good fight

(  paulina  singer  |  cis-woman  |  she/her  )  —  was  that  CHARITY  BURBAGE  passing  through  diagon  alley?  yes,  i  think  so…  people  around  them  say  they  remind  them  of  stacks  of  vinyl  records,  torn  pages  from  a  book,  waves  crashing  on  jagged  rocks,  long  winding  roads,  peace  signs  painted  on  buildings,  which  i  suppose  seems  to  fit  that  RAVENCLAW.  they’re  actually  pretty  RAW,  UNREPENTANT,  and  EDGY  for  a  TWENTY-FOUR  year  old,  but  i  wonder  if  it  serves  them  well  when  working  as  a  occupation  JUNIOR  MUGGLE  STUDIESPROFESSOR  at  HOGWARTS.  have  you  heard  that  rumor  has  it  that  HALFBLOOD  is  a  MEMBER  for  THE  ORDER  OF  THE  PHOENIX?  i  wouldn’t  have  guessed…  but  this  is  a  conversation  we  should  be  having  somewhere  else.

“Christ” August said, startled by the voice whispering to him.He placed his hands, palms down over the open book before him, as if trying to brace himself. He had completely lost all sense of area awareness as he spiraled into doubt about this whole move. He glanced over his shoulder to find her…

A slender women, with curls encircling her face. She had sharp, but delicate features, and a easy smile. As August looked at her he felt his heartrate begin to normalize. 

“Sorry, you said I walked past it twice?” He asked, glancing back around the dark pub. She had said that rooms were for rent above the pub, but this place felt anything but homey. He straightened his shoulders, turning to face the one who has decided to help him, allowing a small smile. “I guess it would be safe to assume you are not a no-maj, would you care to elaborate on how I can get to Diagon Alley? “

“You  did”  She  confirmed  again  that  he  had  passed  the  back  entrance  to  the  street  twice.  Charity  was  not  enjoying  this,  but  it  felt  oddly  similar  to  trying  to  lead  students  to  their  own  conclusions.  And  funnily  enough,  when  provided  with  the  correct  information  -  the  best  conclusions  were  usually  drawn.  Propped  up  on  her  elbows  along  the  counter,  Charity  side-eyed  the  room  before  looking  back  to  the  American.  

Her  loud,  lovely  Americans  from  the  muggle  train  systems  were  always  somewhat  enchanting.  She  found  that  the  decided  confidence  was  only  unwarranted  in  the  rude  ones  -  like  anywhere  really.  “I  could  elaborate.”  She  nodded  again.  “Could  you  recall  where  you’ve  paced  along  however?”

The  question  may  not  seem  obvious  but  Charity  avoided  letting  her  eyes  dart  in  that  direction.  So,  fine  -  perhaps  this  was  a  test  for  her  own  entertainment.  There  was  nothing  malicious  about  The  Leaky  Cauldron,  except  perhaps  left  over  lunch  specials.  “Have  you  concluded  that  it’s  not  the  way  you  came  in?”  She  smiled,  perhaps  letting  on  the  facetiousness  that  allowed  her  to  watch  another’s  brain  work  -  her  greatest  curiosity.  

a quick contract signing for her first flat at a cafe` in diagon alley

It  was  a  little  place,  nestled  into  a  corner  in  East  London.  Through  the  glamour  there  were  a  few  more  buildings  and  flats  that  would  meet  the  muggle  eye.  It  was  a  find  beyond  anything  else  and  all  she  could  think  was  showing  it  to  her  mum,  her  dad,  to  Alice,  to  Emmeline  -  but  she  wanted  it  to  be  ready  first.  “There’s  only  a  few  weeks  left  in  the  semester.”  She  signed  off  on  the  parchment,  making  the  third  floor  second  door  on  the  right  her  own  space  -  speaking  to  the  little  notary  who  would  send  it  off  with  an  owl.  Something  less  nomadic  settled  in  her,  but  made  her  wonder  how  long  she  could  last  like  that.  Silence  settled  over  while  the  clerk  went  back  to  work  and  she  was  aware  of  someone  behind  her.  “It’s  usually  impolite  to  listen  in  on  property  developments.”  And  of  course,  she  didn’t  want  any  old  person  knowing  she’d  finally  chosen  somewhere  solid  for  her  time  outside  of  Hogwarts. “But  it’s  usually  a congratulatory  moment.” @antemortemstarters​

It was a weird request. Hogwarts didn’t often want those kinds of things. Mostly just texts on how dragons are dangerous and shouldn’t be messed around with. That was true, of course. But there was a beauty to them that wasn’t found anywhere else in Georgie’s opinion. She stood up from her desk, smiling a bit as she moved towards her work area. “I don’t have much in terms of older accounts. Those are mostly in special research libraries.” She moved her wand, the pages she needed starting to neatly stack on the long workbench. “There are some modern anatomical drawings that have been done recently at some of the reserves. And if you can find Mark, he should have a book he published a few years ago about dragon migration patterns over the years.” When the papers stopped flying, she looked over at the other woman. “Are you the new Care of Magical Creatures professor?” 

Charity’s  eyes  peered  over  the  stacks  of  paper  that  had  neatly  landed  along  the  workspace,  she  nodded  in  understanding  of  the  information  coming  towards  her.  “Muggle  studies.”  She  corrected,  taking  one  of  the  parchment  pieces  into  her  own  hands,  quickly  reading  over  for  anything  less  plan  -  valuable.  “And  assistant  professor.”  A  cordial  smile  on  her  lips  for  the  correction  before  moving  onto  another  slice  of  paper,  old  and  thin.  “I  think  the  cultural  context  crosses  over  more  than  they  will  think.  A  Friday  afternoon  class  type  of  project  really.”  Of  course  Charity  also  considered  that  spilling  her  entire  overhaul  plans  for  how  the  Muggle  Studies  department  may  be  negative.  She’d  already  had  to  appear  in  the  Ministry’s  Education  department  to  finish  out  certifications,  and  she  knew  where  to  expect  pushback.  “Illustrations,  old  wives  tales,  historical  accounts.  Do  you  think  such  things  match  up  across  muggle  interpretations?”

May as well have screamed my name. My stomach is still in my throat,” Georgette raised her eyebrows. “Thank you for that,” the playful sarcasm passed through her lips. She put her wand away. Better Charity to be the one to startle her. If it had been anyone else, that wand could have likely been used. Luckily Georgette was quick on her toes and didn’t go blasting away at any small thing. She held her wand with as much power as she did while she was making it. — a secret still no one knew. It broke the wandmaker’s heart that she couldn’t say that she was a wandmaker. Would Garrick ever allow it? She was already twenty-five for Christ’s sake.

“Oh, just looking, y’know, seeing what’s here. Same as you, I imagine.“ — or because the materials she could find there that would be far more difficult, expensive or not as interesting if she followed the texts. The texts never got it. There was a mastery that couldn’t be put into words or a moving photograph to explain the emotion it takes to put the seemingly random pieces together. Georgette tossed a few things around one of the boxes, not paying particular attention to them at the time.

She was standing there with a professor, someone she considered a friend, in a store with no one else in sight. Georgette wanted to badly to express the joy, curiosity and mapping out how to create something that so few in the Wizarding World could but had been told over and over and over again since she was fifteen not to tell anyone. Her whole life was a fucking secret, her passion ought to be as well.

But …did it have to be?

She spotted a rough green gemstone and picked it up, raising it to eye level between her two fingers. “Green Aventurine,” she said. She never understood why crystals and gems were only peppered through their education at Hogwarts. There were so many facets to the study that it could warrant a full curriculum. Alas, another failure on Hogwarts’ part. “Did you know that Green Aventurine has soothing energy? It can balance our emotional body and create inner harmony. Adding something like this to a wand,” she cleared her throat and looked back down at the box, “it could bring a wix’s nervousness or anger to a softer place while using their wand. More effective that way.”

Georgette rolled her eyes. “You don’t need me telling you this stuff. The corner of her lip turned upside “You’re the professor.”

Charity  had  always  liked  to  watch  others,  observing  how  they  changed  in  the  dynamics  of  a  room.  Her  fun  at  parties  had  always  been  finding  hushed  conversations  and  wondering  over  what  things  would  change.  Of  course,  it  all  just  lead  to  her  own  hypotheses,  more  often  proven  true  than  not.  Her  assumptions  of  Georgette  through  the  years  were  more  or  less  correct  given  that  thread.  What  Charity  didn’t  often  expect  was  more  friendship  to  be  born  of  it.  

They  were  conversational,  as  she  often  was.  Yet,  there  was  less  girlishness  between  then,  she  figured  was  the  best  way  to  describe  it.  The  frivolities  sought  with  Emmeline  or  Alice  could  be  an  escape.  In  fact,  she  may  have  shared  more  of  a  mind  with  Georgette  than  a  younger  version  of  herself  would  have  admitted.  

This  especially  was  watching  someone  in  their  element.  “What  makes  you  pick  it  out  though?”  She  questioned  with  eyes  tracking  the  green  stone,  her  own  hands  just  barely  touching  over  the  top  of  the  bin.  She  did  nod  along  with  all  of  the  fact  “Are  you  looking  for  inspiration?”  Maybe  there  was  a  better  way  to  phrase  it,  but  Charity  wanted  to  see  where  it  would  draw  the  wandmaker’s  mind  to  for  the  words.    

“Professor  according  to  who?”  The  question  was  a  joke,  with  inclination  in  her  speech.  “No,  today  I  a  but  a  mere  rebel  among  the  ravagers  of  junk.”

“– yes, it’s a castle filled with children - charity, my love – that’s what a school is” brows furrowing, as if she was waiting for the punch line. laughter bubbled as she realized what she was getting at, “ah, so you feel like an actual adult then - to think we thought that we knew everything, anything bad felt life ending at the time” that and the heartbreak felt like it was soul crushing, by godric she wanted to go back and shake her seventeen year old self and tell her that this was just a soul crushing moment - a defining moment, but something that was going to shape her into the person she was today. 

“of course you did –” as if it was obvious, charity always seemed like she was two steps ahead and by godric, alice could use that if her head was screwed on right, “that defeats the point of guessing – come on char, humour me! who do you think lady luck decided on – what would be painfully ironic” she mused, any ounce of dread she once had at the thought of frank had dissipated, ever since he had found her in the office - ever since she had heard his sincerity, she couldn’t shake the lack of anger – she was at ease, so much so that she could joke about it. it was still painful in a way - to have him so close and yet he was far, friendship in itself would be a challenge that she wasn’t sure she was ready to embark on.

--

It  was  still  oddly  inbetween,  with  only  one  other  person  being  anywhere  near  her  age.  Of  course  it  was  odd  that  this  year’s  seventh  years  may  have  actually  known  her  as  a  student;  but  the  strangest  part  was  considering  how  old  some  of  the  professors  may  actually.  She’d  had  suspicions,  a  guessing  game,  on  it  before  -  but  they  somehow  now  seemed  older  than  she  thought  they  were.  “And  I  was  such...an  uppity  little  thing.”  Every  so  often,  her  practiced  voice  would  slip  into  the  remnants  of  a  London  girl,  she  accepted  it  more  now.  “In  retrospect.”  She  grinned.  

closed starter - charity @ lovencharity location - leaky cauldron

“i mean…this has to be it?”

August quickly folds the map, stuffing it into his back pocket. He tugs on the strap of his bookbag, tightening the strap that was slung over his shoulder. He pulled the worn baseball cap off his head, pushing open the door to the unassuming building tucked away off charing cross road.

As his eyes adjusted to the difference in light, this locale being very dark and dingy even though it was the middle of the day. He saw a few patrons scattered across the wooden tables. He meanders over to the bar, beckoning the barkeep and asking for a finger of firewhisky. “that’d be 17 sickles” the barkeep said, and August looked at the collection of coins he pulled from his pocket. 

“Uhmm…”

He held his hand out, feeling like an absolute fool, from which the barkeep took a number of midsized coins. “Thanks” August breathed, placing a large coin down on the bar, and moving towards a empty table in the rear of the large room.  

He sat down, placing his bag at his feet and studied the area. Looking at the walls, he tried to notice anything out of place. He noticed people walking past him towards the back of the pub, but kept put, studying the walls and seeing if anything ‘looked’ like a port key. After downing his drink, he pulled a book from his bag, thumbing to a flagged page. He traced his fingers over the words, “great, so I guess I live in this pub now. No clue how to get to diagon.” he breathed out in defeat.

She’d  hoped  to  meet  Alice,  perhaps  figure  out  plans  for  the  upcoming  holiday  break.  She  was  trying  not  to  take  to  leaving  school  grounds  so  close  to  finals,  she  wanted  to  be  there  for  students.  But  this  was  honestly  the  easiest  way  to  do  it.  Charity  arrived  early  and  spend  the  passing  time  watching  the  figures  around  the  familiar  pub.  Some  went  about  their  lives  completely  unaware  of  the  quirks  and  oddities  that  surround  the  shadowy  tables.  

A  confused  traveler  was  nothing  new.  She’d  seen  even  the  most  confident  get  lost  on  her  travels,  and  tried  not  to  be  too  entertained  by  the  likely  humbling  situation.  However,  for  this  one,  Charity  sympathized.  There  was  no  sense  that  he  had  any  idea  of  where  he  was,  so  she  clasped  her  hands  together  and  leaned  over  slightly.  

“You’ve  walked  past  it  twice.”  

Her  voice  was  hushed,  but  she  did  offer  back  a  smile.  It  should  have  been  one  of  kindness,  but  the  delight  of  knowing  did  seep  through  just  slightly.  “But  just  in  case.  They  do  have  rooms  upstairs  if  you  decided  you’d  be  better  off  establishing  residency  here.  Otherwise,  have  you  really  thought  it  through ?”  She  questioned  in  earnest. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were talking to me.”

@antemortemstarters

“sounds like it’s all about the company and if this is where you keep yourself entertained, then it’s your energy darling” warmth was what spread through her as she reminisced, bustling tables, laughter that was so loud that she was sure she could hear the ruckus from honeydukes - that’s what they said about the good times, wasn’t it? you don’t realize you were in them till they were all but a memory. 

“– and that’s how you stay young, love” she joked softly, “you know me, communication and i don’t have the best relationship” shrugging slightly, emmeline found herself finishing off her own pint. “i can’t just put up signs asking for a chat, believe it or not - repressing the loneliness seems to be a basic requirement of the job –” sympathetic smile etched at her lips as she wrapped her arm around hers, learning into her, “sorry Char –” she whispered, here she was complaining about what she had and yet she still got a change of scenery, “i bet tristan can keep you sane –” she pointed out, grin stretching her lips, “get into a debate about the effectiveness of the bubble head charm and that will keep you busy for days” 

-

“I  was  never  one  to  crave  company,  though  was  I?  It  just  happened  that  I  happened  upon  the  likes  of  you.”  To  say  she  was  content  being  a  wallflower  would  be  incorrect.  The  reality  of  her  situation,  as  Charity  saw  it,  was  that  she  could  comfortably  be  alone  -  more  so  back  then.  Wherever  she  was,  there  was  always  another  little  piece  of  her  concealed.  With  Emmeline,  she  likely  wouldn’t  discuss  something  as  muggle-like  as  her  mother’s  love  for  the  newest  television  model.  And  she  wouldn’t  tell  her  mother  much  of  the  floating  butterbeer  can  a  table  behind  Emmeline’s  head.  A  silly-student  trick  she  assumed.  

It  seemed  that  so  little  had  changed  that  on  that  student’s  chart,  she  recognized  the  name  of  the  Healer  assigned  to  the  case.  She  took  the  papers  under  her  arm  and  waited  for  an  unseen  moment  to  escape  down  the  blueish-white  hall  to  ward  thirty  seven.  The  student’s  parents  hadn’t  arrived  yet,  she  remembered  what  it  was  like  to  get  her  own  muggle  mother  into  these  places.  Maybe  that’s  why  it  was  important  that  she  had  stayed  here  instead  of  returning  to  Hogwarts.  

“Is  there  an  administrator  I  can  speak  to?”  She  asked  to  the  dark  haired  figure  standing  before  the  cot,  but  her  eyes  hardened  a  little  bit  when  Andromeda  Black  turned  around.  “Have  the  parents  arrived  yet?  Or  do  you  still  need  to  look  at  their  chart.”  She  referred  to  the  groaning  child,  something  shadowy  among  their  injuries.  Remaining  calm  and  even  was  important  to  her,  even  if  she  felt  herself  slightly  hotter  inside  than  usual.  “I’m  responsible  for  them  till  then.” @drcmeda​

he had felt like he was being stretched thin, he knew that he also did it to himself. but it was what he had to deal with because he just didn’t want to go home to his lonely little flat, he’d rather spend time trying to solve a case, try and help the people that he could. things were tense at the dmle, he knew that he needed to be on his a-game and not sleeping would cost him. he smiles briefly at what she says nodding his head. “well that’s a decent trade then.” he says with a yawn getting up from his seat finally. he grabs his coat and starts to follow her outside. “both, probably.” he says with another small smile. “always both.” he could use any and all caffeine he could get his hands on. “catch me up on what you’re doing then, it’s got to be more interesting than what i’ve been doing.”

Nomadic or Not

Travel, just like her friends always spoke of. She slept in train cars, with a bag of essentials. She wandered through villages with the belief anywhere could be home. That’s what made the decision to go back so easy.

It was home then.

However, now ‘home’ was different. It was not a shared space. No friends, no family. The solitude was like that on her little train car. She wanted to keep a home like her mother’s. Warm in color, free with air - of course to her own tastes and not that of a nurse who matured in 1950. Hogwarts felt less personable now, perhaps because her welcome in the space had changed. No lamp bought from a street vendor at the market, but a chandelier above head enchanted to light on command. Convenient, but without meaning. 

     ❝   hogwarts   is   entirely   last   year   —   no   one   wants   to   hear   about   that   place   unless   you   know   who   sits   down   and   does   a   tell   all   about   his   own   time   there.   ❞   it   was   maddening,   xeno   felt   as   if   they’d   never   escape   the   confines   that   were   hogwarts   school   of   witchcraft   and   wizardry.   but,   he   was   curious   as   to   why   charity   burbage   wanted   some   gossip   herself.   ❝   if   you’re   simply   here   to   save   your   own   arse,   maybe   try   looking   yourself.   ❞   there   was   no   reason   for   them   to   be   mad   at   her,   but   xeno   was   overwhelmed,   annoyed   at   his   outside   circumstances,   and   unfortunately   taking   it   out   on   charity.   

     ❝   fine.   we   got   a   tip   last   month   that   dumbledore   makes   someone   do   his   cleaning.   laundry,   things   like   that.   satisfying,   or   total   garbage   ?   ❞ 

location: the junk shop. closed: charity burbage; @lovencharity

Aside from Ollivander’s, Georgette’s favorite shop was The Junk Shop. She never knew what she would find, the prices were low enough, she didn’t run into the uppity folk and there weren’t judging eyes on her. She was in her element digging around the boxes for treasure.

It wasn’t often she came across other people who appreciated the variety the store had to offer. Georgette wasn’t even sure the owner appreciated it the way she did, but she wouldn’t have known because there was never a formal introduction. Maybe the guy behind the counter was like her: loving the job you have but hating dealing with people. If that were the case, Georgette could respect that. If not, well, it didn’t really matter.

“Do-do-do,” Georgette hummed under her breath hoping she would find wand fragments. Some days she was luckier than others, but she always went through every box, making little noises and, uncharacteristically, bobbing her head. Georgette was happy, something she didn’t come by easily.

Lost in the music playing in her head, Georgette had let her guard down, not hearing someone come into the store. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she got a tap on the shoulder. No one grabbed their wand as fast as the wandmaker herself. She spun, terrified.

“Charity! What the – you should know –” Georgette took in a deep breath. “Hi,” she quietly exhaled. 

Perhaps  Charity  left  Hogwarts  more  often  than  was  recommended.  But  this  time  there  was  a  purpose.  The  junk  shop  was  rarely  different  from  any  other  thrift  store  she’d  wandered  into  and  that  was  the  entire  point.  On  the  ‘lower’  scale,  she  missed  being  around  the  creatives,  wix  or  muggle.  So  to  see  curious  eyes  scanning  curious  objects,  a  spark  of  recognition  come  over  them  as  they  marveled  as  something  seemingly  broken,  was  the  most  human  thing  of  all.  Of  course,  a  class  trip  could  not  exactly  be  sanctioned  but  from  the  Junk  Shop  to  the  closest  muggle  thrift  store,  a  new  lesson  plan  was  brewing  in  her  head.  

It  made  sense  to  pass  by  Georgette,  this  was  the  type  of  place  that  would  call  to  her.  That  would  be  an  interesting  guest  lecture  and  yet,  it  wasn’t  exactly  like  she  could  bring  in  some  other  type  of  inventor.  But  for  now  the  light  frustration  could  be  evaded  for  the  simple  pleasure  of  talking  to  someone  her  own  age.  

“Hello,  Georgette.”  it  was  the  softest  her  voice  had  been  in  a  while,  usually  favoring  her  ‘teaching’  voice  throughout  the  school  day.  “What  has  spoken  to  you  in  here?”  Her  eyes  drifted  over  the  rubble  like  bin,  catching  a  few  glimpses  of  something  glittering.

“is that right?” alice knew deep down that she wasn’t wrong – she arguably felt more like herself the last few weeks than she had in the last year. wry smile tugging at her lips as she felt Charity’s hand, cheek resting against the soft cushion as she turned to look at her, “you went back – that’s a bit different and far more forgivable than running” she joked, “how is it back there? is teaching everything you had hoped it to be?” 

eyes bright with curiosity, “cultural aspects? if you’re referring to the stuff that has them a tad loopy and preaching about how beautiful life is  - what a ride” she had seen quite a bit, didn’t understand the technical aspects of it - there were quite a few variations and they often came with a questionable smell, but alice was going to stick to good ol’ wine as her vice - she didn’t have the time to take a different kind of trip. “hopefully sooner rather than later” she sighed, reaching over for her glass – the red liquid swirling as she tucked her legs beneath her, “you won’t guess how ironic lady fate is – her sense of humour had left me a bit jarred on monday –” she started, sheepish smile at her lips as she met Charity’s gaze, “guess who my partner is?” 

The  reason  Charity  could  believe  her  own  words  is  for  how  little  she  felt  of  herself.    Certain  things  always  stayed  the  same.  She  had  questions,  she  was  controlled,  she  tried  not  to  indulge.  But  the  certainty  with  which  she  approached  the  day  seemed  rocked.  She’d  been  in  the  same  routine  for  at  least  three  years  now.  “It’s  filled  with  children,  Alice.”  Practically  a  confession,  albeit  an  obvious  one  fell  from  her.  “I    truly  cannot  believe  we  had  ever  perceived  ourselves  as  adults  back  then.”  Surely,  other  things  were  coming  up  especially  with  Muggle  Studies  needing  the  changes  she  desperately  wanted,  but  the  battle  was  uphill,  and  for  right  now  in  this  moment,  not  actually  in  front  of  her  face.