Lisa Grace Turpin

Home. It’s what’s been on Harry’s mind all morning. Not necessarily the centuries old stones and the storied planks of wood that made up the cottage he kept outside of Plymouth, but rather the people who called it home with him. Although the formidable amount of papers that were rapidly piling on his desk kept him occupied, he was looking forward to spending a bit of time with Ginny at home before continuing about his work day into the afternoon. With his dark jacket wrapped around his shoulders, his shoes click against the white marble in the Auror Office as he opens the door. That’s when he’s stopped by Lisa Turpin. He can almost see his plans flying out of the window. Brilliant. 

“Lisa,” he greets. He knows enough about her to call his old classmate by her first name: former Ravenclaw, now prominent prosector. With a drive like hers, she’s a force to be reckoned with and he isn’t going to be the dumb individual who steps in her way. He notices the nervous tilt to her voice, but it’s not urgent enough for him to tell whether or not there’s another fire for him to put out, though, knowing the Ministry these days, it’s completely possible. Then, she mentions it: Emma Burgess’ trial. Harry was the lead investigator and he’s been watching his Aurors collect and sort evidence and facts throughout the past few weeks. While it’s not a huge case by any means, it is connected to the Syndicate, making it a heightened priority of sorts, even if it’s just temporarily. 

“Right, then. Come on in,” he says, turning around and reopening the door to his office. His secretary, Mrs. Kirke, gives him a sympathetic look as he waits for Lisa to enter and follows her inside. The office, for the most part, is bare, save for several photos of his family and close friends. It’s the same setup he’s had for years, keeping it minimal since he spent so much time in the field. If not for those pictures, one wouldn’t be able to tell. He takes a seat at his desk– his leather chair is hasn’t even cracked. Motioning for her to sit across from him, he says, “What’s going on?”

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It’s not even relief that she feels as acknowledges her and proceeds to let her in his office. Instead, it’s the same feeling one might get from marking a task as complete; resigned accomplishment, though lacking all the excitement that’s usually associated with it. Indeed, Harry agreeing to a quick chat is simply be one more thing she would get done today, with a hundred more just waiting for her in her own office. She stifles a sigh.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” she assures as she goes to take a seat. “I just wanted to touch base before the trial, make sure you know what’s going to happen, what sort of questions you can expect, both from me and from the defence, et cetera. Standard stuff, really, but I want to make sure we’re all as prepared as possible. You know how elusive the Syndicate has been.”

She pulls out a folder from her bag, quickly opening it to the relevant page; it’s not the case file, of course, but instead a list of her own notes and observations. “Okay. First of all, I know you’ve done this before so we don’t need to go over how to act on the stand, do we? And considering that you’re you, I guarantee you that you can also expect all kinds of criticisms from the defence. You won’t have to answer most of it, probably, just keep your cool as they bring it up.”

Some paragraphs she skips because it’s semantics and she doesn’t think she has to explain all of that to Harry Potter of all people. Besides, she did promise this would be quick. “Next, the actual questions. Obviously, I’ll ask you about the investigation, the discoveries you’ve made over the course of it, the conclusions you’ve drawn, this sort of thing. Any questions so far?”

“I apologise for taking oh-so long.” Terry replies sarcastically, it is light-hearted and accompanied with a charming smile. Lisa gives his arm a squeeze, it soothes the storm brewing in his head and gives him comfort when he needs it most, “I know. It’s just hard to stop.” he turns to her, “My mind just doesn’t know how to.” Terry doesn’t talk at all about his personal feelings, and his show of vulnerability to Lisa catches him by surprise too. Upon his realisation, his cheeks start to flush from embarrassment, he’s thankful she teases him next so he can brush it off in the next breath. “I’m too much of a workaholic? Well, isn’t it the pot calling the kettle black.” he scoffs playfully. “As you wish.” He says, one arm outstretched in the direction of the cinema, “After you, miss.”

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For somebody she considers one of her closest friends, Lisa comes to realise that Terry doesn’t often talk about things such as private thoughts and feelings and him doing so now seems to surprise him as much as it does her. She’s happy, though, almost flattered that he trusts her with something like this, and she has no qualms about saying as much if only he didn’t seem so uncomfortable with the whole situation. So she shallows back any words of encouragement and support she might’ve been considering, though she one thing she can’t quite hold back is her smile. “Ah, but see, who better to offer advice than somebody who knows precisely what they’re talking about? If anything, it’s all the more reason you should listen to me.” Her gaze flashes back to the protestors for a brief moment, smile somewhat dropping. While she’s glad Terry’s managed to find some peace of mind, at least temporarily, she has a feeling she’ll be thinking about them for some time. Not now, though, she thinks firmly, forcing her eyes back to Terry. “Prepare to experience the wonders of Muggle films, Boot,” she says and heads towards the cinema.

Character Development Task 001

A Lisa Turpin Playlist | Listen here

Stones - ZiBBZ — A song that encompasses your character’s essence in while they were attending Hogwarts.

Back in Hogwarts, it seems to Lisa that she’s the only one who realises that they’re still children and there’s only so much they can do. Dumbledore’s Army? Please; perfect example of the blind leading the blind. No, instead of wasting her time on silly things like that, she’s going to lay the groundwork in order to be able to make actual change one day.

CHAMPION - Bishop Briggs — Their feelings towards the Battle of Hogwarts, or its aftermath.

It’s a journey, to get to the Battle of Hogwarts and to deal with the aftermath. It’s scary, it’s terrifying, it’s war, and Lisa is only human, but like hell is she going down without a fight.

Non-Stop - Leslie Odom Jr. & Lin Manuel Miranda — Your character’s most major or pivotal life event

Law time, baby! The end of the war was what Lisa was waiting for and once that’s over and done with, she’s ready to help the Wix World rebuild and, while she’s at it, might as well help it improve too. She reads and studies and would you look at that, hard work pays off and she not only gets to practice law, but also makes it on the Wizengamot.

Leave the War With Me - London Grammar — A song that encompasses your character’s essence in the present.

To be honest, in the Department of Mysteries, time sort of… ceases to exist. Especially ironic, he supposes, if you’re working in Time Chamber, which Terence had been for the better part of his career with the Ministry. But the reason he feels that way has little, if anything, to do with magic and is simply due to the fact that for a building so busy, so consistently bustling, the Department of Mysteries is always oddly, or eerily, quiet. As if it was somehow not just far below the surface of the city, but on a whole separate plane even from the Ministry itself. In a department where discretion is everything, Terence supposes that makes sense—hell, maybe there is some magic behind its sense of isolation, even. 

Nevertheless, the endless piles of work—especially since his transfer to the Technomagical Initiative—and the corridor after corridor of dark, windowless rooms, tend to make one oblivious to the world around them, and as such, to time passing. 

He’d had to recast his time charm twice after those first set of floating numbers had shown him it was nearly half-three in the morning, just to be sure. But it was no trick of the light or slip of his hand—he definitely needed to get out of here. He’d always believed there was only so much progress you could make in a day, anyway. At a certain point, you reach a level of capacity and/or exhaustion that leaves you simply…. going in circles for the remaining hours, like a dog chasing its tail. He had a suspicion this was the case for at least his last few hours tonight.

He packed up his things as sensibly as he could, feeling sluggish, trying not to forget anything pertinent. He’d be right back here in less than ten hours, he felt sure, but he’d need his wallet, his wand… 

He rubbed his face for the umpteenth time as he wound his way through the upper corridors of the Ministry, heading for the exit on automatic pilot. And to be honest, he was just as startled as Lisa was when they crossed paths—which seemed absurd, in hindsight, because he’d subconsciously heard the clack of her heels and thought little of it—though it wasn’t until she was lowering her wand that his tired mind caught up with his nerves and provided a name for the face. 

Ironically, if he’d not already known who she was, having seen her about the Ministry plenty over the years, he may have foolishly considered the possibility of her being an apparition of his exhaustion. She’d always been one of the most strikingly beautiful people he’d ever seen, and though the passing information Terence was aware of assured she wasn’t of Veela descent, he remained…skeptical. 

His chuckle was breathy and tired, but he shook his head as he tried to get a handle on his heart rate. “It’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I spooked you. But yes, I seem to have… lost track of myself.” 

It seemed a more accurate description than losing track of time, really. “It’s too easy to do down there,” he said, referring to his department. “Even easier, these days… I take it the same goes for you?” 

Lisa opened her mouth to protest - he had nothing to apologise for, she was the one who’d pointed a wand at him - but they could be stuck in this whole ‘no, it’s alright, I’m sorry’ circle for a while and she’d never really had much patience for small talk. So instead she swallowed back another apology and instead let out a small laugh; she was all too familiar with losing track of time.

“Yeah, I know the feeling. I’ve been called a workaholic once or twice, if you can believe it,” she said wryly. But it was the truth; there was simply no escape from work, not even off the clock. Her chuckle turned into a sigh at that. “And with the Burgess trial coming, I suppose I’m really living up to the title.”

At this point, she assumed the news that she would be representing the prosecution in the upcoming trial had already made rounds in the Ministry, if not the press too; she didn’t feel she was breaching any protocol by simply mentioning it. And although she would never admit it, perhaps a part of her was also using it as an excuse for her overworking nature; it had been something people had admiringly pointed out about her while she was still climbing the ranks of the Ministry, but as of late, all it got her were pitying looks rather than anything else.

With that thought only souring her mood, she tried to push it away. Instead, she turned her focus back to Terence, racking her brain to find why he seemed so familiar outside of simply being a fellow Ministry worker. “You were pulled to the Technomagical Initiative, yeah? I think I remember seeing your name somewhere on the paperwork. In which case you have quite the solid excuse for losing track of time; I imagine the change is taxing.” She then paused, considering. With how many Terence and Terrences there were around, it was also very possible that she was wrong, but she figured what was some more embarrassment at this point? “Or I’m not remembering that right in which case, please disregard - as we’ve established, it’s been a long day.”

It was late. Lisa wasn’t sure about the exact time, but it was late. Losing track of time wasn’t uncommon for her, not at all, not lately, but it still made her hold back a sigh. If this stupid cold that had to have lasted for over a month now didn’t kill her, then maybe this upcoming trial would; it was a sign of how exhausted she was that she genuinely let out a snort at her own morbid joke.

It was good, though, to have a distraction from the quietness. The Ministry was never this quiet, this… dead, and even though she knew, logically, that she couldn’t have been the only person still here, it didn’t make the silent halls any less eerie. The click of her heels was a distraction enough, or at least the closest she was going to get to one, and so she let herself focus on the steady rhythm of it. She’d count them, even.

Click, click. One, two. Click, click. Three, four.

She made it all the way to forty-three before somebody appeared out of nowhere, coming around the corner she’d been about to round herself, and Lisa’s wand was in her hand before she could second-guess herself. Still, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but notice that her reaction time hadn’t been great and her movements had been sluggish at best; she really did need to sleep.

“God,” she lowered her wand, raising a hand to her chest instead; Terence Higgs, despite not being someone she knew all that well, was hardly an enemy. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and you spooked me-- just, sorry.” She shoved her wand back in her bag a little too aggressively; she was embarrassed and she was angry about being embarrassed. None of this was Terence’s fault, though, and Lisa forced herself to throw him half a smile. “Working late?”

Unsurprisingly, it was all-hands-on-deck for the upcoming trial. The Syndicate had been a thorn in the Ministry’s -- in the whole Wix World’s, even -- side and now that they had an opportunity to bring at least one of theirs to justice, the buzz in the air was almost palpable. Or maybe that was just Lisa. A project like that, this big and this important, was precisely what she’d needed to get out of her own head and stop worrying herself into a frenzy. Of course, now all that energy was directed towards the trial which came with its own state of frenzy, but that kind of stress was familiar, comfortable even.

In any case, free time was a luxury she couldn’t afford these days, and while that was fine, there were also things she needed to do outside of her office and it was just hard to find the time for them. Which was how she got to this point, she thought with a sort of wry resignation as she strode down the halls, headed towards Harry’s office as soon as lunch break had started. It wasn’t exactly an ambush, that just sounded crude, but it was a near thing; whether he would choose to stay in his office or go out for lunch, he should be available, generally speaking, since lunch breaks usually remained free of appointments. It was the whole point of a break, she supposed.

She caught Harry right at the door, though she couldn’t tell if he was going out or if he was simply returning to his office. “Harry,” she called out, the click of her heels on the marble floor echoing as she hurried her pace. “Do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you about the trial.”

Terry considers himself to be a pragmatic and realistic individual, but even so he can’t deny that Lisa’s words ring true. It was still early stages – there was a lot more that could go wrong than a silly old protest. Terry lets out a small sigh, “You’re right.” words seldom heard falling out of his mouth, cherish them while you can, “Perhaps I am getting a little too…” invested? attached? affixiated? sensitive? “ – excited about this particular project to not think rationally.” His emotional side has always been secondary to his logic, but there are times where it seeps through without him realising. Lisa is a sounding board that helps him maintain that fine balance. “Fine.” He gives her a small smile in appreciation, “I suppose you’d rather watch a Muggle film than me tussle with protesters anyways. Go on then, which one will it be?”

.

It’s not as though she needs confirmation that she’s right -- she knows perfectly well that she is -- but it’s nice to hear it all the same and despite everything, Lisa manages a smile. “About time you figured that out.” His excitement is understandable, though, and it’s not like she herself doesn’t share it. Maybe if she weren’t so damn tired she could even show it, but as it is, the best she can do is reach out and give his arm a light squeeze. “I don’t care about the film, Terry, but if you keep getting so worked up over everything you’ll burn yourself out before we’ve even gotten this project off the ground. Just… try to take it easy, okay? Well. Easier. I know you’re too much of a workaholic to fully relax.” Her attempt to lighten the mood might be somewhat obvious, but she’s determined to push on and so she lets her smile turn teasing. “That said, I was promised a film and it would just be in poor taste for you to back out now. So. The King’s Speech?”

5. three things in their fridge?

Lisa is a capable, self-sufficient, driven and accomplished witch and she takes great pride in that. However, she’s also a pretty terrible cook, which makes no sense because she follows every recipe down to a T and yet anything she makes is barely even edible. But she’s made her peace with it and her fridge reflects that: pasta, vegetables, soups.

13. best accomplishment?

Her job, along with becoming a member of the Wizengamot. Anything that gives her means of bringing change and making a difference is an accomplishment, but those two things, in particular, she feels bring her closest to her goal of making the Wix World even only marginally better.

28. do they have any distinctive features or marks?

She’s… really pretty, y’all. Jokes aside, though, appearance-wise I feel like the most distinctive thing about her would be her red lipstick. Red feels empowering so she wears it pretty often and from a purely superficial point, it also just makes for good contrast with her usually monochrome clothing.

“We’ve worked too hard and for too long to get this whole thing up and running,” Terry says turning to Lisa, the fury in the lines of his forehead start to dissipate and the cool calm demeanour he usually carries himself with returns. He knows how he sounds, especially to her, a half-blood with one foot in the magical world and one foot in the other. Terry’s motivation to further the Technomagical Initiative may have first started out for purely selfish reasons to indulge his own curiosities without the fear of being thrown into Azkaban; but as the political climate grew tenser and the no-contact statutes were enforced again, he saw how beneficial it’s widespread application could be. Families could be reunited, friends could see each other again. Of course, he knows it’s impossible for him to feel their pain, though he does try to empathise. But he also knows that this must be done. “– and this casts a stain on the department’s image, just as we’re trying to get it accepted into wizarding society. The whole point of all this fanfare will become moot.” Terry says gesturing around, “Merlin, I can already read tomorrow’s headlines.” The sheer fucking audacity. It didn’t matter what Muggleborns United demanded, nothing was going to change. In a way, Terry found their demands to be extremely selfish. Damn the whole Wizarding World so you can use an iPhone and meet your Muggle friends for brunch, right? He stares in the direction of the voice, which is now replaced with many chanting, each baiting him into an argument. He doesn’t hear Lisa choice of movie, he’s far too busy fighting the urge to walk-on outside to the protesters and lecture them about the Initiative and how it’s helping them. Though he’s not one to cause a scene. Better yet, perhaps he could ask a couple Aurors to have them disperse the protesters. Terry decides against both until he tunes back into the conversation, “Don’t tempt me Turpin, I’m struggling to keep my feet planted here. It’s just ridiculous.”

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“Oh, yes, because the Ministry’s reputation as an institution in general is usually so clean,” she mutters, half-hoping he doesn’t hear her. Because she understands what he’s saying and where he’s coming from; the Technomagical Initiative is too important to fail now and the pushback is already strong without the added agitation. But being realistic has never been Terry’s strong suit, no matter what he might like to think, and despite her slight irritation, Lisa manages to keep that to herself. She knows a long time has passed since, but she can’t help remembering his excitement, his passion, for Dumbledore’s Army back in the day and how much he believed in it. Now here they are, over twenty years later, and he’s found a new cause to believe in and while she agrees this time around, she’s not quite naive enough to believe it’s all going to be a smooth-sailing ride. Accepting that, naturally, also means accepting the backlash. “Listen, we’re still in the early stages and more than that, change takes time. Some of them might come around, some of them might not. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Just like there’s nothing they can do to stop this from moving forward.” She rolls her eyes at his posturing. Yes, she’s certain nothing will drive their point across quite as well as a member of the Wizengamot getting in protestors’ faces. “You’re ridiculous. Look, I agree, this isn’t the time, the place nor the way for them to express their dissatisfaction. But it is what it is. What good is you going over there going to do? Other than perhaps give you a punching bag to work out your frustrations on, which just isn’t worth it. Come on, Terry, you’re better than that.”

diagon alley | lisa + katie @lisagraceturpin​

When Katie finally managed to make herself leave Angelina’s home, what little sun had been visible disappeared somewhere in the west. Dark, billowing clouds blanketed the sky, threatening a looming rain with an icy north wind. The professor wrapped her cloak around her as she walked, head tucked down to avoid the brunt of the bone slicing gusts. She hated the cold and would easily prefer the scorching heat of an arid desert on any day of the calendar. It was enough of a nuisance to hold her muttering to herself over sentimentality as she walked. “Who cares if it’s the best treacle on this side of the country if this is what I have to go through to eat it?” An eternally dramatic soul, it did not matter that she was the only person mental enough to be strolling through the cobbled stones before the rain. 

Her own plight made it easy for her to assume that, anyway. A normal, focused Katie was aware. She took in her surroundings like she was doing inventory, a precaution she learned from her time globetrotting for gold, but not on that night. So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she did not have the capacity to shield her face from the wind and scope the scene simultaneously. That, accompanied with her quick pace, made sure when she realized she her error, there was no questioning how wrong she had been. Her shoulders collided with something firm, though not solid like a wall or door. The give told her she was mowing down another person. The reflexes she honed for years playing quidditch came to life as her hands released her sides to steady them. 

The short waves around her face bounced as her attention came to the front, and her honey eyes widened as realization struck a nostalgic chord. The smile that followed was involuntary. Then she laughed, taking a step back and letting the brunette blast from the past go. “You’ll have to forgive me. I was on a mission to find something sweet.” Her head angled, and she took the time to chew on her lip for a second. Her normal gumption was rocky, understandable to her, but she quickly righted herself just in case it wasn’t so apparent to the other. “We both know I’m pretty powerless when I get the craving.”

.

Work, Lisa had long ago discovered, often stretched long past the end of her official working hours. There was always something to be done, something to be fixed, something to be added, and she didn’t mind being the one who did that, usually. She preferred it even; no offence to her coworkers, but it was the only way to be sure everything was properly filed and organised. It helped that she enjoyed her job, too. But as of late, things had been a little different. A little crazy. And Lisa could handle weird, she could handle crazy, but when she got inside her own head that’s when things became a little more tricky.

So she’d tried to cut back on overtime hours, at least, though as she hurried along the streets of Diagon Alley, the sun long gone, she had to wonder if her intentions even made a difference. But she wasn’t in the mood to think about that and instead she just picked up the pace. At this point, the only thing keeping her going was the thought of her apartment, warm and dry, with day-old scones waiting on the countertop, and her bed still unmade, ready for her to just slip into. It wasn’t a perfect picture, but it was good enough.

The wind only seemed to be getting harsher too, though Lisa wasn’t sure if she hadn’t just been walking around for too long. Her apartment wasn’t too far, but at the same time, distance always felt greater the more eager you were to arrive at your destination so she supposed it could go either way. In any case, with her hair flying around everything, especially in her face, not only did her annoyance skyrocket but she also entirely missed the woman headed straight towards her; by the time she realised what had happened, the woman’s arms were already steadying her and Lisa hurried to finally push her hair back.

“Katie.” She said the name involuntarily, but Katie had always had a way of catching her off-guard. Usually, Lisa took pride in her composure, but somehow, her friend had a way of pushing her off-balance... in the best way possible. As Katie’s words caught up to her, however, she let out a small huff of laughter. “Yeah, I remember. Didn’t you once ask me to sneak out after curfew to go to the kitchens? Incorrigible.”

And while Lisa herself had never particularly liked sweets, she did have a soft spot for baked goods so she could understand the craving. The whole encounter also did make her realise, though, that she had no idea what time it even was; she’d barely glanced at the clock when she’d left the Ministry and up until now, she hadn’t cared much either. “Is Sugarplum’s even open? I mean, I’m assuming that’s where you’re headed. Unless there’s a new candy shop I haven’t heard of.” It was only half a joke. She wouldn’t put it past herself to completely miss such a thing happening at all.

Hermione smiled widely at Lisa Turpin. An old classmate. And, while they’d never gotten close in school, Hermione respected her as a witch in the workforce. Lisa, too, had ties to the Muggle world and so Hermione understood when she discussed the curiosity and wonder at which the magical world had given them as children. However, her heart sunk a bit when Lisa said she wasn’t interested in the technology. Was that because she already knew about it or because she didn’t agree with the Initiative?

Hermione didn’t know which was worse. It was hard knowing others knew more about her other world that she did. Hermione had long ago lost touch with the Muggle world outside of the visits with her father - or the occasional one with her mother. Had Lisa been paying more attention? Or just less to the Wizarding World? “Did you already know about all of these, then?” Hermione asks, trying to stay casual, though there’s a strain in her voice, anxiety stuck in her throat.

Lisa went on to talk about Terry, lightly teasing him for his naivety. While the joke was rather cute, it was this that Hermione was working to stop. This us vs. them mentality. Hermione could remember the times where people would snort at the cluelessness of Muggleborns - how they’d assumed she, too, wouldn’t know. She remembered staying up, night after night, soaking everything magical in. Not wanting to fall behind - not wanting to look different.

“Terry means well,” Hermione said to Lisa with a close-lipped smile. “It’s important we give purebloods the same sympathy of education we expect from them. One who didn’t grow up in the Muggle world would likely not know what you and I do - just as I came into this world with only the knowledge of books. I do hope you took the time to have a meaningful discussion of Muggle doctors with him.”

.

There was something off in Hermione’s tone that Lisa couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she wasn’t too worried about it. She had a lot of respect for everything Hermione had done and continued doing and that respect was enough for her to not actively try to dissect every minuscule gesture or expression.

“Yeah, my mother was very insistent I keep up to date with all things Muggle. Not recently, of course, but back before all of this, every time I’d visit she’d make sure to tell me all about the latest news.” But the thing about technology in particular was that it was developing and improving at a rapid pace and she couldn’t ignore that it might’ve changed since she’d last had contact with her mother. So with a small shrug, she added, “I admit, I haven’t seen everything at the exhibition just yet, but so far it seems like the standard stuff -- a telly, a phone, a computer. Nothing too shocking.”

She was somewhat surprised that a simple joke had prompted a mini speech on how important it was to be patient and understanding with purebloods, but she supposed she could see where Hermione was coming from. However, that didn’t mean Lisa necessarily agreed with her; purebloods had had the upper hand for decades, maybe centuries, and even now, they were the ones least affected by the statutes. In light of all that, the idea that once again it was their comfort that everyone should seek to ensure left a bitter taste in Lisa’s mouth. But she was certain that hadn’t been what Hermione was implying and quite frankly, she wasn’t in the mood for an argument either way.

“Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted,” she said in regards to Hermione’s words about discussing doctors with Terry. “But I’ll be sure to mention it when I see him again. In any case, enough of all that, how are you enjoying the fair?”

CLOSED STARTER TO @lisagraceturpin​

Setting: 10 November, 2020. Just as the Muggleborns United protest starts outside the Techno-Fair at Carkitt Market, Diagon Alley, Wixen London. 

Despite being more progressive than most of his particular blood status, there were things Terry was still discovering things about the muggle world that would be common sense to any muggleborn wix. Upon their last meeting, it was the fact that doctors are indeed not butchers as he has characterised them in his mind. Still, the notion was hard to remove. While he had accepted it as fact from Lisa, some part of him still remained unconvinced. Terry, and many others like him, were ignorant towards the muggle world as a product of growing up in a bubble where magic always reigned supreme over the primitive developments of mechanics, automation, and electricity. This event was held primarily to free wix of that thinking; to show parity between two worlds and encourage them to recognise each other. It would be a foolish expectation that public opinion would change overnight, but still, the Wizarding Reformist Party could hope.

There is a shortlist of colleagues whose company Terry enjoys to share after a gruelling day at Whitehall. Lisa Grace Turpin, of course, formidable prosecutor that she is, is always delightful company. Together they stand outside the cinema installation, peering together over a leaflet, reading the synopsis of the films on show and deciding which one to watch first. 

“I think we should go watch the King’s Speech moving pic–” he stops to correct himself before she can, “ahem, movie, and then perhaps we can see this…Pride and Prejudice? Or perhaps this film here, Dunkirk? What do you thi–” 

Before he can finish his sentence, a loud booming voice radiates through the hall. Fury folds into the lines of his face; it is a look not often perceived on the man, and must even now be unfolded and studied to locate. Those closest to him can see it clearly: the way his blue eyes have gone flatter than usual, the specific way worry lines furrow between his brows; the downward-turned edges of his mouth. There’s a sentence in particular that gets underneath his skin, ‘You enjoy the wonders of our technology yet enact laws that prohibit us from seeing our families.’ It pricks him because it’s true, but more importantly angers him because it’s not that simple. The Techno-Fair in all it’s glory, pomp and circumstance was held to bridge understanding between the two worlds. To help one in it’s efforts to stay hidden, for the magical world to stay safe. And here was Muggleborns United dragging months worth of planning and preparation down the drain. 

“Oh, these oafs don’t even know what they’re talking about, less so what they’re demanding.” Terry comments furiously to Lisa, “We’re working on a solution to better their circumstances as quickly as possible, and here, they have the sheer audacity to garrotte it on the account to appropriation.” He shakes his head. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and while he understood their plight, the Wizarding World and it’s safety comes first.

The fair feels never-ending. On one hand, Lisa likes the way it makes her feel like she’s back in the Muggle world -- how long has it been since she last saw a film? -- but at the same time, it’s a painful reminder too, of everything she’s given up. Only for the time being, of course; that’s an important distinction and one she feels the need to remind herself of every so often, that this isn’t permanent.

And she can almost forget her worries as she and Terry browse all the different films, can almost pretend this is simply a fun event that unites her two worlds. “My mom loves that one,” she nods towards Pride and Prejudice and is about to add her own opinion too when the chanting reaches her ears.

Her eyebrows furrow and she’s not blind -- she’s quite observant, actually, thank you very much. She notes the way Terry’s face twists into an expression of pure anger, one she immediately decides she doesn’t like, but it’s not as though she doesn’t understand either. In fact, she thinks she understands a little too well because she also sees the point the protestors are trying to make and it hits a bit too close to home, right into the left side of her chest. The Wizengamot member in her wants to agree with Terry -- for better or worse, he seems to be right -- and the half-blood in her, the one who grew in the Muggle World, wants to snap at him for how easy it is for him to say that. But Lisa isn’t just one of those things, she’s both, and more than that, she’s tired. She lets out a heavy sigh.

“Does it matter? They can protest all they want, nothing’s going to change unless they propose a solution along with making demands.” It’s not necessarily what she thinks, but it’s all she can say about it right now. Merlin, she feels sick and she’s not even sure if she only means that figuratively. “Anyway, I was going to say I don’t mind seeing The King’s Speech. If I’m not mistaken, I’m pretty sure the main actor also was also in an older version of Pride and Prejudice. Not that it matters.”

But while she doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of these, she isn’t sure Terry’s anger will be so easily placated. Lisa resists the urge to sigh once again and her tone is even as she says, “Or would you like to go and get into an argument instead? I’ll be sure to cheer you on from the sidelines.”

Dragon Pox!

His head whips in the direction of the proclamation. There is a shift in the air; chaos is simmering around them bound to explode into a full-fledged frenzy of anxious and scared wix running for their dear lives in a matter of seconds. Terry’s grip on Lisa’s arm tightens slightly if only just to caution her, “Did you hear that?” he asks, “If you heard what I did, we should be running away from danger not towards it.” Terry had no interest in being festooned with boils and turning a horrendous tint of green that would clash with half his suits. Moreover, a Dragon Pox outbreak would be serious- and Terry didn’t fight almost to the death twenty-two years ago to only die sick, breathless, and ugly in his bed. “Leaving…” She’ll call him a coward, he can sense it but he stands his ground, “I suggest you come with me.”

.

So he’s heard it too. Lisa shakes her head at him, hardly considering his words. If she jumped at every shadow, if she blindly trusted the people who yelled the loudest, she wouldn’t get anywhere in life. Some things you simply need to confirm for yourself. “Fine.” She shrugs off his arm. “Go on, then, be a sheep.” And with that, she pushes forward through the crowd, headed straight towards the supposed source.

Date: November 10th, 2020 Location: Carkitt Market, Diagon Alley open to anyone!

Hermione had bitten her nails nervously down to stubs throughout the week leading up to the event. When one of them had started bleeding the night before - after a rather unpleasant conversation regarding Draco Malfoy with her husband - she’d used the salve that she’d bought in the apothecary to clean them up, growing them to a respectable height. 

There would be photographers here - papers reporting on the event. She had to look put together. Had to look like she wasn’t as stressed as she was. In truth, Hermione’s heart was racing ferociously. The technology surrounding her was so foreign. When had she lost touch with the Muggle world in such a real way? Had it always been like this? Since she was eleven, she’d spent only months at home each year, if that. Always racing back home - to the magical world. To Ron and Harry.

She could understand her mother’s anger - her father’s sadness. She hadn’t noticed.

Best to push that back. Not to dwell. She cleared her throat, shook her head just slightly, and gave a bright smile to one of the people attending the fair, approaching a nearby table. “So glad to see you here!” she said brightly, in her best Minister voice. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself! Is there anything you’ve found particularly interesting?” 

.

Quite frankly, Lisa wasn’t in the mood for a fair. Neither the noise nor the crowds particularly agreed with her headache and she would’ve left long ago if she didn’t know how important it was to show support for the event. Tensions were high, especially in the Ministry, and every person counted. She only hoped she didn’t run into Nott -- while she feared she’d make poor company for anybody today, if she came across Nott specifically, Lisa had a feeling she might end up very purposefully stepping on his foot with her heels and as lovely as that would feel, it simply wasn’t worth the trouble.

She’d tried to focus on the different exhibits, but it was hard to marvel at a smartphone when she herself already had one lying around in her purse. She’d always made sure to put effort into ensuring she stayed in touch with her parents and in turn, the Muggle world, even when doing so had been forbidden. She hadn’t broken any law, of course, but she had acquired a nice little stack of letters to send her parents once the no-contact policies were lifted. She didn’t have anything too important to say in them, really, just bits and pieces of her daily life, but it had made the new restrictions somewhat more bearable.

In any case, she hadn’t come to gawk at technology, and she was almost relieved when Hermione spoke to her, enough to make a conscious effort to return the smile. “Everything looks great. The Department of Magical Outreach have really outdone themselves.” That much was true, at least. The event seemed well-organised, even if that was the best compliment Lisa could offer at the moment. “I don’t know if I’d say I find any of the items interesting, but it’s fascinating to see how some wix react to them. It’s funny, in a way, too; their reactions now are very similar to my reaction to the Wizarding World as a whole.”

Surely, if anyone would understand her predicament it would be others who’d grown up in the Muggle world and Lisa let out a small laugh as she was reminded of yet another situation only a fellow half-blood or a muggle-born would understand. “I was actually talking to Terry sometime ago, Terry Boot, that is, and he was convinced doctors were some sort of butchers. I have to admit, it feels nice not to be the clueless one in the situation.”

TW: Needles

“Wine it is.” Terry declares chivalrously offering his arm before staring in the direction of the vendor, “Come on then, Turpin.” His brows furrow as she begins to laugh uncontrollably at his last few words, “What? Is it something I said?” And moments later she confirms that indeed it is. Terry remains confused when Lisa clarifies, “I think my choice of words is descriptively apt. They lacerate viciously into their patients and prod them with needles. I’ve seen an incident with my own two eyes.” A few years ago Terry had the unfortunate experience of watching an emergency medical response in the heart of Muggle London; a line of treatment that would leave any unknowing wix mortified.“I see, like our Healers. Why? Do they dress differently than the butcher doctors?” 

.

She tucks a hand under his arm and is just about to comment on how his choice of words is most certainly not apt, perhaps even try to make him understand what exactly the differences between butchers and doctors is, but a sudden scream cuts her off. Her eyebrows furrow as she watches people look around in confusion before chaos descends on the street. “Dragon Pox,” she’s pretty sure she hears someone scream and she blinks, incredulous. Surely not. But there isn’t exactly time to sit around and mull it over as people run around, the confusion only feeding into their panic, and Lisa turns to Terry. “They’re coming from there,” she speaks quickly, pointing towards one end of the street. Naturally, it’s also the opposite direction of where everyone seems to be trying to get and she moves to push through the crowd. “I’m going to see what this is all about. Coming or leaving?”

a moment to relax –– lisa & hannah

who: hannah & @lisagraceturpin​ where: the three broomsticks when: 5 november 2020

Maybe it was an odd reality, but when Hannah really needed a night to just relax and get away from it all, she sought refuge at the Three Broomsticks instead of the pub that she owned. At the Leaky Cauldron, she’d always be the owner, and would inevitably get dragged into doing something, whether it be helping the barkeep on duty manage a rush or being swindled into having a conversation with a regular who wanted to know her reasoning behind the latest shipment of mulled mead. 

And while Hannah loved the Leaky Cauldron and the getaway from the stress of being a Senior Healer that it often afforded her, there were just some nights where she didn’t have the energy to be the one that everyone looked to. She got enough of that every day at St. Mungo’s, and tonight she just needed a break from being the one who was supposed to have all the answers.

Taking a deep pull of the glass of mulled mead in front of her, Hannah set it back down on the table and leaned back into the booth, sighing and closing her eyes. She had sent an owl to Lisa earlier that morning, knowing that it would find her friend in time to issue the invitation to join her at the Three Broomsticks, but she hadn’t heard back from Lisa, so she wasn’t entirely sure that she was coming. Still, even just sitting here alone was worth the trip over here. Hearing approaching footsteps, Hannah opened her eyes and smiled to see that it was Lisa. “Ah, so you can make it!”

.

It was getting worse. Lisa had no idea what it was, precisely, but she was no idiot, thank you very much, and she was certain neither the tremors, which had been around for much too long, looking back on it, nor the chills that she felt even in the warmth of her home were normal occurrences. It was probably just a cold, or a flu at worse, but with the recent outbreak… well. She couldn’t deny she wasn’t as calm as she’d been initially.

Even so, she wasn’t keen on admitting that out loud. No, surely she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and dealing with this without making a fuss out of nothing. So she’d tried to just focus on work -- usually that did the trick of taking her mind off everything -- but it was… difficult. Distracting. And the in the midst of it all, she’d almost missed the letter waiting for her this morning and subsequently Hannah’s invitation. By the time she had noticed it, it was already too late for a response and all Lisa could do was hurry towards the Three Broomsticks and practise an apology on the way.

“Yes, hi! I’m so sorry I didn’t send an owl back, I just got so caught up in everything, you know how I get. I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” She put her things down on the seat next to her, from her bag to her coat, all in one big jumbled mess, and took a chance to catch her breath. “So how have you been? I imagine they must be running you ragged with everything going on.”

Terry chuckles softly, beaming, “How foolish was I to think a tiny trinket such as that would get me out of a lifetime of teasing. And there, you admit it, I’m a highlight of your day.” Lisa is no open book, but reading between the lines is Terry’s speciality. And here it’s written, don’t pry I don’t want to talk about it. Terry is used to pushing further, but here he takes a step back giving Lisa her space, “Do you want to sit down? Perhaps I can interest you in some mulled wine?” Terry asks gesturing to the vendor selling the beverage, concern edges in his voice. They say magic is at it’s height on this auspicious day; at the convergence of Hallow’s Eve and Samhain. “Ah, no.” Terry answers, confused as to why she’d go dress up as a doctor for a sacred holiday such as this. “You mean those muggle healers who cut people up to fix them? You dressed up as a butcher for Hallowe’en?”

.

Once again, Lisa rolls her eyes at his words, but perhaps the saddest part of it all is that he really is a highlight of her day. Merlin help her. “Oh, yes, please. I haven’t had good wine in ages.” Then she glances at the vendor and can’t help but make a face. “Or just any wine would do, I suppose.” She moves to approach the stand, but then pauses immediately as Terry’s next words wash over her. At first, she throws him a look of confusion to match his, but as he goes on to compare doctors to butchers she can’t help the sudden laugh that bubbles up in her chest. “It’s,” she tries to explain in between fits of laughter, but it’s so ridiculous, the image of intelligent, put-together Terry calling doctors butchers with all the confidence in the world, and she just cracks up all over again. It takes a moment, but she does eventually manage to keep herself in check, though she also has to reach up to wipe away a stray tear. “Sorry, that’s just a very… unique way of putting it. Oh, wow. But no, I wasn’t a butcher, I was just a regular doctor, I’m pretty sure. They don’t cut people open, only examine them and prescribe medication or treatments. A very subtle difference, you understand.”