freyaflint

[freyaflint]

𝖍𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖑𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖋𝖋 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖊

[freyaflint]

date: september 8st, 1945

location: outside Professor Brown’s classroom

availability: open to all!

“Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff-- it’s bound to be a good game...” Freya muses to the person beside her as she stands in front of Professor Brown’s classroom examining the two banners for herself. Supposedly the second banner had just revealed itself out of the blue after the initial crowd had disappeared. Nonetheless, it was always exciting to play the first game of the season, though Freya would be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little nervous-- there was always more to these games than just points and scores, an underlying current of something deeper, more meaningful. (Not to mention the last thing she needed was Icarus Lestrange lording a first win over her all year.)

“At least I finally know who Hufflepuff is playing against-- I swear Professor Brown loves to keep us in suspense like that...” she says with the shake of her head-- that man certainly had a flair for the dramatics. Living with her own former professional quidditch player, she had come to realize that nearly all of them shared a love for the bravado of sport. 

[freyaflint]

kvssius‌:

“ – ’s a good thing – “

It comes out as more of a huffed jumble than a compliment, but he leaves it be, opting instead to lean upon the crutch of normal, easy conversation that came from the sheer relief of seeing her again. Talk that did not stem from a flirtatious place – for it was unduly difficult for Kassius to muster flirtatious sentiment no matter the recipient, but especially Freya, who was the sole subject of his affections – was far easier, for it lived in a place of fact, logic, truth. All that, and yet the thought of missing her so dearly, as it came to fruition on the tip of his tongue, felt as sore and sweet as an overdose on chocolate on a hot summer afternoon. 

And she said that he was dashing. He’d remember that. 

He wondered what she might do if he were to reach out and touch her hair, to run his weary fingers through its length. And it seemed he would be given his wish, for as she approached, his arms moved as if acting on a long-known instinct. Her hands rose to the nape of his neck, one of his own on her cheek and the other dancing with light fingertips from her arm, to her shoulder, to her back. He wished to kiss her right there in front of everyone, everyone who trickled sleepily into the Great Hall. The sheer hunger with which he had longed to do so would surely awaken them; it was rare that stoic Kassius Ollivander be lost in the throes of passion. And yet here he was – lost. 

Indulging himself, Kassius reached up, fingers first brushing her cheek, then running the length of her hair – ever dark, ever falling in cascading waves. He had a single photograph of her, which he had kept close all summer. He would need another. 

“A telephone?” he echoed, rolling the word over chunkily in his mouth, “How does that work? Must be an awfully long wire, if –” he paused, considering; she often spoke of such things, things that he knew so little of, but that he was interested in, simply because she was interested in them, too, “– well, no wire too long, I suppose.” He’d yell from a long-away mountaintop if she’d hear. He could only hope she knew this. 

“I kept all your letters –” he blurted, at once thinking of the bound folder he kept stashed at the bottom of his trunk, tucked away so prying eyes might not reach them, “– sorted them, you know. A Ravenclaw thing.” His lips twitched upward, eyes alight. “I figure I can flout them for clout when you’re all successful and famous. Only a matter of time; I can only hope you’ll not leave me in the dust when you do.” His tone was teasing, and yet the reality was there; this was their last year in the comfort of school, after which he hardly knew where his work would take him. He knew that Freya would be destined for something great. In moments of sheer romanticism, he imagined the two of them together – a little flat in London, a house plant, a sunny window casting light upon a mussed bed. 

A wayward musing, of course. His imagination was wild, and it was his own.

But she had dreams – and he had the abyss of his own mind. He would support her, bolster her, lift her up, and then surely and swiftly be consumed. But Kassius would hold her for as long as he could. And he would kiss her as much as he was able. 

And he so wanted to. 

“If I kissed you, would you be cross with me for dripping on your robes?” his lips twitched upward once more, thumb pausing its absent circle upon her cheek. It was a challenge, a question, a wish all in one. It had been too long since he had kissed her. And if he’d be allowed, he’d never stop. 

Kassius Ollivander was funnily charming like that-- charming in that short of unintentional, unassuming sort of way that was more than enough to have a faint blush warming her cheeks.

She nearly breathes a sigh of relief when he admits he had been equally attached to the letters she had sent him. It had felt almost sacrilegious to respond to him with her quickly scribbled tales of quidditch games and time spent at the ministry at her father’s work, especially given the utter masterpieces he would send her, “I kept all of yours too, but really, they’re more akin to works or art, if you ask me. I ought to frame them or something,” she replies, “I swear I’m going to have to add letter-writing to your never-ending lists of talent, Kass...” she grins easily, “How ever did I get so lucky?”

She figures he’ll probably shake off the compliment like he usually does, but it’s important to Freya for Kassius to know how incredible he is, how much she admires him in every possible way. Smart men were rare, but smart, talented, good men were rarer-- she needs only to hold up a mirror for him to see it. 

Truly, she owes so much of her recent growth to him, that, and her E in her potions O.W.L., of course (she’s not sure if she’s ever kissed somebody as hard or long as when she received her passing result).

I can only hope you’ll not leave me in the dust when you do. It’s those words that rest heavily on her shoulders, a reminder that within a year their lives would be changed forever. ‘I’d never leave you behind’ she wants to say but the words die quickly in her throat. Sometimes she wishes she could promise him a forever, that their connection was enough to overcome any obstacle they may face, but the one promise she couldn’t make to him that she would forsake her future for theirs. It was arguably selfish of her, but she likes to think that Kassius wouldn’t have wanted that perfect, pureblood homemaker, anyways. Perhaps in some ways, they loved each other’s ambition as much as they cared for each other. 

She opts for the promise she can make. 

“I know for a fact that I certainly will never forget you, besides, you’re the brightest wizard I know-- if anyone has a chance at a successful future, it’s certainly you. We future-successful people tend to stick together-- it’s part of the rules of success,” she says so matter-of-factly a passersby might have mistook her her statement as one of reality.

If I kissed you, would you be cross with me for dripping on your robes?

She finds her gaze drifting into his own, lost in the abyss of his cerulean eyes and suddenly her throat goes dry as she bites her lip softly. It was the lowness of his tone, the hope of the question, the boldness of the offer that had her flushing once again, but this blush was different. This Kassius was the horribly clever bastard who knew exactly what he did to her...what he could do her. God, it had been so long since she had felt the press of his lips against her own.

She doesn’t know exactly how he had somehow made a starving woman out of her with just a simple question, though she’s admittedly entirely unsurprised that he’s good at that as well. The least she could do was return the favor.

“Oh, I’d be very, very cross...” Freya responds slowly, though her lips only inch closer to his as her fingers find their way into his tangled, damp locks, “But I think I could find it in myself to forgive you if you made it worth my while,” she adds lowly, her hand moving from his hair to his face, swiping her thumb gently across his lips.

It’s her own sort of challenge for him and if she knows him well enough (which she thinks she does) he won’t be able to refuse her.

[freyaflint]

gcddess-v‌:

It was perhaps a bit too early in the term for Venus to already be blowing off her homework. But then, she would argue, wasn’t the third day of class too early to give loads of homework? And it was far too pretty outside to remain trapped in the confines of a classroom or the library. She’d intended to study, or at least appear as if she was when she first set out to sit on the lawn. Her new ancient runes book lay neglected to the side of her blanket, a quill rustling gently in the breeze. The blonde lay on her back with her curls spread halo like around her head. Having long ago slipped off her shoes and stockings, she undid the top few buttons on her blouse to soak up the last rays of the summer sun with what she hoped was a careless sort of elegance.

Venus hadn’t really had a moment alone to focus on all the changes that greeted the new school year, having a terrible attention span and surrounding herself constantly with admirers and friends. And there was a lot to peruse - the death of the arithmancy professor, the hit wizard taking her place (was he even qualified?), Grindelwald and Dumbledore. It certainly hadn’t been a boring start. She let her mind wander to where it would go from here. Her last year, one final time lingering just on the edges of childhood and the precipice of the great unkowable beyond. Venus would have to make it memorable, she decided, to leave her mark on these ancient and hallowed halls.

She felt a sudden chill, a shadow blocking the sun from warming her face. Opening her eyes and squinting up at the intruder, Venus frowned prettily. “Do you mind?”

She had been in lecture for three hours hurriedly writing down as many notes as she could as Professor Binns droned on about the International Warlock Convention of 1289 without a break. For Freya, the information was undeniably fascinating, even if Binns wasn’t the most riveting lecturer. Today, there was one particular student missing from the lecture hall-- one Venus Rowle, to be exact. Needless to say when Binns stopped Freya to ask her to return Venus’s essay, she obliged more out of her natural tendency to be helpful than a desire to see the other girl. 

She had about two hours until she was due at Professor Brown’s classroom for muggle studies, which she supposed was enough time to find Venus-- after all there was only so many places that the Slytherin chose to go. Beyond the fact that Professor Brown was one of her favorite teachers for numerous reasons, she always found muggle studies to be of great interest. Growing up in a traditional, wealthy pureblood home, Freya’s knowledge of muggles was entirely limited, thus when she arrived at Hogwarts, she became interested in learning about their lives and the world that they lived in. 

There was much to be learned from muggle ingenuity, just as there was much to celebrate about wizarding heritage-- Freya would forever fail to understand why her family and the rest of the pureblood elites failed to see to this. It was what made her relationship with that part of her world so complicated. 

Freya makes her way to the courtyard, spotting the blonde almost immediately. (Venus had always had that sort of a presence). Clearing her throat awkwardly, Freya mades no motion to move, “Binns asked me to return your first-day essay...” she explains holding out the parchment towards the girl, “I had a hunch I could find you here,” she says with a soft smile.

september 5, 1945 | open

[freyaflint]

odinclearwater‌:

Freya’s assessment of Kassius seemed like an understatement. Odin was vaguely surprised she’d given him such faint praise - weren’t they good friends? - but he figured things were different when it came to Quidditch. Everyone got into the competitive spirit, probably especially the captain. Clambering into the kitchen’s portrait hole, he shrugged his shoulders, “I’d call him more than talented, myself, but I’ll leave all that strategic stuff to you. I think I’m better at taking directions than giving them.” That was precisely why everyone had point-blanked refused Odin as Charms Club president. Far too unfocused. Odin had a vision of himself telling each Chaser to run a different play simultaneously. 

He always felt a bit odd interacting with elves. Something about their lives seemed … sad. Giving them something in return for extra food felt right. But it was impossible to feel too bad about it when Blinker himsef looked grateful for the attention and even more pleased to help them. Odin received his rice pudding happily (also relieved he hadn’t incidentally poisoned the little creature). But he then absent-mindedly set it back aside, on the table beside them, to continue talking. 

Freya hadn’t brought up the most monumentous news of the evening; he wouldn’t either. He got the impression she was like him, that she looked to the conflict amongst their classmates with sorrow rather than intent to join them. But there was one small part of it weighing on his mind, one part he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. “You didn’t take Arithmancy, did you? I liked Professor Achebe. She was kind… she was a good teacher.” Like Evan. Someone who didn’t deserve to die the way they had, a footnote in someone else’s war. 

Freya offers Odin a silent, sheepish shrug-- she knew for a fact that Kassius was far more than just talented, but if she started gushing about him now, she likely wouldn’t stop and she imagines that even Odin would be privy to the nature of their relationship then. So instead she smiles appreciatively at Odin at his next words. The support of her team meant to world to her, it was probably why they managed to work so cohesively together-- everyone valued each other’s strengths and thus, they worked like a well-oiled machine.

(She sometimes wondered how the other house’s practices were-- perhaps their players were arguably better, but there was no way they were more functional than what the Hufflepuffs had going for themselves). Hufflepuff strength lay in their trust of one another-- less ego, more hardwork. 

Her thoughts, however, are soon turned to the more tragic as he brings up Professor Achebe. She supposes it was only a matter of time before someone did, but she figures that she much rather it be Odin than someone else.

“She really was a lovely professor-- I took arithmancy with her up until my 5th year,” Freya replied, “It’s absolutely horrific that someone so patient and loving was killed for the sole reason of being a muggleborn. It’s so...wrong...” she finally manages. 

[freyaflint]

dianarowle‌:

“ hm. ” she makes a sound of acknowledgement but displeasure crosses her face. it’s not freya’s fault, of course, but diana would have rather had a different answer from the hufflepuff. her fingers still tap on the edge of the table. “ i suppose i’ll find them eventually. there are only so many places to hide here. ” there’s a wry smile on her lips that only grows at what freya says about silvanus. it surely sounds like him. “ i have heard those stories, but he does tell them better than i ever could hope to. if you haven’t heard him talk about his occamy, you should ask him. there are more tales than i could count, but all of them are worth hearing. ” she isn’t the sort to seek approval or validation about the relationships she has with other, but diana can’t help but straighten up as she listens to freya’s last remark. “ i know that. ” she does. “ i hope you don’t think i believe you’re bad company — i’m just closer with them. ” it isn’t meant to be mean but it is direct.

“A real Occamy?” Freya echoes, eye widening slightly, before a old memory returns to mind, “My older brother used to try and frighten me when I was little by insisting there was an occamy living under my bed,” she admits with giggle, “I bet you and Silv would have gotten a real kick out of that,” she adds with the shake of her head. Diana’s next words are a little blunter than she’s expecting, but she simply responds with a shrug, “Not at all- I can appreciate the straight-forwardness. I’m afraid there’s not a lot of that going around these days,” she admits honestly. Diana certainly knows as well as she does, the nature of the people they’ve grown up with-- the fake smiles, false pleasantries. Freya never enjoyed any of it, preferring her grins to be genuine, favoring authenticity above the counterfeit politeness that seemed ravage their circles. Her parents and the people they associated could say what they wanted about her lack of decorum, but at least Freya could be at peace with herself and know that when she said something, it was sincere.

[freyaflint]

apcllogriffin‌:

for what it’s worth, life is a thousand times better for apollo at hogwarts than at home. there are people who want to see him, people who care for him — it’s an indescribable feeling to have those things, one that fills his chest with warmth and satisfaction. it’s nearly perfect. only nearly because there are people at hogwarts who would rather he weren’t. it’s a sick feeling to know, but he still feels that hogwarts is the place for him, no matter what anyone else may believe.

it does affect who he sits near in classes. not all purebloods have such a strong profound dislike for him, but some are still careful with who they associate with for fear of judgement or loss of their own relationships. he tries not to let it bother him, to be so judged for something he couldn’t control.

freya has always seemed nice enough, though.

“ there’s no thank you needed. ”

he takes another bite of the chocolate wand with a grin. “ if you bring candy to every class, you can sit next to me all term, you know. ” he looks forward towards the front of the ancient runes classroom. “ maybe if you bring some for professor ogden, he won’t mind as much. ”

Sometimes Freya wondered if she truly could make it through her final year avoiding the pureblood politics that had begun to run rampant through Hogwarts’s halls. It was all so ugly, so lawless--a culture that thrived on tradition, backstabbing, and a strict hierarchy. It was hard to conceive how a girl from such a background had developed such a taste for justice, integrity, and truth, but the inklings had always been there. 

Karma was something her mother had taught her from a very young age-- if the world around you is in chaos, it is because there is chaos within yourself. So how could she make this world good? She had to have good within herself. 

A vibrant laugh falls from Freya’s lips, “Well then I can’t think of a better excuse to bring sweets every class...I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘ol Ogden had a sweet tooth though-- it’s always the ones you least suspect...” she muses, followed by another warm laugh. 

“Are you excited for the year?” Freya asks, enthusiastically, “I found this old Runic Dictionary in my family’s library over the summer and I’ve simply been dying for a chance to use it!”

[freyaflint]

kvssius‌:

Kassius valued privacy, for silence gave him ample time and space to work unfettered; he had never been the social sort, much to the chagrin of his family – who had oft thrust him into pureblood functions in which he had little interest – and had found more stillness and strength in the company afforded to him by his own ideas. His friends, close confidants all, were hard-picked, chosen carefully; this was not to say that Kassius was an unpleasant man, or a standoffish loner with no mind for socialization. On the contrary, he made it a concerted point to exercise purposeful kindness to all he met – or all who deserved it. But to be let in, to be taken by the hand and allowed to step past the stone walls of his own creation and to sit in his company; this was a particular and hard-won thing. 

But not for her; he’d take her hand and never let go, if he could.

It was a thin line to walk – living so fervently within himself, within his introverted solitude, and trying so hard, so desperately, to be good to all. But nothing seemed difficult with her; even the knot of stress that ever lived at the axis of his shoulder blades loosened at the sound of her, for her approach startled him from his work. He straightened as his gaze darted upward, suddenly chagrined that he sat here dripping upon the stone floor; this was the first time he had seen her since their lengthy goodbye on the train platform before the summer, and he now kicked himself for lacking the foresight to appear a bit more presentable. Without thinking, he shot to his feet, face blooming into a grin as he stood across from her. Entirely uncaring of the ridiculous grin upon his face, caring little for the unfettered happiness at her appearance – a passerby might not think him stoic Kassius Ollivander, but a lovesick fool with water on his shoulders and ink on his fingertips. 

A laugh escaped him; she had the uncanny ability to make him laugh at the slightest prompt. Running his fingers through the wet tangle of his hair, he said, “What? I think it makes me look sporting. Athleticism is in these days.” His eyes darted from her face, to the notebook, to the empty bench across. Were he a different man, he might have vaulted the table, taken her face in his hands, and kissed the teasing from her voice – but he was, at his core, a nervous young man who had sustained on nothing but letters and imagination for months. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he echoed, smile blooming even further, “Your letters kept me sane. But you –” he cleared his throat, neck flushing, “– the real thing is much better. Your hair got longer.” Your hair got longer? Kassius wondered what it might be like to slam his head down upon the table; surely it would knock some cool back into him. He cleared his throat again. “Sit, sit,” he insisted, gesturing to the empty bench opposite him, “Have breakfast with me, will you? Been too long since I’ve heard your voice.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ll always look dashing to me, Mr. Sportsman,” Freya replies earnestly, as she moves towards him, fingers curling around the base of his neck as her knuckles grazed the wetness of his hair and she pulled him into a chaste embrace. She could have stood there forever, arms wrapped around him, basking in the familiarity of the moment. She had never met someone like Kassius before, someone so kind, so hardworking, so easy to talk to. (She thinks he would have made a good Hufflepuff if not for the fact he was so terribly brilliant at his school work). 

“...Though you could stand to learn a hair drying charm or two...” she teases as she makes move to heed his offer to sit beside him, “I’m sure my mother’s written a piece or two about them for The Prophet, if you’re looking for reference,” she adds with a chuckle, though she wishes she was less serious about the content of her mother’s articles. 

She can’t help but self-consciously touch her hair as he makes notice of it’s length. She hadn’t cut it over the summer in order to appease her mother, but ended up not wanting to part with it’s length when it came time to return to school. “Um, thank you?” she replies, unsure of weather he liked the length or was merely commenting on it-- either way it was lovely to be in his presence once again. “I know, I know-- Professor Brown says that muggles have this device that lets people talk to one another over long distances, called a telephone. He tried to bring one to class but he says they don’t work around places of highly concentrated magic,” Freya says almost somewhat disappointingly.

But it was true, all she had to keep her tied over for the summer were the few letters that they had exchanged over the break. She would spend hours reading and rereading each letter he sent her, pouring over each and every page of perfect penmanship and eloquent words that he had sent her. She had always loved easily, her heart easily won by kind gestures and thoughtful words, but whatever was between them was so different-- a much deeper longing than she could have anticipated. She knows not of what their future holds, but she can promise him that they’ll face it together.

[freyaflint]

odinclearwater‌:

He wasn’t the most passionate Quidditch player - last year he’d had to weigh up the merits of Quidditch practices and Herbology Club meetings and Quidditch had only just won out - but Odin did like being part of a team. The enthusiasm of Freya made his own greater, his head nodding rapidly as she spoke. 

‘I’d like to think I can, of course. but I agree Montague’s a real threat. He’s got a good eye and well. You know I can get distracted.” His words were a bit sheepish, though usually Odin could control his wandering thoughts on the Quidditch pitch.  “Can’t forget Ollivander on Ravenclaw either. He’s fast. And probably willed himself faster over summer, too.” It was always difficult to beat Kassius to the snitch, the Ravenclaw utterly determined to push himself in all things. Not entirely unlike Freya, Odin supposed. 

He tickled the fruit, and climbed inside the portrait hole. As usual, the kitchens were a mess of activity, House Elf magic at work. The elves were quite used to seeing older students come in, offering them anything they could possibly want. “Hello, Blinker!” Odin said to a familiar looking elf (he had to admit they all looked a bit similar but he was certain it was Blinker). “If you bring me a rice pudding and Freya here some lemon tarts, I’ll give you-” Odin checked his pockets quickly- “This packet of Fudge Flies! They’re nicer than they sound!” He finished grandly, before worrying over this suggestion. Quickly murmuring to Freya, “Elves can eat human food, can’t they?” Surely she would know better, he assumed her family kept them while his had neither the status nor the need to do so. 

You know I can get distracted. That brings a smile to her lips. That was the thing about Odin, wasn’t it-- always with the wandering eye, searching for the next passion to throw himself into. It was impressive, Freya had always believed, to be genuinely passionate about so many things. She wonders what her life might have look like should she have fallen for something other than justice at such a young age. 

Would she be a writer like her mother? Or perhaps a quidditch champion like her sister and father? Perhaps she might have been the brightest dragonologist Hogwart’s had ever seen-- but she had never even weighed the other options. For better or worse she had chosen a single path and followed it through-in and through-out. 

Freya blush is almost immediate as Odin mentions Kassius, though she hopes he’s too distracted by the process of entering the kitchens that he doesn’t notice her flushed cheeks. “Ollivander...yes...he’s very...talented,” she finally lands on, hoping that neutral enough to not give too much away. Saved by the arrival of Blinker, Freya breathes a sigh of relief, before turning to Odin, slightly amused by his suggestion, “Elves do eat human food, though their preferences on which food depends elf to elf-- Stitches, our house elf, has a particular love for acid pops,” she reveals with a helpless shrug. Grinning as Blinker hands her a lemon tart, seemingly accepting Odin’s terms, she pops it in her mouth, absolutely delighted. “Thank you Blinker, you’re the best!” she gushes appreciatively, “I’m afraid I don’t have anything on me now, but I promise I’ll bring you back a treat the next time I stop by.”

[freyaflint]

Task 002 | Class Schedule

Monday:

8am-11am - History of Magic (Section 001)

12pm-1pm - Muggle Studies (Section 001)

2pm-4pm - Potions (Section 002)

Tuesday:

11am-1pm - Ancient Runes (Section 001)

1pm-4pm - DADA (Section 003)

Wednesday:

8am-11am - History of Magic (Section 001)

12pm-1pm - Muggle Studies (Section 001)

1pm-4pm - Transfigurations (Section 003)

Thurday:

11am-1pm - Ancient Runes (Section 001)

2pm-4pm - Potions (Section 002)

Friday:

12pm-1pm - Muggle Studies (Section 001)

[freyaflint]

odinclearwater‌:

Professor Swindlehopper had seemed a clever man. But the whole time they’d been talking, Odin couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Achebe. He’d liked her very much, she had never minded if he’d stayed after class to ask questions about reading he’d been doing (or to ask questions about reading he should have been doing in class, but hadn’t because he’d been thinking about something else). Murdered. Dippet had said the final murder. Comforting words.  Odin was afraid they were a comforting lie. 

He tried to focus on Freya beside him instead. Her light tone a relief from his worried thoughts. “Course I am. I have a lot of faith in my captain,” he said cheerfully. Quidditch. He could talk about Quidditch. “Odette and I practised all summer, by the way. I’m sure Slytherin will be in top form, too, with Lestrange in charge. Any insights from the inside, Cap?” He referred jokingly to her access to most of the old Slytherin families. 

Just before the pile of barrels leading into their common room, Odin paused. “Don’t suppose you’d mind a visit to the KITCHENS?” he asked, his eyes darting towards the painting of the fruit. “I didn’t get the chance to eat any rice pudding and I can’t sleep without it, first night back. Tastes like home.” It was what his grandmother made just about every night, back in Tinworth. 

Quidditch was always easy conversation-- she remembers growing up on Pride of Portee games, watching her father soar through the skies as the onlookers cheered. Though Pride games now became Kestral games as the Flint family would done violently green robes in support of her sister, Freya’s pretty sure her family would have fallen apart long ago if not for the escapism of the sport.

“Well, a Captain is only as good as her incredible players,” Freya grins back, attempting not to bounce up and down upon learning he and Odette had been practicing all summer. They were undoubtedly two of her best players (their close friendship no doubt a benefit to the entire team) but to know they’d be going into their first game well-practiced was always an encouraging sign. “If you must know, I find that Lestrange likes to peacock-- it’s Avery and Montague I’m really worried about...” Freya reveals, “But if anyone can take Montague, it’s definitely you!” she say confidently. 

As Odin looks towards the kitchens, suggesting a brief stop before returning to the common room, Freya is more than happy to oblige, “We should certainly stop by the kitchens-- I myself could go for a few more of those lemon tarts.”

[freyaflint]

apcllogriffin‌:

classes have begun and apollo is beginning to settle into the rhythm of the term. really, he loves classes and, even though some complain, he could never be one who did. hogwarts was freedom, it was home, and the idea of him saying anything bad about it was unfathomable. the worst he had ever said was that some classes begun too early, and even that was said half in jest.

it’s still early in the term and he goes to class earlier than needed. as the term goes, he’ll have plans with friends settled out, time to talk, quidditch practices, too, and he’ll walk in closer to the start time. for now, though, he’s content in being the first or second to a classroom, taking his seat and getting himself organized before the professor begins to teach.

he’s fiddling with a quill when he looks up to see freya by the side of his table.

“ be my guest, ” he replies, tipping his head towards the open seat before he reaches for the chocolate wand. taking it, he smiles, setting it down on the desk as he begins moving his things more centered to give her more room at the desk. “ really, it would have been yours anyways, i wouldn’t have wanted to be over there either if i’m being honest, but the chocolate wand ? very gladly received. ” 

apollo begins picking at the packaging of the candy, carefully opening it before breaking a piece of the tip off. he brings it up to his mouth quickly, chewing thoughtfully before saying, “ i think this might have been a bad idea, though, frey. ” he laughs despite himself. “ i’m going to be paying more attention to the sweet than towards the lecture. ”

There was always something pleasant about returning to routine of Hogwarts that Freya could appreciate-- for one, it meant a little space from her family. With both her older siblings out of the house, Freya had become the center of her parent’s attention and equipped with the knowledge of Freya’s desire to enter the Wizarding World’s political sphere, had made numerous efforts to re-frame her desire from justice to power.

After all, it had been a terribly long time since a Flint had sat in the Minister for Magic’s office.

But that’s what they wanted, wasn’t it? Not their child’s happiness, but rather, power. It snuck to every aspect of her life: from her selected childhood playmates to her unlabeled relationships. Sure they would have preferred if she had become involved with someone with the last name of Rowle or Lestrange, but Ollivander commanded enough respect for them to tolerate Kassius’s presence in her life. Tolerate, being the key word.

It was all about wealth, all about appearances, perhaps it could be argued that Freya was crafted to not have a single true bone in her body. (It’s this much she hopes she can fight).

“Thanks, Apollo,” she chuckles, watching Apollo fiddle with his quill as she takes the seat beside him, as easy smile forming on her face. This. This was what she loved about Hogwarts--the people, the friendships, the camaraderie. It what she wanted to protect so dearly. 

“Well, I’m always happy to oblige a treat or two. Besides, I can’t finish this entire stash of chocolate myself-- I think Helga Hufflepuff would think it rather unbecoming of me not to share, even if means disrupting our concentration on the lecture a little bit.”

[freyaflint]

date: september 1st, 1945

location: leaving the Great Hall

availability: House Points Thread w/ @odinclearwater

The conversation with Professor Swindlehopper had been interesting to say the least. Of course, not too much information was garnered from the brief meeting, but it was always pleasant to meet Hufflepuff alumni. For her, it was a reminder that the future was rapidly approaching. It was nerve-wrecking and exhilarating all at once, but she had been waiting for this moment her entire life- the chance to finally make use of her passions and knowledge. 

Following Odin out of the Great Hall, she falls back allowing him to take the lead. It was strange to think that within just a mere year all the people she had come to call her housemates (or really family) would all be going their separate ways. Professor Dippet’s speech had made one thing clear: nothing is certain. 

Then again, perhaps there was one thing that would always remain the same: Freya’s love of QUIDDITCH. “So, are you looking forward to our final Quidditch season?” Freya asks, the conversation topic almost bizarrely light given the gravity of everything Dippet had announced. She needed think about Dumbledore and Grindlewald later, to gather her thoughts privately, before talking about it out loud, “I have a feeling it’ll be a good season for us.”

[freyaflint]

dianarowle‌:

when: september 3rd, 1945 ; 12:45 pm where: the library who: @freyaflint​

“ have you seen my sister ? ” diana stands at the side of the table, her fingers tapping on the edge as she looks expectantly at freya. she doesn’t know the other girl well — really, not at all. it’s strange. they’ve been in each other’s life for ages, in the periphery, but neither made the effort to reach out and get to know each other beyond that. it’s sad, once diana begins to think too deeply about it, but it’s nothing to dwell on now. more than six years have passed without feeling remorseful on the subject — why should she start now ? she glances at the watch on her wrist before taking a seat across from freya ( she doesn’t intend to stay long, but she doesn’t feel like standing any longer. were she to linger any longer, she’d begin rocking on her heels, anxious and unsettled. it’s better for everyone if she just sits ). “ or have you see silv ? either of them will do. ” she purses her lips and glances around at the few students doddling around. “ i’m not one to jump to dramatics and to think they’re actively avoiding me, but neither are to be found and that’s rather odd, if you ask me. ”

It’s that voice. It’s so hauntingly familiar, but just different enough for Freya to know which Rowle twin has captured her attention. Of course, on appearances alone, they’re different enough (that was the thing about fraternal twins, wasn’t it?)-- Diana wasn’t known for her striking angles and sharp edges the way Venus was, but Freya had always appreciated the other girl’s softness. It wasn’t a weak sort of softness, but rather an undeniable wisdom, as ease at which she conducted herself. Thus, when Diana states that she isn’t one to jump to dramatics, it’s easy believe. She had always had the admiral trait of maturity, a trait that Freya thinks many of her other peers could use.

“I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve seen Venus,” Freya admits, and it’s slightly more painful than she cares to admit. She decides that “a while” is vague enough for the both of them. “As for Silv, I saw him at breakfast-- last I heard he was entertaining some third-years with a tale about Chinese Fireballs...” she chuckles, with a knowing grin “Though I’m sure you probably already know all about those adventures.” Diana had always had a penchant for creatures, a trait Freya had never quite shared, “But believe me, neither of them would purposely avoid if there’s one thing that I know it’s that they love you dearly.”

[freyaflint]

date: september 3rd, 1945

location: misc. classroom

availability: closed to @apcllogriffin

She’s early to class and though Freya wishes she could say it wasn’t a rarity, she tended to err on the side of just barely punctual or “right on time” as Professor Slughorn enjoyed saying with a wink as she slid behind her cauldron with just a few seconds to spare. (She heavily doubts he would have been nearly as easy-going had he not been such a fan of her father’s). Truth be told, she often left her initial location on time, but when it came down to it, who was she to turn down a brief conversation in the halls to catch up with a peer or professor? To spend a couple extra minutes pouring over “Current Events” section of the Daily Prophet outside the classroom? 

The one bonus of arriving early, Freya notes, is that she had her fair pickings of seat location. As N.E.W.T-level classes began, class sizes began to shrink, as did the choices for seating partners. Scanning the room, Freya spots a handful of familiar faces, many of those that she recognized from her sixth year. Her eyes first fall on a small group of Slytherins who she instantly decides she’ll be spending the year avoiding at any cost, lest they begin their pestering about Tom Riddle’s glorious agenda and vision for the Wizarding word and why she’s yet to become more involved in the cause.

On the other side of the room, Freya spots a far friendly face-- Apollo Griffin sitting in all his crimson and gold glory. The man is perhaps far better friends with Kassius, but they’ve come to know one another on the Quidditch pitch, as keepers and chasers often did.

“May I sit here?” Freya asks as she tentatively sets down a single book on the table beside him, “I’d really rather not end up over there...” she admits quickly glancing back over her shoulder before turning her attention back to Apollo, “I also happen to come with a peace offering of a Chocolate Wand for first class jitters?” she offers earnestly, procuring a pair of wands from the front pouch of her book bag.

[freyaflint]

kvssius‌:

where: the great hall, ravenclaw table when: september 2nd, 1945 ; morning who: open to all !!

He’d been up with the dawn, out and down to the pitch to greet the sun. There were few places he could truly think clearly – the sky afforded this. Although there was little time to indulge in a lengthy fly, he had shot skyward, letting out a huffing breath to loose the tension that always lived between his shoulder blades. It escaped into the sky – and then thudded back down to the earth with him, as it always did. The sun peered, un-judging, over the horizon as he had trudged off to take a cold shower in the locker rooms, for it was still too early for the water to be hot, and gritted his teeth against the heart-stopping cold that assaulted his shoulders, his back, dripped from his hair and chattered at his lips. He took it – he needed to be awake. A painful shock was often better than coffee.

And he still dripped as he settled at the Ravenclaw table, gripping a mug so hot by comparison that it nearly burned his palms. The silence of early morning was steeling, and though his hair dripped in an unsteady, distracting rhythm upon his shoulders, he found peace in it. Peace that would, undoubtedly, be broken by the sleepy throngs at any moment. And so he took advantage, producing his journal from within the bag slung on the table beside him, and flipping to the latest drawing: a wand, already dappled at the edges with the last time he had dripped post-Quidditch shower water upon its pages. 

And as he began to sketch, tendril of steam rising from the mug in his other hand, the last moment of early morning silence was broken. He shivered once more – though not at all from the water upon his shoulders – and pressed on, fingers and shoulders alike already beginning to ache. 

It had been an easy morning for Freya as she had awoken to the gentle rays of the warm September sun grazing her cheeks and pulling her out of a restful sleep. It wouldn’t be long before long summer days melted into a more chilly autumn, so she was grateful to bask in whatever remained of the pleasant glow, even if only for a few more days. As she made her way from her four-poster bed towards the common room, she paid special attention to avoid the pots of young Bouncing Bulbs that Professor Rakepick had agreed to watch over for Professor Fairbanks, who had gone travelling for the summer. 

There was a part of Freya that missed taking herbology, she always appreciated the diverse array of plants Professor Plank managed to produce every year, however, when taking into account the amount of work her N.E.W.T.-level History of Magic class required alone, certain subjects had to give. Much to her delight,  today would begin with her favorite subject, however, the grumble of her stomach that reminds her that she ought to grab a bite to eat prior to sitting through Binn’s inevitably long lecture.

She traces the easy path to the Great Hall, the steps as familiar as they’ll ever be, and there’s a certain twinge of sadness she feels knowing that this is very much her last year to walk these ancient halls as a student. Her nostalgia is short-lived, however, when she spots Kassius, a swell of glee filling her chest as she finally spots the man she’s only been able to correspond with through letters over the past summer--a man she’s come to care for more deeply and intimately than she could have ever anticipated.

Disregarding all protocol, she heads towards the Ravenclaw table (a move that’s not entirely uncommon for Hufflepuffs who often chose not to constrain their mealtime socialization to just their housemates). Pulling the sleeve of her robe over the palm of her hand, she dabs at the corner of his paper that’s remains relatively damp, “You know towels have been around for nearly 3 centuries, Kass,” she finally says, a warm fondness coating each word, a light giggle falling from her lips, “Regardless, I’ve missed you.”

[freyaflint]

TASK 001: CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE

Full Name: Freya Francesca Flint

Nicknames: Frey

Place of birth:  Wolverhampton, England

Current location: London, England (home); Hogwarts (school)

Sexual/romantic orientation: Pansexual, Panromantic

Preferred pronouns: She/Her

Sex: Female

Gender: Cisgender

One personality trait they’re proud of having: integrity 

Insecurities: her work isn’t good enough, she’s not truly as “just” as she presents herself as

Positive traits: compassionate, forgiving, optimistic, intelligent, dedicated 

Negative traits: indecisive, defensive, too honest, hypocritical, judgmental

Other people’s opinions of them: Most people see Freya as very driven, if not a little too single-minded in her future desires. Freya’s advice is often sought after, due to her ability to remain reasonably impartial and provided genuine help. Many of the purebloods (especially those who she’s grown up with) view her as a rather large question mark as she’s neither a loyalist nor blood traitor, which is why many members of the Liberation are equally as unsure what to make of her. 

Three words to describe them: willful, hardworking, loving

One major turning point in their life: Being sorted into Hufflepuff. Freya had a pretty sheltered childhood growing up in a pureblooded family where she rarely came into contact with muggles or even muggleborns, for that matter. Arriving at Hogwarts and being sorted into Hufflepuff, as opposed to Slytherin where most of her childhood friends went, forced Freya to branch out and meet all sorts of people who she quickly came to love and understand, in ways her family had always discouraged. 

If they could time travel, when would they go?: Freya would go back to the 1800s to the time of Minister Ottaline Gambol who was able to solve numerous problems by looking towards muggle ingenuity. Freya is greatly appreciative of using unprejudiced, forward-thinking to solve problems and would enjoy having a cup of tea with Minister Gambol to pick her brain. 

Ideal romantic partner: Kassius...Someone who is understanding of her situation, who doesn’t push her to make a decision before she’s ready. Freya seeks out someone with ambition, with a goal-- someone with the capacity to achieve those desires. But above all, Freya is attracted to someone with a genuinely good heart, someone who displays kindness and courage even in the face of adversity. 

Favorite way to waste time: Quidditch-- if one had to guess where Freya is at any odd hour, the Qudditch pitch is a solid guess. As captain for her team, Freya’s stress relief often comes from practicing blocking charmed Quaffles. 

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?: Freya would write, likely something regarding a Wizenmagot court case, arguing for or against one of the decisions that was passed. 

View on home and family?: Complicated. At the end of the day, Freya loves her family, but disagrees with their views. She’ll spend hours playing Quidditch in the backyard with her father but can spend equally as long arguing politics with him. 

Any secret stashes?: Chocolate Frog Cards! She’s been collecting them for ages and has amassed quite the stash which she keeps in a tin beneath her bed.

How do they express themself?: Through writing! Freya is a much stronger writer than speaker and beyond religiously writing her heavily protection-charmed diary, Freya is probably the only person in the world who looks forward to writing History of Magic essays.

What did they want to be when they grew up?: Chief Warlock of the Wizenmagot

What do you like most about them?: I love Freya’s tenacity and her commitment to being just, rather than good. I think it’s a really unique character trait that’ll be really fun to explore, especially as the dynamic of the rp continue to get more and more hectic!

One or more plots you’re dying to have: I would love to explore a relationship that challenges Freya’s neutrality-- something or someone that forces her to pick a side, for better or for worse!