Hello and welcome to my blog! You can call me Em, I'm 24, I study Psychology and I live in Italy! I've been writing fan fiction since I was 14 and one day I hope to have my own books. (Still a long way to go)
My main fandoms:
Hogwarts Legacy: I have an oc called Erina, you can find some infos here and her story on ao3 (NOT SUPPORTING JK R*WLING IN ANY WAY OR FORM. TERF AND TRANSPHOBES ARE NOT WELCOME)
Tokyo ghoul: my fav manga ever, I have an unhealthy obsession with Hide and I have a CCG!Hide fan fiction in the making, hope to post it soon! I also have a side blog about it, @coffeandmidnights
Cowboy Bebop: one of my fave anime, I've also written something because I'm in love with all the characters, especially Faye (my username isn't casual)
Other media I love:
Lord of the Rings
Fleabag, my favorite series ever
Taylor swift, Chappell Roan, Sabrina Carpenter Hozier, Halsey and everything indie
Ace Attorney: I finished the main trilogy and I'm currently playing Investigations
Books, especially fantasy and mystery
What can you find here?
Mainly posts about my writing and ocs, right now I'm focused on Erina, but also memes, reblogs, thoughts, anything on my mind.
HL gang, please interact with this post in any way if it's okay for me to randomly draw your mcs and send them to you like i'm a cat dumping a dead mouse at your feet (ദ്ദി ╥﹏╥)
NOBODY'S SOLDIER CH 14: Always an angel, never a god is up!
previous chapter
tw: death, distressing themes
on ao3 and down below
Hide stood up quickly, hastily turning off his earpiece, from which Marude’s voice was shouting something. Takizawa approached slowly, his creepy smile gleaming in the moonlight.
“I like the new look. Black is really your colour,” Hide ventured, without moving an inch. Takizawa stopped, staring at him in confusion.
“Unbelievable. You’re still making the same stupid jokes.” He tilted his head, curious. “And yet you don’t seem surprised to see a dead man.”
“I saw you at the auction,” Hide blurted out. “And I spoke to Amon.”
A guttural laugh erupted from Takizawa’s chest, shaking the damp air around them. “Amon! Amon!” he laughed again. “Do you know what Kanou called him? Floppy! He’s a failed experiment, you know? A half-ghoul that turned out so badly they had to throw him away like trash.''
“It seems to have worked out fine for you. ” Hide tried to offer a smile and moved closer, when Haise screamed in pain from the other building, making him turn around immediately.
“Oh, of course,” grunted Takizawa. “You’ve got to keep an eye on your Kaneki.”
“No,” Hide said straight away, not quite sure how to speak to him. With the old Takizawa, he would have known exactly what words to use, what jokes to make, how to encourage him. But this violent, resentful, sadistic version was the complete opposite of the friend he’d once known.
“No one knows I’m here. I didn’t infiltrate to see Kaneki, but the whole operation. There’s something strange going on at the CCG, something they’re hiding. Think about it—they’ve never come looking for you and Amon…” he said quickly, hoping that explaining everything would calm him down.
“Because they don’t care about us!” Takizawa slowly raised an arm. “And they don’t care about you either. You’ve always been too good to them, and they just exploit you.’’
Hide instinctively raised his hands. “I know, believe me. All they do is push me around like a pawn on their missions, only to throw me away when I’m no longer needed. But I want to figure out what they’re up to…”
Takizawa wasn’t even listening to him anymore; he was getting closer and closer, distracted by the metallic glint of the prosthetic limb gesturing in the air. In an instant he grabbed it, observing the long fingers beneath the black glove. He shifted his gaze to Hide, now silent, and, for a moment, he saw him: the boy who sat with him during lunch breaks, who would sit and listen for hours to his rants about colleagues, work, family and career. The one who always tried to get a free lunch, handing out jokes and advice. The only one who didn’t care about awards, quinques or records for ghouls killed. Investigations move forward thanks to intuition, not quinques.
A weakling.
A friend.
The only one like him.
A weakling. Just like him.
Takizawa let go of his arm. “You’re tougher than I thought,” and, for the first time, he seemed sincere.
Hide tried to speak again, but a roar from the building next door drowned out every voice.
This time they both turned, finding themselves staring at the monstrous mask of the Owl that had just appeared on the roof and was clashing with Haise.
“You wanted to observe the situation?” Takizawa’s face twisted back into a grin. “Then enjoy the show.” And in an instant, he vanished.
Hide took a deep breath before switching his earpiece back on, without taking his eyes off the tangle of the Owl’s limbs and kagune.
“Shit, shit. Hide!” Marude’s voice exploded in his ears. “You’ve got to get out of there now. Now, do you hear me?”
“The Owl…”
“I know,” Marude croaked. “But you’ve got to get out of there. Fuck, it’s a disaster.” Hide quickly gathered his binoculars and bag, moving away from the window.
“What are you on about? What happened?”
Marude sighed. “Shirazu. He’s dead.”
A gentle breeze blew through the green trees of the cemetery, a shade of bright green that contrasted with the grey of the endless row of graves stretching as far as the eye could see. The same grey as the sky, which too seemed to be in mourning, hung low over the large group of people gathered before a freshly polished grave.
The eerie silence was broken every now and then by Saiko’s desperate sobs as she knelt before the letters carved into the stone, the letters that spelled out the name of her colleague, team leader, friend.
Sayu wrapped herself tighter in her long black coat, watching the various detectives gathered at the grave from a distance. She felt an instinctive urge to rub her eyes, as if to make sure they had stopped watering, after she had wept all her tears that morning, in secret, sheltered behind her office door.
She was the CCG’s psychologist, after all. She couldn’t be seen in tears. Not when they needed her.
Yet she still felt a weight pressing down on her chest, digging inside her.
A dead investigator.
No, her dead patient. A young man who, until a few days ago, had been smoking with her on the windowsill, now buried underground.
It wasn’t the first time she’d attended a CCG funeral, but this time was different. This was someone she’d helped, someone on whom she’d perhaps had an impact. Who knows if, before dying to save his colleagues, he had thought back on her words, on their conversations. Who knows if he knew he died as a human. Not as a ghoul.
She snapped out of it as soon as she saw the funeral procession disperse and hurried to offer her condolences to Akira and Saiko, who were leading the crowd; she was met with a soft thank you.
When the cemetery was finally empty, she approached the grave slowly, silently staring at the crown of flowers laid upon it. She looked up, noticing a figure standing apart, and approached him.
“My condolences, Urie.” He didn’t react, merely shrugging sadly.
“Thank you.” Sayu looked around, but then, curious, asked: “Don’t you want to go up to the grave?” He snorted. “Why should I? There’s no one in there.” Sayu’s puzzled look spoke louder than any question. “Of course, you wouldn’t know.” Urie crossed his arms. “Aogiri stole the body. They attacked the van carrying it and took it away.”
Sayu was taken aback. “But why?” And suddenly she remembered Hide’s words from a few weeks earlier. The quinx might be in danger.
“And why hasn’t anyone gone to look for him?” she added immediately.
“What do they care? We’re just weapons; they’ve already got other recruits ready.” Sayu wrapped herself even tighter in her coat, as if wanting to disappear into the fabric, and furrowed her brow, as if slapped by his words.
“You aren’t weapons,” she said coldly, and Urie looked at her in surprise, observing the fiery gaze staring at him from beneath her black hair, ruffled by the wind. She was angry, as if offended by his words, as if she couldn’t bear them being used.
He remained silent, whilst a strong gust of wind made them both shiver. They stood in silence for a few minutes, staring at the sea of gravestones, while Sayu’s words seemed to burn in Urie’s mind. You are not weapons.
This is actually a side blog, my main is @midnight-faye
Decided to have a side only for Tokyo ghoul, my favorite manga. Hide is my favorite character and here I'll rant about him A LOT. I write on ao3 and right now I'm working on a CCG Hide au fic!
Chapters are here and on my blog, under the tag #nobody's soldier tokyo ghoul fanfiction
Hii, I was tagged by the lovely @le-rryder with a beautiful tag game
What music inspires you?
Music that makes you want write/draw/ create and why!
So, I'm the type of person that makes playlist FOR EVERYTHING and of course I have many for writing, depending on what scenes/character/fandom I'm writing in. Generally I use songs with lyrics that embody the scene, but I also like many orchestral/instrumental pieces.
Here are some songs:
No pressure tags: @sage-pages @sage-pages @sallowsoul @espressoristretto-patronum @writeblood @ps-cactus
It all started from @writeblood template, then I saw @sage-pages amazing edit and @sallowsoul incredible work and was starstruck by all three, so I had to create my own version.
Big thanks to my boyfriend @rikyi for the help💕
The High Priestess represent intuition, spirituality and trusting your gut. But is also bond to secrets and mystery, which perfectly describes how Erina manages the challenges of Ancient Magic.
please everyone do it your way, this template is so poetic and creative!
Words: 3776
Tags: Hogwarts Legacy, Hogwarts Legacy OC, Elizabeth Quinn (Original Female Character), Original Character lore, Original Character Backstory.
Friday May 23rd, 1890, Castle Combe, England
“There are many words one could use to describe Miss Quinn – intelligent, yes, courageous, of course – but poised? Elegant? I am afraid neither come to mind” Headmistress Hargreaves lowered her stack of worn parchments – school reports and detention notices – just low enough for the girl sitting across from her, Elizabeth Quinn, to see her eyes, hard as stone, peering over its edge, her face fixed in a severe scowl that seemed habitual.
The Headmistress was a hardened woman, raven-black hair with a thick streak of grey, slicked back into a bun that looked more like self-punishment than a hairstyle. She had steel-coloured eyes that would remind one of the gloomiest of Winters, deep wrinkles cut through her face, and her clothes, always black, always ‘most proper’, as she would call it, her collar so high it nearly choked her.
The Headmistress pulled another piece of parchment from the very tall stack, reading yet another comment from one of three teachers here at the Castle Combe Village School “A bright student is Miss Quinn, though, her temperament is of great concern… Never before have I seen a young lady quite so easily enraged.”
Hargreaves let out a deep sigh, her free hand finding her forehead as she dropped the papers ever so slightly, revealing her new expression. No longer just a deep, sour glare, but a deep frown of frustration, at a complete loss at what to do with this perplexing fourteen-year-old girl before her.
Elizabeth Quinn should have been much like the other young ladies at the Castle Combe Village School, a bright young girl, a cutely freckled face, blue eyes like a cloudless summer sky, and her hair; a natural ginger, fiery and near untameable coiled curls, always fashioned with two braids atop her head, the rest of her hair falling over her shoulders and back in those tight little curls.
Hargreaves lifted one final piece of parchment “Engaging in ‘duels’ with her fellow students over trivial matters is quite often the reason miss Quinn spends so much of her personal time in detention” The Headmistress all but slammed the reports and detention notices into her desk below, her face reforming into that familiar, grim glower.
“Miss Quinn, may I remind you that we have very strict rules and very high expectations of all our students” Headmistress Hargreaves clenched her fists “Should you continue on your...” she took a breath, trying to find her words “–Warpath, I will have no choice but to implore your parents to send you to a finishing school in London with your grandmother.”
The mention of her grandmother sent a shiver down Elizabeth’s spine. Her paternal grandmother, Victoria Quinn, the dowager Viscountess of Wickhambreaux, was a horrifically traditional woman, one who had been trying to meet her granddaughter, Elizabeth, since her birth in July of 1875. Of course, Elizabeth’s father refused any meeting at all – terrified of what life awaited his daughter should she be entangled with the Quinn’s. Terrified that she too would have to make the choice between love and family, just as he had. Elizabeth understood very well that her grandmother would use any excuse – especially one of misbehaviour – to ship her to the nearest finishing school, ready to be thrust into the marriage mart like some prized jewel.
To Elizabeth, that was nothing short of a death sentence.
“Headmistress Hargreaves, I understand, but–” Elizabeth tried to defend herself, but Hargreaves raised her hand, signalling her to stop.
“Did I call upon you to speak?” she scorned.
Elizabeth hung her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap, cowering into the chair underneath her.
“I am not interested in your excuses, nor do I wish to hear what on God’s Earth convinced you that you should be the one to rectify the situation.”
Elizabeth swallowed her pride, turning her head away, her lips pressed into thin lines as she bit back the words she so desperately wanted to say.
Why was she here? Why not Theodore and his idiot friends for terrorising that poor cat? She stewed on her own thoughts, her mind wandering back to that moment in the school yard.
She’d been enjoying some fresh air over lunch when she heard it, the shriek of an old, distressed cat – the elderly grey cat that sat just outside the school’s fence line. She knew that cat was injured, barely able to move, the poor thing would be no match for a group of frustrated and bored, sixteen-year-old boys, so when she saw them hurling rocks at the creature, she couldn’t help but intervene.
Curiously though, the confrontation didn’t go as planned – not that anything ever did for young Miss Quinn but today was… Different.
Elizabeth shouted at the band of scoundrels before her to stop, but they refused to turn to look at her, refused to cease throwing stones at the cat, laughing amongst themselves as they chose to ignore Elizabeth, when the most peculiar, most unexplainable of events occurred.
Elizabeth’s gaze hardened on the back of group leader, Theodore Kent’s, head, when suddenly his usually perfect aim faltered as his trusty right arm went surging forwards that little bit too quickly, sending the stone in his hand flying straight into the gravel below, and rebounding it into his face.
It’s exactly what Elizabeth had wished for… Perhaps the world was rewarding her for something today? She turned toward the cat, as the other boys continued their assault.
Run, just run! Elizabeth thought.
A sickening screech left the cat’s lips as it suddenly rose, its broken leg miraculously healed as it ran far, far away.
How did that– Herthoughts were cut off abruptly by her teacher – Mr. Collins – shouting her name across the courtyard. That’s how she’d ended up in the Headmistress’s office again. It was the fourth time this semester.
Nobody else had seen the cat before it ran away, so of course, Elizabeth was once again bearing the brunt of the blame, the staff believing her to have broken the Kent boys’ nose on purpose, given her reputation.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak again – out of turn – but luckily for her, her father, William Quinn, the local baker, opened the door with practiced restraint.
“You sent for me, Miss Hargreaves?” William’s voice was restrained, proper as it had always been, but there was an air of irritation Elizabeth had grown accustomed to during these visits to the Headmistress’s office. “I understand there was an altercation involving my daughter and Mr. Kent’s boy, yes?”
“I regret to inform you that you are correct, Mr. Quinn” the Headmistress straightened, her fists tightening on the stack of detention notices before her. “As I am sure you’re aware Mr. Quinn, I am at my wits end on how to manage your daughter’s less than appropriate behaviour–”
“May I ask why this incident occurred Miss Hargreaves” William pressed, standing behind his daughter. “Because it seems to me as though every incident involving my daughter has been instigated by someone else. Miss Rowan tells me that young Theodore was terrorising an injured cat. It seems to me as though Elizabeth was merely defending the creature.”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. Even before entering the Headmistress’s office, he always ensured to pass by Miss Rowan’s classroom – Elizabeth’s favourite, most trusted teacher, the only teacher who ever seemed to support her – to get at least one other version of whatever story Miss Hargreaves would spin.
Hargreaves straightened in her chair, clearing her throat, suppressing her frustration “I am aware of this tale of events Mr. Quinn, but as the matter stands, there is a young boy with a broken nose and nobody except Miss Quinn saw that cat, it would seem.”
“I don’t believe it above those boys to lie Miss Hargreaves, especially if the truth were to get them into trouble” William gripped the back of his daughter’s seat a little harder.
“And I could say the very same for your daughter, Mr. Quinn” the Headmistress rose slightly from her seat, face flushed with crimson indignation. “A week’s worth of afternoon detentions for her, Mr. Quinn, and should any future incident occur, I will not hesitate to call upon the dowager viscountess to escort your daughter to a finishing school in London immediately.”
“I can assure you – no such incident will occur. Elizabeth?” William looked down at his daughter expectantly, one eyebrow raised, his hand moving onto her shoulder.
Elizabeth cleared her throat, her head turning back to Hargreaves, but her eyes never met hers. “Yes Headmistress. It will not happen again”. A lie, she knew it was – but the thought of being sent to live with her grandmother might just keep her from mischief that little while longer.
“Very well then” Hargreaves sat herself back down. “I shall see you for detention Monday through Friday next week Miss Quinn. Good day, Mr. Quinn, and regards to Mrs. Quinn, as always” she dismissed them.
“Good day Miss Hargreaves” William nodded politely. Without another word, Elizabeth stood, following her father out the office.
Elizabeth had never seen her father walk with such purpose, such unrestrained anger, such speed as he stormed down the wooden-floored corridor. “Father, I promise I didn’t mean to–”
“Be that as it may, there is a boy who is hurt, an extensive record of your misbehaviour, and I’ve now come to learn that your grandmother has been in contact with your Headmistress in another ill-conceived attempt at gaining access to you. I will not have it. You are not to cause any more trouble, Elizabeth.”
“Surely she cannot just take me away?” Elizabeth protested, a scoff leaving her lips as she rushed to keep up with her father as they descended the stone stairs of the school, making their short walk home.
“She is the dowager viscountess, and may I remind you that my brother – the viscount – is very much in favour of having you back in the family. I would not want to underestimate their power, Elizabeth” William warned. Of course, he was still using her full name – she really was in trouble this time. Whenever they’d leave a public place, William would immediately switch to her nickname, but now? Even as they walked the small tree-lined paths, completely alone, he was too enraged to even consider using it.
Gravel and fallen leaves crunched underfoot as they made their way back home.
“Does she even know what I look like? I would assume the dowager would be embarrassed by caring for a ward who is so clearly not a typical Quinn” Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
Her idea was naïve, but not completely unwarranted. She didn’t look like a Quinn. She was covered in freckles, her uniform always slightly askew, her hair coiled in tight ginger curls – nothing like the Quinn’s.
Her father, much to his dismay, was the very picture of a Quinn. Although he traded his gentlemanly suits for a baker’s uniform, it was always perfectly tidy, even after a hard day’s work. His hair wasn’t curly like his daughter’s, no, that was a trait from her mother. His brown hair had but a gentle wave, no curl, no freckles scattered his pristine, almost porcelain skin.
“That will not stop her from trying to turn you into one, Elizabeth. She has her ways” William’s words made them both shiver.
An imposing figure was the dowager indeed.
“If you could find a way to keep yourself out of trouble for the next two months until the end of the school year, I would be most appreciative. I would appreciate my daughter not being held captive in London for her fifteenth birthday” he finally smiled, hugging her shoulder as they turned the final corner to their home.
It was a modest home – but that’s all their family needed – the end house in a set of three matching cottage townhouses, light honey-coloured stone brick and weathered grey roof tiles. Tall and narrow dormer windows peaked out of the steeply sloped roof, with matching white mullioned windows below on the first floor. Wisteria crept along the house’s stony exterior – tasteful, never too much.
“Do you think mother will be angry?” Elizabeth hung her head as her father pushed open the little wooden gate to their small garden fenced by messily stacked stones.
“Not with you – she’ll soon forget any grievances against you as soon as she hears about your grandmother” William almost winced.
Elizabeth thought it strange that her father only ever referred to the dowager as her grandmother, and never his mother. Though, it shouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. She knew of her mother and fathers’ story – the reason her father renounced his title, his family – it was an unforgettable story, like one of the romantic fairytales her mother, Áine, read in secret.
William and Áine’s childhoods couldn’t have been more different. After all, they came from separate worlds, their paths never should have crossed. William Quinn, the eldest son of the Viscount of Wickhambreaux, brother to seven younger siblings, had a most proper upbringing, one that involved countless balls, invitations to the most laborious of luncheons hosted by the royal family, and of course, he attended only the most prestigious of boy’s colleges in London. Áine, however? She was the lone daughter of an Irish factory worker, a widower.
They met by chance one day; William had spotted Áine alone in the cold, rain swept streets of London on his journey home from school. He’d met many young women before, but none so captivating as Áine, even now, with her braided ginger hair sodden and slick. He offered her his coat, offered to walk her home – at first, it was a gentlemanly excuse, one that would get his uniform back, but in truth, Áine’s pretty face was reason enough, that and his aversion to his own home. Cold; too empty and devoid of anything close to real love.
Since that fateful day, William would wait at that very spot for at least half an hour after his final classes just for the mere chance of seeing her again. If luck were upon him, she’d be there – but only when she was released from her duties at the print shop where she worked. He lived for those moments, and so did she.
Years passed as his parents grew more desperate to marry him off to one of the many eligible debutants of their society, but he couldn’t do it. Not when it would mean he’d never get to spend another rainy afternoon running in puddles and laughing at stories with the freckled Irish girl he so adored. And so, he vowed not to resign to this life, to this pitifully boring existence of parties and ledgers, no, he wanted Áine. He wanted her happiness, her adventure, her laughter. He didn’t care for the money. He cared for Áine. Only Áine.
Before long, he’d saved every penny he could from his monthly allowance until the day he turned eighteen, only twenty days away from Áine’s seventeenth birthday, and went to her father with a ring and a promise of a cottage townhouse in Castle Combe, all but begging for her hand. Her father couldn’t say no, and she couldn’t wait to say yes.
Elizabeth used to despise that story, rolling her eyes and making silly faces to show her disapproval of such a sickeningly romantic story, but now? It made her heart flutter.
William opened the wooden door to their humble home, its creak like a song Elizabeth had memorised. Always the same under her father’s hand, squeakier under her mother’s, Áine opened it with far less poise.
“Go on and practice the piano, Lily – Mr. Alder will expect you to have refined your pieces from last week. Maybe it will temper my nerves” William let out a sigh of relief, finally – finally, using Elizabeth’s nickname. She felt like she could breathe again, though, she most certainly did not feel like practicing.
No matter – it would get her father off her back for now. “Of course, father” she responded – still not calling him Dad, still worried she was under a watchful eye – which was true – and moreover, if she hadn’t at least made some progress on her new music from her teacher, Mr. Alder, there would surely be hell to pay.
William waited patiently for his wife to return as he listened to Lily practice from the sitting room. He so adored her playing, and it did well to clear his thoughts before Áine stepped into their home, that familiar wailing creak of the door as she opened it with unrestrained intent.
Áine groaned loudly as she walked through the door, loud enough for Lily to giggle, ceasing her playing for a short moment before continuing – before her father would tell her to keep practicing.
“Ah, a sight for the sorest of eyes” Áine’s entire body seemed to loosen as she caught sight of her husband, walking through the hallway and into the kitchen where he stood waiting with a fresh cup of tea for her. “How was your day, dearest?” she gave him a small kiss on the cheek, her hand on his shoulder.
“Ah, my darling” he returned her kiss “I wish I could say it was better.” William’s eyes gestured to the small wooden door separating the kitchen and sitting room.
“Whatever has she down now?” Áine’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration, her body tightening again.
William’s face softened, lowering the cups of tea in his hand onto the countertop. “Defending a poor old cat against a group of boys this time” William’s hands found his wife’s shoulders, rubbing them to calm her.
“Of course she was” Áine sighed, unable to find it within herself to be completely enraged with the girl.
“Unfortunately, though-” William started, his hands clenching against Áine’s forearms “The dowager has been in contact with her Headmistress.”
“She’s what?!” Áine’s eyes widened, her fists clenching as rage crept up onto her face.
“Apparently, the Headmistress will not hesitate to call upon the dowager should Lily misbehave again. She wants her to go to London to attend a finishing school” William shook his head gently.
“She is not going to a finishing school” Áine declared. “She wouldn’t last a day! They’d crush her spirit.”
“I know – I won’t let it happen, my love. And believe me, Lily understands what’s at stake”
Áine shook her head, giving him a look of disbelief “Do you really think it’ll be enough to keep her out of trouble?”
William paused, thinking to himself. “I hope so.”
Áine opened her mouth to speak again, when she caught a glimpse of a large bird – no – an owl, hurtling towards their kitchen window at great speed holding… a letter? “What in God’s name–” she stepped away from William, walking towards the window when the owl, perfectly white with bright yellow eyes, perched itself on the windowsill.
She opened the half of the window the owl wasn’t perched on, taking the letter from its beak before it flew off with haste.
“What is it?” William asked curiously, just as in shock as his wife.
“I-it’s a letter” Áine turned it over in her hands “it’s for Lily?” she looked up at her husband, offering him the letter.
“Hogwarts?” William stared at the crest. He’d never heard of such a thing. “Elizabeth” he called for his daughter.
Her hands stilled on the piano. She’d never heard her father sound so serious, so concerned before. She walked into the kitchen immediately “Yes?” she asked.
William handed her the letter cautiously, hoping to all deities that this was not a letter from a finishing school. Though, what girls’ school would have such a displeasing name? He didn’t know.
Elizabeth accepted the letter, ripping it open with the same fervour her mother would have, unfolding the parchment and reading aloud its writing.
“Dear Miss Quinn, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of–” her breath caught in her throat for a moment, unsure if she could say what came next.
“What, what is it?” her mother worried, coming up behind her, reading the letter for her “Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry” she read the words before she could even think about them, her hands leaving her daughter’s shoulders as soon as she processed them.
The family stood frozen in place, each of them completely unsure of what to do, so, Elizabeth kept reading. “You have been accepted at Hogwarts School of… of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a fifth-year student. Term begins on 1 September… Preliminary supplies have been collected for you and will accompany you on your journey to the castle” Elizabeth nearly dropped her page. She was… A witch? And a fifth year? She could have fainted on the spot, but a loud knock echoed through the home.
Áine and William shared a look – talking with their eyes, formulating a plan.
William went for the door, Áine helping Elizabeth tuck away her letter – just for the time being, tucking it safely in a wooden kitchen drawer.
“Mrs. Bennett? What a lovely surprise!” William chuckled nervously as he welcomed their elderly neighbour, Mrs. Bennett, into their home.
She smirked as she walked through the door, her wooden cane knocking against the wooden floors as she walked straight past William, heading straight for the kitchen where Elizabeth and Áine stood, still fretting.
“So, you’ve finally received your letter” Mrs Bennett smiled widely at the girl. “I was wondering when they’d notice you were a witch”
“W-wait, how did you–” Áine started, but Mrs Bennett spoke over her.
“I noticed many years ago that your daughter seemed different, like she could will almost anything to occur, but today was proof.” She nodded, turning towards Elizabeth “That cat didn’t heal itself, dear girl, no, you did. You wanted it to run away, didn’t you?”
“You saw that?” Elizabeth asked, stepping forward.
“I was walking past the school when I heard the commotion, when I saw that rock hurtle quite unnaturally towards that boy’s face” the old woman almost giggled “You my dear girl, are a witch. I sent word to my dear friend at Hogwarts right away. They’d missed you for all these years.”
“You’re a witch?!” William stood behind Mrs Bennett, his voice finally unrestrained, uncomposed.
“Well of course” Mrs Bennett perked up.
“This- this is–” William breathed.
“Is most wonderful news” Mrs Bennett clasped her hands together with a smile. “You, my dear Miss Quinn, will be a most extraordinary witch indeed.”
Soo, hello again. It's been a while since I've posted something, and in the meantime, this year hasn't been really kind to me. A lot happened, I've been on some ups and downs and the time and will of writing and creating sometimes gets caught in other things.
On a happy note, I've graduated and I'm officially doctor in Psychology! I'm very proud of this achievement plus it means I'm finally free from university (at least for a while) and can come back to you!
I'm not saying you'll see a chapter tomorrow, but I plan to post soon and come back to the characters and stories I love.
I hope you'll continue supporting me and my stories. See you soon❤️
Hello there! I know it's been a while since my last post, so here I am with some explanations.
As some of you may know, I'm currently finishing my master degree and doing a traineeship, while also writing my thesis. In addition, I'm moving apartments and it's been all very stressful and tiring. I haven't been able to take time to get to my writing like I wanted to. So this is a post to apologise for my absence and also warn that I'll be absent for a while.
I'll still look at posts and support all creators the best I can, but for now I'll be more of a ghost.
Thank you for the patience and support, I'll be back soon on your feed!
