THE TROUBLE GETS SO LOUD.

SO THE STORY GOES...

EARLY LIFE

The only (living) child of the Podmores—his father, the Head of the International Magical Trading Standards Body, and his mother, the owner of a number vintage fashion stores across the country. 

1979

During spring break, he went to visit family in Italy and found a secret, magical tunnel beneath an old Muggle church. After a weakness payment, Sturgis was given part of map to an unspecified location.

In the summer, Sturgis and Anita went on a student study program in Latin America where things went very bad. They thought the map lead to somewhere in Chile, so they began adventuring—only to meet some unsavory people seeking treasure. The group had Death Eater connections and believed Sturgis and Anita knew information about said treasures (they didn’t), so they abducted the pair and tried to force out information.

After weeks of dragging them across the country, it became clear Sturgis and Anita would not be helpful and the group decided to clean up their mess. Anita’s Borgin roots spared their lives, but it came at a price—Anita took all Sturgis’s memories from the incident, and the group of people abandoned them.

Sturgis struggled for months with the memory loss, noticing more gaps in his recollection and frequent bouts of forgetfulness. He also cut ties with his parents as they struggled with supporting Sturgis. Basically, was very depressed and it was all around not a great time.

But, after pursuing therapy in December, he began to feel more in control of his life. His relationships started to improve and he began feeling optimistic again as the months passed.

1980

Sturgis’s longtime boyfriend and lowkey love of his life, Danny, vanished in March. As time passed, Sturgis came to terms with the fact Danny was likely dead, and he began isolating himself from friends, stuck in grief. He also began abusing alcohol and drugs as a means to cope.

Sturgis permanently moved to Egypt after graduation, where he completed curse-breaker training. He had limited interaction over the summer with friends and family.

Hours prior to the borders closing in Egypt, Sturgis was able to secure safe passage for he and Elizabeth Dayal to Italy, where he also maintains citizenship. With help from the McKinnons, the pair finally arrived home to the U.K. mere days before the Statute fell. 

His job as a curse-breaker is on hold for the time being, until things calm down in the U.K., which has caused Sturgis great stress. He temporarily moved into Marlene’s Banchory cottage. 

When Fiendfyre Fitness was attacked by Death Eaters in November, Sturgis rushed to the scene. With the help of Anita Shah, they mended a burst pipe and extinguished flames. 

On Danny’s birthday, Sturgis attempted to take his life. He survived, thanks to Esmeralda Macnair, who eventually offered him refuge in December. He accepted the offer, having difficulty maintaining sobriety since exiting St. Mungo’s. 

1981

In January, Sturgis moved out of Macnair Manor and into a suite at the Copse on Wiggentree Way in London. He also began work as a freelance curse-breaker, specializing in protective home wards and security. 

KISS & TELL

1974

19 - 31 January / Marlene McKinnon / committed relationship

1978

March - April / Daphne Davenport / casually dated

Summer 1978 / Briar Pritchard / friends with benefits

31 December / Danny Geist / one night stand

1979

26 January - 8 February / Danny Geist / “friends” with benefits

8 February - 30 March, 1980 / Danny Geist / committed relationship

1980

21 August / Marlene McKinnon / one night stand

2 September - December / Elizabeth Dayal / friends with benefits

The last full moon was a week behind her and the next not for another three nearly; today was one of the happiest, most normal days of the month for her now and it showed in her smile, in the care she’d put into her hair and her clothes, in the healthy glow of her cheeks. Today Tabby felt more like the bubbly girl she’d once been than she had in a very, very long time. 

“You?” Her brows rose high. She recalled all of her own faux paus, but graciously could laugh about them now. The hot cup felt comforting between her palms. “My sister says I’m too eager and it’s strange that I reply so quickly to my messages. It may just be my nature,” she joked. It wasn’t though. Well, it was but it wasn’t why she’d replied to him, specifically. “But she habitually leaves me on read, which you probably could have guessed, and I think that feels much worse.” 

Eager was nice, Sturgis decided. There was a certain earnestness about Tabby that made him enjoy her presence. No false pretenses, nor behavior that kept his guard firmly raised There was a welcoming warmth to her, and after a long time of roaming in the darkness, it felt nice to step into her sunlight. “I have a confession to make.” He laughed breathily. “I’ve a bad habit about leaving people on read. It’s an accident, for the most part. I think it’s just, I get pulled away and forget; then days pass, and I feel like a proper arse that I’ve forgot about the person for a day or two.” He had been quick to answer Tabby, though, but that was beside the point. 

“It’s funny, because I don’t take offense to people doing that to me. We all have busy lives. But when I realize I’ve done it, I think about how much of a prick it makes me.” He paused for a beat. “I probably need to reevaluate my relationship while the whole iFlown thing.” 

“Shit,” Peter breathed. For a boy who knew many words, he said few of them. “I’ve just been keeping my uncle’s in a desk drawer.” He couldn’t hold back the grimace as he considered his own ineptitude. A Gringott’s Vault, that’s where you should keep things of value. Except Peter had never had anything of value in his life, so when he’d come into the few possessions of his uncles that supposedly were how would he know what to do with them? 

Peter could tell the other boy was guarded on the matter, but he showed his hand anyway when he asked, “You want to compare them sometime?” His heart hammered hard in his chest, he felt he was on the precipice of a huge win and it was contingent on the next words out of a mere stranger’s mouth. Without meaning to, he found himself tracing the lines in the stone yet again, drawn to the power of them. This was something. He knew it was. 

For better or worse, Sturgis found himself thrown back into the ring. “Yeah,” he nodded, attempting to feign confidence but fearing he merely came across as guarded and opaque. “We ought to do that.” He lifted his gaze, hazel eyes meeting Peter’s followed by a reassuring nod. “I’ll be in touch.” And with that, he made his exit, desperate to put space between himself and the emotions that sought to bubble to the surface. 

Peter didn’t know exactly what it was he expected his companion to say, but whatever he might have expected it certainly wasn’t that. He ran the odds of this meaning something in his head, it was something Peter wasn’t very good at but which he enjoyed nonetheless because it made him feel more confident in the gambles he made. 

He believed in luck more than odds though, so even when they were unlikely he usually chose to take the risk anyway. After all, maybe it was luck that had merged their paths together today. However against the odds it might have seemed for them to genuinely be on to something. “What did you do with it?”

“It almost got me killed,” Sturgis added a little too sharply. But the fact of the matter was, he should have been dead. It was a fact that now, given his memories of that summer had returned, he wasn’t keen on forgetting. “I have it in a vault at Gringott’s.” He thought, for a moment, that he ought not to share these facts plainly with a stranger. But then another thought came to the surface, that even if someone managed to break into a complex virtually impenetrable, Sturgis didn’t care what happened. The trauma of it all still lingered. Too soon, he thought. It was too soon to fall down this rabbit hole again. 

“You know,” Sturgis added after handing Tabby the tea he brought her. “I half expected you not to answer my texts.” He sipped at his own tea, happy to be outside, walking through greenery, only slightly chilled in the blossoming spring air. “I thought I’d botched it the first time.” 

Peter considered himself somewhat an expert in language, and body language was no exception to that. He clocked Sturgis’ discomfort the moment he turned around to answer, he just wasn’t sure what to do about it. He only hoped it didn’t meant Sturgis was about to bow down or, worse, snitch. 

He stepped back from the wall, giving Sturgis plenty of space, and then cast a bright light from his wand over the carvings. “There,” he pointed to the one of the deeper grooves, “that’s a lake, I’d bet. Maybe a quarry. The quarry? It was too early to say. The world was made of pockets of water, who knew where this one might be? “And over there, I think that’s a mountain range.” 

Or, maybe it was just a pattern in the stone, worn by water, and Peter was only seeing what he wanted to see. “My uncle had a lot of maps,” he offered, somewhat conversationally. Peter realized technically, what he should have said since his uncle’s passing was that Peter had a lot of maps. He’d just never had use to look through them before. 

Sturgis swallowed hard, banishing the bile in his stomach. He shoved his hands into pockets, praying they would cease shaking. He loathed this feeling, the lack of control, the haunted sensation of the past he could never change—no matter how hard he tried. He blinked, feeling wetness in his eyes but refusing to let any tears spill down his cheeks. It was embarrassing. Sturgis felt embarrassed. 

“I can’t say I’m particularly gifted with cartography,” he managed to choke out. It helped, focussing on the map. Swallowing whatever emotion desperately wanted to crawl out of him. “But—” He cleared his throat. “I found a map similar to this a couple of years ago.” 

Peter didn’t notice his companion’s lack of awe, too busy with his own abundance of it. Because there it was revealed to him, that same electric and violent blue piercing through the dark. Sturgis saw nothing, but Peter had to shield his eyes from the glow emanating from the cave wall. It illuminated pathways in the rock, ones that appeared to be formed by a constant drip and trickle of water throughout the years; one that Peter recognized to be something else. A topographical map. 

Eyes still adjusting, he ran his weathered palms over the rock again, understanding this time what he felt. “It’s a map,” he whispered, gaping at the section of cave. “It’s a map.” When he repeated the words they were louder than before. A map to what though? And was it really up to two strangers to find out? 

Hazily, Peter thought of his uncle. He had lived and died hunting treasures Peter could scarcely imagine. Peter knew that he itched to tack that same gamble. In a few short months University would be over for Peter. He knew that and it struck him with dread. What would he do after that? Peter didn’t feel ready to do the things he should be ready to do, like apply at the Ministry for translator positions, or find a place to live, or, or, or… 

This could be the answer to it all, he thought. An adventure. (More like a distraction).

It’s a map. 

Sturgis found himself positive of only one thing, that he was moments away from this throat closing. That air would no longer seep into his lungs and he would crumble onto the ground like discarded paper. Because physically he was here, deep inside ruins long discovered and seen by wixen. But mentally, he was trapped within a memory. A memory once lost but found again. Fragmented, yet clear enough. A time that felt like another life, when he, too, found a map. A map that lead him to nothing but his own misery and suffering. 

He wanted to vomit. 

“Can I see it?” His voice was thick, hoarse. He licked his lips, hoping that he would summon the strength to pull his mind back to the present. To be here, not there. Not in a place of pain in suffering. In a memory that visited him only in nightmares bathed in dusty moonlight. 

Peter stared at where he thought he’d seen something, and when staring didn’t help he reached out, running his hands over the cool cavern wall trying to feel for an anomaly. “Nothing,” he said, at first to himself in disbelief, and then again turning to face Sturgis. “Nothing.” He laughed, somewhat nervously, one hand reaching up behind his head to scratch at his neck. “iFlown flash?” he suggested, but even if his ego was quick to let go of the topic of his mistake, his logical mind wasn’t. He had seen something. The hair on his arms stood on end as another wave of heat hit him. 

Peter had spent the better part of his university education “minoring” in finding secret passages. If there was one here, he wasn’t going to pass it up. 

“Fuck that.” He could no longer see or hear any of the your group ahead of them. “Help me push.” Peter braced both hands again against the wall, not carefully this time. Beaten though his trainers were their rubber soles held as he pushed, grunting to no avail. “Or, uh,” he could have thought of it sooner, “maybe your wand?”

But it wasn’t nothing, and despite having nothing but his gut to go on, Sturgis sensed something. A feeling roaring to life within him, begging to be considered. A familiar energy that he hadn’t sensed since rushing to a portkey many months before. Eyes wide and scanning, heartbeat quickening, the tour group putting distance between them. Sturgis positioned himself in front of the wall, hands already reaching for his wand as Peter inquired about it. “Stand back.” And then, he pointed the wood to the wall. Revelio. Immediately, mist formed around them, but nothing budged. Sturgis’s brows knitted together in frustration. 

“Mm, haven’t you learned you can’t tell me what to do by now?” She said with a smile. He was trying, that counted for something. He switched the focus to her and she tried not to bristle. She could talk about herself with Sturgis. “You know me. I was built to survive.” It was like it was programmed into her brain. Survive at all costs, and she had. Granted, being back in the UK offered much better survival rates than their time in Egypt had.

“No. I’m a stubborn bastard. It takes awhile for me to learn any lesson.” A smirk finally carved its way onto his lips. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Sturgis added with a genuine warmth. “Come on.” His head tilted toward the door. “Let me buy you a coffee.” They had plenty to catch up on. Sturgis was more than patient. 

“And I… promise not to bring her digestive health up unprompted.” She struggled not to laugh through the words; ridiculous as this whole encounter had been that proved hard. Each time she pulled herself together over one comical turn she remembered another. It would not be a day she’d soon forget was the point. Whether that was because of the official Werewolf Registry paperwork in that folder she clutched, or the interesting boy who had picked them up off the ground, or a combination of the both didn’t matter. What had been one of her worst mornings had turned to a happy afternoon. There was hope left for her to overturn yet. Tabitha thought she’d better get to work. She handed his phone back to him. “EBENEZER” the screen read, with a tabby cat emoji beside it. 

The Q word was enough to convince Andi to take down the grey cloud over her head, and hang a cartoon bubble on the nail instead, with the word PHEW flashing neon inside. “Yeah, me either. But he was my dad, and I have a meeting back there, and—” The chances of someone with little to no interest in quidditch – who didn’t even smirk at the mention of her iconically tragic father – being worried about blood status were either very slim, or very good.

Andi gave it up to whatever deity was responsible for the streets of London at that hour, and shrugged her empty palms skyward. “No wand.”

“Oh, really?” Sturgis couldn’t confirm this, nor did he really care to. But he did recall the gory details of Fabius Watkins’s death and decided not to get into the specifics. Fortunately, they seemed to move onto another subject—one that he could actually provide assistance with. “Ah.” He stuck out an arm, deciding that he could enter into the Leaky Cauldron and leave just as quickly. In an out in a flash, without having to even think of it. 

“I suppose I can help with that.” 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “I hear you. Kind of like going to the fair as a kid. I’d beg and beg for ride tickets, then get all apprehensive waiting in line and by the time it’d be my turn I wouldn’t even want to get on. Seems more fun to picture yourself doing it than to actually do it. It’s not, obviously. Just seems like it until you commit to it.”  

“You noticed that too?” Peter took another toke, stared too long at the joint, decided he was being paranoid and snuffed it out on the wall only to tuck it back behind his ear. “Probably just…” Peter stopped. Being at the back of the line, it didn’t seem to matter to anyone else. “Did you see that?” Peter took a few steps back. “I thought I just saw something shine through there.”

“I suppose a lot of things are easier, or more manageable at the least, in theory.” But Sturgis was already considering another curiosity, one that compelled him to pay attention far more to his surroundings than keeping pace with the tour group. Something was off; he just couldn’t place what yet. Then, he turned to see the light in question—or, at least try to. “Where exactly?” 

“Uh—”

Words were not Andi’s strong point, and they never had been. They fit too comfortably in her mouth, the more the merrier, pouring without much thought or discrimination like Willy Wonka’s chocolate fountain. Her mother had prepared speeches for her a long time ago, little monologues that helped her navigate the world without running into trouble for who she was. But that was when there had only been one obvious enemy. To cut it down now, and eliminate all the unfriendly words that didn’t fit into the narrow overlap between Death Eater and Muggle—

Andi should have asked for help before now. Now, when it was way beyond too late. From the sandpaper roof of her oral cavity, she pried away her tongue, and tried not to trip over it.

“There’s a, um— I’m trying to get to, like, a quality supplies shop?” What was meant to sound light sounded instead shallow and hollow. Swallowing an ounce of pride, and running on the rush of the potential threat to her life, Andi recalibrated, quietly. “Does the name Fabius Watkins mean anything to you?”

Sturgis tilted his head to the side, not sure he really understood what this person needed—particularly from him. He cleared his throat. “Much more to my friend. I’m not much a quidditch person, if we’re being honest.” 

Tabby wished she could bury her face in her hands and hide, but it wasn’t an option with her paperwork under one arm and a drink in her other hand. She had to face this head on, had to watch him splutter and cough and… laugh? He was laughing, and that was such a relief to her that she had to laugh too. And since it could not possibly get any more awkward, she decided she might as well come right out and ask before they could part ways, drinks in hand “Can we do this on purpose sometime?”

Sturgis chuckled again, smile brightening his face. “I’d like that.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iFlown, then handed it to Tabby. “Why don’t you give me your number? And I promise to limit my questions about your nana’s digestive health.” 

“My nana says it keeps her regular.” Her face froze in a shape that mimicked some genre of horror. “Annnd I cannot believe I just said that out loud to a stranger.” If she hadn’t been cradling the paper cup between her hands she didn’t know what she’d do with them. “That is so awkward. I don’t know why I say these things. You are probably never going to want to cross paths with me again,” which she wouldn’t fault him for, “and here I was thinking I’d ask for your number. Instead I bring up…. my nana’s digestive health.” And, most unfortunately of all, by extension her own digestive health. Which wasn’t great, by the way. A wolf’s diet did not a happy human stomach make.

Without waiting for his coffee to cool, Sturgis took a sip, which proved to be a grave mistake. Not only was the beverage incredibly hot (a fact that shouldn’t have taken him by surprise), but at that precise moment he also learned of Tabby’s nana’s bowel movements. Naturally, he chocked on the liquid, face turning a blotchy flush as he attempted to stifle the cough—which only made him grow more scarlet. 

“Sorry,” he managed to slip out between labored breaths. “That just—” He cleared his throat, hoping to gain some semblance of ease. “That took me off guard.” And then, Sturgis smiled and laughed. What else was there to do but poke fun at this all, anyway? 

“And was funny. But, I’m glad to hear your nana is regular. I hear old people struggle with that often.” He laughed again.

Whatever chill Sturgis felt hit Peter too, but he dismissed it assuming it was just the drugs and took another drag. “I’d totally go into space,” he didn’t even have to think about it. “I mean, like, not alone or anything. You’d go balls to the walls bonkers alone in space, I think.” Up ahead, the tour guide mentioned something about a single file line through the next crevice. “But with some mates? Totally.”

“Yeah,” Sturgis concurred. “I don’t know if I ever would, if I’m being honest. I’d like to think of myself as that brave in theory. But in practice?” He exhaled sharply as he filed behind the wixen ahead. Sturgis shivered, which shouldn’t have been odd, given they were in a cave. Except for the fact that a moment before, they were unbearably warm. 

“It’s odd, how the temperature keeps fluctuating between boiling and freezing.”