Jan Sirac Polat

"Probably," Jan replied indifferently. This was hardly the first time Priscilla had thrown a vaguely threatening insult at Jan and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He gave her a once over, a smirk forming on his face. "Pink? Not really your color."

He whips his head around both ways, wand at the ready for any listening ears. Or if Priscilla points hers at him again. "Anyway, we're having a vigil for Abi. I don't know how you should get there, but you should get there."

" oh, great idea, " she hisses. " and while i'm at it, why don't i just get a great big sign that says 'spy' and staple it to my forehead. "

"Okay, okay, settle down," Jan gave her a palm. He was starting to get a headache. He shifted side to side, the mechanics of his brain turning and turning. For Abi, she shouldn't be there. She had to be there. A moment of silence before he finally said, "What if I give you the Invisibility Cloak? You can't do anything stupid with it, you know the rules." A risk, but it could work. And he could tell the other leaders later, they would certainly agree. They'd want Pris there just as much as he did, right? "Just quickly there and quickly back."

And strangers still met in bars, just perhaps not under such unusual circumstances. "You don't seem easy to forget," he replied earnestly with a smile. Her company sure seemed to beat many of the usual ones he spent Christmas with.

He let out a short laugh. At least someone could find humor in this situation. "I think Christmas was overwhelming enough for all of us there was no need for a repeat," he said. No need for another excuse to pretend things were okay. No need to get another bloody nose.

Mary nodded along to his words, humming in agreement. It was hard enough to wrap her head around the fact she had died, only to come back during Christmas of all times. And without any presents to give anyone, though she'd argue her presence alone was a gift enough. "At least we all didn't kill each other on the streets. That would've been a real bummer."

There was a sincerity in her voice as she reminisced about his grandparents. They were people he had only heard about in modern-day folktales, the details lost through decades of memories adrift, of storytellers never able to complete the tale. And here he was, sitting across from someone who could answer questions his own father couldn't answer.

There was a strange relatability in the way Mary spoke of Lila. Lila and I were girls together in a world we knew nothing about. He felt a strange pull in his chest as he thought about moving through life in a world he too knew nothing about. A world he had played in, and lost.

He smiled her way, he would keep the tone light. "What if I told you I'm not a Gryffindor?" he took a swig of his drink, the amber liquid filling his tongue with a familiar string. A pause and wink crossed his face before he finally added. "I'd be lying, of course. Some legacies are inescapable, I suppose."

"But no, my housemates--" he paused, his mind drifting to Ollie, his closest and most cherished friend, his nose broken by his own fists. He thought of Daisy, too forgiving of his misdeeds, but still permanently severed from what they once had. He thought of Lila and Altan, once kids he'd drag along to run in the garden, now kids he'd dragged along to death. Of Rose and Pris and Teddy and all the friendships that should be simple--blood, family--but lay complicated, buried deep beneath allegiances and bonds broken and irreparable.

"I suppose it's complicated," he finished, a sip and a wave for another. "But let's hear it. Who of my granddad's friends were you dating?"

Severus spent the last three hours bleeding out in a tub from a precise cut through his jugular. The average time it took an adult to bleed out was 3-5 minutes, so he was well above average in that regard. He and Lupin spent the first 20 minutes swapping theories and looking over data before Severus’ coherency devolved and his response time became agonizingly slow. He could barely hold a train of thought with both hands let alone a conversation.

He trusted Lupin’s note-taking to be thorough. It would otherwise be a waste of time and effort.

By the time he reached the dorm, Severus was more or less back to normal. He hoped to have the common room to himself due to the late hour but no such luck: the Polat spawn he was saddled with was at the corridor, hand on the portrait entrance about to swing open. Severus raised his brows suspiciously. “ A bit late for a walk, isn’t it? ” It was well past midnight. “ Don’t you have school tomorrow? ”

At best, he tolerated his roommate. He still found it strange that this was the man who his baby brother was named after, but there were too many lingering questions he would ask his father if he were able, that this one fell quite low on the list nowadays.

"Who are you, my father?" Jan shrugged him off. Don't you have school tomorrow? repeated in his head.

His eyes did a glance over, looking for a reason to be more suspicious of him than usual. "And anyway, couldn't the same be said about you? Little late to be skulking around the halls, isn't it?"

On the job training should have been more exciting. If he was signing his life away to protect others, then why did he find himself half asleep alphabetizing old records in Draco Malfoy's office? While he was grateful for his mandated time spent outside of the castle walls (and away from the Carrow's dungeons), surely there were more interesting parts of the job he could be doing.

Not that he had proven himself to be particularly skilled or even disciplined at whatever those mysterious duties might be. Draco was, at work, a closed book.

Still, he found himself a little too comfortable with his friend's father, asking questions he wouldn't dare ask any other Auror. After the events of the previous evening, questions like "Why are we doing this?" and "What is there so much paperwork" were replaced with questions like "What exactly happened last night?" and "Was my dad okay?"

Jan rolled his eyes in frustration at Draco's lack of cracking. "Isn't it important to go explore the scene? To gather evidence?" He flipped through the pages of a particularly thick case that had a date on it from before Jan was born. "To collect more of these?"

fate was finally rearing its brutal head. this was payment for all the crimes & grievances draco gave others all throughout his teenage years. even beyond, merlin knows that his adulthood actions were here to claim his dues when harun polat's eldest son walked into his office. ' auror malfoy ━ meet your new intern. ' there had never been a more sculpted scowl on the malfoy's face. that was weeks prior & still the indentations in his forehead remained at each question that the polat son spewed in the usual deepening silence of his office. perhaps, draco had gotten well skilled at drowning out the nonsense. he was a father but scorpius was a precocious child. he talked out of his minor passions & draco never qualmed about his son's interests. jan sirac was not his child & thank merlin for that. 

downcast was the metal gaze while he sifted through the paperwork at his desk. a flick of his finger had pulled back each page without him touching it. the ink pen writing out every detail on its own while draco shuffled through the various stacks of files that accumulated from the evening before last. the flames beneath his collar seared each inquiry. every exasperated sound that the junior made had draco reciting the code of merlin in his mind just to keep him cool - blooded. 

it only worked for so long. 

Jan Sirac was aware that he should back down, especially in front of someone like Draco Malfoy. He had heard the stories of his youth, none of which sounded particularly enjoyable. So with each case of verbal abuse he suffered at the hands of Mr. Malfoy, he would badger on. After all, he was his closest lifeline to the events of last night.

"And anyway, maybe I'd be better at alphabetizing if my mind was wasn't so preoccupied." A file labeled St. Mungo's Boil Outbreak April 2001-May 2002 accidentally slipped into the H pile. "If you told me what exactly happened last night--" a mysterious elbow seemed to whisk the papers Draco was writing in a splatter on the floor. Jan's blithe hazel eyes met cold silver as his shoulders pulled up into a shrug. "Oops."

In an uncharacteristic turn of events, Jan awoke with the sun. He was normally a night owl, choosing instead to sleep in while the sun was out.

But today was a special day. Today was the day that Brazil would crush Norway in what would have to be the biggest victory of the century. The excitement of the cheers from the crowd, the chants for Brazil you would shout as you passed a fellow fan in lieu of a greeting. It was a rush he was not soon to forget.

But he certainly couldn't lose his voice shouting for victory by himself. To get to be there with his best friend was the best birthday present he could have asked for. He was sure his parents were up already, but as his eyes darted open he looked around to see his friends and siblings still fast asleep.

a  beat.  one,  two,  and  then,  without  prompting  from  jan,  he  sat  up,  wiping  at  his  eyes.  “  alright,  fine,  you  win.  but  only  ‘cause  you  make  a  convincing  argument.  ”  an  argument  had  not  even  been  made.  a  grin  made  its  way  onto  his  features,  as  he  gently  elbowed  jan’s.  “  y’know  you  could  have  taken  the  time  to  bring  breakfast. this is why you’re my least favorite polat.  ”  light  teasing.  quidditch  wasn’t  his  favorite  thing  in  the  world  —  except  when  his  competitive  spirit  possessed  him,  which  it  would  eventually  —  but  there  was  not  a  chance  he’d  miss  out  on  spending  the  world  cup  with  jan.

He dragged down a doll from his bunk with a familiar share of bright red hair wearing a tri-tipped hat with bells on the end. Jan squeezed the middle and the doll released a cackle so loud it made Jan jump before it proceeded to do a jig on top of Ollie. "Is the convincing argument that I've annoyed you so much you have no choice but to wake up? Because if so, good." Jan grinned, clearly quite pleased with himself.

"There'll be plenty of time for breakfast, but I had to focus my energy on getting your sorry arse out of bed." He bopped up and down on Ollie's bed now. "You're the hardest to wake. Had to start with the challenge."

He used to say "I love you" out loud. Now he only whispers it when he knows she's fast asleep. He used to make her tea in the morning in her favorite mug he gave her for her birthday. Now he can't even find the mug anywhere in her flat. Still, if he thought about it too much...

He wanted to give her a peck on the cheek, a loving greeting too soft for them now. So he busied his mind by trying to keep warm. "Maya, you were going to let me freeze down there, weren't you?" He poured himself some of the tea she always had on and found a blanket to drape over his shoulders.

The feeble attempt at hiding his broken nose surely couldn't go unnoticed in the light, so he hid his face in a mug he didn't recognize, letting the warmth fill him. A startled nerve, as if he'd almost forgotten (which of course, he hadn't) before he sat down his mug and reached in his back pocket for a small parcel tied with a bright red ribbon.

"Happy Christmas, by the way."

But if she did that, then he wouldn't know her address. What a double edged sword she's found herself with. She can't ever win.

Maya, fucking Maya. Spanish for Daisy. Fond memories of them as kids, her teaching him Spanish, Maya deciding to stick, when everything felt... lighter, not a single care in the world. He's still the only one who calls her that. It doesn't belong to anyone else. It couldn't. "Honestly, have you absolutely no faith in me at all?"

She sees the broken nose when he puts the mug down. Ugh, Ollie mentioned that when he was over earlier. Nevertheless, Daisy doesn't bring it up. She brings it up and that leads into a conversation about her brother. When they're together, Oleander is absolutely the last person she wants to talk about.

"Jan," is the first thing that comes out her mouth when sees the gift. Christmas felt tainted since last year, absolutely ruined. The firsts after a passing were the hardest. Still, she takes it, because she thinks that's what her dad would want. Merlin knows she hasn't exactly been doing what he would want as of late. Neville had always loved them together. Untying the red ribbon, she opened it, her gaze settling on a radiant gold necklace. Delicate fingers run over it, hazel hues coming back up to look at him in a way softer than she initially anticipated, the softest she's looked at him in a long time. with the broken nose her brother gave him and all. "Jan —," it felt like all the air was sucked out of her lungs.

Their Christmases in the past were often large shared events between the two families. An excuse for old friends to catch up while new friends exchanged Christmas crackers and snuck sips of eggnog. Godric's Hollow was loud and light, boisterous and bustling. Now, much like their Christmas traditions, it ceased to exist. The thought tore Jan's already weak heart in two.--perhaps that's what drew him to cling to old traditions long gone.

He knew she did not have anything for him, and frankly, he wasn't expecting anything. Not after what he had done to her and her family. Not after their fight and them in their current situation, whatever they were now. He shrugged, content to play it off as no big deal despite the way she breathed his name and he wanted nothing more than to jump in her arms at the sound of it.

"I found it at Grimmauld," he finally said, his focus so intently on his mug of tea he thought it might shatter from his grip. "Not sure whose it was--or, is--but," he shrugged, his face hidden in the teacup. "Thought you might like it."

jan sirac. 

a bludger to the gut would've been less striking. he'd taken many of those over his years as chaser & yet this felt like the wind had been beaten out of his lungs. his grandson. jan didn't even wrap his mind around the idea of being a father, let alone being a grandfather. all his recollections pointed him to the year he spent growing at ease with the role of father. a year & three months. he'd only been a proper dad a year & three months. that only seemed about yesterday because to jan — it was. 

but there his namesake stood. hair tousled like his own. eyes rounded & pleading, something similar to how it was when he gazed in a mirror. a mixture of brightened features that were undisclosed to where he'd gotten them — though he could only assume it was his mother. his daughter - in - law.

sirac. his best friend brother's name fitted so perfectly with his own that it made his throat constrict. never did jan polat seek glory in his later years. honor was something of a pipe dream when the war was on the horizon. he didn't want to go down in history as being anything other than a decent friend, a thoughtful partner, & a courageous father. he didn't long for acknowledgement like he once had but to know that his grandson held his name in honor of his memory — it was enough to allow tears brim his stilled eyes. 

" you — you look just like i imagined he would, " he managed, voice frayed while he fought off the quivering in his lip. there was a heartfelt smile pulling there though the grief still struck him deep. " jan, " he echoed, his own name feeling strangled foreign on his tongue. 

the grandfather nodded, his hand pushing past his glasses to wipe at the tears that threatened to expose his state of mind. " oh — jan, " he repeated, familiarizing himself with the sound of it. as if he were kneading it into his soul. it was strange. the feeling of his heart expanding to form room inside for him to fit there. " you'll have to forgive me. i don't mean to be so — soppy. i'm feeling a bit mental. "

But here this grandfather stood and suddenly all Jan wanted to do was share everything with him. To tell him about his siblings and Daisy and Ollie, to fill him in on Hogwarts and about how exciting it was that Gryffindor won the House Cup three years in a row. Things he knew that would make him proud.

"Don't apologize," and he meant it. If anything, it's him who should be apologizing.

Jan embraced him in his arms, a comfort he never knew he needed, before a twinge of guilt hit him. It was his fault his grandfather was there in the first place when he shouldn't be. He cursed himself for feeling whole for the first time in a year. "I know it seems odd, but I'm really glad you're here." He gave Jan a weak but genuine smile. "That I could meet you."

He was transported to a simpler time, a time when he could talk himself and his siblings out of any sort of trouble he had gotten them in with a smooth smile and an easy story. The dead staring him in the face was a stark reminder of how different this situation was. How he wasn't a child anymore. Something that couldn't be fixed by going to the Headmaster or calling his father. Something that was entirely his fault.

the dorm is quiet — unnervingly so. " i'm heading out, " priscilla mutters, shrugging her robes on over her pink, silk pyjamas and taking the steps two at a time. nobody stirs, nobody says a word, but the silence is oppressive in its own right. she has to get out — has to clear her head, even if just for an hour or two. the cold is good for that, and so is the night. if she stays put much longer, she's worried she's going to get herself in trouble.

traitor. liar. back-stabbing bitch.

it's getting harder every day. abi is dead. old friends look at her with new-found contempt, and her only solace is in secret smiles and fleeting conversations. as she emerges into the moonlight and takes her first breath of fresh air, she feels some of the tension lift.

then, a hand clamps over her mouth.

for a split second it's like she's falling from some great height — nerves alight from adrenaline and blind panic as she and her assailant move out of the open, into the trees. she struggles free and whirls to face him, the tip of her wand pressed firm against the line of his jaw. then, she sees who it is and exhales a winded breath — truly, one of a select few spectacular morons who'd see fit to accost her in the dead of night. she's relieved, obviously, but that relief is quickly overcast by outrage.

"Probably," Jan replied indifferently. This was hardly the first time Priscilla had thrown a vaguely threatening insult at Jan and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He gave her a once over, a smirk forming on his face. "Pink? Not really your color."

He whips his head around both ways, wand at the ready for any listening ears. Or if Priscilla points hers at him again. "Anyway, we're having a vigil for Abi. I don't know how you should get there, but you should get there."

She felt out of place, sitting at the bar in the three broomsticks. The booth her, Lila and Marlene would frequent were taken up by two incredibly drunk men, her usual bartender was no longer there and it didn't feel like a celebratory night. Her fingers lightly traced the rim of her glass that held amber liquid; clenching her jaw against the barrel of thoughts that were tumbling through her mind. How did I get here? Where did I go? Until a kind of familiar voice pulled her from the depths of her mind, and Mary looked up with a somewhat polite smile on her face.

It was like she was staring at a ghost ; the face and name of her best friends husband - yet an entirely different jan all together. She took a moment to respond, before clearing her throat and slipping her hand in his and squeezing gently. "I'm surprised you remembered over all the long lost reunions," Mary replied cautiously, yet the smile remained on her lips - as if she was stuck between being polite and not knowing what else to do. The old Mary would have, but it seemed to be she was still dead. "I'm sure it's nice to meet you, Jan. I would've thought you were back at grimmauld, getting acquainted with your newly revived grandparents. What a bloody christmas present, hey?"

And strangers still met in bars, just perhaps not under such unusual circumstances. "You don't seem easy to forget," he replied earnestly with a smile. Her company sure seemed to beat many of the usual ones he spent Christmas with.

He let out a short laugh. At least someone could find humor in this situation. "I think Christmas was overwhelming enough for all of us there was no need for a repeat," he said. No need for another excuse to pretend things were okay. No need to get another bloody nose.

what  had  she  expected?  that  he'd  suddenly  forgive  her?  that  he'd  run  back  into  her  open  arms?  that  they  could  somehow  resurrect  what  they'd  been  before  she'd  helped  burn  his  world  to  ash?  a  sound  escaped  her  throat—something  between  a  laugh  and  a  sob,  too  raw  to  be  either.  some  gryffindor  she  was,  too  much  of  a  coward  to  keep  her  own  heart  behind  its  walls.

the  bottle  of  firewhiskey  called  to  her  from  her  bedside  table,  but  her  hands  shook  too  violently  for her to  open  it.  good.  she  deserved  this  knife-edge  clarity,  deserved  to  feel  every  jagged  piece  of  her  shame  cutting  into  her.  deserved  to  remember  exactly  why  oleander's  eyes  held  such  venom  when  he  looked  at  her  now,  why  he—

a  sudden  crack  shattered  her  spiral  of  self-loathing.  she  whirled  toward  the  sound  just  in  time  to  see  james  crumple  onto  her  pillow,  blood  staining  the  fabric  a  violent  crimson.  for  a  heartbeat,  she  could  only  stare,  her  alcohol-addled  brain  struggling  to  separate  nightmare  from  reality.  then  she  saw  the  bruises  blossoming  across  his  face,  and  something  ignited  in  her  chest,  almost  burning  away  the  alcohol's  haze.

"  jan?  "  her  eyes  blinked  rapidly  as  she  tried  to  force  sobriety  through  sheer  willpower.  "  what's  going  on?  what  happened?  "  but  she  already  knew,  could  see  the  truth  etched  on  her  brother's  face  before  she  forced  out  her  next  words:  "  did  ollie  do  this?  "

"How could you tell?" He replied, with something vaguely resembling a smile, though the red on his teeth ruined the image he had in mind. There was a light lilt in his voice, trying to bring some sort of levity to the situation at hand. "You got a towel of something?" he asked. If he wanted help patching himself up, he could have easily apparated to Scorpius or Lydia, but as he sat there with blood rolling down his face, he realized maybe healing wasn't exactly what he needed.

"I'm okay though, really. I'll be okay," he clarified, not wanting to worry her too much. Although he supposed maybe it was a little too late for that. "And anyway, you should see Ollie. He's..." Probably fine. Jan's eye bruised over before he ever had a chance to get a good look at his former best friend's face.