SWELTERING FIRELIGHT

Reina nods along with her conversation partner. “Right, okay, so, like, I totally understand what you’re saying but I’m gonna have to stop you there and remind you that Gryffindor has been the reigning quidditch team for, uh, how many years now? And let’s not forget who that’s thanks to, yeah?”

“It’s a new year, McLaggen. And you’re just one person. You don’t carry the whole team, and you can’t know going into the year what the other teams are going to bring to the pitch.” Seungri spoke as an opposing player, though he had allies on the Gryffindor team. “You can boast when you’ve earned it.”

Sometimes she wishes she could be a little more unbothered, that she could see the good sides in bad situations. She is cursed with a pessimistic mindset, though. It’s a good thing most of her children do not share it, she figures. “Always the optimist,” says Molly, soft smile on her lips but the worry still on her face — will she ever not worry? “I hope they have s’mores, and plenty to eat. D’you reckon I should send them some food? I still have plenty left from our last dinner and I could cook something up if it’s not enough.”

George wasn’t sure if he was an optimist so much as he was someone that could find the humor in near everything. He wasn’t the caretaker that his mother was, always tending to everyone. “I don’t think you need’a do that, Mum." He was sure there was plenty enough food to go around, but after a moment of pondering, he added, “But, you know, I bet they would appreciate your meatballs. Or, hell, bet this bar would eat ‘em up too just like we all do at gatherings.” Even if it wasn’t needed, he imagined that his mother got as much comfort out of cooking as people got out of eating her food. 

Contrary to what her exuberant, bustling outlook might often suggest, Valentina was rather good at reading useful cues and assessing situations when she needed to —— and she felt it almost always necessary when it came to her brother. Like tonight, when she knew that pretty much any question would come out redundant and trite, it was easier to read his almost-calm and characteristically civil greeting as a sign that nothing was seriously wrong. If nothing else, she trusted Brent to worry and absolutely no sign of it would be more concerning that this was, honestly. From a man whose stress gave him actual ulcers, she could accept the subdued tone as a sign that things were as well as they could be and that they didn’t yet need to march up to Scotland to whoop some fucking death eaters for thinking they could mess with kids. ( And besides, she was pretty certain they would have a difference of opinion at the question of a good arse-kicking. ) 

She coughed out a laugh, more sombre than usual, even if it was genuine. “Mm, I agree, but it’s a fun taste of childhood and such, isn’t it? Rain check, though? I found a new tea shop in Chelsea the other day and it looked beautiful. Think scones and cakes aplenty and no evil fried food to torture you with, for once.” Unlike the random tangent she had slipped into. Val hummed thoughtfully as she returned to the thought at hand, tapping her bottle against her thigh as she walked. “Well, it’s smart, of course, but I don’t know if it is really possible. I know we’ve transitioned into frequent cellular phone users and all, but this is the society that waltzed into this millennium still using quills instead of pens, even the fountain kind.” 

Childhood. Truthfully, Brent didn’t know what that tasted like. He’d never had one, robbed of his youth and innocence from an early age. But he’d sworn from the day that his son was born that Beau would be given every opportunity to be a kid. He didn’t want him to feel the weight of responsibilities or pressures that were not meant for someone his age. He wanted Beau to have fun, to laugh and to learn at his own pace. He wanted his son to be excited about his time at Hogwarts, not for Beau to be in jeopardy before he even set foot on the school grounds.  “A tea shop would be preferable to one of those dive diners that you have us frequent. Perhaps we should all go there sometime, when we have a free moment. I predict that I will be rather tied up with work for the foreseeable future.” Today’s debacle aside, throwing himself into work served as a productive distraction. He could consider his next step while trying to predict the next Death Eater movement.

she half blushed but smiled back at him. “I’m not freaked, don’t worry.” she felt pretty good actually, that he knew who she was. But the fact he was a prefect unsettled her slightly, she was a bit of a troublemaker after all. “Nice to formally meet you Mr. Prefect.”

"You too. Try not to give me too much trouble this year, alright?” Gage teased good-naturedly, amiable as always. “I’d hate for Slytherin to not win the House Cup this year because I have to take away points, since it’s our last shot at it.”

Being appreciated by other artists might have held more weight, considering that they actually knew what they were talking about, but there was something charming about the honesty of a layman’s opinion. It made her smile as she put down her coffee to wipe her hands on a paint rag and put her brush and palette away, in a way that she didn’t often smile with people other than Clarabel. “Mine has never once knit jumpers for the entire family — although, actually, I’m not quite certain she knows how to do it to begin with. So no, probably not. We’ll see if she likes the painting, though. Alternatively, she could just shove it into a forgettable corner and ignore it. We’ll see. Thanks, anyway.” She shrugged, then grabbed her coffee again and dropped into the small sofa alongside one wall, gesturing towards the empty half with a tilt of her head. “Anyway, it’s a fair assessment. They were pretty set on the Potions angle, you see. Art is what Adele did, and not what good girls do. Who cares?

“And then there were four.” Gisèle frowned, nonplussed if not precisely saddened by the thought. It seemed terribly discomfiting, this permanent altering of the integral structure of the same life and family one had known their entire life. “Depressing, then, if not boring. Ah well, the disadvantages of caring about people, I suppose. Can’t say I’ve ever been to one of those, however. I’m presuming they are pretentious and emotional, but hilariously so?”

"That would be a shame. For her to hide it after you put in so much effort at her request.” James couldn’t fathom Grandmum Weasley doing the same, no matter how sloppy their crafts they made were when they were younger. Granddad Arthur always saw fit to hang their works around the Burrow. “Grandmum’s jumpers are notorious. And comfortable. But each relative has their own method of showing regard, I guess.” James never could comprehend the way that traditional purebloods handled things. They tended to be emotionally distant, even from one another, something he often found ironic considering how they fought in order to maintain their legacies that were smeared in bigotry. “So Adele is a bad girl, and you were raised to be opposite that?” There was little James admittedly knew about Gisèle‘s family, as tight lipped as she could be, but now and then he got a knowledgeable nugget like this that she revealed off-handedly. “Can you not do both, if that’s something you wanted to pursue, that is. Your choice is ultimately what matters.”

This was what he got for mocking Longbottom about his problem child: his own brat. Of course, Seungri Yoo was nothing compared to the effusive Miss Carrow, but he was far from the most easy of children to handle. Draco sighed, then nodded. If nothing else, he understood worrying about mothers; his own had yet to accept that he wasn’t her little boy anymore. “Fine, but don’t wander past the wards. They’ve been placed for your safety. And let your mother know there’s nothing to worry about.” Not the full truth, perhaps, but that was what the kids needed to know.

"Fine, whatever,” Seungri half-heartedly agreed to Draco’s terms, already considering the prospect of breaking the rule. He didn’t trust magic to keep him safe. “I am not in the habit of lying to my mother, Professor.” That was far from the truth. Being honest with his mother was not an option if he didn’t want her to stress as much. He merely wanted to dismiss his Head of House’s lame attempt at brushing the current happenings under the rug. Seungri was no child. “I may not be smart or make Slytherin House proud, but I’m not totally stupid. People like me are gonna start dropping like flies. No wards gonna stop that for long.”

The Leaky Cauldron was a good place if one ever found themselves feeling alone. Colourful patrons, and in great quantities at that, meant that there was little room for boredom and enough noise for distraction, but that evening, a tension lurked in the atmosphere that could put even the most mellow of wixen on edge. And in an almost entirely unprecedented move for her, Valentina found even alcohol a poor balm for her prayed nerves, nor did the people she chatted to help. Many were just as, if not more, worried than her, but what did it matter? There was one fact that a great many of them seemed to be willfully ignoring: something was very, very wrong. An institute like Hogwarts, that relied and prided itself on its tradition, simply didn’t change those traditions two days in a row. Not unless things were far more fucked than they were letting on.

The entire business left a bad taste in her mouth, one that refused to dissipate, so Valentina just left, taking with her the bottle she was sipping on, just the second she ordered. It was just as well that she did anyway; the loping figure approaching drew the first truly heartfelt smile of the evening out of her, and Val met him halfway, hand in pocket and gait finally relaxed. “Butterbeer for your thoughts?”

Brent knew well that Hogwarts was not the shield that many claimed it to be. The last war had met its end at the school, after all. And when he was a student, being at Hogwarts could only delay the inevitable for what he would go back to at the Nott estate. Hogwarts was a prime target, but he had enacted what measures he could to up the surveillance and protection. It wasn’t enough. With Beau out of his sight, no amount of aurors stationed at Hogwarts’ entrance could be enough to quell his apprehension. At one point, he had considered pitching the idea to Barbara that they home school Beau but ultimately, he decided that keeping his son from the world would not protect him. It would only serve to hinder his growth. Brent would not be the type of parent who clipped his child’s wings because he feared what would happen when he left the nest. 

His sister was met with a subdued greeting, but one that was sincere. “You know that butterbeer is too sweet for my liking. And I know how you do not care for suju. We could compromise with wine, but I am not sure that an alcohol session is appropriate in this situation.” Oddly, sometimes, it could be for the unorthodox pair of siblings. It just didn’t feel right here. “We are well into the twenty-first century. Do you suppose we should endeavor to upgrade our technology accordingly?”

isaiah nursed the drink he’d taken from the bar, leaning against the stone wall that served as the entrance to diagon alley, facing the leaky cauldron’s entrance so he wouldn’t be caught by surprise should anyone decide they needed a moment of fresh air as he had. the pub was crowded, and muggy, and tense, and if it were not for appearances sake, isaiah would have left by now—-the idea that others would assume him callous was ridiculous, but people, when frightened, had a tendency to err towards the ridiculous. and nothing frightened a normally rational person into irrationality quite so quickly as threatening their children. “brent,” isaiah spoke as the man entered the alley—as if isaiah’s thoughts had summoned him. “have you been to see beau?” of course he had, isaiah had no doubt—-if isaiah were in his shoes, it’s precisely where he would have gone. “how is he?”

The day wasn’t supposed to go like this. Brent prided himself in preparing for the unexpected, but over the years, he had begun to dash hope into his life. And if anyone deserved the best life could offer, it was Beau. He should have had a normal send-off to Hogwarts with the worst of the day being when Barbara would inevitably cry when their son was gone. He greeted his friend with a nod, both as an answer and a gesture Isaiah to the side so that neither of them barred the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. “Taking this far better than his mother or me. Which is to be expected, considering his optimistic disposition. He sees it as his first school adventure. I suppose that is the best that I could ask for, rather than him being frightened?” Yet the strain of concerned persisted, growing in ferocity with each passing day. Optimism could lead one unwittingly into a dangerous path, after all. For all that he could accept the idealistic nature of both Barbara and Beau, he could not shed his own realistic thought processes. “Did I miss anything of note at the party? Do we need to chaperone Adele, Sibella, or Valentina to ensure they stay out of trouble or make a trip to the bank for bail funds?”

“Um…maybe a soju mojito instead for now? Cognac at your age, you know, can’t possibly be a good thing.” Val laughed, unrepentant. “Plus, I hear you need to give two days notice to get it, apparently. The first Winston I can afford though, we can split?”

"I suppose I can compromise, though you should watch that tongue of yours, little lady. I am still plenty young, thank you.” Audrey had been nearly twenty when Valentina had entered the fold of their family, but that had not stopped her from seeking a connection with her niece, even when she was excommunicated from the Nott family after her divorce. “Does it really? Maybe such a drink would be too potent for my taste, but if you end up giving it a go, I’l split not just the drink, but the cost with you. Deal?”

“I mean, I do agree that camping is fairly enjoyable. Although, with everything going on I am not sure if right now is the best time to be going. It’s not like the Hogwarts express to just break down, not to mention that there was supposed to be an attack yesterday. Something about the whole thing seems off to me.”

Katie wasn't’ wrong. It was all suspect. “Mm, but there is no place that is safer than Hogwarts, right? They are in the care of McGonagall and is there anyone better to look after them? All things considered, an impromptu camping trip is far from the worst that could happen and they are equipped with protection.”

dorian was wired—-an anger and anxiety coursing through his veins that had him clenching his fists to keep from lashing out; because toby was on the express. someone had attacked the express, and toby was there, and he wasn’t. the thin sliver of restraint he’d managed to hold on to since his father’s death (murder, his father had been murdered) was precariously close to snapping; and perhaps hermione had seen that, and that was why she hadn’t allowed him to go with her to check on the students himself. so here he was, doing nothing—–being utterly useless—-and it grated, the inaction going against what ever nerve in his body was telling him to do. but he pushed it down, for the time being, because what else could he do?

“i heard you gave quite a show back in the day with those fireworks. mcgees probably just worried about what you’d do to try and top yourself. and broiled pheasant?—-man, that’s why you always head straight for the steak and kidney pie, everyone knows that.”

George was always uncomfortable with grief. Over the years, plenty of people would ask him the same thing: How did he manage to move on? The answer was a simple one: he didn’t. But he had learned to not let the death of his brother stagnant his ability to live. He’d tried that for a time, letting himself be frozen like he was encased in carbonate where he may as well have been buried right alongside Fred. Then he had realized he was doing Fred no favors by staying still. Besides, he was never one who was meant for a life of stillness. He didn’t talk much about Fred’s death and as a result, he scarcely knew how to approach others who had faced similar losses other than to turn to his jokes like he always did. Brush the grief under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind. It was why even as he reminisced about his golden youthful days, there was a hole in his memory, as if he had been the only one that rode out of that school. 

“It’s possible. She’s a smart one, that old bat. Defies expectations and gets even sharper with age. She probably wants to discourage any to follow my path and drop out before graduating. My preference was always with the beef stew, actually, but I think we can all agree that the endless desserts were the best bits.”

Nat: AWWW MUM DON'T WORRY ABOUT US 💕💕 WE'RE SO FINE!!! PROMISE 😊😊😊

Nat: and so is rory!!! she's in the sleeping bag next to us

Nat: buffy was a little shook at first but eventually she calmed her down and now she's curled up next to bernie, it's actually so cute, i'll snap you!!

Nat: and our tent is all cozy and stuff because the house elves cast like a warming charm

Nat: how are tristan and papa??? give them some hugs from us 💗💗💗💗

Gabby: You know a mother can't help but worry about her dumplings!! I'm just glad that this is your last year.

Gabby: A part of me still wishes I had sent you to Beauxbatons. But it's good that you girls are all sticking together

Gabby: Pls do!! I miss those cute babies almost much as I miss you both already 🐱🐱🐱

val rolled her eyes as the first year was practically rushed away from her, a pout forming on her lips, “are you planning to play waiter to me all night, hamilton?” she waved her hand dismissively, though she did take the offered bottle, “i wasn’t going to give them any, merlin, keep your boxer briefs on, please—think of the children.”

"Nah, I’ll pass that duty onto someone else. Got to run the rounds and make sure that everyone else stays hydrated.” Gage kept his worry tightly locked under a well sealed lid. “I wasn’t thinking you would, but you know how easy it is for kids to get ideas when they are provided with the opportunity.” 

“That could well be it,” they say, nodding for a moment. They remain quiet — thinking for a moment, about what else it could be and about how odd his hair looks ( Luna keeps themselves from saying so, though ). “But I can’t be sure. Perhaps I’ll realise what it is in a moment, perhaps not. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

"Perhaps all my experimentation has taken its toll on my appearance, hm?” George offered in way of explanation. “But I would not spend too much time wondering. Some of us just simply do not have the same kind of genetics that you do and we do not age like fine wine. I’ve even counted a grey hair or two on my head.”

She was slightly taken aback at the raw honesty of the words and smiled, adding to the glitter of her appearance. “That was really well said. I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Laurel.” she thought a curtsy would be much too formal despite her lofty ideals of being a princess that needed to curtsy.

"I know.” Gage paused, before explaining in a rush, “That seems creepy, but I know because we’re actually in the same year. I’m a Slytherin prefect, so it’s sort of my duty to know everyone. Name’s Gage. Gage Hamilton.” No matter his efforts at Hogwarts, he didn’t expect people to recognize or know his name. That wasn’t ultimately his goal. 

Annie: We're okay!!! They had the house elves bring us soup and sandwiches, and between the aurors and the professors there's nothing to fear. 😘 It's just like a field trip, is what Dex said they're called.

Annie: I just feel for the first years, some of them are very upset.

Annie: And Bernard is VERY cranky as you can see on my snapchat 😾😾😾😾😾

Gabby: I'm relieved to hear it!!! it's the least that they could do!!! i can't believe that the train broke down. when i heard we had little information on what went on and

Gabby: And poor BERNARD!! That angel is too delicate for those conditions. 😟

Once more the blame rested on her shoulders. The attack had been planned and it was obvious that it was Jacqueline who had tipped off the Order…obviously. Alecto insisted and so she would take the punishment whether she had part in it or not. Coming of age did nothing to help her escape and still she stood at the mercy of her ‘mother’. Claws gripped her chin as Alecto drew closer, her voice was dripping with pure malice as she threatened her – cut short by distinctive pop of someone apparating in. Alecto cast a menacing glance at the ‘intruder’ before shoving Jacqueline away, causing her daughter to stumble backwards into a passerby as she left.

Jacqueline was quick to steady herself, her heart beating rapidly in her ears as she forced herself to stay calm and take care of the situation at hand. Jac gripped her wand, swinging around to point at the person who had caught her – calm and collected, “You saw nothing; You heard nothing.”

He had been returning to the Leaky Cauldron after checking in on the students at the breakdown location. It was not Brent’s intention to intrude on the scene before him, lips pursing grimly. Brent was no stranger to ‘parents’ who had no right to call themselves as much. Richard was simply more discreet about it than Alecto, the woman’s transgressions from her days as an overseer at Hogwarts widely known. It was not too surprising to discover that her abuses transferred to her children -- yet that did nothing to change the gravity of the situation at hand. Brent also knew how delicate the matter of separating oneself from such a vile person as Alecto Carrow. “If I had,” Brent reached up, tipped the wand to the right with his forefinger, “I am reticent enough of a person to to know what I should and should not speak of.” 

He chose to never speak up himself. “Are you alright?” His eyes flitted to Jacqueline’s face, the streetlight not sufficient to note any bruising. He imagined she did not want to linger too much on the subject. “Valeria appeared to make herself at home out in the wilderness. Charmed herself furniture to be more comfortable.” It was a subtle indication to Jacqueline that her sister was capable. And safe. At the moment.