed his fingertips together lightly in his lap, considering her offer. They certainly weren’t on the best of terms—he had heard plenty of rumors about Florence and her potential involvement with a darker side of their community, though nothing had been verified—and it made him wonder why she would want to put forth any sort of effort towards making the disaster from the previous week less of a mess. Then again, he supposed any threat to magic would be a threat to them all, regardless of which side of the war they were on. “There are some strange metal things from around the arena,” he said. “The muggle artefacts office calls them ‘antenna,’ but I wonder if someone with your expertise would be better equipped to say if they were involved in what happened.” He paused. “I’ll have to talk to the Head Auror, but it might be useful to have you take a look at them.” 

Florence smiled, reaching out and shaking his proffered hand. She sank into the chair opposite him, her eyes flickering over his desk, taking note of a few of the headings on the papers spread out in front of him. Old habit. She wasn’t here on Riddle’s request, and she planned on keeping any information she learned today to herself. She was beginning to have her doubts about Riddle. He was afraid - rightfully so - but his fear was making him consider making alliances with those who would normally disagree with the Knights and their methods. Florence thought it was weakness, similar to what led Grindelwald to his defeat. All this, of course, she kept to herself. No need to include others on her doubts. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting you.” She said, tilting her head towards Fleamont’s desk. “Were you working on something important?”

///

He tapped the large tome next to him. “Just a bit of light reading,” he joked casually before leaning back in his seat. “Now, tell me. What brings you to the Auror Office this afternoon? I’ve rarely seen you stray from your work in other departments.” He was certain it had something to do with the rally, and it was going to be somewhat humiliating to have to admit that they didn’t have anything yet, but he figured he would have to get used to it. People assumed that just because he was an auror, he would have the answers to everything, but Fleamont was often left with more questions than answers after something like what happened just a few days ago and he would just have to get used to saying that to people. It would suck, but he just had to bite the bullet and get it done. Besides, he was certain they would have something soon. He didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t. 

-

Effie shook her head silently, taking in a moment that she thought for a second she’d never get to have again. “We could send James with my parents.” Effie said after some silence. She decided not to join the Order fully because she wanted to stay home and care for James. However, after the events of the day, Effie wanted to protect her husband to ensure their little family would survive the war. Effie was a stubborn, stubborn woman– she knew Fleamont would fight her on it, but she knew that he knew Effie wouldn’t budge. “I can help you, I have the experience under my belt from the last war…”

///

Monty tilted his head thoughtfully. “Do you really want to fight again?” He remembered how much it had taken from her before, the fear that both of them had of never seeing each other again. Fleamont didn’t want to stop her if this was what she needed to do—he never wanted to be that kind of husband—but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about their son if both of them were fighting. “We’d have to figure out what would happen to James. If something happens. And—” He paused. “If you fight, I wouldn’t.” He shrugged once. “I wouldn’t want to leave James an orphan.” Was it a dark conversation to have? Yes, but it was a necessary one. They’d lost enough people in the last war to know that much.

[ @flcamont​ ]

It had been awhile since Florence had walked through the halls of the Ministry. As a young woman, she’d spent most of her time here, making small metal charms alongside a handful of other bright young women. She had, of course, been using the time to gather information for Grindelwald, but there was no reason for anyone to suspect her of that. She’d been very careful. She’d left the Ministry a few years after Grindelwald had fallen to Dumbledore and had tried her best to maintain a professional working relationship with the people inside the building. It was those professional working relationships that got her inside today. The Ministry was busy, as she’d anticipated. A lot of people milling about trying to solve the same mystery she was. It was what had brought her here.

She arrived in front of the Auror’s office, his name neatly embossed on the wood. Fleamont Potter. He’d been one of the Aurors assigned to the event - one of a few, if Florence’s intel was correct. The rumors about Auror Lupin left him less than desirable to interact with, so Florence was here, hoping she could get some more information from a source that wasn’t as close to her. She knocked twice. “Auror Potter? I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

///

Fleamont had been swamped with work ever since the rally. He hadn’t been sleeping very much, oftentimes bringing files home from work and working late into the night, sitting up in bed with a light shining from his wand and illuminating the parchments in front of him. That day, he had been poring over research on the origins and energy behind magic, the place where magic came from and the place where it would go. It was all about transformation of energy, Fleamont was finding out, but as he got more into the nitty gritty of the science behind magic, he was starting to feel like his brain was oozing out of his ears. He closed the book in front of him and sighed, rubbing his forehead once and looking out at the bullpen outside of his office. He and Lyall, being senior aurors, had their own offices, but the junior aurors all made do with desks in the large area of the office outside. 

He watched as Florence approached across the bullpen, his curiosity piqued the instant he saw her. It wasn’t necessarily unusual to see a metal-charmer of her caliber around the Ministry, as the Ministry often hired some of their more complicated spellwork out to private contractors such as Florence, but she rarely made an appearance in the Auror Office. “Yes, Madam Rosier, please take a seat,” he said, standing up and reaching a hand out to shake.

Once they had gotten through taking statements from everyone at the rally, Fleamont was about ready to just bang his against the wall over and over. It felt more useful than anything they did that day, the events of the rally having drained Fleamont of what he was used to always relying on. Being a pureblood meant that he had never even considered a life without magic—he didn’t know what he was going to do if he was stuck without his magic in a situation like that again. He looked over at Lyall where they were sitting near the arena where the rally took place. “Are you all right, mate?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. Lyall had been affected more than Fleamont by the loss of his magic, and he still looked a little green. 

@flcamont​​ xo

She sat next to him in their bed, silently tracing random shapes into the crease of his elbow. She’d been oddly quiet since bringing him home after the rally, too consumed with all the thoughts going through her mind. Effie couldn’t believe that she allowed herself to let him go alone. And of course he wasn’t truly alone, he had Lyall with him– but he didn’t have her there. Effie was viciously loyal to her husband, and she stubbornly believed that no one would protect him as well as she would. That no one would put everything on the line for him like she would. Effie was so angry with herself that evening, and she just held onto Fleamont a little tighter. “When do you think he’ll return?” She asked softly.

///

Fleamont had been exhausted after the rally, almost immediately falling into bed once they got home and crawling under the covers. The entire day had been far too much for Fleamont to handle, even with his auror training and the years of experience under his belt. He didn’t know how he was supposed to protect people without his magic. He didn’t know how he was supposed to protect himself. Fleamont had his arms wrapped around Effie, his lips pressed against her temple as he just kept thanking god, over and over, that he had made it home that day. “I don’t know,” he said. “But we have to be ready.” 

under  normal  circumstances,  she’d  never  hesitate  to  let  fleamont  through  the  door  .  but  as  soon  she  hears  his  enthusiastic  timbre  through  the  other  side  of  the  door,  she  can’t  help  but  think  about  lyall’s  hesitation          —          his  fervent  insistence  that  they  separate  themselves  from  everything,  and  everyone  they  know  .  but  then  she  thinks  about  remus’  sad,  questioning  eyes,  and  it  urges  her  to,  at  the  very  least,  open  the  door  .  to  face  the  interruption  her  husband’s  so  afraid  of  .

she  smiles  at  their          (          adorable          )          appearance,  but  doesn’t  dare  open  the  door  any  further  .  yet  .  more  than  anything,  she’d  like  to  let  them  in          —          to  shake  remus  from  his  nap  and  see  him  enjoy  his  day  .  to  think  that  everything’s  normal  and  is  going  to  be  alright  .  but  it’s  not          —          and  she  still  can’t  even  begin  to  comprehend  everything  that’s  happened  in  such  a  short  amount  of  time  .          “          i’d  love  to  join  you,  fleamont  .  but  remus          —          ”          she  sighs,  looking  at  her  shoes  .          “          he’s  just  gone  down  for  a  nap  .          ”          she  looks  back  up,  apologetically,  hoping  he’ll  accept  her  fib  without  argument  .          “          …           another  time,  perhaps  .          ”

///

fleamont put a hand out to stop the door. “hey. listen. i...” he paused, unsure of how to continue what he was saying but not wanting to stop talking to hope yet. he felt bad about just barging in like this—it used to be that whenever he showed up, they were always ready to go on a walk or take the boys down to the park or even just sit and have a cup of tea when the boys were playing. everything seemed like it had changed and fleamont didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they used to be.

“lyall isn’t talking to me. and i don’t know if something happened, you don’t have to say anything about it if you don’t want to, but...” fleamont felt stupid saying this, especially since he saw lyall everyday at work, but he didn’t know how else to put what he was feeling into words. “i miss you. all three of you. so, please—i don’t even need to see remus or come inside or anything. but i just want to talk.” 

not  one  to  put  her  faith  in  the  hands  of  law  enforcement,  aybige  could  only  hum  in  noncommittal  response  to  his  reassurance,  fingers  patting  down  the  front  of  her  jeans  where  the  chestnut  wand  laid  concealed  in  a  tight  pocket  ─  but  it  is  not  the  auror  that  draws  her  attention  next,  but  the  sound  of  someone  seemingly  apparating  onto  the  stage,  though  she  did  not  remember  the  magical  method  of  transportation  to  sound  so  loud  or  appear  so  smoky.  frowning  slightly,  the  apprehensive  sinking  in  her  belly  grows  further  at  the  stranger’s  words  and  then,  at  the  sound  of  the  doors  locking  noisily.  (  too  loud.  were  the  english  truly  so  obvious  in  their  magic  or  was  this  man  just  unskilled  at  subtlety  ?  )  yet  she  cannot  focus  on  his  words  or  the  lost  of  an  escape  route  when  her  head  spins,  bile  rising  up  the  slender  column  of  her  throat.  the  quiet  humming  of  her  wand,  always  thrumming  with  interwoven  magic,  fades  against  her  thigh  as  she  gags,  grateful  that  her  stomach  was  empty.  ❝  what  …  ?  ❞  her  gaze  locks  on  the  closed  doors  and  then  at  the  tented  arena  ─  there  was  no  escape.  panic  rises  in  her  chest,  burning  and  she  shakes  her  head  vehemently,  fingers  reaching  to  grasp  his  arm.  ❝  what  happened  …  you  …  you  too  ?  ❞  (  a  plea  ─  please  tell  me  i  am  not  alone  in  this.  so  much  for  not  putting  her  faith  in  the  law.  )  ❝  shit  …  looks  like  the  fighting  started  earlier  than  expected.  ❞  around  them,  chaos.  bodies  pushing  towards  the  exits,  one  of  which  she  happened  to  be  near.  ❝  we  should  get  to  the  stage  …  elevated.  ❞  height  meant  freedom,  after  all,  and  if  she  did  not  get  out  of  the  crowd,  she  may  just  lose  consciousness.  

///

fleamont reached over as she reached out for him, instinctively taking her hand and placing it on his forearm. “hold on, all right? i’m going to get you to the stage.” he started to push his way through the crowd. “auror, auror, i’m a bloody auror, let me through!” he yelled, through it was to no avail. he managed to squeeze them through the crowd for some time, but upon seeing fights breaking out near the stage, he turned to the woman next to him. “what’s your name?” he asked, and when he got his response, he gestured up towards the stands. “miss shafiq, i’m going to take you up to the top, okay? it might not feel much safer, but it’s much less crowded, and you’ll be all right up there until we figure out what’s going on.” he started to go back the way they came from, pulling her through the crowd until they made it to the stairs. he pulled out his wand to try and hex people out of the way, but he realized that it would be pointless and stowed it back in his robes. “come on. stay close to me, all right? i’ll make sure you’re okay.” 

“He’d be in his right mind if he left.” Lyall shook his head when there was no sign of Alphard meeting them. He had debated coming himself, but if Fleamont was going then Lyall had to be there. Not only because they were partners and Lyall needed to have his back, but because Monty was his best friend and Lyall wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened here. Once the doors closed, Lyall felt a cold sweat wash over him accompanied by a pounding headache. “Mont– Mont, I’m not feeling so great right now.”

///

“Oi...Lyall, mate, come on,” Fleamont said, taking Lyall’s arm and slinging it over his shoulder. Thankfully, Fleamont’s side effects of losing his magic were slight, just some nausea and cold sweats, but Lyall seemed to be much worse off. “Come on, let’s get you down somewhere.” Monty furrowed his brow as he tried to find a place where they could go off to the side quietly in the panic, and, upon seeing that there was nowhere, he just helped Lyall down to the ground right where they were. “That’s it, mate, that’s it.” 

startled,  her  gaze  is  drawn  to  the  sound  of  a  muffled  disagreement,  ears  pricking  with  attention  to  discern  the  topic  of  contention  as  the  volume  of  the  voices  steadily  rises  ─  predictably,  it  is  founded  on  the  very  rally  that  they  had  all  gathered  to  attend  and  the  thought  that  such  arguments  were  already  being  had  before  the  damned  speaker  had  taken  to  the  podium  did  not  sit  easily  in  her  stomach.  dragging  the  ivory  of  her  teeth  against  the  flesh  of  her  bottom  lip  until  the  dried  skin  begun  to  throb  with  sensitivity,  she  watches  as  a  man  in  a  brown  trench  coat  interrupts  the  conversation,  effectively  ending  the  quarrel  before  it  could  blow  to  even  bigger  proportions.  humming  lightly,  partially  to  ease  her  own  nerves  and  to  fill  the  stilted  silence  that  followed  the  dispersing  of  the  two  other  figures,  she  calls  out  to  the  auror  in  question,  a  tight  smile  playing  at  her  mouth.  ❝  i  doubt  that  will  be  the  last  pair  you  will  have  to  break  apart  …  are  there  enough  aurors  to  handle  damage  control  when  this  eventually  backfires  on  all  of  us  ?  ❞  she  did  not  mean  to  sound  like  a  sceptic,  unaware  of  how  her  words  may  paint  her  as  someone  opposing  the  rally  and  all  it  stood  for.

///

“i assure you, miss, we will be able to handle anything that comes our way,” fleamont replied with a reassuring nod. he pressed his lips together as he surveyed the crowd and looked back at the woman in front of him. “you better—” he started before someone appeared on stage behind him with a sound like a whip cracking. he flinched and turned, and upon realizing what was happening, he turned back to aybige. “you should leave,” he said, looking around for an exit and finding that they were all sealed. “just, uh—” he was starting to panic, and he was feeling lightheaded and somewhat dizzy from the loss of his magic. thankfully, he was just as good with his fists as he was with a wand. “stay close to me, all right? we’re going to figure this out.” 

Lyall escorted the instigator out of the arena before making his way back to Fleamont where they were keeping an eye on everything. Unlike his partner, civilian security was one of Lyall’s least favorite things because he hated most people. He’d been hired on as an auror for his expertise in boggarts and poltergeists, not to deal with the not so occasional street scuffle. “This is ridiculous if you ask me.” He shook his head, “We got next to no back up if something wrong does happen. Did they really think all these bloody people were going to listen to just you and me?” Lyall scoffed.

///

“I dunno, mate, Alph is supposed to be here, but I don’t see him yet,” Fleamont said, looking around the arena for any sign of their third teammate. “We just gotta bloody figure it out, I guess.” He was about to say something else when someone appeared on the stage and Fleamont was completely distracted. He furrowed his brow, and as he realized what was happening, he started moving to the door. “We have to get these people—” Before he could finish his thought, the doors slammed shut and he felt the drain on his magic. He stumbled slightly, sticking a hand out to steady himself. “What the hell?”

。·:✧:· AFTER HER SHIFT, Kenzie couldn’t help herself. She had to know what was happening. But her biggest worry was her parents. They were the kind of people that would go and investigate something like this, just to see what was happening. Clenching her fists together, she walked through the streets, trying to find them. But the healer was having no luck, whatsoever. Her heart raced as she continued walking through the streets, hoping to find someone that could give her some insight into what would happen. Upon seeing someone off in the distance, she headed toward them. Lifting her head, she bit the corner of her lip, sighing softly. “Do you know what’s happening here exactly? Or why? I have a feeling my parents will get themselves into a right pickle as a result of this.”

Fleamont looked up, pursing his lips lightly and looking back down at the flyer. “For all intents and purposes, this looks like what it is,” he replied. “I don’t anticipate anything entirely out of hand happening.” He paused, pursing his lips again as he got caught deep in thought for a moment before he looked back up at her. “I think that you should probably tell your parents to stay home, though. Even if it’s just a rally for blood equality, it could still get pretty nasty.” Even if it remained what it was advertised to be, blood equality was a hot button issue, then and always. It was easy to forget for him, as someone who spent his time around people who weren’t purists, just how intense they could get about this, even if they weren’t a knight.

Lyall seemed to waltz into the office just as he did into any other room– with the utmost confidence. All that was missing was his smile that could’ve sent Prince Charming packing. That smile hadn’t been seen for nearly half a year now since Fenrir Greyback targeted and attacked his two year old. While his stride was easy going and confident, Lyall’s face seemed to lack emotion these days. He quietly made his way to his desk with his hands stuffed into his tan wool trenchcoat. 

He pulled out a crumpled flyer from his pocket and let it drop onto Fleamont’s desk. “They popped up on my bloody walk to work.” Lyall grumbled as he dropped his work bag underneath his desk. He took off his coat so that we was left in his black turtleneck and slacks before collapsing into his chair. Lyall let out a sigh as he looked over all the paperwork he’d left from the weekend. He hated taking it home, and he knew Hope hated him taking it home too– but he hated it a little more when it sat untouched for days. 

“I’ll have it under control..” Lyall spoke quietly. Normally, he would’ve engaged in some friendly banter with Fleamont but his mind had been more occupied. That weekend, he and Hope took Remus to a healer in Barbados that could supposedly treat lycanthropgy. And once again, they’d been conned out of their money and Remus was still unchanged.

Fleamont felt his smile falter when Lyall spoke to him, picking up the flier to look at it. He cocked his head to the side, turning the paper over in his hands and feeling it between his fingers. “Something about this seems off,” he said, his brow furrowed as he looked at the images. They were almost too perfect. They were almost too much like something that he would expect to see. When Fleamont wasn’t surprised, he was worried that there was a surprise in store further down the line, and now was no exception. 

He pursed his lips lightly, looking back down at his desk and tapping a pen against it for a moment. “Hey, mate, James has really been up my arse about seeing Remus. He has a present for him, apparently, though I’m pretty sure it’s dirt that he put in a shoebox under his bed.” Fleamont gave Lyall an encouraging smile. “Think we can get them together to eat dirt or whatever it is they do?” He paused. “We can spend some time planning out security for the rally, too.”