& efflorescence.

            “So you mean to tell me that these founders all had alliterative names? That’s just ... oddly coincidental. It sounds like a fairytale, to be honest, it just cannot be that they all had alliterative names. They either changed them in order to sound more interesting or it’s made up.”

                “It’s all part of the creative process,” she said to the person sitting next to her, turning her hands around. “Not just sloppiness.”

                         “Shit. How the hell is it already past midnight?”

She liked teaching, for example. REALLY liked teaching. While it had never been a career she had considered ( it took patience, and she had little of it ), she was good at it. Another thing she had found out, was that she simply couldn’t do without surrounding herself with people --- she had Bryn, who she was linked to through experience, but genuinely liked, but also found herself connecting with more people, with her students. She let her students depend on her, even, and AILYN, being dependable? It was nearly laughable.

She had thought she hadn’t changed, that she could still continue being a solitary, self-serving being, but it simply wasn’t so. She had changed, and it was more than confusing.

“Hey,” she murmured, entering the dorm and giving Bryn a bit of a smile. A tired one, but one that also showed that she was glad to see the other. Ailyn sat down on her bed, stifled a yawn. “It’s insane out there. I mean, it was worse during the wedding, but still. I’m glad it’s quiet here. How are you?”

“hey, hey, shh,” cal spoke quietly to his sister as he bounced her in his arms. the toddler had reddened cheeks, wet from the tears that were streaming down them. her little hand clutched a fist full of his shirt as she continued to sob. she’d had a bad dream, and was in need of comfort, which of course her brother was always there to give. “s’okay, cassie. we’re okay.” he reassured her as best he could, but she continued crying. his eye flicked up to someone standing in front of him, and he forced out a smile. “uh… sorry. did she wake you?”

He wanted to say yeah, actually, she did, but he cut his tongue and just looked at the little girl for a second. While Zach liked his sleep and valued it deeply -- he couldn’t perform when sleepy, couldn’t afford being sloppy -- he wasn’t going to bark at a kid holding a younger kid. “It’s fine,” he said in stead, stifling a yawn. “Just wanted to make sure nothing bad was going on.” That was a lie; he’d come fully prepared to complain loudly, but he’d changed his mind last minute. “Is she okay?”

Curled in the corner of an empty classroom, where no one could touch her, Juliana had her eyes trained on the door left ajar. She hadn’t bothered to close it all the way, and supposed that was for the best; that way, she could see exactly who was coming towards her and when. A figure she couldn’t make out shifted in the doorway, and Juliana called out. “Someone’s in here!” She did her best to keep her voice steady.

He turned around the corner, finding a younger woman -- Juliana Rookwood, if he remembered correctly -- curled on a chair. “Alright,” Zach said, one eyebrow raised. He didn’t understand why she would announce that the way she did, but didn’t comment on it --- there were more pressing issues than trying to comprehend the castle’s population ( most people confused him, in all honesty ). “We’re clearing this floor, so if you could go sit somewhere else, that’d be much appreciated.” He looked her over for a second, wondered if she was okay, but didn’t ask it. If there was something important going on, he supposed that she’d tell him, and if not, they’d both be better off not addressing it.

Valeria was healed, in her opinion; disregarding completely the bandage on the back of her head, the cast on her wrist, and the faded bruising around her neck—much less stark than it had been a day ago thanks to the grossly pungent paste Madame Pomfrey had been applying—she was more than ready to leave the Hospital Wing. “I want to leave—-I’m fine, I just want to sleep in my own bed, and—-I’m not a prisoner, you can’t keep me here!”

For someone who called herself self-aware, she surprised herself quite a lot, Ailyn found. Four months, she would have never expected herself to be in the infirmary to check up on one of her students, but here she was, with a concerned look on her face and feeling of responsibility in her chest and all. Before she could reach the bed of her student, though, she was distracted by the words of Valeria Carrow, and she turned on her heel, one eyebrow raised. “I’m sure that if you’re stealthy about it, you could sneak out. Pomfrey and the others are ... understandably quite busy, so I doubt they’d notice if you try hard,” she said, understanding Valeria’s wish to get out --- back in the day, whenever she was stuck there for Quidditch related injuries, she just wanted to get out, too. It smelled weird in the infirmary, and all the white didn’t do wonders for her. “Though, if I may be frank, you don’t look quite fine. But maybe that bandage around your head just ... makes you look pale.”

Open starter.

The Great Hall.

Dinnertime was always stressful for Thalia. The noise and the above average commotion always made her want to run as far as her feet could take her within the wards. She’d never quite liked crowded spaces and her first year at Hogwarts had been a struggle, trying to figure out when and where she should sit. At least then, though, she had a table to go to. Now, as she scanned the lines of faces, unable to find anyone whom she recognized, Thalia felt like she might just fall over. Heart pumping, veins dancing, she wandered to the nearest spot and pointed. 

“Mind if I sit?” she asked, quietly, hoping that her voice rose above the noise surrounding them. 

They had been reading an old Quibbler edition when a familiar voice broke their concentration. Luna could be nostalgic, at times, liked rereading articles their father had written before everything went down. ( They wondered if he was alive, still, and felt a familiar grief weigh in her chest when they thought about the slimness of the chance that he was. ) “Oh, not at all,” they said, looking up and giving Thalia a small smile. “Sit, please.” They gestured to the empty spot next to them, closed their magazine --- it was battered, properly old, and could have been a collectible if people still cared about fickle things like that. “Had a good day?”

“hey, hey, shh,” cal spoke quietly to his sister as he bounced her in his arms. the toddler had reddened cheeks, wet from the tears that were streaming down them. her little hand clutched a fist full of his shirt as she continued to sob. she’d had a bad dream, and was in need of comfort, which of course her brother was always there to give. “s’okay, cassie. we’re okay.” he reassured her as best he could, but she continued crying. his eye flicked up to someone standing in front of him, and he forced out a smile. “uh… sorry. did she wake you?”

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry, I was up,” she said, glancing at the little kid with a bit of a smile. She liked kids --- sure, she wasn’t the best at handling them, but she thought them funny little things, and when they were as young as this particular kid, she found them adorable. “If you want her to be quiet, I know some charms that’ll shut her right up.” She grinned a little, before adding, “Joke. Obviously,” just in case he didn’t it. Using magic to shut kids up didn’t seem like good parenting. Or good morals. “Will she be okay? Can I do something? She’s --- she’s like proper cute. Or he.”

Nessie knew that she’d looked better, but she also knew she’d looked much, much worse. Anyway, worrying all that much about appearance in the middle of a war seemed like a waste of time, especially when the blood smeared across her face didn’t belong to her in the first place. She huffed, dropping a pile of freshly stolen mostly not-torn clothing on the floor. Perhaps not the nicest way to treat her prize, but the woman was exhausted and could honestly care less about preserving it perfectly. 

     – “Do you think this is enough?”

Maybe this wasn’t his brightest idea, especially just coming back from a supply run. He was only suffering from a slight scratch on the back of his hand from a prickly bush. But the supply run was a success, managing to grab half a bag of non-perishable food and vegetables that were growing in a forgotten backyard. And he managed to put those in storage. 

Lysander held the pack of gum in his hand. “Look, I’m not supposed to do this, but they don’t know I got this.” Lysander brought up. Technically, he took the gum for himself. He did have intentions of chewing it, at one point. “I need a blue crayon or colored pencil. Kinda on the teal mark. Kinda like my hair color.” Which was teal-like-blue and had been all day. Lysander liked to consider it as ‘his color of the day’. 

“I’ll give ya’ the whole pack for one crayon or pencil. Ya? Help a wannabe-Picasso out, will you?”

They should disapprove, this they knew. Luna, as a parent, was supposed to reprimand their son for doing such a thing, but they only smiled. Breaking rules so you can make art: now that was something only Luna’s son would do, something Luna would have done, had they been younger and less occupied. ( They still painted, but not often enough --- there was a lack of supplies, of time, of everything but inspiration. )

“I just have paint,” they said, frowning apologetically. They wondered if they should tell Ginny, just in case, but knew the other would find at as amusing as they did. “And you can always borrow that, as long as you don’t use it all. I don’t need to trade.” They didn’t like gum much, anyway, and to trade with Lysander would just be odd. “What are you planning on making? Teal’s a good colour, but which others are you planning on using?”

“I have long-appreciated being in the company of living legends,” Hugo couldn’t help but grin at his former Headmistress. Like his parents and uncle, she took it all in stride - the respect, admiration, expectations - and he wondered what it was like to carry the morale of a community on one’s shoulders. “In-dubitably.” Shaking hands poured a mug of hot water and plopped a tea bag inside, while an enchanted tray brought the mug, milk and sugar to the professor. “What is it that the more…religious muggles do? Exorcisms? I wonder if it takes a ritual to get the likes of Peeves out of here.” 

“Now, now, Mr Weasley ... you sure are full of compliments today,” she said, somewhat amused, hiding the way she felt slightly flattered. She had felt the same, though, working with Albus --- while he had been her friend, it was simply good to be around someone who was already so accomplished. Not that she compared herself to the likes of him, though; Minerva thought that arrogant. “I think it would take a ritual for sure. Peeves won’t go easily, if he even goes.” She eyed him for a moment, pursing her lips together. “How are you holding up?”

“ghosts is the term usually used where i’m from. america.” he shrugged his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his sister, who had a leg on either side of his hip as she began to fall asleep in his arms. “i never really believed in them. never really believed in magic until…” he was having trouble wrapping his head around it all. “i think so. sorry. accents and new words confuse me.”

“Ah, that makes sense. They’re a type of ghost, a particularly nasty one, too,” she said, still cursing Peeves mentally. “It’s a lot to take in, I imagine.” Minerva had broken the news of the wizarding world a few times, to muggleborns, but this was a much more complicated situation. “If you ever have any questions, I’m sure some of the magical teachers would be glad to clear some stuff up.” She would want to do so, too, but she had too little time on her hands to explain everything. Minerva missed teaching, even now. “Is that your sister?”

Lexi blew a bit of hair out of her face, trying to think about how, exactly, to frame her thoughts. “It’s just-—it’s a frustrating situation, you know? And I do really believe that we’re doing something useful and important with the council, or else I wouldn’t be doing it, but sometimes-—” she sighed, breaking off, glancing wryly at Ailyn. “Sometimes, it’s very evident how little any of us can be sure of, and it can be very frustrating to work through these situations when we don’t always agree on the potential variables.” Generally, Alexandria didn’t feel the need to open up about things-—it was a gateway to asking for personal help, which, god forbid, no-—but this was a fairly unspecific thing, being frustrated with the situation, and one which likely applied to many people in the castle, and more to the point, this was Ailyn. Not that sharing was their thing, per se-—just, if she was going to say anything, unspecific as it may have been, Ailyn was a good choice.

How glad she was to not be on the council. Sure, Ailyn supposed she had some experience with government ( she worked in the international magical office of law for years, after all ) and that, perhaps, she could grant some good perspectives with her title as historian, she didn’t have the energy for precisely that reason. Ailyn knew this situation was really tough to manage, if not impossible, and that while there were skilled researchers and dedicated people in the castle ( herself excluded ), the future looked bleak. And then there was the whole having to work with people business that she just ... was in no headspace for. “I can imagine,” she said, humming in agreement. “There’s so many different people on that council, and I do wonder if all of them are qualified.” She only thought of Ron Weasley when she said that, as well as the muggle woman, but only because she didn’t know her --- Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Professor McGonagall seemed experienced enough --- but she didn’t feel like naming anyone. “And maybe it’s just too small, too? Ten people to run ... this? It’s little. Of course, there is the leaders of departments, but I wonder if this is the best way to run it all. I mean, I always wonder whether a certain government is best, even in peaceful situations, so this is no exception, but still. I wonder.” She paused a moment, before cocking her head to the side. “I’m glad you’re on it, though, that council is so ... Gryffindor-run.”

Molly clapped. “Perfect! Cheers,” she said, grinning at her cousin. Roxanne really was the perfect person to be pursuing this venture with, really. Molly loved all of her relatives to the absolute end of the line, and would never dream of wishing them to all be the same, but this was definitely the kind of atmosphere and idea which Molly had always found her cousin to exude, and loved about her. “Honestly! Fuck rows, we could have just had everyone relaxing and getting back along with the help of a good ol’ chick flick!” Molly was a big believer in the power of the chick flick. Of course, she thought they had their issues-—why did the women always have to own a bakery or a bookstore or work in journalism or something? Molly rather thought most chick flicks and rom-coms could be improved by new job occupations, but she loved them anyway-—but they were fun and silly and always worked out happily in the end, which Molly appreciated greatly, and thought would be a good quality to bring into the castle right now. “Oh my God, yeah, definitely!” Molly enthused. She decided to flop down on one of the pillows, and leaned back into it, wedging another pillow behind her as a good backrest. “I never understood why anyone made a fuss about him anyway,” she said, looking at Roxanne and wrinkling her nose. “Like, he’s not that fit, and then he’s also gross? Like, that personality-—ugh. Zero out of ten, would not bang, yuck.” 

“You’re absofruitly welcome!,” she quipped, grinning still. This was what she looked for, wherever she went; lighthearted conversation that reminded her of before. She needed it, frankly, would lose track without it. Roxanne Weasley was no one if she was not loud and present, if she didn’t try to laugh at least daily. “Imagine McGoogles bringing some real old movies to EDUCATE the children, too! Man, it’d have been a blast, we would have unified the whole damn castle.” The idea of there being film related activities at Hogwarts was something that got her absolutely hyped --- they were an excellent method of story telling and portraying topics that are so hard to put into words. Besides, they were good fun, especially shitty comedies, and Roxanne loved a good laugh. “I mean, I’m not attracted to any men, but him? He just ... puts me off them a bit more, and I thought I couldn’t get any more gayer. He made me realise that I wasn’t the Ultimate Level of lesbian, though,” she said, laughing a little before shaking her head in disgust. “He could’ve been a great character, but alas, he was ... just made into a mopey guy with shit hair. A true tragedy.”