#spellnbone

@spellnbone​ at the House of Bones 10 March 1982 with a box of sneakoscopes

Edgar had spent most of his life in the shadows. Of Amelia’s, of his classmate’s, of Caradoc’s. He didn’t mind that. Stars were famously known to be seen best when it was truly dark around you, and anyone who knew Edgar also knew that his gaze was always guided skywards. But there was something to be said about the House of Bones: it was dark. And Edgar didn’t like it.

While his siblings had hurried to fit into the rainy, cold English life they had been made to suddenly lead twenty years ago, Edgar and his father had never stopped shivering. The Mexican sun was an old, old memory to them by now, but still a vivid one. Never had they grown to like the darkness of this island, a darkness emphasised by the thick Norman castle walls of this house.

The darkness in here was the only shadow Edgar had never grown fond of.

With a heavy heart he had watched the Order move in, helped them with instructions and guided them through the different parts of the East Wing, introducing them to the quirks of the house – at least the ones he was aware of. He’d done his best to be accomodating, to make this place accommodating, but at the end of the day it was but a house full of cold shadows.

Frank didn’t see him leaning against the fireplace, smoking quietly, and he didn’t seem to notice him until Edgar was by his side, crouching on the floor, a helpful hand already extended. Edgar didn’t look at him, the same way he hadn’t rushed to help, just moved to pick up what had been dropped as though he was alone and it had been his fault, the cigarette between his lips.

As soon as the box had collided with the ground, there was another hand at Frank’s side, picking up the sneakoscopes that had toppled onto the floor. The surprise nearly knocked Frank over as he crouched to help pick up the mess—he hadn’t realized that there was someone at the house.

(Of course there was someone here; this was headquarters!)

“Merlin’s—” He spotted the cigarette before he could identify the person who had come to his assistance, and before Frank could greet Edgar he was immediately drowned out by a high-pitched whistle.

There was a reason that very few Aurors were fond of sneakoscopes—more often than not they were left at field offices as a (rather unnecessary) secondary precaution. Frank couldn’t be sure that the impact with the box on the ground had activated them.

Benjy took a look at the notes on the parchment Emmeline left for him carefully, using one finger to read down the list of things he was supposed to do for Edgar before allowing any sort of discharge. While Edgar had gotten much better during the rest the day before, it was still important they monitored him for any sort of change before letting him go.

“Uh... it says here that you’re supposed to take this,” Benjy said, looking at Edgar once before back down at the parchment. “I need to mix it first, one second.” As he put two scoops of the potion into a glass and added a quick solution, mixing it with his wand movement over the top, he looked at Edgar. “So... it’s true then, right?” He voice was hushed. “About Ainsley? She did it?

LOCATION: Daily Prophet Offices, London DATE: Feb 20, 1982 @spellnbone

It was almost a week since her sister’s engagement party had changed everything, and Ainsley Abbott was back at work; almost a week since the Ministry had cleared her of James Potter’s murder on the basis of “self defense” against an intruder come to do harm to her and hers. Technically, she supposed, that was accurate now that she was what she was now, but it was a technicality that didn’t feel like the truth and it ate at her.

Ainsley might have been able to stay away from the Prophet’s offices longer -- might have been able to leverage her new connections into a longer vacation -- but would that have helped any? The public fascination with the disaster of the Rosier-Abbott part hadn’t faded; neither had the pressure her bosses were putting on her to convince her sister and burgeoning brother-in-law to give another interview. Both had acquiesced the first time, Nessie in tears and Jayesh squirming so hard he’d nearly fallen out of his chair, mostly as an exchange of favors to win Ainsley a week free of her job.

Now that week was nearly done, and she was here again. Ainsley had come to the office early, trying to get to her desk before the rest of the week-end staff shuffled in, hoping that that would be enough to spare her their attentions -- in vain, of course; it wasn’t just a natural hunger for gossip, suddenly dorky, awkward Ainsley Abbott had become the news. She’d fended off questions as long as she could stand it, then retreated to the loo -- but after fending off more question in there, had settled for carrying her typewriter, correcting quill, inkwell, and stack of parchment in need of proofreading out to the sparse metal staircase that Muggle building codes required and that the owners of the Daily Prophet had never bothered to remove when they’d taken over the building.

Ainsley didn’t see what good the narrow metal stairs would do against a fire, but they certainly felt like an escape to her just now and she stayed out there, letting the hard metal press divots into her flesh and leave dirty smears on her robes, back cramping, until her fingers were so frozen that her typing was starting to add more errors than she subtracted. Not ready to give-up the sanctuary of her cold seclusion, Ainsley decided that a hot drink would suffice to get her through another hour or two before she’d have to call it quits and come back inside -- but when she climbed back through the window and marched to the break room, eyes straight ahead, trying to move as swift and noiselessly as possible to avoid drawing the attention of another crowd of co-workers, she didn’t think about the downsides of a fast, silent approach: catching anyone else in there by surprise.

Date: February 16, 1982 Location: Potter Estate Starter: @spellnbone

Ryland tentatively knocked on the door before coming in. He knew this little hospital area didn’t have a lot of privacy, but Edgar deserved at least a little heads up if Ryland could give it. He himself had barely slept the last two nights and could only imagine what could be said for Edgar. He didn’t know whether to expect a pale version, still suffering blood loss from the splinching, or a bored Edgar ready to be released. Ryland knew he was in good hands under Emmeline and the medical staff, so he just hoped everything would seem as normal as possible. They could use a little of that.

Star Wars - Does your muse wear hats? Does it suit them?

Caradoc doesn’t wear hats, and he is quite glad they are a requirement in the Ministry’s Code of Dress for Employees. The reason he doesn’t wears them is because they would clash with his current hairstyle (though, it must be pointed out this current hairstyle has been maintained for over a decade.)

The Goonies - Bling, bling, ladies! Does your muse wear earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, etc.?

Yes, some. Caradoc wears rings and bracelets, but no earrings or necklaces. The latter ever since playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, since he always found necklaces uncomfortable to wear while flying so he avoided that kind of jewellery. 

When it comes to bracelets he wears simple bands of metal, usually brass, silver or gold, with not decoration or gems in them, and of different thickness. It’s never more than three bands per wrist, so that his movements are not restricted. Some bracelets have magical runes etched on the inside, and usually provide so charms useful for daily life, like warming charms in the winter or drying charms for that sure chance that it’s going to rain at some point during the day and one needs their coat dry.

He wears five rings. Two on his right hand and three on his left hand, they are:

Did I let Seb goad me so easily into toeing the line of smut? Yes, yes I did.

Sirius was still panting hard, eyes falling closed as he took a moment to just bask. He kept his eyes closed as he felt fingertips ghost along his side. “That was fun,” he eventually quipped, finally opening his eyes to look down at Lu. He wasn’t shocked to see a cat-like grin on Lu’s face.

“I thought you would agree,” Lu said, their hand still sliding along Sirius’ side. All their back and forth banter about trust, and yet Sirius had apparently decided they were worth plenty of it. Lu could have walked away around, could have opened the door and let in a Death Eater or something, but Sirius had still sprawled out and put his hands up when Lu had held up the rope and raised an eyebrow. 

Shifting his leg up since he didn’t have his hands, Sirius rubbed his calf against Lu’s hip. “You know now would be a great time to cuddle.”

“I didn’t take you for the cuddling type,” Lu said with a smirk. They didn’t move yet though.

“I like to surprise.” Sirius arched his back up, stretching his arms as best he could. “It would be a lot easier if I had my hands.” He shifted that leg, pulling Lu toward him with it.

They laughed, hands falling forward as they caught themself against Sirius’ chest. “If you must be so insistent...” They shifted upright, straddling Sirius to have their hands to undo the knotted rope holding his arms in place.

Sirius rolled his shoulders and then rubbed at one wrist, but Lu had done well and left no marks. 

“I thought you promised me cuddling?” Lu reminded him, not moving at all.

Place: Edgar’s Office Date: January 4, 1982 as the work day ends Starter: @spellnbone​

Artem set down their glass of tea on the desk in front of them before clearing their throat awkwardly. This moment had to come up eventually. Artem was so unused to asking for help, though, that they weren’t sure exactly what to say. Both to provide evidence and give themself a moment to think, Artem reached into their jacket pocket and pulled out two photographs. One showed Artem and a man about their age that had clearly been taken a few years ago. The back read, Artem N. and Nikky VD. The other photo contained two women and a man, all in their late thirties. The back of that one read Angel Dubois, Jackie Jones, and Thomas Cooper. 

“I know it’s not much to go on,” they began. “I haven’t seen any of these guys in years now. I think I was twenty-four or twenty-five when I last saw Nikky, and he was once my best friend.” Artem took a breath and set the photos on the desk where Edgar could see them better. “The VD is Van Dyke. They’re all muggles. I used to know them in my... Well, the days I wasn’t around here. I just keep thinking about that attack and wondering if anyone I knew could have been targeted. It’s not like I have phone numbers to just call people up, but I still care.”

Artem ducked their head for a moment before deciding they should probably look Edgar in the eye while they actually asked. “I know you do culture stuff mostly, but you are a journalist. I thought you might have some skills that would be relevant here if you were willing to help. Would you be?”

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Peter looked up as someone else came into the room, and he felt like he was about to completely have a panic attack. He looked at the other, eye’s going slightly wider, but trying to hide his shock. He was pretty sure that was the person he’d met a month or two ago at one of the events for the Death Eaters, and now they were here? At the Order Headquarters? He was doomed.

He hadn’t gotten up right away, but quickly made his way around the room to when he could catch the other alone for a moment. They needed to talk, he thought, they needed to talk, so he could make sure that the other wouldn’t give up his secret, or out him to the Order. He reached out, shaking just slightly as he put a hand on the other’s arm to get their attention.

“Ah, hello, darling?”

The voice was just as soft and kind as he remembered, though Peter felt a little worried. They also sounded like they had no idea who he was, and he wasn’t sure if the other was playing it off like that, or if they really didnt’ remember him; and honestly, Peter wasn’t sure which would be a worse outcome at this point. Both sounded terrible to him.

“Hi, um, can we talk in private for a moment?” Peter asked, feeling nerves creeping back up into his voice, “I just... um, you look familiar and I just wanted to ask you something...” Wow, that sounded even more stupid than he thought it would, and the way the other was smiling, it made him worry even more about if they remembered him or not.

“Of course,” Lu was smiling so sweetly, offering an arm to Peter to lead him towards a quieter section of the room, where they could talk in whispers and not be overheard. Peter was grateful for that, especially as his hands were starting to shake slightly.

“I just wondered if you um... if you knew... if you remembered...” Peter was stammering, feeling like his heart was slamming itself against his ribcage as he tried to focus. Wow, what he wouldn’t have given for a glass of alcohol at this point, or a smoke. Maybe that would have calmed him down.

“Ah, I do,” Lu was smiling even more, though their voice was quiet and they glanced around to make sure no one was listening, “The boy who was there with a friend. Don’t worry now.”