#*gif chat

@amelie-lejuste​

He has no idea how he got talked into this. The soft, fuzzy part of him thinks that maybe he let her talk him into this because he was insufferable to her the other day. The other part of him, the survivor part, thinks that maybe she might be right about these idiotic eggs. Maybe something was afoot, though why it would be connected to silver eggs he hadn’t a clue. Regardless, he had scrounged through his wardrobe to find something Muggle, and had come up with bell bottoms and a v-neck jumper. He pulled them on and moaned. He looked ridiculous. Really, what are these Muggles thinking? 

The car was something he had been dreading above all. Anyone who knew him knew he didn’t trust Muggle cars. Muggles died in car accidents all the time. Yet, here he was, pulling open the door to a Ford Cortina with a little more force than was absolutely necessary. He had to drive to the ministry. Drive! At least, he told himself, he had plenty of snacks for what would undoubtedly be a long stake out. 

As soon as he was parked, he nearly ran to the visitor’s entrance of the Ministry. Once he was safely inside, he sent an inter-office memo to Amelia, informing her that he was ready, ignoring the glances from the wizards milling around him. 

@edgar-j-bones​

Shetland stretched before him—green rolling hills, frothy blue waters, rocky cliffs. Nostalgia rolled in his stomach. Merlin, he had missed being home. For so many years he had made the treacherous, not to mention long, journey from Shetland to London. Part of the journey was done on broomstick, part of it by floo, and the last leg required him to walk through Muggle London. It was brutal, but he hadn’t minded it. It meant he could be home at night, with Rosie, a cup of coffee (decaf) and a slice of pie. 

That was years gone, now. Shetland became part of his looming past, the past that had done its best to drag him down. His home was now a dingy London flat above the shops in Diagon Alley, that had one single couch, a table, and a bed. It was miserable. 

Yet, here he was. Home. Rosie was bounding through the grass, happy as anything. He was happy to sit and wait for Ed to arrive, but the grass was muddy and uneven, so he went closer to the shore. It was peaceful, even with the waves thrashing against the rocks. 

Alastor, having been run ragged by work and Order duties, had nearly forgotten he had promised Ed he would fortify the wards around his flat. Nearly. It was ten till, last he checked his watch, and he still needed to pick up something for Ella. Weaving his way through Diagon Alley, he finally finds the toy shop, and procures a very sweet looking teddy bear. It was born, fuzzy, and giggled when you tickled it. A quick run under his wand and he was satisfied that it wasn’t harmful. Once purchased, he Apparated to Ed’s place with a pop! 

“Ed, man! Ye around?”