Location: Battle Valley, in front of the House of Bones
Time: 10am, December19th
Status: Closed, for @rottentothecarrow
Edgar was always either fifteen minutes early or six hours late. There was no in between. Considering this was an important appointment, he was fifteen minutes early today. The last thing he wanted was to disrespected Mister Carrow, who had so kindly accepted this job to help the House of Bones out.
The Magical Conservator had been invited to see the place a few months back already, when Edgar had given him a tour of the multitude of living spaces in the Valley of Battle near Hastings, which, grouped together, were called the House of Bones.
They had started in the Norman Courtyard, as it was mostly to be looked at, considering that every step could potentially be a step too far. “Fairies,” was all Edgar had said, trusting Carrow to see the rings for himself, and knowing any proximity to them could be dangerous.
Then they had made their way up the gothic building, to the Ivory Tower, where Edgar had, as always, fallen quiet. Caught by whatever strings of magic were strung around the place, reaching from painted star on the ceiling to the colourful mosaic on the ground and filling him with a thousand foreign thoughts. It was only with immense concentration that he managed to free himself and guide Carrow to the East Wing. The entire time there, he had not dared looking at him, as he knew that not everyone was as affected by the Tower as he was, and it felt like a breech of privacy to see to which kind of person Carrow belonged to; those who could feel the strings, or those who couldn’t.
In the East Wing he was mostly quiet as well, but because it felt like there was no need for words anyway. No Wix with a clear head had ever been blind to the ugly feeling that lay in the air there. Edgar was certain Carrow needed no explanation to notice that something was utterly wrong with the place. Whatever the reasons for this were, however, all the theories the family had come up with over the years, he didn’t say.
They only passed The Chapel briefly--leaving out the catacombs completely--but the strong scent of home cooked dinner was enough to make Edgar feel terribly hungry. Which was why he was glad Rigby had set up some cream tea in the West Wing, to which Carrow was cordially invited.
All of it had been an introduction to the House of Bones. Mostly wordless, as Edgar wanted to hear the Conservator’s judgement without any influences of background information. And because the Order had kept him quite busy in the following weeks, he had given him time to think about it; the theories he could come up with as well as whether he wanted the job at all. Who knew, perhaps the House of Bones was a hopeless case and Edgar would have to tell Caradoc that they’d have to work with the Hebrides Islands after all.
But, at least it seemed like Carrow wanted to give the job a try. So a second appointment was made.
I propose Saturday 19th of December, London Rd, Battle. Ten o’clock sharp?
At 9:45 Edgar stood before the rose bushes at London Road, which let no Muggles pass and behind which the House of Bones waited, seemingly shivering in the cold Winter morning’s air.
