Name: Alara Selwyn
Age & Birthday: 23, 21st of April
Gender & Pronouns: Cis-female & she/her
Sexuality: Bisexual
Occupation: Owner of Sweet Tart Bakeshop
Blood Status: Pureblood
House: Hufflepuff
Affiliation: Neutral
Family: Older sibling
Languages: English & Turkish
Residence: Lives above her bakery
Former Residence: Selwyn Manor
MAGICAL:
Boggart: Her family being killed.
Patronus: Lynx
Amortenia: tbd
OWLs: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Potions, Herbology, Divination
NEWTs: Herbology, Charms, Potions & Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Alara, along with her older sibling, were born in Anatayla, Turkey. Making the move to London when she was seven years old. Her father worked for the Ministry in the police department and her mother was a healer.
Her family is very important to her, and without realising, she would do anything to protect them, even being the youngest.
There was always a smile on her face and she found a love for baking at a young age, where she had to use her hands before wants were introduced.
It didn't shock her family when she was sorted into Hufflepuff, it suited her very well and that is where she met her best friend Greta. They are still friends today, both of them living together.
When school came to an end, she went with her passions and opened her own bakeshop called Little Tart Bakeshop, living in the flat above it.
As Anthony glanced at Alara, he wondered if she knew. Knew of the humiliation that currently weighed on him, they were sisters after all. Surely, Mira would have told Alara, unless of course, his position was much too shameful for her to divulge with her family.
"You don't have to part with it completely," Anthony shrugged, glancing around the bakery. Alara had made a name for herself amongst the baking scene, it seemed hasty to part ways with it completely. "Would you never move? Or change the name? Start fresh?"
A tightness twisted in Alara’s stomach, the weight of what she knew pressing against the silence she chose to keep. It wasn’t her place to say anything; that story belonged to Mira, and Alara had to trust her sister would share it when she was ready. Still, she couldn’t help but hope things would work out between them. Mira deserved a bit of light after everything.
There was truth in what he said, even if she didn’t want to admit it aloud. Holding on to even the smallest piece of the past meant she was still bound to it. She exhaled softly, offering a faint, thoughtful smile. “I’d move,” she said finally. “Find somewhere new. Start over. I’ve got a few ideas.”
Mira sat curled on the couch with her legs under her, watching her sister moving about the kitchen. There was a fond smile on her lips even as she shook her head. "You know I'm perfectly capable of being up and moving right Lara?" She teased. "I'm not that pregnant yet." There were not enough words to express how grateful she had come to be for Alara. Even with a broken heart, when it at all felt wrong and it became too much, her sister had been there. She didn't deserve it, but she was grateful for it all the same. She picked up a treacle tart and took a bite, sighing happily at the taste. "You know at this rate the little one may be born liking you more than me. All these delicious treats..."
Alara would never question her sister’s ability to take care of herself, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t step in where she could. This was the last piece of family she had, and she intended to cherish it. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to spoil you,” she said as she came back with the drinks, glancing at the plates of food arranged on the coffee table. A playful smile tugged at her lips. “That’s the whole point, working my way into being the favourite.” She sank onto the couch beside her and added gently, “How are you feeling, Mir?”
"Nothing too inappropriate I hope," Sirius replied with a wink as he pushed the door closed behind him. He had just finished his shift in work and was passing by when he saw the light was still on inside Sweet Tart and so he decided to pop in. "I could do with a coffee," he requested with a grateful smile. It had been a very long shift and he could do with the boost to his energy levels.
“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.” Alara’s voice carried a teasing edge, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Life was finally starting to feel lighter again, and pieces of her old self were slipping back through. “One coffee, coming right up.” She slipped behind the counter, wand flicking with ease as the machine began to hum and brew.
“I’m finished, just about to close up shop.” With a steaming cup in hand, she rounded the counter and offered it to him. “What about you? Done for the night?”
Alara was just finishing up for the night when the shop’s bell chimed. She pushed through the swinging doors from the back, her smile lighting up as soon as she spotted Sirius.
“I was just thinking about you,” she said warmly. The last time they’d spoken, she had shared the truth about her sister and brother being Death Eaters, and how her sister had stepped away for her own reasons, which was clear enough to anyone who saw her expecting. With time, Alara had come to accept it, and the thought that her sister was no longer bound to that life brought her real relief.
Since Mira’s confession, Alara had been drawn even closer to her sister. The thought of becoming an aunt filled her with joy, though she knew there were still plenty of wounds they’d need to face together. No matter what, family was something she could never walk away from.
Now that Mira had settled into her new place, both of them carrying the weight of exile, it had become almost second nature for Alara to be there whenever she wasn’t with friends or working at the bakery.
“Do you want something to drink?” she called out, sending the food floating gently into the living room.
James knew the due date of his and Lily's child would be any day now and anytime that he felt like he was forgetting something, he barely waited until the next morning to get it. Already he had taken less hours at the Ministry and was trying to do less in general, but it was like he couldn't sit still. His entire body hummed with anticipation and they still hadn't pinned down a name. James had thrown a couple names down on a list that had all been crossed out. In a mere number of days, he wouldn't just be himself anymore. He would be a father, a whole new defintion to his existence.
He was in yet another shop, looking over the items that lined the shelf, and frowned at the object he grabbed. "Do you think this would be safe with a baby around?"
Alara had been splitting her time between her sister, the bakery, and Maddy, though her thoughts kept circling the choices she knew she’d soon have to make.
She recognized the voice immediately. Placing the lemon into her basket, she turned to face him. “I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted, knowing Lily was due any day now. Then, with a faint smile, she added, “Everything will fall into place, you’ll both be ready when the moment comes.” It was hard to ignore the war, but having a baby was a beautiful moment.
It wasn’t uncommon for Madhuri to go out after work to have a drink. Or two. Or three. And there was no stopping her as she walked into the Leaky Cauldron.
She scanned the room — as she always did, looking for familiar faces to have drinks with. The social butterfly would have it no other way. That’s when she spotted Alara. Perfect.
Running up to her, she reciprocated the hug. “Imagine seeing you here tonight! It’s fate!” A large smile crossed her face. “We are drinking whatever gets us drunk,” she smiled mischievously.
There was always an ease to being around Maddy, a kind of comfort that let Alara drop her guard. “Not like this was planned or anything,” she chuckled, sliding back into her chair.
“So,” she tilted her head, a playful spark in her eyes, “are we easing into the night, or going all in?” It had been ages since she’d let herself get properly drunk, but maybe that was exactly what the evening called for. “Firewhiskey?”
It had been a month or two since Anthony had been in town, utilising a trip to see his parent's in Kent for an excuse to disappear for a while. When Anthony left, London felt tainted, everywhere reminded him of Mira and subsequently, the pain in his chest followed soon after.
It was nice to escape, to bask in the quiet for a month or so. To step away from the self-destructive traits he had picked up in his last few weeks of being in London. Anthony knew that he had to face it all again, his job had thankfully allowed him a bit of time off air. And he had managed to avoid the Order for as long as he could. But it was time to return to London, and where better to throw himself in at the deep end than Little Tart Bakery, owned by Alara.
Anthony hadn't alerted anybody to his presence in London, and now when Alara glanced up, he was well aware that his cover was blown.
"Why would you sell the bakery?" Anthony stumbled over his words, shifting on two feet.
Alara’s eyes widened when she realized it was Anthony standing before her. In an instant, memories of her sister flickered through her mind, tangled with the secrets she carried.
“I… I...” Her voice faltered, and she drew in a steadying breath before forcing herself to go on. “It’s the last piece of me from that life. I do love it here, but it’s always there… a reminder.” The words were honest, though a knot of guilt twisted in her stomach as she spoke. “If I really want a fresh start, I suppose it has to be in every part of my life.”
"Are you talking to me?" She scoffed, looking around seeing that there was no one else. Never in her life had she thought Alara would ask her for advice, she did not know how hard she had hit her head to even approach Serra after turning out such an embarrassment and being burned off the family tree. For her they were merely strangers now. "I do not care about what you do. At all."
The last person Alara expected to run into was Serra. They’d never gotten along, and she could only imagine how much worse it would be now. “Then leave,” she retorted, unwilling to waste a moment of her time. A flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes as she silently cursed herself for not looking up sooner, for letting the words slip before she saw who stood in front of her.
The thought had been lingering at the back of Alara’s mind for days, quietly nudging until she couldn’t ignore it anymore. It wasn’t heavy so much as persistent, and now, sitting there, she let it slip out.
“What if I sold the bakery?” she asked softly, looking up at the person across from her.
“Oh Alara,” he sighed, voice trembling with mock emotion, “you always say you’re not a goddess, but I’ve tasted ambrosia, and it had nothing on this cauldron cake.”
Then his tone shifted, just a little. Less theatrical, more real. He leaned against the worn wooden counter beside her, stealing a glance as he nudged a stray cinnamon stick back into the spice jar with a lazy flick of his finger. “You know, it’s not just the sugar that makes these special.”
He offered her a crooked smile, one that didn’t sparkle like his usual mischief but glowed with something quieter. “It’s that you put your heart in them. People can taste that, Alara. It’s why they keep coming back -- even if that experiment nearly broke my tooth.”
He winced theatrically again, rubbing his jaw. “But I suffered nobly, in the name of friendship and flaky pastry.”
Remus’s compliment lit Alara up, her smile was wide and genuine, reaching all the way to her eyes. She’d always taken quiet pride in her baking, even if it wasn’t exactly the future her parents had imagined for her.
She gave him a playful look, raising an eyebrow. “You’re biased and you know it,” she said, brushing off the praise with a laugh. “We’ve known each other since first year. Can you believe how old we’re getting?” Her tone was teasing, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from anything too serious.
She swatted his arm with a mock glare. “Hey! I’ve never broken anyone’s tooth.” She softened after that, tilting her head slightly. “So? What’s new with you?”
"I definitely missed your pastries," he joked lightly, before giving his head a little shake. "That said, I should probably lay off the pastries, I used to be a lot more fit, y'know," he said playfully. Sirius shrugged, leaning back on the bench as he stubbed out his cigarrette. "I'm not that exciting."
Soft blue eyes drift over him, a quiet breath of amusement escaping as she offers a small smile. “You look just fine.” Her voice is gentle. He had always shown up for her, and she would never stop doing the same. “Why do you always feel like things have to be exciting, Sire?” she asked, her voice low and honest. “I know there’s a lot going on, some of it really awful, but you’re not in this alone. Being together doesn’t always need to be some big moment.” She gives a faint shrug, hesitating before her voice softens to a whisper. “I found something out while you were gone. I think… deep down, I always knew. But part of me didn’t want it to be true.”
Alara’s words settled over Madhuri like a favorite blanket. She didn’t move from where her head lay against Alara’s lap, but she tilted her face a little, just enough to catch her friend's expression. That kind smile. That little crinkle near her eyes when she meant something.
She sat up a little and gave Alara a playful look. “You’re demanding and dramatic, for the record. I think it’s adorable.” Madhuri reached for a pillow and playfully smacked Alara’s arm with it before hugging it close. “Wild? Definitely. You should’ve seen what I did to the herbalist’s garden last week. It’s still glowing. Don’t ask.” She bit back a laugh, curling her legs underneath her. “But you’re right. We’re chaos in motion. A very stylish kind of chaos.”
Her smile dimmed, not in sadness, but in understanding. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she said gently, echoing Alara’s words back in spirit. “For letting go of what hurt and still showing up with love. That’s magic, too.”
Then she popped up suddenly, eyes glinting. “Alright, enough of the deep feelings. You promised me a kitchen mess. I’ve got honey, rosewater, a lot of cinnamon, and absolutely no plan. What could possibly go wrong?” She reached out a hand. “Come on, blood traitor. Let’s bake like rebels.”
There was something wild and untamed in Madhuri’s spirit that always resonated deeply with Alara. tt was what tied them together in a way nothing else could. With a laugh, Alara tapped her friend’s nose, a playful boop. “Okay, I feel a little attacked,” she teased, fully aware she had her moments.
Her expression shifted with curiosity at the mention of the garden, brows drawing in. “Wait, no, I need to know now,” she said, lips pushing into a dramatic pout.
When Madhuri spoke again, something soft settled in Alara’s chest. “That really means a lot,” she murmured. “It’s not perfect, but… it’s getting easier.” She was clinging to what she could, the good that remained. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She clapped her hands and popped off the bed. “Yes! Let’s go make a mess in the kitchen.” She gave Madhuri’s shoulder a playful swat. “Oh hush, if I’m going to be called a blood traitor, I might as well look good being one.” She laughed, grabbing friend’s hand and tugging her toward the door.
"I didn't disappear," Sirius laughed, a lazy drag from his cigarrette before he blew the smoke away from them. "I was just busy." Everything had gotten a bit much lately; everyone annoying him and pressuring him - every word felt stifling. So he took some time to himself, a few notes left to his close friends before he took the bike and left, enjoying the solitude. "Y'know if you missed me you can just say that," he teased quietly, as though it were a secret.
Alara couldn’t blame him for needing space, sometimes the only way to breathe was to get away from everything. She had the bakery to distract her, her sister to anchor her, along with her friends but there were still things she’d uncovered while he was gone, things she’d only trust a few with.
“I appreciated the note,” she said with a quiet smile as she settled beside him, bumping his shoulder lightly with her own. “And I don’t think I need to say it.” Her eyes glinted with playful warmth. “I’m sure part of you missed me. Or at least my pastries.” She paused, softer now. “It’s good to have you back.”
Edgar watched the boxes fold themselves with a faint smile, the kind that tugged at one corner of his mouth more than the other. He always had time to admire well-formed charms. It was a marvel to watch.
Calloused fingertips awkwardly fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coffee cake for me, please.... Only if you have it. && for the rest. ” He hated choosing for others, but he was sure his family would appreciate a sweet treat. It might even distract his mother from any questions that simply couldn't be answered.
"For the rest, I'll leave in your capable hands, it's for my family. " He was sure they would like anything from here, even for someone who didn't particularly have a sweet tooth, everything smelled divine.
He leaned on the counter, watching as the scones began to settle into their box. “I’m alright—just a bit fogged in, if that makes sense. Work’s been a flurry of owls, and I think I’ve been spending too much time trying to untangle things that don’t want unravelling.”
Alara’s smile softened at the mention of his family. It meant something, knowing he was thinking of them, even through whatever weight he was carrying. She thought of her own sister, and the friends who had become family, considering herself lucky for still having them.
“Coffee cake for you,” she said gently, starting to pack the boxes, her hands working with familiar ease. “And a little bit of everything for them. I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.” She tucked in the last slice before folding the lid over the box meant for Edgar himself, half filled with the treat he’d requested.
Her eyes lifted to meet his, tone quiet but sincere. “I get that... it’s heavy out there.” The world felt more fractured by the day, and what the Dark Lord’s followers left behind only deepened the cracks. “Just, don’t forget to look after yourself too, alright?”