William Wood @itswilliamwood - Tumblr Blog

An Introduction to... William Wood

Full Name: William Oliver Wood. Birthday: 14th June 1958, 25 years old.

loyal-longbottom:

Frank & Open Diagon Alley

He should have been used to it. Snarky comments about not being a good fit for the position he currently held at the Ministry and not doing enough. Should have been used to it yet he couldn’t hold back the scoff that escaped at the sheer audacity of the passerby. “Charming really,” He called after them. “Because I didn’t have enough on my plate already.”

He wouldn’t let it bother him but he needed it known that he wasn’t going to stand by and allow people to say things in his presence without batting an eyelash. “Would have been better if they had enough nerve to properly say it to my face instead of muttering and carrying on.”

“A weak man behinds mumbles, a strong man speaks up.. at least that’s what my Mum said,” he quipped in reassurance to the fellow Beater. Although on opposite teams, Will knew Frank well from the quidditch pitch, he’d certainly launched several bludgers his way too. While he was passionate on the pitch and competitiveness could blind him, he was rather friendly. His mother had been a Gryffindor, she had taught him compassion and attempted to have him learn good sportmanship. The latter had been a gradual journey.

Holding a blazer jacket over his shoulder, an unruly tie and open top button, he’d dressed up for a trip to the Ministry. It had finally come as a last notice to clear the last of his mother’s possessions. Thankfully she was respected enough in her department that they bore him sympathy than anything else. It was a heavy hole in his family and her work.

“You could always just bewitch a budger to chase them, though, I’m not sure how that would look for marks on professionalism,” he smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders. “If it means anything, I think you’re doing a good job, obviously not as well as I could do it,” he teased lightly, though seriousness lingered on the first string of words.

#thread: frank #location: diagon alley

heartlessbella:

Where: Flourish & Blotts Who: Anyone

Bellatrix was anxious as she cautiously took a few steps into the shopping alley. Not that she didn’t trust her charms abilities but just because she had been playing a very careful game of not being spotted and now here she was showing face. Although it wasn’t necessarily her face. After months of keeping to the shadows for safety, she figured with her birthday nearing, it was better to test the waters with something new and with her wand now back in her possession it seemed like as good of time as any. So she read up on many charms that would alter her appearance, adjusting her hair to be a bit lighter in shade, adjusting the facial structures just slightly, even going as far as to find new clothing to further represent the person she was trying to masquerade as; Andromeda.

It was well known that her and Andromeda always looked wickedly similar, obviously they were born to the same parents but as the years went on Bella found her features becoming more striking than her estranged sister’s. Even with a little bit of wand work, her magic seemed to be fooling enough people as she casually made her way through the shops. It was settling to see many people seemed to go out of their way to say hello instead of the usual hurrying away in fear, that would take some getting used to. But it was only a matter of time that someone would try to engage in conversation and it happened as the witch was scoping out a few books among the shelfs of Flourish & Blotts. Someone had called her name, well not her name but her sister’s, and it took her a bit longer to realize they meant to get her attention. Biting back whatever insult or ruthlessness that was ready on her tongue to feign kindness just like she’d assumed her sister would, “Oh hello. So sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

Something to read. New? Old? Fact or Fiction? Will’s eyes had a sense of urgecy in them as he scanned the bookshelves. He had to find something to occupy his evening, he’d gone through all his books on the muggle Romans. History had taken his interest recently and what the muggles deemed important in their history. Yet he’d run out of material and he didn’t want to leave Diagon.

Dragons? They were always an interest. He had fallen asleep when he last read something on herbology. Maybe Astronomy? He adored the stars. He could bore you to death about them.

“Terribly sorry,” he quickly blurted out when he bumped shoulders with another patron.

Upon a quick glance he noticed the fellow Slytherin from a couple of years ahead. She had always won Will’s respect. She proved to him that not every Slytherin had to follow the path laid out for them in expectations. He somewhat tried to persue his new page in life with her influence.

“Andy- Andromeda, excuse me,” he pardoned having slipped into casual and comfort. Something he wasn’t sure he deserved. He didn’t know what the wizarding world thought of him or how his reputation would hold. “I’ve read every book in the qudditch section, do you have any suggestions?” he quipped, politely with a hint of nerves as he forced confidence.

#thread: bellatrix #location: flourish and blotts

nobonesaboutit:

⊠ WHERE ⊠ a small pub; diagon alley ⊠ & WHO ⊠ edgar and OPEN

It wasn’t that Edgar minded having to work on a Saturday. In fact, it was almost welcome. Since the war ended, everything had been either gruesomely silent—like his still flat at night, while he neglected sleep and waited for a foe’s footfall that would never come; or the inside of his head, blessedly, while he kept his hands and schedule full all day with distractions—or else blindingly loud with small talk and forced smiles and forced normalcy and forced calm.

What was it he minded? All the options, all the apparation powers, all the Floo-ready fireplaces in all the world—he could not find one that would allow him to concentrate. He’d started in his flat, working at the kitchen table. (Too quiet.) His backup option, the Ministry, proved too full of others like him, working overtime on their part-time busy work, crammed into cubicles like it was any old Monday. (Too loud, small talk too probable.)

Going back home wasn’t an option. And at this early hour, even The Leaky Cauldron was likely to be overflowing with the late breakfast rush: tourists and sleepers-in; teenagers and weekend retail shift workers. It felt foolish to spend even more time searching for some perfect place to get started…

…so Edgar went with the closest thing to a happy medium, or at least the nearest-by version of it he could think of.

The pub was four doors down from the far-more-famous Leaky Cauldron and, for all Edgar knew, it didn’t have a name.

Whatever was left of the sign over the door—which looked like it had once taken the brunt of a blasting curse, or at least several violently-bad paint jobs—was unreadable; the glasses were mostly clean, but definitely unbranded. It lacked polish and shine and homeyness, sure…but it was well-lit without being bright, and lived-in without being loud. The only other patron was an elderly wizard, slumped over pleasantly on his stool at the bar, his head rocking gently along to a throwback song crooning from the charmed jukebox.

Edgar slid into his choice of a booth—tucked into the room’s far corner, topped by a copper reading lamp. He accepted a water when a dreamy waitress passed by and made the offer. But he held off on ordering anything else; he did fine these days creating reasons to procrastinate, without the help of day-drinking.

Finally settled enough to concentrate, Edgar put his head down and did just that. The next minutes—or hours, or seconds, he wasn’t paying attention—lurched by. Edgar was in his own little world, surrounded by fileboxes and portfolio pages; half-scribbled memos and painfully-detailed to-do-later lists. His water became a tea became an espresso, but otherwise Edgar accelerated on auto-pilot, finding speedy comfort in the repetitive red tape of the DMLE’s paperwork.

By the time he finally blinked and re-encountered reality, Edgar wasn’t sure how much time had passed; just that he’d gotten three extremely painful things off of his to-do list and was feeling cautiously optimistic about the rest of the day.

“Let me guess,” he said, flashing a smile when he realized that someone now stood at the end of his table. “You’re here to kick me out of your best booth unless I order a drink that isn’t water or water-based?”

The day was testing him. Messy hair, darkened circles under his eyes spoke of a restless few nights. It wasn’t uncommon for the man, his childhood had been used up in War and he was flying by the seat of his pants when it came to navigating the world alone. William was used to the night shifts at the tavern, they kept him awake and it kept his mind active.

Yet he and his disgruntled employer had bickered over regulations. He had to take some day shifts to balance out his work hours. He’d accepted defeat and began to work through the list of chores. The Green Dragon was slow during the day and he could only spend so long drumming his fingers on the bar in boredom. So, he passed command of the bar onto a waitress and became an errands boy for the day. About halfway down his list was a delivery.

William scooped a crate of well-worn glasses under his arm and set off down the street. He found himself squiniting from the bright sun and naturally kept his head low. He still didn’t know where he slotted into this world. His pardon as a Death Eater, his father’s conviction and his mother’s death. He was ripped between both sides without much of a choice.

Crossing the dim room, he noted the usual customer the other establishment had. They often worked in tandem with the other pub, passing on old glassware and furniture. However, he noticed another individual and that was when his eyes caught the familiar documents. A life he’d thrown away, some small part of him missed it. The riddles, the puzzles, he loved a challenge.

“Oh no- sorry,” was his instinctive reaction when the other man began talking. “I’m not-- I don’t work here, I was just.... being nosey,” he admitted with a small smile in the corner of his mouth. “I used to see papers like that, I got reminiscent.” He shuffled his weight between each foot to try and ease some of his awkwardness, the glasses clinking in their crate. “I’ll let you get on.”

#thread: edgar #location: diagon alley

not-sirius:

Regulus & Open Center of Diagon Alley

The to-go cup of coffee had done nothing to improve his spirits. It wasn’t much of a surprise since he had just gotten through making sure the money the family owed was sorted out but he had hoped it would have been enough to allow him to lose the scowl that seemed permanently glued to his lips for the day. The plan was dropping by Albus’ office in person to deliver the payment and making it clear the family expected an itemized list of how the money was used or would seek legal action against the Ministry the next time he had a full day at work. It wasn’t much of a threat but where it was coming from the Black’s of all people, it had to count as something. That, and a reminder that he worked in the Ministry and would be willing to check in on things if it seemed to take too long to see where the tax went.

“My mood is just as bad as the weather,” He grumbled. Admittedly, things weren’t too bad but the sky was gray and didn’t seem promising. The grimace he gave promptly took over his lips once he neared another. “Is it too early on in the day for adding liqueur to coffee?”

Being out of the apartment before noon was a treat. He’d managed to drag his bag of bones down the floor flights of stairs and wandered down the cobbled street towards a familiar setting. He was a casual visitor, they usually expected his presence near the end of the month when he’d forgotten to stock up on essentials. The morning had to be started with caffiene, it was ritual.

Leaning against the wall, he gravitated towards the hanging baskets, eyes focused on the buzzy bee going about his dutites. Will was always amazed by the little worker and reminded himself to quit complaining when he had to drag himself to another shift at The Green Dragon.

A figure moved in beside him and brought a small smirk to the man with his grumbles. It seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling particularly moody today. As he got closer, Will straightened his stance and gripped his drink a little tighter. He was always taught about how to present himself, to appear respectful of others but demonstrate himself as a gentlemen. Old habits died hard.

"I drink tea, darling,” he quipped, raising his own to-go cup to the other. He knew Regulus from being in the same place at the same time, yet they’d never grown past formalities and sometimes Will wishes he’d made more of an effort with him. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a dash of whiskey and lemon,” he concluded taking a sip and observing their surroundings.

#thread: regulus #location: diagon alley

LUCA (2021): Alberto Scorfano is an independent, free-spirited 14-year-old sea monster with unbridled enthusiasm for the human world. Expressive and gregarious, he is all about having fun, so inviting a fellow sea monster to hang out above the surface is a no-brainer for Alberto.

#wiw task003 #wwoodtask

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