emmeline vance

they/them, twenty-six, curse breaker

[emxxvance-blog]

xenosechoes

They hummed their assent at their words. It was a belief that Xenophilius lived much of their life by, that if only they kept looking, kept researching, kept asking questions, they would continue to find knowledge everywhere, even where others might not think it was possible to find. They appreciated that there was someone else in the little village with a similar outlook, even with perhaps a more obviously useful applied ability. Still, though, their similarities went beyond that, and they were pleased that perhaps they might find an ally in them.

“Yes, of course,” they nodded, as they came a bit closer, taking their removal of the books as a sign that they were truly interested. “I’ve gone to healers before, even sought out those who claim to specialize in that very subject, and yet none have been able to help me, even if my wife has managed to provide comfort other healers never thought to attempt. I can’t rule out any avenue of questioning, though, and your expertise may give light, or at least a fresh set of eyes.”

Another researcher, and one who had more experience with curses than they could imagine, would only be welcomed. Perhaps it meant more, too, that they had personal experience of their own, as well. “I wonder, do you have any experience with curses worsening over time? I find that as of late, my curse has been growing more difficult to deal with.”

Emmeline nodded as Xenophilius spoke of their experience trying to find relief or a solution from healers. They’d never really dabbled in the medical side of curses, only having interacted in a peripheral way with some of St. Mungo’s specialists back when they were working for the Ministry and needed more information about the victims of a particular object, but they couldn’t imagine that any of those specialists knew curses as well as they did. The healers would understand the realities of the consequences of the curses much better than they did, of course, but Em imagined the lack of depth to their knowledge must have been frustrating. 

“It’s generally dependent on the skill and experience of the creator, as well as their intention, but curses beyond a certain level of intricacy are more often than not prone to changing and growing over time.” Emmeline had watched, barely tall enough to see over the edge of their father’s desk, as he wrapped innocuous items in webs of dark intentions. They had listened dutifully as he mused over the same objects years later, tinkering with them now that they had caused unknown strife and returned to his possession, outwardly just as innocuous as before. “Complicated curses require a considerable amount of dedicated time and magic, and they almost fester in it. That’s all in regards to cursed objects, of course, but if you consider the effects of a curse as almost an extension of the curse itself, then it only makes sense that the same would be true for the afflicted.” 

They paused, head cocked in thought, left arm absentmindedly crossed over their torso so that they held their other elbow, forearm in, “Some of my personal experience might be relevant too. They’re very different situations, of course, but most of my understanding of curses working on people as opposed to things comes from that study.” They side-stepped the words dark mark not because they didn’t want to say them, but because of years’ worth of habit in avoiding the shock and fear they could incite. 

It was perhaps too easy to let themself be encompassed in the purely academic interest of Xenophilius’ situation. Much easier than dwelling on the parallels, anyway. Em wasn’t holding out much hope that they would ever be able to rid themself of their father’s most ambitious curse, but they could potentially do something for Xenophilius. “I’ll need more information of course, as much as you can give me, but I think we might be able to make some progress in understanding it, if nothing else.” 

[emxxvance-blog]

unbearablyblack

Sirius finally steps back from the shelves, the books they’ve arranged standing in a precariously straight line. One quick movement from either of them, any sudden bit of rush to the air, would send them all toppling to one side, their careful handiwork ruined. Still, they make no move to fix it. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, about Sirius and their problems and their inability to fix them. They want to, at least they think they do, they want to make it right with Remus and be there for Lily and Harry, but they can’t. Not quite yet; their wounds are still open and bleeding, their grief hanging like a cloud over their head. It makes everything– an apology, an admission of wrongdoing, situating themself in a way that they won’t fall over at the slightest change of the wind– incredibly difficult.

“Neither am I,” Sirius says dryly, their eyes on Emmeline. They’ve leaned against the wall again, their arms crossed protectively against their chest, the distance between them a hair larger than necessary. They note the way they’re watching Sirius, too, both of them on guard, both of their walls up. Neither of them were ever any good at being vulnerable.

“'Course it doesn’t help that Kingsley and Moody are two of the most stubborn people on the planet,” Sirius adds. It’s a rich observation coming from them, but regardless of their own personal struggles, it’s true. How they managed to create the Order of the Phoenix without agreeing on what it should actually do is beyond them, but here they all are. Divided in a silent war against themselves. “What d’you suppose we should be doing?” Sirius asks. They already know their own answer, but they’re curious about Emmeline’s. Nearly every Order meeting since Sirius joined has ended in the same argument: should they tend to their dead, or get up and fight?

Emmeline waited until Sirius was done with their book arranging before they slipped into their previously occupied space, positioning the last armful of books alongside the others, careful not to jostle the shelf and send them tumbling. They could’ve followed Sirius’ lead and taken the excuse of a distraction that the books offered, but Em stepped back from the shelf after only a few moments regardless. The books that they had placed marched along the shelf in a token attempt at order, sharply contrasted by the precise positioning of the rest of the self. It was futile, anyway. It was only a matter of time before the exactness of the books’ alignment proved too precarious. 

Em flicked a glance to where Sirius now stood, arms crossed at the wall, and couldn’t help the grim smile that tugged at their lips, “A dozen different things.” 

They absently mirrored Sirius’ body language, arms loosely crossed as they loitered near the shelf. “Sitting back and waiting for trouble to find us isn’t going to help anyone. The Death Eaters won’t just forget that the Order exists if we keep hiding here, and with how quiet December was they’re more than likely recovering too. But the lull won’t last forever. It’s harder now, considering our losses, but we have to make the first move. Whether that’s looking for others or trying to intercept the Death Eaters that are looking for us or something else entirely doesn’t really matter. Hiding isn’t sustainable, though.” That was the analytical answer, anyway. Emmeline didn’t mention that they were constantly fearing the day that they’d run out of self-assigned projects to throw themself into and would end up bursting out of the safety of Godric’s Hollow, driven off on a suicide mission because they couldn’t abide a quiet moment. Not when their arm seemed to burn with a constant reminder of what they needed to fight. 

[artseptimus-deactivated20200724]

Late Arrival || Emmeline

[emxxvance-blog]

artseptimus

They moved interestingly to him. Something in the outwardly curious and expecting demeanour, as if his offering was of genuine intrigue to the other. It reminded him of Hogwarts, of being in the common room and hearing another Ravenclaw mention something about a passing thought, another would pipe up and offer a solution or practical application, and suddenly it was taken from an absent thought to a fully-fledged idea.

Arthur followed quietly watching their movement, it was fluid and practised with a grace of the educated. He’d been to pureblood balls once or twice when he was tiny, but it had been indicative of the education that the other children had recieved in manners and etiquette. A skill that he had barely managed by playing sports solidly through his school years, and that wasn’t necessarily classical grace, more so less clumsy.

Emmeline’s buffering wasn’t necessary, he knew that they were more than competent than he was at least in this area of magic. “Thank you.” He smiled, realising his body language wasn’t incredibly open for being a guest. Arthur watched them once he’d taken the books, making sure to offer eye contact and be present rather than in his ever churning thoughts.

Their suggestion was spot-on the money. “Exactly that,” he paused, evening the rhythm of his breath, “Thank you, I’ll bring them back as soon as I can.” Arthur had a spare notebook that he’d found in one of the drawers in the cottage, he’d just transcribe what he’d need.

“I just have to say, your work is immaculate.” Should that have been a ‘was’? “It would come through my office a lot, and yeah, that’s why I thought to be here..” Arthur needed to learn to socialise again, to adults and this felt like diving into the deeper end of things.

It wasn’t as though Emmeline would have shooed Arthur off their front porch with a sharp few words otherwise, but they were relieved that he had come seeking answers to something that veered more towards the academic than anything else. If any of Godric’s Hollow’s motley group of residents turned up claiming to just be making a social call Em wasn’t terribly likely to believe them. Everyone needed something, and sometimes they had the misfortune of having to come to them to get it. Arthur had said upfront what he was after, and Em could respect that. It gave them more time to think about the puzzle at hand, at the very least.

“You’ll want Spellman’s Syllabary too, then. Did you take ancient runes? It gets a bit rambling but you’ll find a fairly comprehensive look at runic meanings there.” Em wasn’t surprised that they and Arthur had come up with the same starting point for his idea- using runes as signs simply made sense. The textbook was one they’d found in one of the empty cottages of the town, Hogwarts standard with all the scribblings in the margins and dog-eared pages that entailed. Pulling it off the shelf they offered it to Arthur too.

They were considering still, their attention caught half between what books they might have in their room and what Arthur was doing when he spoke. They looked over to him, nodding curtly at his thanks, “You’re welcome.” They were practiced, those words, manners bored into Emmeline’s brain from birth, but the shrug that followed, loose and one shouldered, was decidedly not of that world, “And if you don’t, I know where to find you. I don’t think I’ll urgently need either of those in the immediate future, but it’s a small world. If I do, I’ll let you know.”

And then Arthur continued, and Emmeline turned their back on their bookshelf the rest of the way so they could lean against it, arms loosely crossed across their chest. “Thank you.” They didn’t say that they knew their work was immaculate, that they’d needed it to be for a dozen different reasons because they’d had to hit the ground running when they showed up at the Ministry with all they owned in one suitcase, and once they started running it turned out it was hard to stop again. No, thank you would do. “I remember. Muggle objects were usually interesting assignments. Either very complex and malicious curses or idiotic attempts at jokes. There was a radio spelled to only play one very irritating muggle children’s song which was rather disinclined to being turned off, if I remember correctly.”

[emxxvance-blog]

rcmus

    ‘Didn’t, and that’s the best news I’ve had all day. I came in here expecting a horde of Death Eaters with their wands drawn. You and a couple books? Much preferred.’

His heart rate had finally started to even out, to slow back to its usual tempo. Something about the easy, thoughtless magic grounding him back in the moment instead of the catastrophic situation he’d imagined as he raced into the cottage. Simple magic – levitation spells and things like that, spells to put things back in order – had always been a comforting thing, for him. A soothing balm over whatever was ratcheting up his anxiety. He’d taught himself, in fifth year, a little bit of wandless magic, lighting cigarettes with his fingertips, just to get over the stress that studying for his OWLs was causing. Same thing, seventh year, with one or two non-verbal spells just to put off thinking about his NEWTs. Not that either test mattered, much, when he was virtually unemployable in the magical world…

He glanced at the books on the shelf, the ones they’d been moving when the box had collapsed, scanning through the names along the spines.

    ‘Looking for anything in particular?’

Emmeline nodded, the movement small and quick, an acknowledgement that almost seemed to want to avoid being acknowledged itself. They understood the sudden flash of adrenaline that came with thinking danger could be around the corner, and the minutes that felt like hours afterwards as the feeling leaked away, replaced by the worn-down lull of still being alive. It happened too often, and not often enough. 

“Hm, I’m glad this is the preferable situation. Very reasonable of you.” The words held a thread of irony in them, but nothing on their face implied anything but utter sincerity. 

Em followed Remus’ gaze to the books, skimming over the spines to quickly take in the titles. It only took a moment to establish that they wouldn’t be much help. Novels and fiction were all well and good, but not for Em’s intentions. “Not any title in particular, no. I’m just looking for things that could be useful- I brought a fair number of books here with me but I know other people had other things to prioritize, so I thought I’d try to rebuild our knowledge base as much as I can.” 

They shoved their hands into the pockets of their coat, nodding over at the books, “These don’t look ideal, but I’ve found a few interesting things.” 

[emxxvance-blog]

rcmus

The noise had drawn his attention – coupled with a grip of paranoia deep in his chest that has been threatening to tighten and suffocate him for hours already: with Sirius and the others gone to Ottery St. Catchpole, he’d been wandering the village waiting for them to come back, waiting and ready for the worst-case scenario, for the spell to somehow be wrong, the wards somehow be broken, for Death Eaters to appear in Godric’s Hollow, ready to kill every last survivor here.

But the loud series of cracking sound, it seemed, wasn’t the pop of an army apparating into the abandoned cottage. It was just books. It was just Emmeline, he saw, as he pushed through the door into the main room of the house, where those books were now lying in a scattershot pile on the floor at their feet.

With a wave of his wand, a murmured spell, the books on the floor levitated upwards, arranging themselves neatly, spine out, on the shelf behind Emmeline, lined up and ready for them to read each title, hopefully find what they were looking for.

    ‘You scared me, in here,’ he admitted as he made his presence known from the doorway, though he couldn’t hide the relief in his voice that this was all it was. A bad scare, nothing worse. ‘Everything alright?’

When Em heard feet approaching- quickly, and then there, at the door- their eyes snapped up from the floor, but their hands didn’t move from the box that they tossed away, movement idle even if their thoughts weren’t. It was Remus who walked in, though, clearing the mess of books off the ground with a wave of his wand, and Em watched them soar onto the shelf, a neat paper flock nesting side by side. 

“I didn’t know anyone else was around to scare. Apologies.” As much as their words rang slightly hollow, there was a thread of something genuine in them. They could understand the nauseating rush of adrenaline that came with the sudden and unexpected, sometimes, and Remus had never been anything but kind to them. There were some in the Order that Em wouldn’t mind accidentally making jump out of their skins, but Remus, so it seemed, wasn’t among them. 

Em waved off his question, “Yes, yes. Just a box that couldn’t support the weight of the books- I wasn’t expecting it but nothing’s broken and you’ve already tidied. Thank you, by the way.” They paused, letting their gaze turn and trail over the books for a moment before flicking back to Remus, “What about you? Finding what you’re after in this dusty cottage today?” 

[emxxvance-blog]

unbearablyblack

“You caught me,” Sirius replies, the roguish grin still on their face. “Clearly it didn’t work, though I s’pose I only got an A in Charms on my O.W.L.S., so it’s not much of a surprise.” Their tone is light, Sirius deliberately choosing to perpetuate the joke because the only other option is to fall into sincerity. The rational parts of Sirius’ mind know Emmeline is not a threat, but they werethere. They heard Glenda’s message– you can’t trust everyone you think you can. Surely, if that’s true, if someone were working on the side of the aggressor, all fingers point to them.

Sirius stands up, subconsciously putting distance between themself and Emmeline as they help put the fallen books back on the shelves. They make themself busy straightening the booksjust-so on the old bookcase, taking greater care than they would have otherwise, because they aren’t sure what to do once they’re finished.

“That’s smart,” Sirius comments, the compliment genuine even if the delivery is absentminded. The books couldn’t look straighter if they tried, but of course they still are, stacking them one-by-one in a row that will fall over as soon as they remove their hands. “Found anything yet? I don’t suppose there are any books about what to do when you’re in a war and half your army’s missing.”

“Only an A? That makes sense.” Em had spent so much of their life donning different masks to achieve different goals that it’s all become second nature now. This Emmeline, the one who trades witticisms with a biting tone and an occasional hint of a lingering smile, is all Hogwarts. A projection of the past, a time that was never quite carefree or joyful, but was still innocent in ways they hadn’t known it to be yet, then. It’s flimsy though, like any projection is bound to be. Em had put up masks as impenetrable as walls before, out of necessity, but they can’t bring themself to really care about being convincing, here and now. 

Em finished collecting the last of the books in their arms, and set to shifting them so the stack wouldn’t fall from the crook of their elbow, watching as Sirius sorted the books already on the shelf into a perfect line. It’s a delicate dance, they way they move around one another, neither ever getting too close, and Em, at least, never letting their attention completely stray from Sirius. It’s nothing personal. They’re always watching their own back. 

Em hummed an agreeable noise in response to Sirius’ compliment, pausing in their readjusting  for a moment as they spoke, “Not that I’ve found so far, no. And for some reason I feel as though even if the solution were printed on a page we wouldn’t be able to come to a consensus about our next course of action, anyway. I’m really not holding out hope.” It only made sense that the Order would by nature be full of conflicting opinions, but since the relocation to Godric’s Hollow the split in beliefs had never been more glaringly obvious. “I’ve picked up a couple of books on potions that might be helpful to someone, though. And we won’t want for people’s old Hogwarts textbooks, there’s a set of them in the dustiest corner of every house.” 

[emxxvance-blog]

xenosechoes

As removed from the world as they were, Xenophilius was more observant than most believed; the real thing was that most of the time they were more preoccupied with something else to worry about what was right in front of them. They were well aware that Emmeline was in a similar position as them when it came to the trust of the Order. It wasn’t something they cared about, though. They found they appreciated their dedication to knowledge, and nearly obsessive nature for the pursuit of it; it was rare to find someone like them.

“No, I haven’t found much of anything else, so I suppose I am right,” they hummed, with a satisfied nod. The universe worked in ways beyond their comprehension, they had long ago learned that. As much as they searched for answers to questions many never asked, there was much they were happy to accept without proof. And coincidences held up so poorly when there could be a reason even for a chance meeting. After all, Xenophilius needed help. It was something they hated admitting––one of the reasons it had taken them years to finally attempt to find aid at St. Mungo’s, and why they had not been surprised when they did not find it there. More and more lately, though, it was clear that here, in Godirc’s Hollow, their curse was only worsening. Try as they and Pandora might, there was only so much they could do. An expert was needed. And how convenient that an expert resided in the village with them now.

“There is knowledge hidden everywhere. I’m certain there’s something useful among the ruins,” Xenophilius said, approaching them, eyes moving over the books they stacked. “I wonder if I might seize this chance to ask you about a problem I’ve been having. I’m sure you recall my mentioning––and many others’, in cruel whispers, I’m sure––a curse.”

Emmeline didn’t put too much belief in fate, or destiny, or predetermination. Divination hadn’t fit into their schedule at Hogwarts and that had been the end of that, really. But they couldn’t deny that the coincidence of bumping into Xenophilius Lovegood was one fraught with intrigue, when one considered it. A cursebreaker bearing a curse on their arm and another wading through a curse lodged somewhere in their mind, effectively trapped in a village together. At the very least it seemed that destiny- if there were such a thing- hadn’t particularly favored either of them when doling out futures.

“I agree. One just has to keep looking.” It was a happy accident that their thirst for vengeance twinned so beautifully with the pleasure they found in knowledge. Em looked for knowledge everywhere, the lines between passion and vendetta blurring into a pursuit that was muddied but dogged. 

“I’m hardly anyone’s confidant.” They had heard talk of Xenophilius’ curse, however- just enough that their interest was throughly piqued. Em pulled out their wand, waving it at the scattered books with a whispered word and sending them floating into order on the shelf, effectively out of the way so that they could focus on Xenophilius. “And I should say that most of my experience is in the realm of removing curses from objects, not grappling with the effects of those curses on people. You had a question, though?” 

[artseptimus-deactivated20200724]

Late Arrival || Emmeline

[emxxvance-blog]

artseptimus

He thought on their question for a second, he was there and there was no point leaving empty-handed, or making the other’s cottage cold.

“If that’s okay?” Arthur’s response fair, his beanie kept his ears warm and he was thankful to have his coat when they had grabbed stuff to get to Godric’s Hollow. There hadn’t been much thought, it was very much a ‘get out’ moment.

It was bizarre, what was he really here doing? What did they think he was doing here? Was it weird that they were so happy to let him in? Not that he had a bad rep really, after all he was just the man with a lot of children in tow. Arthur shuffled in so that they could shut the door and lock in the warmth emanating from the cottage. He shrugged out of his coat and popped it over his arm.

“I’m looking for books and thought you might have a few.” Arthur didn’t bother wasting the others time with elongated vowels and syllables that would catch in repeated attempts. It wasn’t fair to expect them to weather listening and lending him books. His words appearing instead on the floor, contrasting and easy to read. It wasn’t the fist time he had done so in meetings or around the village. It was easier when he wasn’t sure if the other could sign.

Watching the other move around him, he relaxed slightly and the initial awkwardness of being rejected at the door had faded. Arthur didn’t have the worry in his mind around him intruding in their space, although hesitant around them. It was difficult to judge what the other might have experience in or with, that they could be trusted - they were isolated from the others in the village. Art wasn’t here to judge, it was just realistically understanding the trust he had in his little community and Emmeline was very much on the borders of what he would consider his world.

“Specifically any runes or charms books, I’m trying to replace incantations with signs. I can’t speak fast enough to duel offensively and whilst my nonverbal is strong, it tends to be reactionary rather than intentional.” Arthur didn’t care who knew what he was attempting, it wasn’t as if it was a big secret that he wasn’t the most verbally competent. Although he wondered if the other had any advice with the charm sequencing, it wasn’t something that he had that much experience with and was just experimenting as he went. It was basic but he didn’t want it to be unreliable at all because that didn’t solve anything. Art was a competent dueller but he wasn’t good enough to face individuals that had been doing it for their entire lives. And doing it to kill.

Emmeline had chosen a cottage at the fringes of Godric’s Hollow deliberately. There might be safety in numbers, but they had always felt more at ease in isolation. They shared space with the Order, brushing shoulders in the village, but they also needed somewhere to retreat to. And in much the same way, within their home Em had made a safe haven of their bedroom- letting Arthur Weasley through their front door was something of a soft threshold into their domain, allowable, especially since they were curious as to what had brought him their way. Their room, however, felt much more theirs than the rest of this house furnished by ghosts did. 

They simply nodded at Arthur’s response, nudging the door open wider and stepping aside to allow him in before closing and locking the door behind them. The locking, it occurred to them, was a completely useless exercise in reassurance. They’d put up proper wards for the night once their visitor was gone, but for now the simple deadbolt would mean nothing for anyone with an ounce of magic or a bit of ingenuity to break through. It would do, though. Em wasn’t anticipating all hell breaking loose tonight. 

Their attention returned to Arthur, who stood now in their corridor with his coat on his arm, and Em ignored the faint influence of the facade of delicate decorum that had glazed their childhood saying that they should really take his coat and hang it somewhere. Instead they leaned idly against the wall and cocked their head slightly at the reason behind Arthur’s showing up on their doorstep, “I’ve got a few, yes.” A few was something of an understatement. Em had brought far more books with them to Godric’s Hollow than any other possession, and they’d gathered a fair few more from the village’s empty homes. 

As Arthur elaborated on his search for books, Em nodded along, visibly growing more interested in what he had to say. A puzzle was something they could always get behind. “Spell augmentation isn’t exactly my area of expertise, but, well-” they pushed off the wall and slipped past Arthur, waving in a gesture to follow through the door to the left and into their sitting room, where they immediately made a beeline to a bookshelf, “I do think I have a few things that could help.” They shuffled through the books for a moment, pulling down The Making of Charms: a Modern History and Advanced Runology, and holding them out in the vague direction of Arthur, only half their attention on the wizard as they shuffled through their books. 

“Were you thinking of adapting runes as signs? That would make sense, channeling your intention through an already magically powerful symbol. Those two-” they nodded at the books, “will be a start, definitely.”

[emxxvance-blog]

unbearablyblack

Sirius doesn’t want to hate Emmeline, he knows, rationally, that the mark on their arm is nothing more than that– a mark, that they hadn’t asked to get, that Sirius could have easily gotten himself in slightly different circumstances. At Hogwarts they were able to find a common ground, bonding over their families and the anguish that came with them, and at the time, it was enough. Sirius didn’t despise them for being a Slytherin, nor they him for being a Gryffindor. But James’ death changed him, left him vengeful and scared, and suddenly the Dark Mark does matter– it means something, something terrible, and Sirius is no longer able to turn away from it. How easily could Voldemort control them? Even if Emmeline resisted– Sirius knows them well enough to know they would try– would it matter? The thought makes them shudder, right there in the doorway.

“Oh, it was on the door, actually. You must’ve not seen it– it was restricted for the eyes of Cool People Only,” Sirius says nonchalantly, a boyish smirk on his face despite the thoughts swirling through his head. With Remus and Lily, he reverted to silence, with Xenophilius, anger, but with Emmeline he seems to be able to still be a little bit of his old self. Perhaps it’s because they were friends– more so than he and Xenophilius, and less than Remus and Lily. It was easier to play it off with Emmeline, the stakes somehow lower.

“It’s fine,” Sirius replies with a shake of the head. They cross through the doorway and into the cottage’s den as if to prove it– they don’t have to leave on his account– and crouch to help return the books to their rightful place on the shelves. “As long as you don’t spill my secret.” They turn one of the books over in their hands– children’s stories. “What’re you looking for, anyway?”

“Seems like a pretty terrible sign if only people you think are cool can see it. Who’s included in that, just you?” They met Sirius’ smirk with a shake of their head, their lips quirking into a there-and-gone again smile. It was all a game, the patter. Back and forth, absently trading sarcasm because it was so much easier than saying anything real. Em suspected Sirius was falling back into the pattern much the same way they were- in a way it maintained the distance between them even as Sirius passed through the doorway and joined them in collecting the books off the ground. Beyond idle chatter there was a potential for conflict simmering, and to Em it seemed like they were just barely avoiding the edge of the water.

Em straightened the books they’d piled onto the shelf, half their attention remaining on Sirius, never quite turning their back on them. “Kind of you. And I won’t.” Em was well versed in secrets, and as much as they knew Sirius’ statement to be more joking than serious, there was nothing to be gained by pointing the whole town in the direction of a place where they apparently went for quiet. They could understand the value of having somewhere to be alone. 

“Books.” Their reply was shot over their shoulder, only elaborated on when they turned to collect another group of books from the ground. “Nothing in particular, but I’d like to know what we have at our disposal, knowledge-wise. Enough people have projects going on that even if I can’t find a use for a particular work of magical theory or whatever else I dig up, I imagine someone will.” 

[artseptimus-deactivated20200724]

Late Arrival || Emmeline

[emxxvance-blog]

artseptimus

Late Arrival || Emmeline

Date TBA 9:00pm Emmeline’s Cottage

An idea had crept into the back of his mind one evening. It was budding and felt improbable but he had an incredible amount of free time after 8 and even Charity couldn’t distract him from the inevitability of his mind falling back to how at risk the boys were. And that was fine, because he was fixing it.

It had come to him in thought, wondering whether he could substitute signing for speech when duelling. He could allocate a spell to a single handed sign and in theory it should just fall as a reinforcement to the nonverbal magic he performed. It all made sense in his head.

Finding the books to support the theory and put it into practise was the issue. Arthur had only managed to bring the most immediate copies from his emergency bag and they weren’t even the books that he wanted right now. Quintessence: A Quest had filled his time but it just wasn’t enough to bind the spells to the signs, he wondered whether a copy of Advanced Runes would answer his questions.

Questioning who had a copy in Godric’s Hollow had lead him to a rocky answer. The potential answer was Emmeline Vance, an individual that he really wasn’t certain about but he couldn’t stay stuck in the same place without asking. They were certain to be able to offer some sort of idea of a suggestion if not. Arthur knew the curse breaker was more than successful in their workplace, he had signed off more cases with the other’s name as the curse breaker to have broken the curses placed on the items than he had known anyone else. Perhaps they would recognise him too, it might make it a little easier if there was a little common ground after all.

Charity was looking after the kids, the saviour that she was, and he headed down to the lone cottage on the edges of the village. Arthur’s hands stuffed in pockets, one firmly wrapped around his wand as he followed the pavement around to their new home.

He knocked twice gently, eyes trained on the door rather than the wrecks of neighbouring cottages. It was an absolute nightmare what had happened.

“Hi, it’s Arthur Weasley, I just had a question to ask?” He spoke as clearly as he could, quietly so his voice didn’t lift in the breeze. Art was starting to regret his trip already, he couldn’t believe that he was interrupting the other’s evening over a book. He shuffled his feet awkwardly as he waited for a greeting or security question.

Emmeline had to remind themself that there had always been quiet nights. Even in their darkest days there had been evenings that had been almost jarringly peaceful, when they absently made a cup of tea and tucked themself into a chair in the corner of an empty room and lost track of the world for a moment. They had to remind themself that this wasn’t new, because now, sequestered away in Godric’s Hollow, it felt so much more like willful avoidance. It made them itch to go find something oozing with a malicious curse and throw themself into the delicate give and take of plucking it apart. 

And so, when they heard a knock on the door, they glanced up with interest as opposed to annoyance. At least after they'd gone through the mental obstacle course of being jolted to attention, realizing someone unknwon was nearby, and then forcibly reminding themself that it had to be someone with the Order, considering the circumstances. Whoever it was was lucky they weren’t in the midst of research- they’d been known to develop rather selective attention when deep in the thrall of a puzzle, and the gentle knocks on their door wouldn’t have been likely to successfully pull their nose from a book. But as it was they’d been letting their thoughts wander in a rare moment of quiet, and that was a fate that they were plenty willing to escape. At least long enough to entertain their curiosity about who would make the walk out to their cottage well past dark. 

They made their way to the door, their only concession to the lateness of the hour the fact that they were no longer wearing their boots, padding along the floorboards in their socks. Their wand was tucked away in their pocket, but a hand lingered nearby, ready at a moment’s notice, as Em opened the door, first slowly, and then nudged wide once they saw who it was. 

Em remembered the muted surprise of looking around the gathered members of the first meeting of the Order that Kingsley and Alastor had brought them to. They hadn’t known, exactly, who they were signing on to do battle alongside, but the wizard from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office certainly hadn’t been who they had been expecting. It’d been years now, that Arthur Weasley had existed mostly in Emmeline’s periphery. And, so it seemed, he was determined to keep turning up where they hadn’t even begun to expect him. 

“Hello.” They took in Arthur slowly, noting the discomfort in his shifting in place, automatically looking for a wand and coming up short- pocket, probably, Em wasn’t particularly expecting to be attacked but it couldn’t hurt to know- before looking back to his face with a barely-there smile, little more than a quirk of their lips, “Yeah, I know who you are. Did you want to come in? Or is it a quick question?” Their delivery was blunt, maybe, but not unkind. Arthur had peaked their curiosity, if nothing else. 

[emxxvance-blog]

xenosechoes

Day by day, it only seemed to grow worse. It felt as if more of their time was spent in the fog of their curse, the whispers winning out all too easily against reality, blurring those lines, making it impossible to distinguish between the two. The clandestine mission to attempt to find the other headquarters that Glenda’s message had alerted them all to only made it all feel harder; they may not have been a proper part of the Order, but to be kept in the dark of such a potentially important and dangerous thing, when all the help they could get would have been welcome, only made Sirius’s words of mistrust ring more in their ears. They were going to their home, and yet, not even a mention, only hearing of it through thirdhand information. Paranoia grew, as well as restlessness. It made them want to leave themself.

Logic still prevailed, in most cases, though, and so instead, they distracted themself, searching for a place of quiet, where not even the whispers might touch them. A hint of a feeling had brought them to the abandoned cottage, an aura of something other, the pull of lingering magic that made them think there might be something to discover there, perhaps to keep the voices quiet. They’d been sat on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, engrossed in reading the handwritten potion labels, trying to see if there was anything enlightening, when they heard a crash from downstairs.

Xenophilius was surprised, upon descending the stairs and turning the corner, to see Emmeline kneeling among a mess of books. “Oh, hello. I didn’t realize there would be anyone else prodding around this house of ghosts just now. Perhaps that is why I was led here in the first place. To find you, instead. What are you seeking?” they asked.

Perhaps they shouldn’t have assumed they were alone. Godric’s Hollow was practically a ghost town now, inhabited by so few, and yet enough of them were the sort to seek out silence that a search from home to empty home for books was bound to result in bumping into someone eventually. And yet when Emmeline dropped a pile of books and heard feet on the stairs they glanced up to the doorway in faint surprise regardless.

Xenophilius spoke in circles, a hint of poetry in their response to the world, and Em found it oddly charming. Not that’d they’d say so. They idly stacked a few of the books while Xenophilius passed through the entrance of the room, looking up again at them when they asked a question. “I don’t know, have you found anything else? If it’s just been me then it seems rather likely you’re right.” Their tone was practical, almost blunt, but there was no malice behind it. Some of the Order didn’t trust Xenophilius, but some of the Order didn’t trust Em either.

“Books. Magical theory and runic based magics, ideally, but I’m not too picky. Anything that might help.” Help with what, exactly, was the question. As far as Em was concerned there was plenty waiting to be discovered in the books they had yet to unearth, they might just have to get a bit creative to make it work.

[emxxvance-blog]

unbearablyblack:

Sirius spends a lot of their time just wandering through Godric’s Hollow. They have always been restless, their impatience and easy excitability leaving them constantly in motion. Since James’ death they’ve been quite literally restless, often going two or three days without sleeping properly. When that happens, they just walk, for hours at a time, up and down the quiet streets of Godric’s Hollow. It’s better than being at the cottage, where Lily and Remus take turns avoiding them. More often than not, these days, they’re alone.

Sirius enters the abandoned cottage in the heart of Godric’s Hollow, expecting to be alone here, too. They come around every now and then; it’s a good place to take a break, when they need one, to rest or comb through books none of the other villages have claimed yet. But this time, instead of silence, they’re greeted by the sound of books toppling to the floor and the swear that follows. They recognize the voice.

“Emmeline?” Sirius calls out, stepping through the door of the cottage. Sure enough, there they are, a handful books littering the floor while they stand over them, broken box still in hand. It’s been a while since they’ve spoken– they’ve lost track of how long– and as much as Sirius hates to admit it, they’re not comforted by their presence. They lean against the wall, trying ( and likely failing ) to appear relaxed. “I see you’ve found my hiding spot.”

Their name, a call and a question, came from the front of the house, and Em recognised the voice. Sirius. They walked through the door and for a moment it could have been a quiet day at Hogwarts where Sirius appeared in a whirlwind for a chat and a laugh and disappeared much the same way. But they were both older now, standing in a house that people had died in just months before, and the distance between them yawned wider than ever. You could read it all in the way Sirius leaned against the wall, everything in their careful relaxation radiating wariness.

”Somehow I must have missed the sign- Sirius’ Secret Hideout.” Em’s tone was sarcastic, but quietly so. It could turn bitter, their sarcasm, or mean, but they couldn’t fault Sirius for keeping their distance. They would too, if their positions were switched. Wariness was a good instinct, and as much as Em sometimes wanted to grab Order members who looked at them with outright distrust by the shoulders and list all they’d done for the cause, they refrained. Usually, anyway.

They glanced from the books on the floor to Sirius, “I can go. These just look like novels, anyway, and I wasn’t exactly after fiction.” They picked up a couple books, depositing them in a haphazard pile on the shelf that had previously housed the cardboard box. 

[emxxvance-blog]

time: mid-afternoon  place: abandoned cottage, near the center of Godric’s Hollow availability: open

Maybe it was macabre. Or at the very least it wouldn't take much to turn it that way. But Emmeline didn’t let their focus waver and shift to the pictures and letters and deeply personal items that filled Godric’s Hollow’s empty, broken homes, instead resolutely sifting through the remnants of the deceased inhabitant’s belongings with a singular goal in mind. Em was on a fact-finding mission, a self-assigned search for any and all books on magic or history that might be in some way useful to the cause. Or, more concisely and perhaps more accurately, they were not particularly gifted at being idle, and were rooting around in a dust-filled cottage just to avoid climbing up the proverbial walls. 

They opened a cupboard, ushering forward the small glowing ball they’d charmed to float around, supplementing the paltry light coming through the windows, and let out a quietly pleased noise at the sight of a large cardboard box within. Wasting no time, Em grabbed the box and slid it off the shelf, realizing too late that the bottom hadn’t withstood it’s time languishing untouched nearly as well as they had expected. The good news was that it was in fact full of books. The bad news was that they tore straight through the bottom of the box and to the floor, toppling with a resounding avalanche of thumps that was almost certainly audible out on the street. 

As the dust, quite literally, settled, Em tossed the useless bit of cardboard aside before crouching down to sort through the mess, a muttered “fuck” leaving their lips in a sigh. 

[quotemadness]

The real difficulty is to overcome how you think about yourself.

Maya Angelou (via quotemadness)

[quotemadness]

You have no responsibility to live up to what other people think you ought to accomplish. I have no responsibility to be like they expect me to be. It’s their mistake, not my failing.

Richard P. Feynman (via quotemadness)

[marvelsdefenders]