hufflepuff, healer, order of the phoenix, tier ii. • • • • • • • • • • ❝ girls like her were born in a storm. they have lightening in their souls, thunder in their hearts, chaos in their bones. ❞ - NIKITA GILL
The week following her trial and the incident at the Spiny Serpent had been one of utter isolation; for the first few days, it had been a defensive maneuver, lying low and keeping to the shadows of her ever-shrinking flat, an old tactic from her days of “cutthroat” espionage. Despite being less than month since her return, Scotland felt like a lifetime ago; yet here she was, finding new monsters to get under her skin as she nervously paced the perimeter of the apartment and waited for the inevitable to unfold - although what that could be, she didn’t know.
Which was why when Marlene swung her door open to reveal Emmeline Vance, she found herself wildly relieved at the cheerful face on the other side, the surprise evident on her own at the witch’s goodwill. They weren’t close by any means, and that thought would normally slap a scowl across Marlene’s features as the suspicion set in. There was six ways to Sunday that her brain could misfire & deduce this interaction as a set-up worthy of apprehension; although that part of Marlene wanted to be heard ( quite desperately, given her latest predicament ), there was an inevitable appeal to Emme’s offer that outweighed her skepticism.
Marlene was a social creature, and since she had returned, none of her friends had offered to spend time with her; not as a group, or one on one, or even surprising her with an intervention (’How Not To Be A Shit Friend & Other Issues We Have,’ or something) and the unanimous silent treatment wasn’t doing her any good. Her self-imposed solitude had also grown… tiring, and so, after all these feelings clicked through Marlene’s brain, she finally settled on graciousness at the offer, surprising though it was.
“Sure, Blondie, I think I could spare the time,” Marlene joked back with a wrinkle of her nose, playful even has she eyed the other girl warily for a confirmation. Constant vigilance be damned, Marlene still needed to apply a shred of caution to her life. With her response, a soft smile began to crack across her features, already stepping back and gesturing for the girl to come in before clicking the door quietly behind her new company.
“I, uh, haven’t really gotten settled yet,” Marlene continued sheepishly, although it could’ve gone unsaid; there was a couch in the middle of the room, a record player set up on a nearby coffee table, but other than that, her life was still confined to boxes. Chewing her cheek for a moment, Marlene chuckled before stepping toward her kitchen, “Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee…? Apple juice? Firewhiskey? Pick your poison, babe.”
When things were weighing on Emmeline, she had a nasty habit of pushing them to the very back of her mind and finding absolutely every and any way to distract herself from the problems at hand. It helped, in this particular instance, that there were multiple people around her in crisis that she could spread herself out among them, could use them as distractions from her own feelings and grief in a completely unhealthy way. Losing Daisy was still fresh and most of her time since the news had been spent with Tilden but he had to sleep sometime and Emmeline had been left with her own thoughts, her own grief at losing her friend.
Unacceptable.
And so she stood on the threshold of someone else’s life, looking for someone else to take care of so she wouldn’t have to think too much about taking care of herself. She and Marlene were not close, mostly by virtue of circumstance. The blonde witch was younger, from a different house and a vastly different upbringing. Life had never tossed them together until they had both come to the Order and found purpose in a shared cause. And even in that structure, they had never had much reason to bond. But what they did, the lives they all led, Emme found that it helped to eliminate certain rules of society and took away some of the weirdness that would otherwise come with her standing at this particular doorway.
She smirked as her code name fell from Marlene’s lips, a familiar chuckle settling in her throat. That joke never got old, nor did the way Moody’s eyes rolled every time he heard someone ask why that was her code name - given that she certainly wasn’t blonde. If anyone here fit the moniker, it was Marlene. Which was precisely the reason Emme had chosen it. She couldn’t resist a good joke. She recognized what Marlene was doing, though, and responded in kind. “Too kind of you, Vixen.”
Emme looked around at the empty flat and nodded at Marlene’s words. “You’re not kidding. This place looks like a flop house.” She turned back to the blonde. “No offense.” Her words were accompanied with a sincere grin. "You’ve got the important things, though,” she said, looking pointedly at the record player as she pulled a record from her bag - one of a selection she’d put together of her favorite music to listen to while high and coping. “Part one of my offerings,” she explained.
“Fire whiskey, definitely.” Maybe she answered too quickly but she pushed the thought out of her mind.
“Uhm, thanks.” Remus blurted out, unsure of what to say. He had no idea what to expect from this meeting - he’d never even heard of Emmeline Vance before- of course, because Remus knew virtually nothing of the world outside his Hogwarts class and a pack of werewolves lost in the middle of Scottland. He only knew that she was both his and Marlene’s new handler, which, he supposed, must mean that she had the trust of the Order. That she was loyal to them. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Yesterday, he’d fully expected being kicked out of the Order for good, and he still couldn’t understand why they decided to keep him when he had essentially commited treason. If they were willing to keep him around, that must mean that they still needed him for something. And what did they need a werewolf for? After everything, he no longer trusted them to have the best interest of his people in mind. After all, he had been sent to Scottland in an effort to weaponize them. And he went along with it, something he will never forgive himself for. The fact that he was forced to go against direct orders in order to help the community more than proved that they didn’t want werewolves as allies for everyone’s benefits.
He’d wondered how Vance felt about that - she would be his new handler, she would be the one who decided what he would do. Asking her was probably not in his interest though, at least not until he knew he could trust her.
Stepping through the door, Remus was so taken aback by the casual welcome that he forgot his manners for a moment, and had to kick himself mentally to finally remember to offer his hand for her to shake.
“Remus Lupin, glad to make your acquaintance” he recited as he always did, ever since his parents taught him the formula for his first meeting with Dumbledore. “Though obviously you already know that… Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”
Emmeline couldn’t help her grin widening a bit as her exuberance seemed to take Remus by surprise, making him hesitate a moment before holding out his hand. She shook it, the greeting a bit too formal for her taste but she supposed niceties could be observed. “Know that I did, young grasshopper,” she said with her grin still wide as she stepped back so Remus could walk into the flat, closing the door behind him.
It wasn’t lost on her that she was sometimes a lot when taken in all at once. It was something she knew about herself, something she was proud of if she was telling the truth. Her mother often told her that she was a force of nature. It was a description she liked. There were certain advantages to being softer, more subtle or easy going, she knew that, but barreling into things full force had served her well enough in the past and she hadn’t yet found a good reason to slow down. She wasn’t about to start now.
“You are welcome any time,” she promised as she made her way further into the flat, trusting that he was following her. “And I do mean that. Any time. Day or night. Rule one of handler/handle-ee - handle-ee? Is that what you call it?” She shook her head and shrugged. “First rule of whatever this is you and I are doing. My door is open for you any time of the day or night.”
It was the first rule and, in Emmeline’s playbook, the most important. She didn’t care what had happened before or what was going on in the future, if Remus couldn’t come to her when he needed help then nothing they were doing had any point.
“There are other rules - or maybe not rules but.....points of order? Conversation topics? There are other things we need to talk about but first. Important question.” She picked up the kettle and the coffee pot she had set down on the counter when she heard Remus knock. “Coffee or tea?”
Mary’s smile widened as she spotted the record in Emmeline’s hands and the woman explained why she’d come over. She always enjoyed hearing Emmeline’s music through the walls of her apartment, the fact that it was always muggle music not lost on her, and in fact, something she greatly appreciated. She’d never considered herself a music snob, but she’d never really taken to the sort of music her pureblooded friends liked to listen to, always preferring the sort of music she’d grown up with, the kind of music she heard whenever she went home to Tallaght to visit her parents. The music that often filtered through the walls from Emmeline’s record player brought with it a sense of nostalgia, a sense of home, and it was comforting.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Mary says, though gratitude laces her tone. She didn’t think Emmeline would remember that conversation – didn’t expect the other woman to remember it, but the fact that she had, and that she’d had the thought to bring the record over for Mary was a kindness she hadn’t anticipated.
“It’s not a bad time at all,” Mary chuckles, “I’ve just been cleaning.” Actually, the distraction had been rather welcome, though she did need to finish cleaning her apartment, the task was rather laborious, and being alone with her thoughts for that long was starting to get to her, especially after the whirlwind that had been the past few days. “I was actually about to make some tea,” She says without thinking, “If you wanted some, we can give that record a listen.”
Emmeline remembered most of the things Mary said to her - from offhand comments in between topics at Order meetings to the actual conversations they had, though there were not enough of them outside of Order business for Emmeline’s taste. She didn’t do it on purpose, to obsess or overthink, the younger witch’s voice simply stuck in her head and played on repeat like a song you might hear over the wireless that made you feel warm and bright. Her mind wanted to replay it, to recapture that feeling. But it never quite lived up to the real thing, to hearing that song play or - in this case - to seeing Mary in person.
“I thought you’d like it,” she said with a shrug by way of explanation. It was enough of one for her, anyway. That was the point of music, after all. To make people happy, to make people feel something.
Emmeline made a face as Mary mentioned that she had been cleaning. That was a chore that Emmeline abhored - keeping things neat and tidy was not her forte. If she had her druthers, it would never get done but she couldn’t very well live that way. At least not according to her mother. She was always looking for excuses to avoid her own chores and she grinned as she took this opportunity to avoid Mary’s as well. “Sounds like I’m just in time to rescue you from an afternoon of boredom,” she teased. “That sounds great, actually. Tea and music are always better shared, I say.”
WHO: Amelia & @emmvxnce
WHEN: February 4th, 1980
WHERE: An alleyway outside of the Daily Prophet
It had been some time since Emmeline and Amelia had been occupying the same space. Both women had been quite close with one another during their school years, so close that Amelia had even called Emmeline a best friend at one point. A difference in career choices had pulled them away from one another but, even then, they had somehow been able to hold onto whatever spark of magic they had left in their relationship. It wasn’t until they both became aware of the other’s status in the Order that the bickering seemed to begin. Their disagreements and little spats wouldn’t have been noticeable to an outsider but there was definitely more tension in their relationship and it seemed to be getting worse as time marched on.
Today, it seemed, that murky, irritating tension might reach some sort of breaking point. The two women had been saddled with the assignment to somehow recruit Rita Skeeter. Amelia was very doubtful that the woman would hear them out and knew that she needed to be approached delicately. Despite being a horrible gossip, her writings were very much in favor of their cause. Perhaps, the woman had a heart after all, but that was neither here nor there if they couldn’t get in the same room with the journalist.
“Emmeline…We can’t just lurk out here forever.” Amelia hissed, her voice a harsh and irritable whisper. They had been there for almost two hours. Lurking in an alleyway seemed like a half-baked idea anyway. If Skeeter didn’t think they were Death Eaters, she would probably think these two woman lurking outside of her workplace were crazed fans come to carry her away. “I told you we should have just made an appointment with her…Somewhere private…She’s going to think we’re a couple of nutters.”
The last two days had been two of the longest days in Emmeline’s life. The news about Daisy had come on the heels off the trials and the reassignments and Emmeline felt a bit like she was in a whirlwind. When she wasn’t with Tilden, making sure he ate and got out of bed to shower and actually went on living, she was meeting with Remus to get a handle on their new status or checking in on Marlene and Benjy to see how they were faring. Then it was back to Tilden’s where she had been camping out on the couch despite his assurances that he was fine.
Through all of that she hadn’t really stopped to process or to dwell, not to mention sleep, and so as she stood in the alley with Amelia, debating the best way to go about their mission that didn’t get put on hold just because Emmeline was feeling overwhelmed, she might have been a bit more intense than her usual. Not that Amelia hadn’t seen her intense before. Hell, if anyone knew that side of her, it was Amelia. Emme couldn’t pinpoint the moment that Amelia had first come into her life but she could say with abject certainty that she was one of the constants and had been for years. Once upon a time it might even have been Amelia’s shoulder she leaned on in moments like these but all Emmeline felt for the other woman as she leaned against the brick wall behind her was tension.
“It won’t be forever,” she retorted, arms crossed in front of her as she trained her eyes on the opening of the alley into the street, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on her arm. They had been going around in circles about this for the last hour, not to mention the meeting they’d had to come up with a plan of action in the first place. “Do you really think it would have been a good idea to discuss Order business with her in her office in the middle of the Prophet headquarters? We want her in our comfort zone, not her own.”
WHO: Remus Lupin ( @rjloupin )
WHEN: 2 February 1980
WHERE: Emmeline’s flat, Plainview Point
She didn’t know whether he preferred coffee or tea. It seemed like such a minute detail, something unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it was. But somehow as she stood in the kitchen of her flat with a kettle in one hand and the coffee pot in the other, she found herself stopped in her tracks trying to decide if Remus would prefer coffee or tea. He was due to arrive in just a couple of minutes and everything Emmeline had done prior to him knocking on her door was designed to make this meeting feel comfortable. A meeting between friends, not a handler and her recently demoted assignment.
She wasn’t nervous, per say, but this was uncharted ground for both of them. Emmeline had been a handler before, had been responsible for other lower level Order members. Jokingly she sometimes called them her grasshoppers, the lines from a TV show she had often watched with her brother at her parents home on school holidays slipping easily from her lips and almost always requiring an explanation since - honestly - who else spent their holidays watching episodes of Kung Fu?
But Remus wasn’t a new member of the Order. He wasn’t still learning, wasn’t training or getting a handle on things. He had been a Tier 2, like her. He’d had the same responsibilities, the same training. It was just that something had gone wrong and now they were all on unfamiliar ground. So the least she could do, before having this sit down, was determine whether to have coffee or tea on hand to offer. She was still in the middle of trying to make a decision when she heard the knock on the door, giving her an excuse to leave both kettle and coffee pot on the counter as she went to welcome Remus. “Welcome to Chez Vance,” she said with a wide grin, stepping back as she pulled open the door so Remus could pass her into the flat. “Make yourself at home.”
The trials had been heavy. It felt, to Emmeline, like the last month in it’s entirety had been heavy. But then, so had the months before that and the months before that. Ever since she had become enmeshed in this war, life had been heavy. There was no avoiding it sometimes. When the emergency department at St. Mungo’s filled, when attacks on muggleborns swelled in numbers, when she sat in meetings with her friends planning defensive strategies and countermeasures, it felt like the whole world was heavy. It had meant developing coping mechanisms, ways to combat the darkness that threatened to envelop them all.
And if there was anyone who needed those coping mechanisms after that trial, it was Marlene. Well, Marlene and Benjy and Remus but Emmeline could only check on one at a time. Benjy was her friend, she would look in on him more than once to make sure he was doing alright and with Remus newly assigned to her, there would be no shortage of time to ascertain his well being. That, then, just left Marlene.
Emmeline had to admit that she didn’t know the younger witch as well as she knew some of her friends - like Mary or Sirius - but when you fought alongside someone for any length of time you learned about one another which was how Emmeline came to the idea of showing up at Marlene’s door with the offerings she had. From one shoulder hung a bag filled with a variety of her favorite records, the ones she played at full blast to recover from a bad day at the hospital or an unsettling Order meeting, and at the very bottom of the bag, a tin filled with another sort of provision she found particularly helpful in moments like these.
As the door opened in response to her knock, a conspiratorial grin spread along Emmeline’s lips. “Up for some company? I come bearing gifts.”
Mary’s taste in music wasn’t one which would be described as eclectic, in any sense. In fact, her music came primarily from one source – her father. She never used to be into music when she was a child, listening to whatever was on the radio or playing from her parents’ records, but since she had started at Hogwarts, and, resultantly, started spending significantly less time in the muggle world, her father had been sending her music recommendations, and, more recently, mix tapes for her new Sony Walkman, so that she could keep up to date with muggle music and culture.
She had shared a wall with Emmeline Vance since moving into Plainview Point close to a year ago, and, though she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, she couldn’t help but often overhear music playing in the other woman’s apartment, sometimes they were songs she knew, but sometimes they weren’t, and those were the ones that intrigued Mary the most. Since stepping into the wizarding world, she had been trying desperately not to lose touch with her heritage, and music was one of the only real ways she could stay connected, especially since she had been limiting the time spent visiting her parents, both for their safety and her own.
Mary had been in the midst of cleaning her apartment – an undesirable job, but one that needed to be done, and one which had become so routine and mindless that Mary almost found the task relaxing – when she heard the knock at the door. She hadn’t been expecting company, which typically unnerved her, despite the high amount of security around Plainview Point, and the additional wards she had put on her own door to prevent any unwanted visitors. So, Mary approached her front door carefully, looking through the peephole before realising who it was and opening the door. “Emmeline,” She says as way of greeting, a grin parting her lips, “What’re you doing here?”
She couldn’t believe that she was making up such a lame excuse to knock on the door of the brunette who lived beside her. She wasn’t usually the type of person who needed a reason to visit a friend, she had always been more the sort to drop by unannounced and to stake out a place on a couch as her own whether invited to stay or not. But everything seemed just a little different when it came to Mary, at least for Emmeline. She felt less - bold. Less brash. Less like inviting herself into the younger witch’s sacred space for fear that overstepping a line may get her barred forever. Her usually boldness came from the fact that she’d usually found the worst case scenario bearable or from her confidence in the outcome.
Being barred indefinitely from Mary’s flat was not an outcome she was willing to accept and as much as it grated at her, Emmeline couldn’t say she was sure of her welcome either. Not that there was a reason not to be. That was the thing. She and Mary were perfectly friendly and had it been anyone else at all, Emmeline would be brimming with overconfidence. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Mary. And Emmeline was being ridiculous.
Something she had accepted as she spun the record in her hand, waiting with no small amount of fidgeting for the door to open. When it finally did, and when Mary grinned at seeing her, a smile parted Emmeline’s own lips. “I brought over that album you asked about the last time I saw you,” she said, holding up the record as proof. “I’ve listened to it more times than I can count and you seemed to like it so I was wondering if you wanted to borrow it. I hope it’s not a bad time?”
i didn’t know i was a p h o e n i x
TILL I LEARNED HOW TO S P E A K
𝖖 𝖚 𝖔 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘
"Without losing a piece of me, how do i get to heaven? Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven? So if I’m losing a piece of me, maybe I don’t want heaven.” — Troye Sivan, Heaven
“She had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, like when you’re swimming and you want to put your feet down on something solid, but the water’s deeper than you think and there’s nothing there.” — Julia Gregson
“The worst thing in the world next to anarchy, is government.” — Henry Ward Beecher
“I’ve left my fingerprints somewhere. And that’s good enough. And I am my own person. And that’s good enough. And… I stand my ground. And that’s good enough.” — Morrissey
𝖇 𝖆 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈
NAME: Emmeline Glenys Vance
NICKNAMES: Emme, Em, Vance
AGE: Twenty Two
BIRTHDAY: 10 September 1957
GENDER: Cis Female
PRONOUNS: She/Her
SEXUALITY: Homosexual
ETHNICITY: English, Welsh, Chinese
𝖋 𝖆 𝖒 𝖎 𝖑 𝖞
MOTHER: Jìngyi ‘Jenny’ Vance, née Ling (44)
FATHER: Raymond Thomas Vance (46)
SIBLINGS: Charles Vance (23), Margaret Vance (20)
𝖕 𝖍 𝖞 𝖘 𝖎 𝖈 𝖆 𝖑 𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖚𝖙𝖊𝖘
FACE CLAIM: Chloe Bennet
BUILD: Naturally slim, of average height. Several years of training have lent an athletic edge to her body. Solid bone structure, thin but not waiflike.
HAIR: Shoulder length, thick, and wavy. Typically pulled back off her face in some way or other. Often twisted up with her wand which backfires when she is forced to pull her wand and her hair comes falling around her face.
HAIR COLOR: Dark brown.
EYE COLOR: Typically brown, nearly black when she’s upset or angry but lighter when the sun is bright or her mood is up.
SKIN COLOR: Beige with warm undertones.
DOMINANT HAND: Right.
ANOMALIES: Broken nails from years spent biting or picking at them. A scar on her hairline on the right side of her forehead from where she fell when she was eight and cracked her head on the coffee table in the living room. Various minor scars from several years with the Order.
SCENT: Honey and lilac from her shampoo, a touch of something floral if she’s decided to put on perfume which is rare and reserved for the most special of occasions.
ACCENT: RP but with traces of welsh from years listening and speaking with her dad who is from Cardiff.
ALLERGIES: Pollen and blueberries.
DISORDERS: Mild anxiety triggered in the last several years by the worsening war
FASHION: Leans to muggle fashion, typical late 70′s clothing. Bell bottoms, high waisted jeans, crop tops, the occasional leather jacket, over sized men’s shirts paired with leggings. She prefers pants to skirts as often as possible.
NERVOUS TICS: Biting and picking at her nails, toying with any jewelry she may be wearing, usually a necklace, twirling hair at the base of her neck or from her ponytail. In general her hands are usually fidgeting in someway, she has a hard time keeping them still.
QUIRKS: She doesn’t like silence and sometimes will hum to herself if there is no other sound just to fill the empty air, she almost always sits with her legs pulled up either under or in front of her.
𝖑 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 𝖘 𝖙 𝖞 𝖑 𝖊
RESIDES: Plainview Point
BORN: Cardiff, where her parents lived in the earliest years of their marriage before moving to a village just outside London.
RAISED: Shere, a village in Surrey, about an hour southwest of London.
PETS: Persimmon aka Persy, a ginger cat she met in an alley near St. Mungo’s who took a liking to her after she shared her turkey sandwich one day and followed her home.
CAREER: Healer, specializing in spell inflicted damage and working on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s.
EXPERIENCE: Member of the Potions club in her fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts. OWLS and NEWTS in Charms, Potions, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Entered the Healer training program upon graduation from Hogwarts, rotating through each floor and specialization at St. Mungo’s before choosing to specialize in spell-inflicted damage.
EMPLOYER: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
POLITICAL AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix
BELIEFS: Equality, in all shapes and forms. Being a muggleborn, a woman, the daughter of an immigrant, and a lesbian have given her a unique viewpoint into so many of the ways that society is stacked against certain people. She does not have a strong religious or spirtual practice or belief but adds it to the list of things she believes people should be allowed to choose and practice without judgment or intercession.
MISDEMEANORS: Breaking curfew, pilfering from the potion supply closet in school and a little bit from the hospital when it’s not something she can get at the apothecary
FELONIES: None on the record, only in service of the Order
DRUGS: Marijuana, both inhaled and ingested. Girlfriend makes a hell of a pot brownie.
SMOKES: Marijuana, yes. Cigarettes, no.
ALCOHOL: Beer mostly, the occasional whiskey when someone else is in charge of choosing it. Never wine or cocktails. Too sweet for her taste.
DIET: Mostly simple meals, usually with a bit of a Chinese foundation. Rice as a staple, a lot of stir fry because it’s simply and quick and can be made in large quantities to last her for many days or to feed a multitude of people.
LANGUAGES: English, Welsh, Mandarin
PHOBIAS: Fire, losing those she loves and being left alone.
HOBBIES: Brewing potions, listening and collecting muggle music
TRAITS:
{ + }: compassionate, self-assured, determined, hard working, pragmatic
{ - }: blunt, ineloquent, inflexible, stubborn, temperamental
𝖋 𝖆 𝖛 𝖔 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖊 𝖘
LOCATION: Her flat. She’s turned it into a haven with couches you can sink into, nooks where she can curl up, candles and warm smells, even a fireplace she and Persy like to lie in front of until they fall asleep on the poufs she has as extra seating.
SPORTS TEAM: Chelsea Football Club, Holyhead Harpies (football first and then quidditch)
GAME: Rummy, card games in general
MUSIC: Muggle rock and punk - Queen, David Bowie, Blondie, The Clash
MOVIES: Star Wars, The Godfather (just the first one), Superman, The Exorcist
FOOD: Chinese food but actual Chinese food like her mother makes, not what you can get in the shops. Not that that’s bad - it’s just not her favorite.
BEVERAGE: Chocolate Milk. Yes she knows she is a child.
COLOR: Deep gold.
𝖒 𝖆 𝖌 𝖎 𝖈
ALUMNI HOUSE: Hufflepuff
WAND (length, flexibility, wood, & core): 9 ¼ inches, ash, phoenix feather core, slightly springy. The saying goes that ash wands are stubborn but it isn’t the arrogant or crass type of stubborn that attracts this wood. It is drawn to a person whose beliefs are held strongly in their mind and deeply in their heart. Combined with a core of phoenix feather and it’s slightly springy nature, Emmeline’s wand is particularly loyal and becomes finnicky in the hands of anyone other than it’s owner.
AMORTENTIA: Fresh baked pastries, cinnamon, twilight air in the summer
PATRONUS: Brown Bear - social creatures who find strength in sharing resources and who are known for their protective instincts. Bears are also closely associated with healing in some cultures.
BOGGART: Darkness. The kind of darkness that envelops your senses. Instead of becoming stronger, it dulls each sense so you cannot see but you also cannot hear or feel or smell. You are isolated, alone, helpless. Seconds become eternities as you seek any anchor to hold on to to pull yourself back to the world.
𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖗 𝖆 𝖈 𝖙 𝖊 𝖗
MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good
MBTI: ENFJ-A (Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging, Assertive)
MBTI ROLE: The Protaganist
ENNEAGRAM: Type 2
ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Helper
TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine
WESTERN ZODIAC: Virgo
Virgos are always paying attention to the smallest details and their deep sense of humanity makes them one of the most careful signs of the zodiac. This will lead to a strong character, but one that prefers conservative, well-organized things and a lot of practicality in their everyday life. These individuals have an organized life, and even when they let go to chaos, their goals and dreams still have strictly defined borders in their mind. Their need to serve others makes them feel good as caregivers, on a clear mission to help.
CHINESE ZODIAC: Rooster
Roosters are smart, charming, witty, honest, blunt, capable, talented, brave, and self-reliant. They are known for their ability to do astounding things with extremely limited resources. Their way is always right (in their mind, at least), and they love to debate their stance. Roosters are extremely sociable and bask in attention and praise.
PRIMAL SIGN: Corgi
Loyal, observant, and analytical, those born under the Primal Zodiac sign of the Corgi are devoted friends and family members who take on the role of caretaker with great passion. Few others are as eager to jump in and help a friend in need, and Corgis take great pride in this. More so than other signs, members of this sign like to fill a very specific role in the lives of other people, thus getting the majority of their own personal fulfillment through their service to others.
TAROT CARD: Justice
The Justice Tarot card has to do with moral sensitivity and that which gives rise to empathy, compassion, and a sense of fairness. Since the time of Solomon, this image has represented a standard for the humane and fair-minded treatment of other beings. This card reminds us to be careful to attend to important details. It's a mistake to overlook or minimize anything where this card is concerned.
SONGS: coming soon, i suck at this
IDEOLOGIES:
Doesn’t believe in wallowing or living in the past. Mistakes get made and bad things happen and the only way to get past it all is to pick yourself up and keep on walking.
Tea over coffee. Fight her about it. Get yourself some black tea if you need the caffeine.
There is exactly nothing that can’t be made better by a dance party around the flat with the music so loud that you can’t hear your own thoughts anymore.
There is no excuse for inequality. People are people and the only way to get through this life is to care about the people inhabiting the world around you. Most common thought - “I don’t know how to explain to you that you should care about other people.”
Moody eyed the glass in his hand, considering the merits of downing it in one go. Honestly, the only reason he wasn’t drinking straight from the bottle right now was because Emmeline was here and the Pureblood ways in which he was raised kept a sense of decorum at the forefront of his mind even if his world was seemingly crumbling around him. A playful grin tugged at his lips- “Drink enough of that,” he motioned to the bottle of Lagavulin, a perfectly aged 50 year malt whiskey, “and you’ll be sleeping in, I can assure you.” Unless you were Alastor, who’d grown immune to it’s benefits. Insomnia was a bitch.
The older Auror fought the urge to roll his eyes at her nickname, his playful grin only widening at the sound of it. His expression sobered at the change of direction, he knew exactly what she was talking about. A tattooed hand scrubbed at his face, wondering if he scrubbed hard enough, the memories would be stripped from his mind. Thumb and forefinger rubbed either side of his beard before dropping to the top of his thigh. “Yeah, well. You’re not alone, there.” His voice was deeper than usual, thick with gravel as emotions started cracking through the surface of his well built facade.
He raised the glass to his lips, finally making good on drinking the rest of it before topping up the glass, then leaning over and refilling Emmeline’s without thinking. “You ever want to talk about anything… or not talk, whatever… I’m here for you. You know that, right?”
A part of her had to admit, as she took another sip of the whiskey, that the idea of drinking enough to get a good night’s sleep was not the worst idea she had ever heard. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been sleeping well, it was more that she never slept what felt like enough. At least she hadn’t in a very long time. She went to bed and had trouble falling asleep as the silence in her flat surrounded her and she woke up too early, her body eager to get back to some kind of occupation so she wasn’t lying there feeling useless. She had always been someone who slept less than most but in the last few years it had been worse.
Emmeline’s own smirk widened as Moody grinned at her nickname for him. It had taken her by surprise, how much she liked the man when she got to know him behind the title and the air of gruff unapproachability. When she had first joined the Order, he had been the Great Auror Moody - she never would have guessed then that she’d ever curl up on his couch drinking whiskey and bordering on jokes. Her smirk faded as his smile did at his words, though, and she nodded, bringing the glass to her lips again. She had no doubts there - and she was sure he didn’t just mean himself. The whole Order had taken a hit.
“I’ve never been much of a talker,” she said as she swirled the brown liquid in her glass idly. It was true, more or less, at least the way she meant it. She could chatter with the best of them but when it came to saying anything meaningful she wasn’t exactly eloquent. “I guess I’m more the sort to just keep putting one foot in front of the other because what else is there?” A sentiment she had a feeling Moody of all people could understand.
WHO: Mary Macdonald
WHEN: 27 January 1980
WHERE: Mary’s flat
Music was everything to Emmeline. She blamed her father, he was a musician and she had grown up with he and his mates having impromptu gatherings in one or the others basements at any given time. Unfortunately, as Emmeline would tell anyone, she hadn’t been lucky enough to inherit any of her father’s musical ability. She took after her mother, completely incapable of holding a tune and useless when it came to instruments of any kind. Her father had tried to teach her guitar when she was young and in typical Emmeline fashion she had thrown herself into it but just like some people were born with natural aptitude, she had born with a distinct lack of musical talent.
What she did have, though, was decent taste in music. Stellar taste in music, if you asked her. It was one of the few things of her muggle life that she held on to even as she surrounded herself with magic. Not that the magical world she lived in now didn’t have music of it’s own but somehow nothing really compared to The Clash, The Bee-Jees, AC/DC, Cheap Trick, or - her current obsession - Blondie.
It was a Blondie record she held in her hands now as she stood outside Mary’s door and knocked. The younger witch had mentioned on occasion that she had heard Emmeline’s music through the wall, that she had liked whatever it was she was listening to. And, when coming up with an excuse to see the brunette, it had seemed as good a one as any. After all, she had plenty of other records that she could loan this one out and live without Blondie for a few weeks.
Emmeline stepped inside, closing the door behind her on the way. Alastor mentally shut the locks, a standard precaution on his side. It didn’t matter that the majority of this floor was decked out with Order members, one could never be too vigilant. The wooden trunk was placed on the side table near the door with a heavy thud. Cracking the lid open, he ran his eyes over the various vials with approval before locking it shut, too and crossing the room towards the drink cart in the opposite corner of the living room. “Take a seat.” He motioned towards the dark brown, leather couches in the centre of the room.
Taking a second glass, he poured the Lagaluvin, keeping the bottle in hand as he joined her, settling a heavy frame into one of the single armchairs opposite the witch, but not before handing her the fresh glass and topping up his own. “Thanks for getting it done.” They’d put a rush order on the tonics, a request few would be able to accomplish. Emmeline always provided the goods, with never a complaint, never a delay on deadlines.
“You could definitely use the break, I hope you’re sleeping in tomorrow morning.” The Auror shot her a wink, leaning back into the large chair, more at ease in her presence now than he had been all night. Hooded eyes flickered to the liquid in the glass, thumb against the ridge. “Seriously, I appreciate it, Vance.” His eyes lifted, levelling with her own. It wasn’t just about the vials- it didn’t matter what it was Moody needed her for, she never hesitated to step up, she was always there for him. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what the Order would do without her- what he would do without her.
Emmeline didn’t need the invitation to make herself at home on Moody’s couch - she had a knack for making herself comfortable even in places she wasn’t welcome. There had been a time she was more timid, waiting for someone to tell her she belonged before letter herself relax but it had been an exhausting way to live and so she’d left it behind. She dropped down on the leather couch without much grace, and nearly pulled her legs up under her in her typical position before her mother’s voice in the back of her mind reminded her she had shoes on and while she wasn’t graceful - she hadn’t been raised in a barn either.
“I never sleep in,” she pointed out as she took the glass he handed her, sipping it with practiced ease. Whiskey had never been her go to drink but she preferred it to sweeter things like wine. Beer was what she stocked most in her own flat, more because she had never bothered to learn what made a good whiskey. Beer was easier. “It was no problem, boss.” She smirked as she spoke the title, one she had affectionately started using. “Gave me something to do, honestly. I haven’t been able to sit still since - ” she shrugged and let her sentence trail off. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone who had been at the Battle of Hogsmeade to guess how long it had been since she’d been able to sit still.
Though, anyone who knew Emmeline even a little would know that that wasn’t exactly the biggest change of pace for her. She was not a person who relaxed well. “Who am I kidding I never sit still well. So any other mindless chores you need done, I’m your girl.”
Of all his places, his apartment at Plainview Point was- well, not one of his favourites but definitely up there on the list in terms of comfort. He didn’t stay here often, though showed his face enough to maintain appearances that he did in fact live here. Truthfully it was one of many he owned but most were top secret- either part of the order, or part of a series of safe houses. This was the only address he owned publicly linked to his name and given his status, appearances were everything.
Coming here usually gave him some sort of sense of coming home, though tonight he found himself perched on the edge of his bed, nursing a fresh glass of Lagavulin, staring at the walls wishing the damn paint would peel- if only to give him something else to focus on than the screams that haunted him. A faint knock on the door snapped him out of his mental spiral, turning his attention to the sound, Alastor rose to full neight, placing the half drunk glass of Whiskey on the coffee table as he closed the distance between his room and the front door.
There was only one person he was expecting that night, only one person he really wanted to see- and sure enough, the petite witch was standing on the other side balancing a heavy wooden box full of what he could only assume was the tonics the Order had needed. “Vance”, he said in gruff greeting. Tattooed hands reached out to take the box, stepped backwards into the depths of his apartment. “Come in, you want a coffee? Or something stronger? I’ve got it all.”
Emmeline liked living at Plainview, she’d moved in when they had first converted the seventh floor, knowing it was the safest place for her to be. She’d lived with her parents before that - fresh out of school and still in healer training, it had seemed like the best place to be - but as things became more precarious with the war and as her involvement grew more high risk, she had known she needed a place separate from the muggle side of her life. Her parents knew vague details about what was going on but Emmeline had needed to compartmentalize - something she’d found difficult while she was still sleeping in her childhood bed.
Being in Plainview Point, though, meant he was surrounded by people who knew what was going on in her world, people with the same concerns and people she didn’t feel like she was endangering just by being around. It also made it incredibly convenient in moments like these when she needed to see someone else in the Order who lived in the building - of which there were more than a fair few.
“Something stronger would be nice,” she said as she followed the older wizard into his flat, closing the door behind her. It may have seemed a gruff greeting but it was run of the mill for the auror, at least in Emmeline’s experience, and it didn’t bother her in the slightest. “I’ve been living on caffeine for the past three days so I’m sure my body could use the break.” She’d wanted to get the tonics and potions done as quickly as she could, she knew all too well their importance when things took a turn for the worse. The echoes of last weeks battle still rang in her ears and while she would have enjoyed having the work last longer, the urgency to have the potions available won out.
Who: Alastor Moody
When: 26 January 1980 - early evening
Where: Moody’s apartment
Being a Healer didn’t leave Emmeline with a whole lot of free time, especially when it stacked up against her work for the Order, but the young witch had to admit that she liked it that way. She didn’t like being idle, being left alone with her thoughts and her worries in a quiet flat with nothing to do. She was supposed to be resting or enjoying her life, she knew, but it didn’t always work out that way and so when there was an opportunity to take on a little extra work Emmeline was always one of the first to jump on it. This particular bit of extra work was easy enough - the Order’s cache of tonics and potions was running low and needed to be replenished. The work was second nature to her, thanks to her training, but it occupied her mind enough that her anxieties didn’t have a chance to take hold.
It was the work of a couple days and when she was finished, Moody had told her to drop it all off to him directly so he could make sure it all got where it needed to go. Emmeline imagined that for some people to show up at the Alastor Moody’s door might be intimidating but for her it was - she had to admit - exciting. She looked up to the auror - to the new leader of the Order - and she knew he had a lot on his shoulders. And maybe it was silly to worry about but a lot had happened over the last week and she knew that she felt the strain herself - a lot of the Order members did. And she could only imagine it was worse for Moody, being that he had so much more invested and so much more responsibility to clean up the mess left behind.
So if she happened to pack a couple extra tonics not for the Order but just for their fearless leader - could you really blame her? She lugged the box containing various bottles of potions up to his flat, balancing it precariously on her hip as she knocked on the door.
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