#barty is an instigator

[mooomoony]

James: Did you have to stab him?

Regulus: You weren't there you didn't hear what he said to me.

James: *hands on his hips* Well what did he say?

Regulus: "What are you going to do Baby Black? Stab me?"

Barty: That's fair.

[ziglikesrain]

barty crouch jr. is the worlds biggest instigator and i love him for it

[blankdblank]

Protego Pt 3 - Half

Posting Pt 3 of this mini series. hope you like it and do let me know what you think if you are so inclined. More fun to come with this era and group. All I’m posting today to let everyone enjoy. :)

“Full up.” A twiggy shaggy brown haired boy said. He'd slid between the open train car door. Ruining the plan both James and Sirius made. Bent on being the one to tussle their way to sharing the ride with those redheads. In front of their faces, both boys willing to sit on the floor if they had to, the glass windowed door was shut and locked sending them elsewhere. Along the way to actually trade names and see who the fellow loser belonged to.

Right around the cunning teen turned. Lips parted in a successful puff of air to help a grin form in greeting the twin girls. Both partly hidden behind the dark haired boy, that had moved to block them in the door scuffle. “Remus,” he spoke first to the other shaggy sandy haired boy nearest to the window the trio looked to in confusion. Hand extended, they began a brief clasp more than a shake. Each greeting the familiar face during the contact returned then dropped. Enabling the now named Remus to fix his baggy cardigan around himself to sit down.

“Junior,” the part of his name spoken had the instigator smirk. As it revealed Remus had only heard what the former was called by his father inside the Ministry.

“Glad to see a familiar face.” Next his hand was offered to the round glasses, corduroy and tweed clad boy on the other side of Remus. “Diggory, right?”

“Yes, Amos.” The bowl hair cut around this new boy's face shifted mid nod. Then stilled in a quizzical look at the taller boy, whose hand Amos released. “But your name isn’t Junior? Right?”

“Barty." Barty replied and right away turned his body to reach around Severus to offer his hand right to Jewels. “Crouch Jr. Pleasure to meet you.” Through the glass barrier behind him more slow passing teens stole their own glances inside the car. Many already had peered inside of on their way past, all eager to see what those before them had noticed and had to keep stealing partly obstructed looks back at once passed.

“Jewelia Evans,” the girl replied in an uncertain tone to the timid offer of her hand. Reluctant to take his hand as if he was a snarling dog, unable to take her eyes off his direct stare.

“Our dads work together in the Ministry, different fields, er, Remus Lupin and Amos Diggory.” Right away his eyes snapped to Lily at the pull of the hand out of his so Jewels could cling it to her belly, and blindly ensure it was intact still by means of her spare hand. “You are?” Again his eyes darted to Jewels and back again.

When Barty's eyes were off her Jewels looked to Remus in the flinch of a wave her way she returned. Not noticing the slip of her natural dead on purple eyes Amos fixated on their alluring green shade. Until they fell on his grinning self and became purple to Remus’ new green view.

“Lily Evans,” the sister said proudly, even from behind Severus. Smiling as she did so mid subtle stretch to straighten up her posture in doing so.

Off Jewels Barty's eyes snapped to Severus, still unmoved from his place as a wall blocking Lily whose hand was taken next. “Brother? Triplets are rare here.”

“Neighbor,” Severus answered flatly. Still staring directly in the shared brown eyed half curious half protective staring contest.

“Sevy,” Jewels softly uttered in a poke to her best friend’s arm that broke the stare as both looked her way.

“Eyes,” Lily sharply muttered. Bumping her body into her sister to force them both onto the seat to help hide the shift back to look identical to Lily. Avoiding once again being the one to stir up whispers about the pair. To stop the first try to call them freaks and ruin their chances to make friends here. Gaze fixed upon the floor Jewels sat. Lost to focus of her mind on every inch of her body to get control again after being startled into the reveal. A look of fear glint across her face in doing so. A look Remus felt stab at his chest from a fellow secret keeper.

“Severus Snape.” He drew focus of Barty and Amos back onto himself in declaring his name and tightening the grip on the hand still locked in Barty's. A move that had the other half of the newly introduced pair smirk back at him.

“There’s a fifth year,” calmly Remus spoke. Those now emerald eyes landed on him to the knock of his weathered shoe into her new polished pair, “can do that with his eyes.” the rest of the sentence spoken in a gesture of a finger to both of his own blue pair.

Awkward and curious a grin tugged onto Jewelia’s face to ask softly, “He can?”

Remus nodded, “Maybe you’ll be sorted to his house. I’ll point him out.”

Lily smiled, “Can’t wait to be sorted. Make new friends.” Settling better into her seat to make room for Jewelia she’d noticed was pinned into the corner of the booth and the wall in the hasty plop to sit down.

Severus broke the contact first and sighed in lowering himself down to sit beside the girl he loved. Still watching as Barty claimed his seat beside Amos, who had now righted his own clearly hand me down jacket around his sticky self. “Where do your parents work?” Barty again was looking right at Jewels, who tried not to blush at being the focus of this odd boy’s attention. As she’s usually be forgotten beside Lily back home. “Haven’t seen you about. Don’t sound from the North or anywhere near the isles.”

“Uh, Daddy works in Tax Law, Mummy is a Pet Groomer on the side.”

That had Barty narrow his eyes and Severus state the obvious, “Their parents are Muggles.”

And between them Barty looked and let out a disbelieving chuckle, “No, you can’t be serious.” Unable to believe one with such a magical  and inherited allure affecting the attentions of so many could come from mere Muggles.

“That, is what our parents do.” Jewels said haltingly.

“The Prefect sent to speak with us said Muggle-Borns are quite common.” Lily argued to help break any focus off her sister who might let slip another reveal of her eyes to the staring boys.

“Barty be nice,” Remus interjected and had Barty look his way and scoff.

“I am being,” he looked back to Jewels saying, “I’m not insulting you. Just, caught me off guard.” And he looked to Severus asking, “Muggle-Born too?”

“My mother is a Witch.” Severus sighed and relented more, “Works in a book editing company. My father has many seasonal trades.”

“Where was your mother sorted?” Barty asked with a smile, “Mine were Slytherin and Gryffindor. Mum broke out her red and gold scarf today.” Adding a chuckle to how happy she seemed in the send off as the train began to let off a whistle and jerked from its stationary place to leave the platform.

“Slytherin.”

“Take it she’s not the Snape?” Barty asked with brow raised.

“Eileen Prince,” Severus answered and the boy grinned.

“Kicked my dad out of the dorm once, literally. Never let’s go of a reaction like that.” Over the sisters he looked again and spoke with the boys to his right next, “Where your parents after for you two?”

Remus answered flatly, “Anywhere but the forest.” And Barty chuckled to the turn of Remus’ eyes to the window to avoid thoughts on being sorted, and how he would keep his other side to himself. Amos spoke up on his own parents' hopes. Then Barty dove into sharing more on the houses for the girls and broke out stories he’d heard from older friends, relatives and his parents about the school. The start of a gap bridging conversation, that more than once would lure out slips of those same color changing eyes on the very giddy Jewels. Who hoped to be making friends that could last for the next seven years. Every detail memorized to be written down later in both their diaries and letters home.

 .

 “Who are you?” Bellatrix Lestrange asked Jewels. Who'd just apologized for bumping into her arm on the way to the numerous first years in a swarmed mess to be lined up for the boat ride ahead.

“Jewelia Evans,” she replied. Almost sounding like a question at the break in her voice to the intently staring girl who had noticed those same eyes right away.

“Be nice to the Muggle-Born Bella.” Barty spoke up as he came to take Jewelia’s side. Kindly patting the startled redhead’s back to comfort and show support.

“Don’t lie to me, Crouch.” Bellatrix uttered. And when he stepped away from Jewels he led the darker haired witch aside. To stop what he knew could only escalate and make the Muggle raised girl more uncomfortable.

“Right up to the front,” Lily urged and tugged both sister and Severus along into view of Rubeus Hagrid. The groundskeeper who helped the trio into a boat one at a time. Every inch of his half giant frame ready to catch any child with uncertain footing.

“Why are we taking boats?” Jewels whispered to Severus to Lily’s settle into the front seat of the boat. The question made Rubeus smile and offer his hand next to her.

“Never quite got a response myself my first year. For the view, my guess.” His reply accented with a chuckle.

 .

 “Gryffindor!” Proud Lily was the first of the trio sorted. And to the shock of everyone there the next child with the nearest birthday was called. Not Jewels who smiled at the sister she assumed to be joining at the clapping table soon. A belief shared by the boy who went to take a seat at the same table. Leaving room for the identical sister between him and Lily for that assumption.

“Slytherin.” Severus off his turn at the stool was watched by the still lingering sister. Her being whispered about by many throughout the crowd to be sorted and those at their assigned tables. Without a glance back on his path to the clapping table to take up the seat beside a soon to be named, dual hair colored, Narcissa Black.

Barty had even gotten sorted. And gave the anxious girl a pat on the arm on his way towards his seat at the Slytherin table. Once there he asked the girls beside Severus to kindly scoot over so he could sit down. All so he could ask the best friend, “Why wasn’t Jewelia called after Lily?”

“Jewels was adopted.” The answer dawned on Barty and those within earshot at the much welcomed explanation.

“Oh that clears it all up,” and Barty let out a relieved chuckle, “No Muggle could pull that off.” Instantly luring Severus to look directly at him. Instead of James Potter and Sirius Black who had been inching closer to the girl left behind Remus had been keeping equally anxious company in their wait.

“Hmm,” three minutes the sorting hat sat silent atop her head. No longer in deep reflection but merely in awe at the odd slew of tongue twisters Jewelia had been reciting in her mind to not be a multicolored mess right now in front of the entire student body and staff at the wait for where she belonged.

“Ahem.” Minerva spoke up and the hat opened its cloth fold eyes.

“Yes Minerva?” It replied and arched its head to peer at the Professor who had moved closer to see if she might help move things along.

“Her house?” Minerva asked.

“Aha, yes, a fine adornment for Ravenclaw. Fair penchant for tongue twisters to boot.” Minerva smiled in relief to the eruption of noise from the silver and blue adorned table. Every one of them more than glad to make room for the girl who stumped the hat for so long. Relief swelled and spilled violently throughout the hall and crowd just to leave Jewels so far from Lily and Severus.

“Sirius Black.” The name that came next, another name the girl didn’t recognize out of those left. One by one to be called while she was at a table filled entirely with strangers to her. Friendly but strangers no less.

Through the crowd during the final few, Remus by her was spotted. He drew her focus to a grey feather embroidered black jacket wearing teen seated a bit farther down the Ravenclaw table. To the older teen from his eyes Remus' fingers moved. Right away her lips parted in remembering the fact that had many at her table check between the first years and warn the fifth year of being talked about.

Ted Tonks, who she’d later be able to meet when he helped to guide her and the other first years to their tower. One of the Prefects she’d have ample time to build up the nerve to talk to. Right when his eyes landed on the overly quiet first year he assumed to be nervous he urged his eyes to flicker a few colors mid sudden sprout of his natural ears into those of a bear around his black pointed hat, to try and make her smile. The shock of which had her eyes instantly change to purple widening his smile. Right to her glass she looked so he could have an angle of her eyes that looked green and he let out a chuckle. Forcing his ears and hair back to normal. He straightened up on his seat to share with his friends around him the obvious reason why he was pointed out to her.

Mentally he made note to talk to the girl even if he had to wait for the walk up to the tower to do so. Let her know that even without her sister to room with she wasn’t alone. Sure he was the only one able to change like her he knew of. But amongst the other female student body there were those the boys could feel an unyielding pull to gawk at and shadow to be in their company. Just as soon as she stopped focusing on her sister too engrossed in conversation of the two boys who tried to get inside the train car earlier.

Much like her sister Bellatrix, Andromeda Black, beside her boyfriend Ted, kept a lingering stare at the first year who seemed to have Slytherin's eyes. Marking them as relations of a most perplexing variety if she was born from a pair of Muggles. Yet somehow of stronger connection than the Black line to have inherited that one feature. Those questions would have to wait though as the new girl would be early to bed to rest for the first day of classes and the pair of Prefects were off to their first meeting of the year.

 *.*.* Jewels *.*.*

 On break between Transfigurations and lunch the first years were let loose to roam the halls at their fancy. Jewelia and Severus walked alone, hoping to find a sunny place to sit and wait as Lily was halls away having a word with the Potions Professor on a weird reaction her hand had to an ingredient to see if it needed a quick remedy or not.

Severus broke the focus she had on more students whispering and nodding her way from the other end of the corridor by saying, “The moody one came down to our dorm last night. Has a cousin in the room across from mine, let him in and gave him a blanket for the couch in the common room.” Jewelia’s brow rose at the curious notion of the perplexing Sirius Black. The boy who seemed to be gaining popularity amongst Gryffindors thanks to his new friend James Potter. A clearly well off Pure-Blood from a family nearly as old as the Black Family. The pair now firm in a group of four boys including curiously enough Remus. The boy who kept to himself nearly as much as she did, somehow tangled up with the pompous Potter Lily now mentioned daily in his tries to get to know her better. “Apparently not all is going swimmingly between the pair.”

Clearly Jewels was on edge, or so he heard, having checked in with a few older Ravenclaw students who said the young eye grabbing co-ed was not being the most talkative since being split from Lily and himself. Even more so when she would take spare time each night after curfew to write to another mysterious sister not attending here others had bets on what magical school she had been accepted at if not here.

And just like a bad egg being stepped on a voice like a foul scent filled the air of the space announcing James Potter here to spoil the assumed calm afternoon. “Mind the balloons Snivellus, wouldn’t want to spoil your only tailored piece of clothing to your pitiful name.” James mocked aloud mid explosion of a balloon charm he cast that coated Severus in colored powder reeking of papaya.

A crack of a broken nose followed and the smug peacock dropped to a hard fist colliding with his face by none other than the now red and gold eyed glowing girl in love with the target of said prank. Bloody handed Jewels stood glaring at the prankster who enraged her. Goading cackles and noises from the students milling by muffled in her ears as her body stood ready to hit him again if he went for his dropped wand. That hand in a fist while her other arm remained locked around her books she hoped to keep in good order for their price for years to come. But not a moment later a startling authoritative shout drew a visible flinch from several.

“EVANS!” Minerva shouted in a determined stride that way. Under the ruckus the sound of Jewels’ books she let free to hide and flee muffled, same as the disappointed sigh from Severus, who bent to collect them to join his own on his way to find where she had raced off to. Unnoticed by Sirius’ wide eyes that followed the clap of hands over the beginnings of a beak on Jewels’ face and her race away. “Soon as you find her send her to my office!” Minerva instructed.

Sirius moved past bloody nosed James to ask the flustered Professor en route to speak to said groaning boy bent forward collapsed onto the stone floor clutching at his throbbing face, “Muggle-Born, right?”

“I beg your pardon, Sirius?” she asked ticking her brow upwards.

“Jewels, she’s supposed to be Muggle-Born?” He clarified the question that nearly everyone of well off lines had asked themselves. A puzzle in human form, showing traits of beings that could not be found ever in Muggle lines causing many to insist they heard from others Severus himself said she was in fact adopted both solving and not solving the perplexing puzzle.

“I don’t rightly see the worth-,” she tried to say but was cut off.

“I think she’s half Veela.” He said dropping the Professor’s jaw. In a pinch of fingers mid tug of that hand away from his lips he motioned a hand to elaborate his point, “Beak, and she glows, and the temper.”

Minerva huffed. Just now realizing the most logical reason why the young girl had been coming off possibly as owner of an unnamed chip on her shoulder requiring spare effort. “That, is a possibility.”

He nodded and said, “I’ll find her a book on it.” Order free he made his way to the library leaving behind James and lanky Remus, the latter leaned against a wall snickering at the sudden change of goals in Sirius. All at this proof of their week long debate on why Jewels seemed to be unmistakably irresistible to look away from. Peter alone was the one to help guide James to the Hospital Wing.

.

Softly Sirius cleared his throat on the other side of the bathroom Jewels was pretending to not be inside of. With his arm nudged the door open enough to levitate the book inside. “I’m sending a book in, don’t damage it or anything. Librarian Pince will raze the school to the ground if her collection is damaged. Thought you might need a few answers.”

Before he guessed it would the door opened and his wide eyed self peered on at the pink cheeked girl with still golden pupils, who held the open book facing him to show what could only be named as an inhuman creature. Two legged but with wings and a bird head to match the talon ended feet and sharply clawed thick knuckled fingers of the rage filled beast. “I am not-,”

“That’s a full Veela,” he blurted out. Then gestured at the stuffed miniature cow shaped stool at his side that she looked to then back up at him again, making him sigh and step aside to reveal a chair with legs that didn’t match in length. “I’m still only able to make wobbly chairs, that’s got four even legs.”

Softly she huffed and eased out of the door to plop down on the cushioned animal stool in demand of answers. Down onto his chair he lowered, extending the plant of his feet at the tilt of the chair to one side he ignored the motion to explain this fuller to the girl who had absolutely no clue what had been happening to her. “Half Veela don’t fully change like that, it, depends on the family line, some countries have different traits. I think it’s twelve chapters in, talks about half Veela. They do have powders for the glow, perfumes for the allure of others, and some shops do have charms to help, with the,” his hand rose to gesture out of his mouth like a beak just making her bashfully cover her mouth with a hand.

“I didn’t mean it, like that,” onto her shoulder his hand moved. “It’s a nice beak, at least the base of it, haven’t seen it full on yet.” At him her eyes glared and he choked out a laugh and cleared his throat again. “James, he can be like my Mum sometimes. Just a light switch. Sudden ignition, no reasoning required. You can’t,” he said and felt his voice taper off in the lock of his eyes on hers to just stare at the eyes so unlike any half Veela line he’d heard of before, but rang close to his own.

The shove into his arm that had him rock unsteadily on his seat snapped his thoughts back to the present. “Stop doing that, everyone in my dorm already stares at me.” Muddled in self pity and uncertainty of what to do with the name of this supposed condition of hers she dropped her eyes to the book now open on her lap. Freeing a full look at the roots of her hair that began to bleed out lime green.

“You’re a Morpher too!” Up at him again her eyes snapped, this was her turn to be the wide eyed one. “Super rare mixture! No wonder the reaction is so reflexive when you get upset!”

“What?” she asked squeaked. Up he stood gesturing his wand, pulled from his pocket, at the cow stool that levitated behind him to head for the library not far away from this rarely used bathroom. “I can walk…” she stammered out with hands and feet locked on the stool to not fall off at the same time.

“Best you stay on the stool or you might hit someone again. Professor wants to talk to you still you know, trouble maker you.” He joked, turning his head back to flash her a quick wink trying to calm her down in the wait of this newly added fact.

But at the end of the proper aisle inside the library he helped her down to share the system to her organizing the rows on various conditions that were inherited through magical lines. “Metamorphmagus. Gobblety gook word for shape shifters. Your body hits a rage and that kicks off to fill out what the blood knows to be a hidden side of you.” Pulling out the proper book he had been in search of.

Up at him she looked and timidly asked, “They don’t, lock those up, do they?”

Over her face he looked in concern and shook his head. “No. No they don’t. Muggles might not ever think they’re actually real outside of science fiction or fairy tales, but they are, just regular people who are able to change how they look, people, animals, creatures even if they practice enough. Like that Prefect Tonks who’s dating my cousin. So maybe, now you know what’s going on it might help, with the-,”

“You lift your hand I’m going to punch you.” She said luring a wide smile across his face.

“Detention, in the least. Now, I’m gonna take you to Professor,” and he moved to the side of the stool to pat the head on it winning a sigh from her in return for the action. “Or I could be labeled an accomplice and end up in the desk beside you. And think of the misery in that, spending an entire evening with me at your side.” That had her plop back onto the cow and he smiled again, “Thank you, from the deepest cockles of my heart for sparing me and yourself the cruelest of evenings party to my company in shared misery of the foulest of tasks.”

“A bit thick,” she muttered and he chuckled, going to check out the second book for her to borrow so he could hover her to the stern but understanding Professor. Who for most of the time until dinner would share all she could to fill in gaps, including hand over an order form for some Veela products to help with the most troublesome traits Minerva herself would foot the bill for and keep up to date on check ins to see how they would help in day to day issues. Sheepishly the teen spoke up to Minerva’s inquest on any more questions to ask, “Does any of this help with the nightmares?”

“Nightmares?” Minerva asked straightening up, “Concerning what precisely?”

“There’s a woman, and she’s locked away, alone, I keep seeing her. She can’t get out. She looks like me.”

Minerva over the top of the desk leaned in to rest a hand on top of Jewels’, “How often do you have this dream?”

“Seven years. Few times a month in the least.”

Minerva’s mouth opened a moment and she nodded, prompt to stand on her feet and offer a hand. “Come with me. Divinations Professor Onai is best to play council to these dreams of yours, and if not her we shall inquire upon a Centaur of the herd in the dark forest.” A possible Seer of limited capabilities, just foreboding dreams apparently linked to a single trapped woman they couldn’t name in any way was the given and unhelpful prognosis. The solution, nightly rituals to help and dampen the frequency of said dreams at least were added amongst the new tasks for detention each night until the window of punishment had run out.

Tricks easy enough for her to carry on all on her own, but not alone, soon she would make good on her self made plan to sneak into the forbidden forest to find the Centaur herd and see what they might have to draw out of the dream. A plan successful in that she got her answer, the trapped woman is a ghost of some power to her past. A guiding spirit instilling warnings of things to avoid muddled by lack of knowledge on how to share the pain precisely beyond the dividing veil. To the Muggle side of her upbringing it rang closer to a guardian angel, and like their biblical counterparts were equally terrifying as beautiful, so the fact these warnings came to be nightmares shifted a bit less unsettling once seen through that light.

To get out of the castle proved to be a simple task. Sneaking back in however was how she got caught. That trip would spur on a month more detention, through which her absent humming observed by Flitwick would begin a change to her life in a way she would have never guessed while being a student in this magical place.

Pt 4

[alwaysunabasheddelusion]

An interdepartmental memo fluttered down the aisles between rapidly emptying cubicles.

Most of the witches and wizards who worked for the law department office were filing away the day’s work, eager to get home.

Not Bartemius Crouch.

The Head of the Law Department sat at his desk, buried in the stack of papers that towered over him until he was almost invisible to anyone who might look through the peep hole in his office door. Only his assistant, perusing a scroll that reached all the way to the floor, could be seen.

This was reliably where one could find Barty, consumed in what other people often considered the tedious details of government work, but which he considered vital to the smooth running of a peaceful community. He was a controversial figure, but even his most ardent enemies recognized his tireless devotion to his job, although they often framed it in less flattering terms: Workaholic. Inflexible. Obsessive.

He preferred to think of himself as reliable. Thorough. Scrupulous.

The memo picked up speed as it approached Crouch’s office. Just as it reached the door a harried young ministry assistant rushed out of the room, leaving an opening for the memo to soar through. It swept inside before the door swung shut, where it bumped insistently into Barty’s head. He snatched it out of the air, unfolding it with an impatient snap of his hand, and read the words scrawled across the creased paper. 

Instigators of Longbottom attack apprehended. Barty closed his eyes and released a slow breath. The attack on Frank and Alice had shaken the wizarding community to the core, coming as it had almost a year after Voldemort’s downfall. The Longbottoms hadn’t been inexperienced Aurors, either; Frank had been with the Auror department for thirteen years. 

This October would have marked the fourteenth. 

Barty and the rest of the Law department had done their damndest to hunt down every Death Eater and lock them away in Azkaban to rot. The Wizengamot had thwarted some of their attempts, however. He had long speculated which of the unfortunately freed scum had been behind this. Would he at last be able to prove that Lucius Malfoy’s cooperation with Voldemort had been willing? Perhaps sniveling Karkaroff had thought to get revenge upon the Aurors who had brought him to Azkaban? Or maybe one of the Blacks felt empowered to follow the footsteps of their wretched cousin Sirius. 

He was grimly pleased. Two years the terrorists had kept out of the Aurors’ clutches. Two years! But they couldn’t outrun justice. 

He strode out of the office swiftly, his shoulders thrown back, exuding confidence and power. Ensuring the villains faced justice would be his crowning glory. He could envision the headlines. Already the Daily Prophet had declared the next election his to lose. The next election wasn’t for another four years, but Barty felt good about his chances. 

He made his way into the lift. He inclined his head toward the only other occupant, a diminutive witch wearing an oversized hat who mumbled greetings in return. She got off the lift before it reached level ten, leaving him to bask alone.

When he stepped out of the lift, there were four Aurors waiting for him: Clive Carmichael, an impetuous firecracker of a muggleborn; Wardell Crickerly, his responsible work partner; Jill Proudfoot, who had gone through Auror training with Alice and had been one of the first on the scene when that calamitous Dark Mark had appeared in the sky above the Longbottom’s home; and grizzled veteran Sandra Savage. They all looked the worse for wear, with dried blood on their faces and great gashes in their robes. An acrid smell of smoke hung in the air around them.

The four exchanged glances, shifting with a discomfort that lowered his mood.

He regarded them sharply. “Who was injured?” 

Clive Carmichael stepped forward. “Moody took Dawlish to St. Mungo’s. He was hit with a nasty tentacle jinx and we couldn’t put his arm right. And Lotte Higgs…” he clenched his wand. “Scrimgeour is filling out the paperwork so we can inform her family.” 

Barty bowed his head as he contemplated this news. The healers at St. Mungo’s would sort Dawlish out in no time, but Higgs…

He had lost too many good witches and wizards during the war. It hurt to lose another one to the same damnable Dark Wizards. 

“They’ll get what they deserve,” He said at last, lifting his gaze to their faces. 

Their eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“Well, lead me to them,” He said, striding forward. “Let’s not take all day about it.” 

Jill made a jerky movement, like she was going to stop him, and then thought better of it and fell back into position. She cast an uncertain look at Sandra. 

Sandra cleared her throat. She looked no more comfortable than Jill, or perhaps that was the effect of her many scars. “I don’t think–” she began, but Barty thrust past her through the heavy iron door that led into the dungeon. 

Crickerly and Carmichael followed at his heels, while Savage and Proudfoot stood sentry outside the door. The only sounds were their footsteps against the stone floor and the whispering swish of their cloaks. 

The light was dim and the air cold inside the dungeons. It grew even colder and damper as they drew nearer the holding cells for newly collected prisoners. Out of the darkness, the darker figures of the Dementors took gradual shape, marking the occupied cells. 

Muffled rustling came from inside the cells as the Death Eaters realized they were no longer alone. The huddled forms of the defeated Death Eaters looked up.

[otrtbs]

what conspiracy theory do all the characters in art heist baby! believe in?

i can definitely see James thinking lizard people exist and he just watches Reg while he sleeps, waiting to see some scales

STOP I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OKAY

Okay i can totally see the lizard people thing lmaooooo!!! to me James is the classic “the moon landing was fake” he is nick miller screaming at regulus and remus “the shadows are off! the shadows are off!” (and Sirius is instigating not bc he also believes the moon landing was fake but because he likes to see regulus and remus mad lmaoo)

Regulus and Dorcas both believe in aliens but not in the “they come to earth to abduct and do tests on people” way but in the “the universe is so vast and expansive ofc we’re not the most intelligent life forms out there” way (marlene wholeheartedly believes they come down to earth to experiment on humans and will tell you a story of her cousins sisters uncles brothers boss who was abducted)

Peter is a flat earther just for the hell of it. He started defending flat earth theory as a joke but now everyone is increasingly concerned bc he seems a little too into it hahaha

Sirius believes we’re all living in an elaborate simulation and our choices aren’t really our own but he only gets super weird (or deep and philosophical about it) when he’s high but he’ll point out “glitches in the simulation” every time he sees them. Mary also believes this except it’s more in a “everything’s a simulation so I’m gonna have a fucking great time” way. But she thoroughly enjoys looking for glitches with Sirius

Marlene got superrrrr into the JFK assassination and believes it was an inside government job (she also has all this obscure, and out of character knowledge about history surrounding jfk that everyone is shocked by)

Barty and Evan believe in the Illuminati and think that a certain group of people sold their souls to the devil to obtain wealth and power and Barty calls out random celebrities and people he thinks are a part of it all the time and Evan has a list where he writes it all down with reasons why bc they’re trying to crack the code lmfaoo

Remus believes in Bigfoot HAHAHA HE DOES THO HE BELIEVES BIGFOOT IS REAL BUT HE WOULD NEVER EVER ADMIT IT OUT LOUD like you couldn’t torture that information out of him but sometimes he’ll look into the woods with that™️ look in his eye bc he’s out there,,,,Bigfoot

Lily believes in the conspiracy theory that Avril Lavigne was replaced with another look a like Avril Lavigne and she will show you 30471 YouTube videos about it and end her presentation with “just think about it” as she nods very seriously at you. she actually tackled remus to the ground when he wouldn’t stop laughing at her

[ravencromwell]

Fannish Fifty #1: “The Ministry’s Man by Musamihi

Tomorrow marks the start of the new semester. Tonight, I'm treating myself to the beginning of my shamelessly self-indulgent fannish fifty

first brought to my attentionbby the incomparable delphi

I've decided to do fifty recs, with the proviso that if I'm short by a lot in November or so, I'll intersperse professional work I think deals especially adeptly with fannish tropes--Naomi Noviks deconstruction of chosen one narratives etc. I'm beginning the festivities with the piece I most dearly wish I'd written; December will be for friends' works, because I want so many of you whose work is as dear to me for instigating our friendship as its theme and content to have the gift of having your art seen and praised throughout an oft-fraught holiday season.

Title: The Ministry’s Man

Author: @musamihi-blog

pairings: John Dawlish/Bartemius Crouch Senior (unrequited), John Dawlish/Rufus Scrimgeour

Summary: John Dawlish has spent his career in the shadows of the Ministry's great men. One of the things they have in common is they never stay for long.

Rufus Scrimgeour is the character I will come back to at ninety, rocking on a porch and ruminating about decency warring with pragmatism in a world where the chickens wrought from generation upon generation of prejudice are coming home to roost. He's Churchill--riddled with trauma from the last great war, certain of his moral rectitude, but also bullish to a fault and embodying so many of the prejudices destroying the world around him--and! disabled, which makes the entire character arc a thousand fucking times better.

I'm not ashamed to admit, here in a circle of mostly mutuals, that at the darkest lows of suicidal ideation after Mom's death, I lived to read and write more fic about the flawed wartime Minister and Thorin Oakenshield--also a deeply flawed king trying to reclaim a homeland and let his better angels triumph (I have a type, y'all)

I can't now recall which HP BeholderMMinistry's Man sprang from (GOD, I miss that fest and at least half the HP fics to be recced by me come from its brilliance) It feels like one of those pieces that is simultaneously a reflection on and deconstruction of canon so perfectly precise it must've always existed.

Of course, I first read it for the Scrimgeour. His portrayal is a masterclass: proud and prickly but also clever and discerning, ruthlessly exacting while being deeply compelling and empathetic in his desire to keep the state afloat. Ironically, though, it's the fic's use of Dawlish to elucidate moral concerns that leave me in awe and writerly envy.

For John Dawlish is a mirror, bland and blank and utterly loyal to the state, even when the state comes to be embodied by Voldemort. He's almost Harry's exact foil, unthinkingly obedient, merely present to be manipulated as greater forces of personality desire. But like any mirror, he's deeply observant, reflecting the question: how do you proceed in a world fundamentally premised on moral decay and prejudice? When the other side is worse, what means are acceptable?

The fic is a philosophical tour de force, with no easy answers, casting as unsparing an eye on Dumbledore's refusal to engage as it does on the excesses of Crouch and Scrimgeour.

Early in the fic, we're treated this haunting dialogue: "It's going to get away from you, Barty," she says, stopping not five paces from me...."Extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures." Mr. Crouch looks her square in the eye and starts winding a muffler around his neck.

From that moment, the center cannot hold, forcing us to ask what these world-weary characters should have done, or if the outcome was inevitable all along.

And every time, I'm sucked along with the Ministry’s man

 until I return breathlessly to the beginning, desperate hope this ending will somehow be different.

[anauro]

okay but why did this make me think of dass reg taking everyone skiing

imagine all of them trying to show each other up and james is just awful at it

TikTok

(but also they are real people so i in no way commented anything hp related on their vid because that’s weird but i really wanted to share)

Heya!

It’s because they would totally do it 🤣. I saw this tiktok a while ago too and it made me think of that too, except I think it’d be someone like Barty or Evan instigating the challenge. Neither of them skis, but I can totally image them putting on two snowboards (one on each foot) to try this whilst Regulus rolls his eyes, but secretly tries too 😀

[mz-elysium]

COURT : the camarilla court of the san francisco bay

[ID: a bleached skull in a black iron crown, against a swirling red background; titled in white COURT: Camarilla court of the San Francisco Bay; second image is a sepia-toned map of the Bay Area, marked by boundary lines and cities /end]

Recently turned over from an Anarch Free State to a new Camarilla realm, the Bay’s court of 2004 is populated by over-confident ancillae, who have largely forgotten they were ever rebels.

WIP Intro // WIP tag

↳Prince

…and Primogen of Clan Tremere, Regent of the Chantry of Ashen Flame, Warden of the City and Peninsula 

◦ Petra van Allen // 10th Gen Tremere, e.1839 // Lord of Palo Alto

The driving force behind the revolts that once displaced the camarilla, Petra was the iron in her husband’s silk glove. Lacking Barty’s charisma, her typical harsh rule is characterized as Camarilla standard. The crown is all she has left of their dream.

↳Archon (“visiting”)

◦ Jan Pieterzoon // 7th Gen Ventrue, e.1723 // freelander of Nob Hill

The kingmaker and ultimate overseer of the Bay’s transition to Camarilla rule, almost none of his extensive plans have gone accordingly. He expects further disturbance.

↳Seneschal

◦ Matthew Monroe // 9th Gen Ventrue, e.1873 // freelander of Nob Hill

Once, the first childe of the original Ventrue primogen, Monroe fled the revolts and has only returned recently with the Camarilla en force. His loyalists alone, though, outnumber almost any other faction. The threat is implicit. It makes genuine reform difficult.

↳Sheriff

◦ Daphne Katz // Caitiff, e.1935 // tenant in SoMa

Seemingly come out of nowhere, no one (least of all Katz) knows who sired her or where they went. Regardless, her skill as a detective is unmatched. The Frosts saw her through early nights. Despite their depravity, she maintains professional relationships with the twins.

↳Primogen Council of Representatives

…↳Ventrue

◦ Colton Frost // 10th Gen Ventrue, e.1840 // Lord of Downtown (Financial, SoMa, Tenderloin, Chinatown)

One half of a dynamic duo of brother-sister twins, the Frosts were instigators of the Bay Revolts, alongside Petra and her late Ventrue husband. As mortals, they were opportunistic outlaws scouring the Gold Rush. Little changes. Now, they run the original Circulatory System — a human-trafficking organization to provide clean blood to any and all. Half food pantry, half entertainment.

…↳Toreador

◦ William Randolph Hearst // 10th Gen Toreador, e.1914

The creator of fake news and America’s most reviled propagandist, Hearst’s media empire still stretches across the nation. Conventionally old-fashioned, his wealth, excess, and charmlessness is infamous. High clan rebels kept him around as a target for the Anarchs to vent hatred against — a role he is more than happy to play.

…↳Malkavian

◦ Basil Dior // 11th Gen Malkavian, e.1810 // Lord of Nob Hill

Childe of the late primogen, Basil and his brother-in-Blood were unorthodox features. Basil was clean, well-dressed, with a class of Old World French-Carribean accent and tales of his exploits as an art thief. Truman was a creepy psychologist with an almost fascist level of obsession over obeying power, prone to “helping” fledglings. Basil got the job. Truman was ousted to the East Bay — good riddance.

…↳Brujah, and Warden of the East Bay

◦ Sylvester “Sly” Enriquez // 12th Gen Brujah, e.1982 // Lord of Oakland

A leader of one of the two main Anarch gangs, Sly slipped into the role by accident. His sire was legendary — and disappeared in 1993. Sly couldn’t waste nights at punk clubs in Oakland or freeload anymore. People looked to him. Still do, even though he’s barely older than any of them. The crown hopes a little power in his hands will disable his burgeoning revolution.

…↳Nosferatu, and Keeper of Elysium

◦ Natasha Fox, “the Dame” // 11th Gen Nosferatu, e.1930 // Lord of the Mission

A freak show tattooed woman, the Dame was thrilled to discover her art survived the Embrace. She found a place in the City’s underbelly, eventually sliding among leather and BDSM crowds. While not beautiful anymore, she’s ethereal. Utterly otherworldly. She is also deep in debt to the Demure family for denying her clanmate Zephyr his rightful title.

↳Herald

◦ Tala Naquil,  “the Songbird” // 12th Gen Toreador, e.1962

The radio host of the Bay, she’s been trying to escape Hearst’s slander and influence — to no effect. Not even Zephyr has given his hatred pause. To most, the Songbird isn’t worth crying over. Petra has a soft spot for the neonate, though, and trusts her to carry the royal word.

↳Warden of the South Bay

◦ Zephyr // 10th Gen Nosferatu, e.1907 // Lord of San Jose

The mysterious tycoon and inventor of Silicon Valley, Zephyr allows few to live or operate in his domain. His brood keeps a tight hold. SchreckNET and fingers in the hearts of mortal tech giants keep him relevant — even when the City thinks to disregard him. However, he might still have a curious relationship to nearby Tremere and secrets even from his brood.

↳Harpies

◦ Thomas Demure // 11th Gen Toreador, e.1862 // tenant of Sausalito

A jewelry designer from the east coast, no one lets him forget his Bostonian origins. Most know him as mild-mannered, even shy, but a death in the family a few years ago changed him. Everyone glared at each other, wondering who killed the fateful childe. Harder, colder, there’s a viciousness beneath the surface. He’s finally used his age, power, and brood to their full effect. The matriarch and his mate, Eleanor, rarely leaves the North Bay town of Sausalito. 

◦ Rodrigo Demure // 12th Gen Toreador, e.1908 // tenant of Sausalito

First a ghoul, fernangled into position as the chief architect of rebuilding San Francisco after the 1906 Earthquake, Rodrigo has continued his work across the Bay. He has a trusting humble demeanor. Few kindred give a second thought on letting him design their havens. After all, who will he tell?

◦ Sophia Demure // 12th Gen Toreador, e.1962 // tenant of the Haight

An original hippie of Haight-Ashbury, she retained old contacts and even friends of the generation. Now, fading into irrelevance, her philosophy of peace and love wanes thin. She was closest to the Demures’ dead childe.

◦ Gavin Demure // 12th Gen Toreador, e.1972 // Lord of the Castro

A tattoo artist of the Castro, before the Plague Years, Gavin has finally given his approval to the Dame and ended a decades-long rivalry on Thomas’ orders. Most know it’s not genuine. Gavin refuses to ink her. She wears no token from Thomas. Her domain wasn’t designed by Rodrigo. Still, there is an eternity between what is said and what is meant.

WIP Intro // WIP tag

I’ll still be slowly but surely churning out these Wormwood worldbuilding posts (as I procrastinate writing lmao), so feel free to follow the tag or ask to be tagged in!

[theblackdahliaaa]

okay but harry potter time travel fics just hit so different- they give everyone some sort of a redemption arc and i am so here for it 😭 no one asked for a fic review but whatever im writing one anyway, leave me alone. i just need to get all this love and gushing over time travel fics out of my system because my friends are vanilla and they don’t take time to read actual masterpieces. if you are interested in some teenage girl’s opinions on time travel fanfiction, feel free to read them, savor them, love them, and all that jazz.

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected) by iam_kneazle - HOW DO I EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE THIS FIC ?? IT’S JUST SO GOOD LIKE HOW DO YOU EVEN DESCRIBE A MASTERPIECE LIKE THAT ?? i loved barty and reg on here, i don’t think authors really focus on barty when writing time travel fics but their friendship dynamic w/ hermione is everything. this is one of the fics that you really don’t get tired of reading because there is so much more too it than some stereotypical time travel romance fic. you get to see how the other characters were affected with hermione’s presence and all the changes she instigated in them. petunia in canon was really terrible but in this fic you kinda sympathize with her on how she felt left out that she wasn’t with her sisters in hogwarts and she never got to guide them through life like how she imagined. okay so yea im gonna stop gushing over the characters now.

Hero of the Story by kim_camaro - AGAIN, ANOTHER MASTERPIECE !! it’s just so beautifully well written and you really get to know the characters’ attitudes here, why they did certain things in canon or what prompted them to do those actions. im not a snape apologist or anything (he was a really big bully in canon and that can’t really be justified just because he was bullied by the marauders; he was just as vicious too when attacking them back) but you can get to understand how rough it was for snape back then. peter was also very well written because the author doesn’t just paint him as some insecure villain-in-the-making. i really think he was more than that but eventually in canon, it made him the bad guy. reggie is just downright amazing, as always. (him and sirius were really adorable !!)

oh and literally anything written by celestialseawitch. ALL OF HER WORKS ARE MASTERPIECES !! my favorites are def The Marked One, As It Should Be (not a time travel fic but read it anyway), Prophecy Child, and Child Bride. im not gonna continue gushing over these fics because this would then just turn into some never-ending essay. read it, savor it, love it and all that jazz cause i swear to whatever god u believe in, u will not regret reading them. ok bye 😽

[welcometoels]

Session Four - North

Night time in the still-nameless hub town, and the party have a few things they want to attend to before bed.

Oddsock opts to double-down on his desecration of the local chapel, in service to his patron.  Burning off the lock with a sloppily-applied Acid Splash, he sets about leaving a special gift on the altar.

The priest, awoken by the commotion, brandishes a broom at him, but is soothed by the hound’s friendly aura.  Sighing with resignation, he goes back to his lodgings to fetch cleaning supplies for once the cheeky dog is finished.

Over in the Jaunty Skinner, Talion (still under the guise of Tom the Bard) plays a selection of songs upon his lyre, for the delight of the townsfolk, while Julius carves some inexpert, but still identifiable, likenesses of X and Gyder into a couple of his best pebbles.  Kadis just takes in the vibes, enjoying a few moments of peace.

Sleep comes readily to the group. Oddsock dreams of his sister and her pithy column in the back pages of Chew’s News; Julius of running through the woods looking for something he can’t quite reach, and Talion of a song from his childhood. Kadis is revisited by the same old nightmare and the face of a compass - this time with the point of light from the south being in the very middle.

Morning rolls around, and with it, breakfast.  Barty offers porridge, but only Julius accepts, the others someone offput by the events in the southern farm.  They make do with an apple each, though Oddsock uses his canine charm and receives a couple of rashers of bacon that Barty had been keeping aside for himself.

While enjoying his steaming bowl of nourishment, Julius feels something scurrying around his feet.  Looking under the table, he finds a small weasel, which scampers up his body and settles on his shoulders.  Julius names the weasel Rupert, and the other team members bond with the little fellow using apple segments and vigorous petting.

Upon closer inspection, Talion discovers that the weasel shows signs of being a fey creature - mainly due to the tell-tale sparkle of magic in his fur.  He is also clearly bonded to Julius.

On the way out of town to investigate the rumours of undead in the north, the party hatches a plan.  In order to ascertain whether or not the glowing blue gem is the source of the light in Kadis’ dreams, they leave it with Barty, who promises to bury it in a special safe spot.

Julius gives the carved pebbles to his new friend X, who receives them with delight and promises to pass Gyder’s along to her.  Where the Half-Orc is, and what she is doing, is unknown at this time, but she is doubtless pursuing leads on the yellow-cloaked man who murdered her husband.

Just on the outskirts of town the adventurers encounter a mysterious robed figure, face unseen, standing before a trestle table and a sign reading “Jackie’s House Table Of Potions”.  Upon the table are four bottles, which Talion successfully identifies as minor healing potions.

The team discusses a fair trade for the bottles, but during negotiations, Oddsock peeks under the robe and comes face to face with a large raccoon.  The figure drops the pretence and admits to being a group of racoons posing as a person, as the locals seem unwilling to trade with animals - even those that can talk.  Julius and Oddsock’s experiences at the town shop certainly confirm this to be true.

Re-introducing themselves as Jackie Face, Jackie Left, Jackie Right, Jackie Middle and the poor unfortunate Jackie Bottom, they successfully entreat the party to purchase the potions and not tell of their deception.  They sweeten this deal by promising favourable rates on any future purchases.

Newly stocked with healing items, the group continues north, leaving the Jackies to wrestle with the folding table.

While walking through the forest path, the group begins to notice that the trees are changing.  Where once was verdant oak and elm, there is now dark pine, and some that appear dead and leafless.  Through this sinister foliage they hear sounds of animals in pain, and a weak cry for help.

Pressing onward to find the source, they stumble across an uneven, two-storey house with a quaint vegetable garden, and a woman dressed in a sari, and a veil over her mouth.  She looks panicked as the team arrives, and backs away slowly.

From the house emerges a portly, friendly Human, who introduces himself as Zeriah Fernbough, and his companion as Em.  When questioned, he denies hearing any pained sounds, and is unaware of anyone or anything in peril in the local area.  He invites the group inside for tea and, since night is drawing in, a bed.

The group are understandably suspicious - an over-friendly man and his as-yet silent friend, living in a creepy forest from which came sounds of peril is certainly a situation in which to maintain utmost caution.  They follow the duo inside and settle into the mis-matched furniture to begin their secret investigation.

Julius brings his attention to Em, to see if he can deduce the cause of her muteness.  Though the otter can find no medical cause, he does notice that her skin is quite unusual - unlike any flesh he’s touched before.  He also sends Rupert to check outside, but discovers nothing except for the fact that the side of the house has the same texture as Em’s skin.

When Zeriah brings out some cups of tea, Kadis sniffs it carefully.  He finds that it is simply a pleasant herbal brew, which Zeriah confirms is a mixture of his own invention.  It tastes good too.

Talion turns on the charm and engages in some friendly chat with Zeriah.  However, Zeriah confirms that he is not aware of any injured creatures.  Em remains silent.

Oddsock uses his cover as a friendly Golden Retriever to scour the location.  He follows Zeriah into the kitchen as he goes to fetch biscuits, and has a thorough sniff around, discovering nothing more unusual than a large number of shoes in the downstairs hall.  He picks one and attempts to instigate a game of fetch with Em, which she reluctantly agrees to.

Under the cover of this game, he uses Unseen Servant to create a loud noise upstairs. When Zeriah goes to investigate, Oddsock follows, after sending details of his plan via psychic Message to Talion - which startles the Half-Elf.  Sniffing about some more, Oddsock finds two bedrooms and another flight of stairs going up, at the top of which is a third bedroom with a sock behind the bed.

After a quick sock wrestle with Zeriah (who happens to be wearing the other sock), Oddsock retires to the topmost bedroom with the team, and immediately stretches diagonally across the bed.  On the way up, Kadis successfully palms his cursed idol into Zeriah’s dressing gown pocket, and hopes for a dreamless sleep.

At first, Kadis gets what he wants, and sleeps soundly for the first time in a long while.  However, just before he wakes, he sees the compass face again, with the bright light in the middle.  Touching his chest, he finds the idol back in place.

Talion also awakens to a surprise, but much further down his body.  Investigating an unpleasant sensation in his foot, he finds a piece of the mismatched furniture - a small ottoman - chewing on it.  Startled, he shoos it away, and it scampers across the floor to scratch at the door.

Zeriah opens the door to investigate the upstairs panic, and the ottoman skitters between his legs.  Truly apologetic, he invites the team down for an explanation and a confession of sorts.  On the way, a friendly end table nuzzles Kadis’ hand.

Before being dragged from his usual domain to this unusual place. Zeriah was a mimic farmer - their skins being useful in the creation of fine clothing, which can change colour at the wearer’s desire.  However, over the years he began to regard them as sweet, caring creatures - far removed from the carnivorous treasure chests of legend.  He befriended his livestock and now lives amongst them as their caretaker.

He also knows more about the strange noises in the forest than he initially let on.  Mimics are capable of psychic communication, and they are prone to trying to lure predators and, occasionally, bandits to the location when they are hungry, using the sounds of animals and people in pain.

He apologises profusely, and swears that he had no intention of allowing the mimics to feed on the party, but one of the younger ones had clearly become over-excited.  From the kitchen, the little ottoman peeks around the corner bashfully.

The team takes Zeriah at his word, and prepares to leave.  On the way out, Kadis asks how Zeriah slept.  Apparently, he had terrible dreams at first, of tentacles and terrible magic, but that gave way to images of a nice cupboard.  He certainly was unaware of any idols.

Just outside the door, the team is immediately confronted by a huge owlbear.  Seeing this, Zeriah claps his hands sharply, and the entire house collapses into a ravenous swarm that engulfs the creature.  Amongst the writhing mass, they briefly see Em, who drops her sari to reveal a figure that is almost entirely featureless, save for a huge mouth extending diagonally from her shoulder.  She falls neatly into two parts and joints the feeding frenzy.

Once the owlbear has been picked clean, the house slowly begins to re-form.  Zeriah waves cheerfully and invites the party to stay again should they come back the same way.  As they turn to leave, the party hears a woman’s voice telling them how pleasant it was get to know them.

Talion has, it is fair to say, become swiftly tired of people being inside his head.

After another day of travel, the party finds a large, stately building, with grey stone walls and a wrought iron gate.  Upon the gate, in faded gilt, are the words “Mansion de Mortesque”.  A brief flash of lightning illuminates the dark sky, and the twisted topiary beyond the walls.

Opening the gate causes a huge, green, Elven face to appear in the air.  It intones, “LEAVE THIS PLACE”, before slowly dissipating on the sickly breeze.

Undeterred, the party pushes onwards towards the mansion.  Inspecting the topiary, Julius finds that they are not ill in any way - they have merely grown in such as way as to resemble claws scratching at the sky.

A more pressing matter emerges, as Oddsock smells rotten meat and hears the sounds of scraping an moaning.  The party has become flanked by zombies, and are forced to retreat into the - thankfully unlocked - mansion.

Barricading the door with some heavy furniture, they take stock of their surroundings - a large, dim entryway with doors on either side, and a large organ flanked by stairs heading upwards.  An enormous chandelier hangs from the ceiling, but all of the candles have long since melted beyond usefulness.

Talion casts Light upon his obsidian necklace, and inspires his companions with a short song, leaving mandala-like motes of power circling each one.  The team investigates the immediate area, and they hear the sounds of further moans off to either side.

This mansion will clearly present further problems.  Will they defeat these undead forces and triumph, or will they be little more than a snack for shambling corpses?

Find out - NEXT TIME. 

[erudite-rebel]

🌻

Send me a  🌻 and I’ll talk about whatever I like:

🌻 - Despite a mild aversion to touching he hasn’t instigated (mostly on the fact Barty was kinda fucking touch starved) and not being able to maintain much in the way of eye contact, Barty had a shit concept of personal space. Once he liked someone, he is going to jump at them/lean on them/flop on them/poke at them and then talk their fucking ear off.

He was such a lonely fucking kid. Having friends was the best thing in the world to him.

[flightofaqrow]

adaptation to common society excerpts

jumping on the bandwagon of qrow in the tribe vs coming to vale/beacon while in a meta mood. except this is less something i have actual headcanons about, and more something i try to keep in mind, and let the muse reveal the details as i write. so here’s some excerpts.

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾ This entire thread with @erudite-rebel is infused with Barty helping Qrow understand the communication towers:

“…these CCT things seem pretty important to protect.” intricacies of mechanical inner workings are practically second nature to qrow, but he’s still working towards full comprehension of all this advanced tech and invisible communication. he halfway hopes to instigate a tangent on that alone to help him catch up…

“They are indeed,” says Barty, unbothered by Qrow’s lack of knowledge on the subject. Once he’d gotten over the shock of things that Qrow wasn’t used to, or didn’t know how to do, he’d adapted. “The CCT towers provide communication to every corner of Remnant.”

[qrow] “every corner that can afford it.”

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

mountain girl [ @lifahakondotter ] and forest boy commiserate about HVAC:

Lifa: “You’re one of those Vale kids. The hell are you doing up here? Aren’t you all allergic to weather below thirties?”

qrow: “projected aura? …well that and growing up without heat.”

Lifa: “I’m more used to a hearth than the fancy heating they have in this school. Honestly, I hate the noise it makes. Part of the reason I come up here.”

qrow: “oh man, agreed! i’d take the crackle of flames over bangin’… uh,” what was the word… “ - ventilation any day. can barely hear the crickets at night with that kinda racket.”

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

clothing is bullshit!!! also with @lifahakondotter

qrow: sweet stars a warm fire, yes! his shoes are already kicked off by the time she says so. in short order followed by socks, and pants and… once she’s set up her supplies, he’s stripped down to burgundy boxers, hung his clothes from the mantle to dry, and laid down on his back, basking like a cat.

lifa: She turned back around to ask, “Do you like venis– ancestors above me!” He’s practically naked! ...Without an ounce of grace, she tossed [a reindeer skin] over him. “You won’t warm up like that.”

qrow: the fact that baring so much skin could itself cross the lines of decency never even occurred to him. he had found not everyone in the kingdoms had the same openness he grew up with, but that’s why he left the boxers on!

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

pickpocketing:

“get away with it? psh. not in the least.” he reaches into his pants pocket to pull a wallet that most certainly isn’t his, “the big guy’s payin’ for it by buyin’ our rounds tonight.”

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

difference in kid games with @shcdeacademy (Saphron)

“Yea you can say that again, I have Jaune to thank for that. Since most of my siblings put most of their attention on him after he was born. You know tea parties, dress up, the works.”

“dress up, was a new one the girls taught me, i gotta admit.” some manner of toys could be common across all cultures, even if materials might have changed the quality. plastic swords or sticks, robots or rag dolls. bandit games were more physical, competitive. the tea parties were real. he doesn’t speak of his past as if he felt anything had truly been missing, however, there wasn’t much room for make believe. Especially when, “…didn’t grow up with enough extra clothes for all that.”

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

Raven [ @boundariestcbreak ] and qrow adjusting together:

Raven didn’t understand why he’d rather lay on the floor than sit on a bed like she was. Sure, it was what they were both used to, but now that she had a bed, she intended to use it as much as possible-even if it was just to sit on instead of actually sleeping on it.

sure, beds were more comfortable, but they break. qrow has been learning that about many of the civilized little luxuries at beacon, quite literally, real fuckin’ quick.  ( qrow loves beds, but his semblance means he can’t have nice things. :[ )

...   

Raven laughs and reaches for her water bottle, holding it out for a cheers. “Cheers only work if you actually have something to cheers with, little brother.” She says with a light chuckle. It’s still taking a lot of adjusting to go from living in the woods with no electricity, indoor plumbing or anything of the like, to having all of that at their finger tips, but so far she’s actually enjoying what she has discovered. Even though she can’t quite wrap her head around some things, like the shows that some of their classmates seem so invested in. None of that makes any sense to her, if she’s being honest.

qrow rolls his eyes and reaches over his head to snatch at an empty plastic glass on the bookshelf, pulling it back to raise it over his chest upside down and toast… sort of properly. ... he holds onto it, making mental note to drop it back off in the kitchen. because they have one of those now. it feels strange not to have his own cooking duty rotation...

╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾╾

bad table manners and general adjustments with @whytrose​

as he pushes open the door, and the smell of all the foods in the cafeteria hall hit his nose, he supposed he could deal with missing an afternoon drink in trade for the guarantee of three square meals a day. he’s still getting used to that kind of security.

more expectations. more than him trying to keep up with responsible studies when he’s done nothing but learn through trial and error his whole life. more than figuring out how functioning in polite society even worked, right down to the proper attire, apparently.

he takes a lazy lean against the wall near the exit to the atrium, and wonders if Summer is just going to stand there and eat a lunch of only a single apple without even having a seat somewhere. he thought sitting down for lunch together was how it worked anyway. observations of the past several days made it seem so.

he tears a bite of his sandwich and cackles, rude, with his mouth full as the pieces finally fall into place. he swallows, and smacks the table with his other hand - the sound reaching even higher pitch from the contact of his ring. somehow in the combination of tearing at his food, grinning to himself, and that elbow to the ribs he chokes on his own bite and inhale. steadying hands tossed down on the table then squirt juice from a slice of his orange right into his eye. (well, this one may have just been the sloppiness of his own mirth.) one palm covers his eye and one fist smacks high on his chest to assist a cough before extending fingers for Summer to just. give him a moment.

[assassin-or-templar-56]

Lucian's Scars

Barty wasn't home yet when Lucian returned from the woods. The lycan sighed in exhaustion and relief. As much as he loved the wizard, they had yet to do anything more intimate than hold hands or kiss. Though Barty often tried to instigate things, Lucian always stopped him before clothes could come off. He was reluctant for many reasons, though the two main ones were that he was afraid he'd Barty, and the other was that he didn't want the younger man to see the scars that littered his body, particularly the long slashes on his back from years ago.

Lucian kicked off his boots before heading upstairs to shower and change. The bathroom was beside Barty's room. Lucian entered, turned on the water, hot as he could stand, before stripping off his leathers and jumping in. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, washed and rinsed his hair, then wrapped himself in his robe and went in Barty's room where his clothes were stored in a wooden wardrobe with Barty's. Lucian dried himself off and began getting dressed again. He was pulling up his pants when he heard the door open.

"Lucian?" Barty's voice called from downstairs.

"Up here," Lucian called back.

He buttoned his pants and was reaching for his shirt when the bedroom door opened.

"Oh, my," Barty said, his voice a whisper.

Lucian was frozen in his tracks, shirt in hand, refusing to turn around. He could feel Barty's eyes on him, running up and down his back.

"Lucian?" Barty asked gently, stepping into the room.

The lycan remained silent, every muscle tense. He jumped when he felt the tips of Barty's fingers on his back, slowly stroking the long scars there.

"Where did you get these?" Barty's voice was soft, like he was afraid he'd frighten Lucian if he raised his voice.

"I was whipped as punishment years ago," Lucian answered slowly. "Thirty lashings."

Barty was quiet for a minute. His palm pressed against Lucian's shoulder blades, cold to the lycan's warm skin.

"Is this why you stop me when I try to take your clothes off?"

"Yes," Lucian whispered.

"Why?" Barty stepped closer, his breath tickling Lucian's neck.

"Because I hate them," the lycan replied, anger and bitterness lacing his voice. "I hate what they remind me of, of what I lost. And they're just....unpleasant. Ugly."

"No, they're not," Barty said. He placed both hands on Lucian's back now, rubbing them. "They're sexy, beautiful, just like you. All of you."

Lucian gasped as he felt Barty's warm lips placing a gentle kiss on his back, trailing up the scars. He moaned, and he felt the wizard smirk against his skin. He was pressed to Lucian's back now, nimble hands sliding to his hips, lips kissing the nape of his neck. Lucian moaned before turning around and pulling Barty into a kiss. It was deep and passionate. Lucian grabbed Barty's waist, turned them toward the bed, and pushed Barty on to his back on the mattress.

He crawled on top of the wizard, kissing up his clothed chest before sealing their lips together again. They continued to kiss for ten minutes, Lucian laying fully on top of the wizard while Barty's hands ghosted over his back, rubbing and stroking his scars. When they pulled a part for air, their lips swollen and red, Lucian caressed the side of Barty's face.

"Thank you," he said, thumb tracing the wizard's cheekbone. "For seeing beauty in my scars. For seeing beauty in me."

"I love you, Lucian," Barty said, stroking the lycan's soft hair. "I'll always find beauty in you, even if you can't see it in yourself."

Lucian smiled and kissed the wizard again.

[depulsorpg]

WHATS IN YOUR FILE.

NAME: Remus Lupin. GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale, he/him. HOUSE & YEAR: Gryffindor, 7th. BLOOD STATUS: Halfblood, Lycanthrope. AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix.

WHAT DO THE RUMORS SAY.

POSITIVES: Selfless, compassionate, astute. NEGATIVES: People pleasing, self deprecating, vengeful. LOOKS LIKE: Charlie Heaton.

WHAT IS THE TRUE STORY.

Struggling to come to terms with his lycanthropy has been his biggest battle.

He used to go through days of self loathing and hating, but is beginning to heal.

Loves to spend his days reading books and relaxing.

Grateful for the friends in his life that have accepted him for who he is.

Talented duellist but is often underestimated.

On the evening of March 9th 1963, Remus went to bed excited about his fifth birthday the next day. His mind was on sweets and cake and presents, not on the full moon that shone over their house that night and not on the man his father had recently angered. Little did he know that his birthday would bring about a much bigger change in his life than simply being a year older.

Remus grew up in isolation units and hospital wards and the confining four walls of his bedroom. While his mother was determined that he would have a normal life in between full moons, his life would forever be shaped by that monthly pattern and a fear of others finding out. His home-schooling involved not just basic numeracy and literacy but also Astronomy and muggle physics and an extensive education into what it meant to be a werewolf. His father taught him about all the magical creatures he encountered at work and his Healer taught him about home remedies and the properties of various herbs, because a side effect of his condition was a childhood riddled with illness and a struggle to make ends meet now that his parents were pouring every last Galleon that they owned into searching for a cure or moving to another town after their latest neighbours started to suspect something was amiss with the family. It was the risk of those suspicions which led to Remus’ lonely childhood – he had to make do with the company of his parents and his books and one Healer until the day Dumbledore came to talk to the family about his arrangements for Hogwarts.

Remus was so excited to go to school that he barely noticed his parents’ worried exchanges and fears. It was only after Professor Dumbledore had left and Remus started to compare the next year’s full moons to his new school calendar that it dawned on him just how complicated this would be. Yes, Dumbledore had promised him special provisions, but what of his dormmates? What of that very first weekend of his first year when he would have to feign a very different illness to explain away his disappearance so early in the term? It was his mother who suggested that he could say she had a chronic illness and that he was visiting her whenever there was a full moon but it didn’t take long of knowing James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew for him to realise that they might not buy that as a reason for skipping classes or being absent from the dorm every month like clockwork. Remus, glad to finally have friends and terrified he would lose them if they found out the truth, made up different and increasingly more elaborate stories but he wasn’t a good enough liar to hide from his best friends. They discovered the truth in their second year. For a few horrible minutes, Remus felt as if his world was crashing around his ears. This was it. They would reject him and ask that he be taken out of their dorm.

Except they didn’t ask that.

Instead, the four of them grew closer than Remus could have ever hoped for. They accepted him and supported him. They helped him hide to their other classmates and they were constantly coming up with ways to make things easier for him, whether it was ensuring he didn’t fall behind in classes or sneaking sweets and tea into him the morning after a transformation. Not only that, but they learnt to become Animagi and Remus couldn’t be more grateful. He feels indebted to them.

Though he still returns to his parents’ house each summer, Remus now considers the Marauders his real family, as they are the ones who had helped him in a way which actually helped, rather than looking for an impossible cure and teaching him how to hide. Remus is himself with Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail, like he is with nobody else. Perhaps that was why he had so many questions burning in his mind when he saw his parents after his fifth year. It had been a long rollercoaster year for him, with his best friends becoming Animagi for him but the rule breaking, nay law breaking, which came with that also brought risk and near-misses. In particular, the incident involving Snape had scared Remus and triggered the only fight he had instigated with the other Marauders. Though they worked through it and came out the other side stronger, it still left Remus torn up with teenage angst.

That summer, he asked his parents why him. Unable to fob him off with any more half-truths or excuses of his youth, his father finally opened up about Greyback. Remus had to deal with the knowledge that his father had once held the same prejudices about werewolves as the rest of the wizarding world and that maybe he still did. After all, he had almost stopped Remus from living his life after the bite, no matter how much he claimed it was for Remus’ own good.

Now in his seventh year, Remus is trying not to think too hard on the future. He doesn’t expect to get a job after school – after all, how could he do it without his boss knowing his secret, and who would hire him knowing his secret? He’s even less certain how he will make ends meet without a job and with his growing feeling that he can’t continue to live with his parents after school. The only certainties for him are the Marauders and that he will join the Order in the fight against Voldemort.

WHAT ARE YOUR RELATIONSHIPS.

LILY EVANS: Close friends, study together. THE MARAUDERS: Forever grateful for their support, best friends. DORCAS MEADOWES: Good friends, enjoys spending time with.  BARTY CROUCH JR: Respects his intelligence, occasionally works with.

[whalearts-blog]

Eoghan Howard

This is part of a series of creative conversations between artists and local creative citizens of Wester Hailes. In this edition artist Catherine Street talks to Eoghan Howard.

Opposite the Westside Plaza shopping centre in Wester Hailes stands the world’s first digital totem pole. Carved from Douglas fir it has QR codes embedded in its motifs which when scanned by a mobile phone each link to insights about the local area. The motifs were devised through a series of workshops where residents of Wester Hailes both young and old were invited to come together to feed their ideas into the final design. In conjunction with the creation of the totem pole, funding was used to train people to become community journalists for the local news site the Digital Sentinel. This is just one of the creative projects described by Eoghan Howard, chair of Wester Hailes' Health Agency.

When I met Howard he kindly gave me a tour of the Healthy Living Centre where the Health Agency is based, and the surrounding area, pointing out the totem pole, as well as two limestone standing stones, on the way. The role of tour guide is one that Howard is most practiced in, having led social history walks in Wester Hailes for almost a decade. Some of the recent walks have featured particular interventions, for example a walk where local poet Colin Bartie read out his poems at various stopping points. The walks formed part of a project funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council and led by WHALE Arts Agency, Prospect Community Housing Association and the Health Agency. Howard is quick to point out that the walks are a two-way street: ‘I’m imparting information about the locality but the participants come up with their own recollections.’ The walks brought together the arts and health with the social history of Wester Hailes, as well as triggering many ideas for public art works. In this sense they embody two of Howard’s great passions – community empowerment and partnership working. Howard is a vocal advocate for partnership working, even going so far as to say that community organisations shouldn’t be allowed to work in what he terms ‘silos’. He believes that it is through partnership working that members of a community benefit the most from the organisations that exist to serve them. Howard is a powerful broker for these partnerships in his own community of Wester Hailes.

Howard has faith is the power of art to serve as a tool for empowerment: ‘The best art form is one that allows people who are not artists to develop their own creativity. If you say that everybody can be creative even if they’re not an artist then that boosts people’s confidence and they can experiment’. He tells me that he often does not put his own name to a project he has been involved with, preferring to remain an anonymous ‘local resident’. He hopes that this will serve as an inspiration for others who will think ‘if somebody else from here can do it then so can I!’.

Although Howard sees his collaborative community development activities and partnership brokering as the mainstay of his creative output, he is also a poet in his own right. Before our meeting Howard sent me an abundance of materials he had developed which included beautifully crafted leaflets containing proposals for public art works with maps as well as poems and songs; he is particularly passionate about art works that inform one another – a poem becomes a song becomes a painting becomes a piece of public art. He first started writing poetry in 2011 but then joined WHALE’s popular poetry group which is run in partnership with the Scottish Poetry Library. This was the first time he had engaged with WHALE as a participant rather than as the instigator and manager of partnership related projects. He testifies that it is the genuineness of the organisations and people that WHALE is partnering with that have made his attendance worthwhile. Through the poetry group he also heard about the Scottish Chamber Orchestra’s residency in Wester Hailes. He was one of six residents to work with the orchestra on a new installation entitled Incredible Distance which debuted at the National Galleries of Scotland in December 2018 before also exhibiting at WHALE Arts and the Fruitmarket Gallery in early 2019. He has of course written a poem and song about it!

Find out more about Catherine Street’s art practice here

[archivednimueries]

i want a meta on uhh habits agent nim has prior to barty and rodolphus , and also habits she picks up after encountering one or both of them

 a l w a y s a c c e p t i n g  ➟  meta stuff and things

// @knowshisown

Prior to being put on Barty’s case and meeting Dr. Lestrange for the first time, Nim is very compulsive about going out of her way to not be compulsive, if that makes any sense? She does everything in the way that it should be done. She keeps a meticulous house, a meticulous schedule, and a meticulous life.

In her younger and teenage years, she learned very quickly that being a pretty young thing was both a power and a weakness, both a weapon and target for use. So, for the ‘man’s world’ that she tried to enter, she made every effort to create a balance. Pretty but not too pretty. Memorable but not exactly striking. Her hair is always clean and brushed to a shine ( she actually follows the 200 stroke rule ) but her makeup is minimal. Her clothes are fine and pressed and oh so practical but all of her actual tailored things are stuck in the back of the closet waiting for a rainy day that never comes. She cares enough but not enough to be considered vain. ( Even though she actually kind of is ngl ) When she goes out with ‘the boys’ she knocks back a single beer, but all she keeps at her house is wine. She never touches the hard stuff; she doesn’t like to lose control. 

She also takes her work home with her. During her time with Barty and Rodolphus, you can find pages from their respective case files and pictures from their crime scenes plastered on her walls. They’re even in her bathroom and taped above her bed. She’s immersive and methodical and she probably gets in too deep.

When she’s angry she chews/bites the inside of her cheek. She’s made it such an art form at this point that only the truly perceptive can see the clench in her jaw when she does it. When she’s insulted she smiles a bright and toothy grin that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but boy does it bare her teeth! Even when she’s not talking she’s seared the habit of keeping her mouth parted at all times into her muscle memory. Almost inviting, but definitely never dire. When she’s lost in thought she’ll sometimes start moving her fingers against a horizontal surface as if she were plucking the vertical strings of her harp. She almost always wears her hair down, like a curtain or a shield. If she’s flustered she’ll braid it into a plait. The only time she puts it up is when she’s in hardcore problem-solving mode, little wispy tendrils falling haphazardly here and there. 

This is probably the first thing that changes after her introduction to Rodolphus. She picks up on the fact that his eyes trail to the lower half of her face and the curve of her throat and she begins to wear her hair up as a result. It starts by her watching herself in the mirror, turning her head this way and that to see what the appeal is. She begins looking at herself through her own lens rather than the lens of the world. After all, Rodolphus can wear an inmate’s uniform and still look as though he’s stepped out of a Paris fashion show. Who is she really fooling and what should she care about who is intimidated by her? Maybe, just maybe, she likes being intimidating.

After allowing Rod to quite literally infiltrate her life, she also picks up some other habits. Although she’s always been witty with quips and retorts, some of her returns in exchanges take on more bite. Having your brain picked every other day and being asked to be open, honest, and intimate to a fault, can bring out the edge in a person. This has proven both an interesting turn of events and something of a prickling thorn to her superiors and colleagues. It’s hard to be soft and ingratiating when your mind is currently being meshed with not one, but two serial killers. 

Which is to say, definitively, that Barty also has an impact on Nim’s life. For the longest time after their first encounter, she can’t stop touching the cut on her neck. She almost hopes it will scar if only to remind her to always be on guard. Touching it serves to keep her angry because anger is good in this instance. Anger motivates. The carelessness that she exhibited before won’t happen again; it can’t happen again. She starts being hyperaware — not only of the stinging from the cut but of each little sound and movement. Barty really is the constructor of his own death. She might not have known what to pick up on in the dark that second time around if it weren’t for him.

Barty is also the instigator of Nim’s desire to actually live and not just see each day through to its conclusion. After the initial home invasion, she starts playing with and paying attention to knives more. She’d never had much interest in them before and honestly, they’re not used extensively in training. 

Other little habits that Nim picks up are being able to tell the different notes of a person’s cologne or perfume, a deeper interest in Greek philosophy ( my girl was staunchly Roman before ), an oral fixation, and getting the last word in conversations.