#lonelyglorystarter

The Hogs Head Inn was unusually quiet tonight. Aberforth spent the majority of the evening polishing glassware, which was a task he never did. After all, the glasses usually seemed clean enough after he ran them through the cycle a single time. He never could understand the added step of polishing a glass and quite frankly it wasn’t like his customers were complaining about his lack thereof either. He doubted they would even notice if the presentation one day miraculously improved. His broad range of clientele only seemed to care about one thing and that was the liquor; as long as it didn’t stop they were easy to appease.

It made his job a breeze—except for frigid winter nights such as this one when many found the potential risk of frostbite too excruciating to leave home. No customers meant there was no money to be made. A frustrated ( and slightly bitter ) Aberforth envisioned them all tucked in comfortably by their fireplaces just as the cedar he chopped outback this morning crackled over his own fire lighting the bar area. With the lack of body heat circulating through the vicinity tonight the small fire was the only source of heat. Aberforth barely felt the flames radiating against his temple, but it was enough to elicit a drop of sweat, which he carefully wiped from his gray threaded brows.

Just as he set the last glass down on the bar-top with a displeased sigh tracing the edges of his lips, the door swung open to reveal a cloaked figure standing in the door frame. The howling wind carried clumps of snow and other debris inside with them, but Aberforth didn’t mind. He was both stunned and relieved by the sudden change in dynamics; just one customer tonight would put his mind at ease—it would make him feel of use. “ Greetings, stranger! It’s awfully cold out there tonight, eh? Can I pour ya a drink to help ya get warm? ”

He’s been back in town for a few days and so it makes sense to fall back into old habits. The wizard is lying in wait outside a little cafe in Diagon Alley and he plucks the red-breasted sparrow out of the bright blue sky with his magic just to kill some time. It’s a robin - and one small killing curse later, Cassius watches as it lays on cobblestones until it’s tiny red-chest stops moving.

Not too long after, he spots a familiar bustle of robes. The person in question carries themselves in a way entirely different than Cassius and the Unspeakable watches as the other enters the store across from the bistro.

Let it never be said that Cassius Mulciber didn’t have a thing for dramatics. The young wizard decides to catch their target’s attention by catapulting the aforementioned bird to hit the window they are standing behind. The tiny winged thing almost drops to the stone floor but Cassius repeats the gesture twice - so that its thumping sounds like knocking. It works. They catch Cassius’ eye and Cassius gives them a grin that is more teeth than anything else. Like he’s looking for blood. 

He always is. 

They say that the devil himself was once an angel and that his reign in hell began after his fall from grace. There’s little that separates Cassius from Lucifer, but one major thing is this: Cassius’ fall from grace would have not been a fall - it would have been a saunter. Like now. Cassius saunters up and across from the cafe, hearing the tinkle of the bell as the door opens; an all too innocent herald to his entrance.  

Date: December 31st/January 1st, 1979

Location: The Leaky Cauldron

Availability: Open for everyone!

Three... two... one...

The battered old clock chimed midnight. A chorus of rowdy voices cheered, stomping their feet on the wooden floorboards. It was a new year, a fresh start. With a roll of her eyes, Alice turned her attention back to her cigarette. She shook her head, dark smoke pushing past her red lips. A likely story. She was drunk, not an idiot. The year may have changed, but the rest of the world never would.

Alice eyed the crowds of witches and wizards gathered in front of the bar. She pushed through the people and reached over the bar. She slammed a bag of coins on the bar with one hand and with the other, gripped a bottle of firewhiskey. Her dark eyes lit up at the label, it was one of the cheapest and nastiest brands. Her favourite.

"To 1979 being slightly less fucked up than 1978. Happy New Year!"

Alice held the bottle up to the crowd, before taking a swig from it. The liquor scorched her throat, searing every nerve and making her feel more alive than she'd done in weeks. She passed the bottle to the person next to her, with her lips curved into a smile.

The concept of second chances was something particularly foreign to Rodolphus. A mistake, small as it might be, would inevitably be repeated if one didn't suffer the consequences. He'd made that clear from the start. Every one of his employees knew what they were getting into when they signed their contracts, and yet, there were always those who seemed to think that following his rules was merely optional. And of course it was then left to him to replace them.

It was a pity, really. Alex, his latest personal assistant, had initially appeared to be a diligent, obedient person. Rodolphus would have thought he'd last longer and yet here he was, sitting behind his massive oak desk, a small pile of resumes in front of him. Presorted, of course. Jane, his secretary had seen to that. He had more important issues to see to. "You can send the next one through, Jane," he called into the outer office, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Wretched migraines. He’d kill for a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon right about now. Literally. Instead he called Jane back into the room again. “And have one of the interns get me a cup of tea. But not that dishwater they serve downstairs. I won’t have anything that’s not loose-leaf. Preferably Assam, a splash of lemon, no milk.”

At least Alex had always gotten that part right. Such a shame that he’d been tragically lacking in other departments.

When the door to his office opened again Rodolphus was halfway through his weekly report from  the auror office. (From what he could gather, he really ought to have a second look at their finances.) Holding up one finger to indicate that he was busy, his eyes never left the page. “Close the door quietly and take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute. Don’t touch anything.

Finishing the report was more a display of power than anything else. That, and he wanted to see how long his candidate could sit still without getting nervous. A while, it seemed, Rodolphus noted with a hint of satisfaction. Maybe this one wasn’t a complete simpleton.

Finally, Rodolphus looked up and folded his hands on the desk. His face did not betray his surprise. “Are you absolutely sure you’re here for the interview? If not, I suggest you make it quick. I’m on a tight schedule.”

It’d been enough to lose your mind, she thought.

That was all that Andromeda Tonks thought, as fingers numbed around the tray she’d been carrying. St. Mungos—the world—it all seemed to change with the blink of an eye, and her mind was lost. Lost to the truth. Biting her tongue, keeping mum. Wasn’t that what was expected now?

More and more hours were spent in the hospital, continuing her career—even when sensibility and right seemed to dismiss themselves inside of the world. Now, everyone moved in blurs. Shifting around her. It was like speed didn’t cease for the moment, as she found herself watching them move.

“Andromeda,” A voice sounded, the gentle tone of a co-worker, as they pulled her from the blurred and disfigured revere, focusing her hues on the woman. “Your shift is done, go home.”

Never mention the husband, though it wasn’t through shame, but keeping her work and private life separate. “Oh,” She muttered, shaking out loose curls, as hair fell from the clipped piece, as she reached up to coil it behind her ear. “I should go.”

With the echo of her words, and the strides that left her numb for that night, she felt lost in the world she’d once known. Hell, Andromeda had a ticket for safety, and she tossed it to the unknown—all for love. All for the thought of this irrevocable love, conceiving a child of that—she knew it was true. No doubt in her mind—but she always wondered. Could her sisters change her mind now? They so easily did, once upon a time, at the switch of their own needs.

Fingers gripped the bag, as it was slung over her shoulder. She followed the mass, as it exited the hospital, the path so familiar, it was senseless, and there at the entrance—her body collided with another.

“Merlin’s beard—“ Andromeda gasped, looking to the person in which she now shared mutual bruises. “I—oh. I’m. I’m sorry.”

Date: April 28th 1979 Time: 2.00 PM Location: Auror Office

Latest developments had forced her into a shock -- or at least she felt like it -- like she couldn’t move, not react to what’s to come. Rodolphus Lestrange, that bloody Pureblood. As a Muggleborn she knew just how little Muggles cared about clean and legit elections. With that in mind, Rodolphus’ win was almost inevitable. Still, she took every job she could get, worked more than usual to do something right in this world. And yet, as she looked towards the wall covered in newspaper articles, she only saw death and lies -- a dark future. Just a quick glance was enough to make her leave, just go out into the open, until she followed a trace -- there must’ve been someone, or something, leaving a trail of blood towards a dark alley, almost like in a horror movie, but far worse. “You might as well just surrender, punk,” she taunted, not realizing they could’ve been hurt for other reasons than fighting. “Come on, show yourself.”

“I don’t have much time, but I can spare a few minutes if you make it quick.” Ed replied to the person who had called out to him from the crowd. He slipped his pocket watch back into a inner pocket of his cloak as he waited for them to speak.