#dd:para

[siriuslyjamesii]

THE STILLNESS OF WAR || self-para

Sweat lined his brow as his heartbeat thundered in his chest. James had stripped himself free of the chaos long enough to find refuge sandwiched between shops, his worn body pressed flush against the stone wall. Beyond that sanctuary the sounds of war continued to roar, never once seeming to quiet— not since the sound of the first bullet leaving the chamber of a gun. The battle came in magical blasts, in debris hailing, in the last breaths of the fallen. It was all noises he had grown accustomed to— since New Year's and Hogsmeade. They were noises James heard repeating when he closed his eyes at night. They had always sounded horrible before; today gave them a different light— frightening still, but frightening in a way that left James wanting to jump back into the midst of it all.

This time, he wanted to fight. And not just because he had to, spells whizzing past him and wizards with cruel faces wanting to watch him fall. Necessity was only part of the dark game. This was about more than staying alive; it was about finally putting action to his words and stepping up. The Blood Thieves needed numbers for their army. The Death Eaters needed people like him willing to put them in their place. His cousin— she needed him.

If what Ramona had said was right— that captives were being held somewhere in Knockturn Alley— then James had to do so much more than just aim his wand and fire back long enough to stay alive. He had to put it all on the line. And with a deep breath that filled his lungs with air, James pushed off the wall and drove himself towards the fight.

The moment he stepped out, he aimed his wand high towards the building before him. "Bombarda Maxima!" A white light shot free and in seconds the top of the shop exploded. A cloud of smoke cloaked the scene. A red flash went off on his right. A green behind him. Still his heart kept pounding, louder and louder with each commanding step forward. With each beat James heard a voice echo in his ear. 'Hold on.' Just like the words he breathed in desperate prayer. 'Hold on. I'm coming for you.' He promised Lucy that he'd come. Now that he was so close, there was no way he going to let her down. No more waiting.

The dust began to settle, vision clearer. In the blink of an eye, James came face to face with a Death Eater. It took only a second to register; his face had appeared in the pages of the Prophet, one among many come the news of the Azkaban escape. There was no question, no hesitation, just the firing of a spell. "Expelliarmus!" The pureblood was quick, trained well enough to dodge his attack with the simple wave of his wand. James moved to fire again— his instincts always fast and physical, taking the offense. It wasn't the smart thinking that he'd been encouraged to take but he was blind to logical thinking. He saw only a target to hit. That weakness left him vulnerable as the criminal cast his curse.

A red light. It took only one heartbeat for it to travel from the end of the wand to James' chest. It took less time for the pain to hit. Blinding pain— poetic enough to start at his shoulder before carving across his body, leaving not a single inch free of torture. His muscles strained. His body locked, the Dark Magic binding. Even the drawing of breath hurt, like a fist had grasped at his throat and squeezed tight. The strength and the menace behind the curse was formidable. The same could be said of the fight left in James.

He never gave in. He never stopped straining against the magic's hold. With each excruciating second, the muscles in his arms tightened, drawn tense under his skin. Each earned inch came with a grunt of pain that was desperate to escape louder, wanting screams that ripped at his throat and howled louder than the war that surrounded him.

The Death Eater advanced, never shifting his aim, only narrowing his eyes as he sought to bring the boy to his end. That glare was met with another. A battle of the strongest, of the one more deserving.

'Hold on.'

The words repeated just as they were needed. Hope and promise as ammunition, James gathered all of his might, shoving the reality of his pain aside long enough to raise his arm higher and higher, straining until his wand pointed forward. Then, teeth clenched, James cried out, "Expulso!"

James only registered the blue, not the power of his own spell that catapulted him off his feet. The other man disappeared, knocked back and lost as the war crowded in the distance between then. It wasn't until his back hit the ground, air knocked from him with a solitary gasp, that he realized his victory. The pain existed only in flickering waves. He was free.

Free.

Lucy.

Just as war wouldn't allow him hesitation, James wouldn't allow himself the same, unable to lose sight of what he needed to do. He scrambled to his feet, ignorant to the sounds of a gun in the distance. Lucy was in one of these buildings. No better place to start than what stood in front of him: Borgin and Burkes.

The door to the shop hung open. James had never stepped foot inside before then. The grimsley artifacts stood watch on the shelves, a few crashed against the floorboards which creaked beneath his feet with each move forward. The attack had already placed him on edge but the shop was no help, ominous on any day. Unfamiliar to the layout, he only knew to continue forward. His wand never lowered, his eyes forever scanning back and forth, his body on high alert. The deeper he went the more muffled the battle became. The blasts and the curses subsided to the stillness.

Then a whisper.

As silent as his weight could allow, James slowly crept onward. The whisper continued to come, unintelligible but loud enough to lead him towards the back of the shop where another door hung open. Steps led downward, the space lit by a far off flame. With a step closer, James took in more steps. With another he caught a glance at the bottom, only the dark ends of a wizard's robes visible. When the whisper came again, this time clear, James edged himself towards the door frame where he listened, crouched and out of sight.

"No, both of us are to stand guard. Those were the orders he gave us."

Another voice rose from the depths of the cellar, this one less gruff, more cutting. From the volume alone, her dominance was apparent. "I don't care what the orders were. Look at her— no use guarding a dead girl."

James felt his stomach hollow. His mind immediately shot towards his cousin and the worry that had drove him to this point suddenly intensified. As did his anger. But before his impulse could manifest, the sounds of someone stomping the steps had James darting back. Again, he found himself with his back pressed against the wall, encouraging his mammoth form to recede, unnoticed. When the witch appeared, by the grace of Godric she did not look back. James could only watch with bitten tongue as her dark robes and dark hair swept out of the shop, slamming the door to Borgin and Burkes behind her.

He exhaled in relief then shot his attention back towards the stairs. In the two seconds it took to move back between the threshold, James formulated his plan. Execution without hesitation. "Petrificus Totalus!" The man went stiff and James bolted into action. He took to the steps with no regard. His feet pounded against the dusty ground, a small cloud lifting with each impact. Once below, James knew exactly where to go.

A cell had been erected against the far wall. A body lay on the ground within, still. Too still. It wasn't until James came crashing forward, hands gripping around the bar and worried eyes peering in, that he knew.

Lucy Weasley lay crumpled and broken. Her body looked thin, smaller than James had ever remembered his little cousin being. There were scars— fresh and old— bruises and wounds. Upon reading the news, James had painfully pictured the worst. Seeing her now— seeing that stillness, it was worse than he ever could have imagined. She wasn't breathing. James couldn't see her breathing.

His fists tightened around the bars and he gave the cell a violent shake. "No!" The desperation strained his cry. "Fuck!" His anger jolted the bars, continuing to shake the metal— wanting it to break, wanting it to open, wanting his cousin not to be so still.

‘Hold on.’

‘Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.’

Anguish plagued his judgement. James continued to shove at the bars, harder and more distraught each time. Just like the punches he slammed against his bedroom wall, this tug and pull was his manifestation of grief. Only this loss was harder, amplified ten-fold. Because she was there in front of him, still and out-of-reach. He had promised her that he would come for her. She was supposed to be alive when he did.

Tears welled in his eyes. Just like his cousin, James was broken.

Just as the loss began to settle within him— his rage no longer jolting the cage, but his heartache leaving him slumped against it— there was just one stirring. A single movement that was all James needed to lift his head and his spirits. “Lucy?” Her name came quietly, a mere whisper as if he were afraid to speak too loud and miss a sign, any sign that he had been wrong. That she was still alive. That he hadn’t been too late. The need ached in his chest, the still seconds torture.

It took only the slightest raise of her chest, the intake of a breath. That was all James needed to shed the distress and fire back into action. With a step back, he poised his wand at the lock and fired a spell. “Bombarda!” The contained explosion burst the metal and swung the door open, giving James his opening to race through and fall to his knees at his cousin’s side.

Gently, James reached for her shoulders and gave her a light shake. “Lucy. Lucy, it’s me. It’s James.” Her breaths were few and quiet. “I’m here, okay. You’re going to be okay, I’ve got you. Just hold on, Lucy.” James gave her a comforting squeeze as he lingered, yearning for her to stir or to speak because even if her heart was still beating, faint as it was, there was no promise that she wouldn’t go still again. But she could give no other sign. “Hold on,” he uttered again, those two words becoming his mantra. Sure to be careful towards her injuries, James scooped her up, holding her in his arms. It worried him how light she was. “Hold on,” he repeated. “Hold on.”

Those two words and the cousin in his arms: that was all that James focused on as his feet carried him forward, flight path instinctual. Even as he made his way back out into the midst of the attack, no amount of curses cast his way could deter him. Nor could the twinge of pain digging at his shoulder, his injury flaring up and demanding to be felt. Forward. It was only forward.

It was only as they reached the top of Knockturn Alley, the barricade and the aurors visible just beyond reach, that James looked down at Lucy. As if she knew it too, her eyelids began to flutter, fighting to open just a crack. The smallest of signs, but to James spoke volumes. He could feel his heart swell and a layer of worry fall from his shoulders.

@notlittlelucyweasley

[siriuslyjamesii]

HOLD ON || self-para

James couldn’t feel his heart. Looking down at the Prophet— seeing Lucy’s face and reading the headline— he couldn’t feel his heart in his chest. Like it had stopped beating. Like it had disappeared with her. He couldn’t feel it, or anything. For that punch-to-the-gut moment, all he could feel was the air escaping his lungs and the hollowing of his stomach. The way the floor felt like it had given way. The way he still felt heaviness upon his shoulders. Lucy had been taken. In that moment, he felt everything and he felt nothing.

He couldn’t even raise his hand and swipe the pages away. That anger he’d grown known for had been swallowed up by the sadness. His feet tread a familiar path back towards his bedroom as his eyes closed shut, James fighting to hold himself together long enough to shut the door to the rest of his apartment, to his roommates, and to the world. He had grown familiar with the unfortunate. Even still, he couldn’t bear letting the world watch him unravel.

With the click of his door closed, he was alone. No Albus. No Alice. No Bristol.

No Lucy.

He crumbled at the thought. Hands clenched into fists, raised above his head, James fell against the door, forearms and forehead pressed against the wood.

He stood still with eyes shut, breathing— just breathing and feeling the way his chest rose and fell, body assuring him he was alive and awake and this was real. This was all painfully real. That he was in his apartment, that he’d been in his apartment finally able to produce a smile and have laughs with his roommates and fall into a routine aside from lying in bed. That he’d been all that when she’d— when Lucy’d been gone. Been Godric knows where, going through Godric knows what. Hurting. Missing. Wondering where the fuck he’d been. Wondering when anybody’d come.

His hand drew back only to have his fist clench tighter before punching against the door. The knuckles across the back of his hand ached but he brought his hand down again, harder. Then again. Then again.

No amount of hits to the wood could diminish that emptiness and that ache that he still felt in his chest. Somewhere within him he knew that it wouldn’t do anything, that it never would, but that didn’t stop James from knocking his fist against the grain. It didn’t stop him from trying.

Over and over, his fist crashed against the wall.

James grew deaf to all else in the apartment, zoning in solely on the rhythm of the impact. Fist against the door, the pain was the only thing he had to distract from the thoughts.

He only stopped once his knuckles went red, raw and bleeding.

Then, unable to raise his fist, unable to fall back to routine of ignoring or falling into bed and sleeping for days, he fell forward again, bracing himself against the wall as his hands cradled his skull.

He couldn’t stomach keeping his eyes closed. All his mind needed was a second before the darkness filled with a worry. A thought or an image— either shot a wave of pain straight through him. Lucy hurt. Lucy scared. Lucy— James grit his teeth at the thought. He couldn’t let himself go there, couldn’t allow himself to fathom the possibility.

She was alive.

He couldn’t feed a single second into the idea that she was more than what the Prophet had described. He couldn’t feed into the thoughts that brought his mind right back to his father’s stories— to the pureblood manors and the wretched basements and the tortures and the tears. He couldn’t waste a thought on anything other than—

“Please be okay.”

James’ voice came cracked, a soft plea only whispered to himself and the doorframe.

“If you’re out there…” His body recoiled at the painful thought. Forced himself to shake his head, shake the thought, zero in back on the hope and the good. “… Hold on. I’m- I’m coming for you. They’re not getting away with this.”

With one final draw back, his hands both smacked against the wood, fingers flexing for stability, hoping to hold onto something— something other than the anger and the upset. That gut reaction that fed into him. That wanted payback and retribution as much as it wanted to find her alive and well and fucking smiling.

“Hold on.”

It was prayer. It was promise.

Whatever hurt he felt now was nothing to what he’d go through, what he’d be willing to.

Alice had said he would have died in Hogsmeade. What would she say now?

[apollokoval-archive]

The Next Adventure

Apollo took another look around his apartment wondering if he’d forgotten anything but also memorizing the space. This had been Hugo and his little bubble, their own little world where they had spent so much time and where some important moments had taken place. He’d always thought home were people rather than a place but it didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to this one even if it wasn’t forever and his heart clenched as he turned to leave. With wizard travel, he could come back often if he wanted in theory, but after playing a gig and tending to fans and everything else that went with it there wouldn’t be much time. Apparating while exhausted also wasn’t a good plan as well as the possibility of sleeping in and not getting back in time it would mean it wouldn’t be a good idea. He would have to be content with visits and having others come see him while on the road.

This was something he had dreamed of, going on tour, the timing was terrible with the war and it made him sick to leave people behind but...this was his big break, didn’t he have to take it? Some stops were across Europe but most of the tour was in America which the war had not yet touched and places he had never seen before. Hugo had been invited to come with him of course, but his family was wrapped up in this war and it was a big step. He had told him he could just come to visit different stops along the way, the decision was his and he wondered what it would be. Either way, the apartment was paid up until he would be back, not wanting to lose it, he’d told Hugo it was his while he was away. Apollo looked down at Hercules a small smile on his lips. “This is our next great adventure, buddy,” he murmured to the dog giving his head a pat as Hercules barked his agreement. With one last look around the apartment, the boy and his dog took their leave.

[fayetravers-blog]

ABANDONED || self-para

Faye took the final two steps up to her aunt's apartment slowly, taking the opportunity to steal one last lingering look out the hallway's window. From this height she could just begin to see over the tops of the smaller buildings, giving her a better look at what crowd was left gathered in the aftermath of Knockturn. Though all their actions were miniaturized in the distance, Faye could read their worry— most displaced and unnecessary. How many of them truly had people to care about in the alley? She hadn't worried; last she had heard, her parents had been elsewhere. Ireland.

She expected that come tomorrow with the headline in the Prophet, she would read about a name or two that she knew. Or, at least, felt some semblance of a loss. The people that mattered would be safe. Her parents, Morena, even Darius— in thanks to the last attack.

What she had expected when she opened the door was to be greeted by her frantic aunt, no doubt having been a fretting mess all afternoon as she lived by the radio updates and fabricated a storyline in how Faye had somehow managed to end up down in Knockturn despite being at work. But when Faye turned the knob and stepped inside, door clicking shut behind her, she was not greeted by her expectations.

Her aunt still looked worried as she sat on the couch, though she only greeted her niece with a look. Her eyes had gone red, puffy like she had been crying and only wiped the tears away to hide the evidence. Faye's aunt was a strong woman but always the more emotional of the two. She couldn't have hid it if she wanted to.

It was her mother, seated beside her on the couch, that surprised Faye most of all.

Like any opportunity to see her parents face to face, Faye broke out into a great smile, not yet stopping to consider her reason for being there. A chance at being reunited made her blind to everything outside of the happiness. Her ignorance lasted the full seven steps it took to cross into the living room and stand at her mother's side. It lasted as Faye reached out, taking the other's hands in hers. It lasted as she spoke. "Mum! You're here; I thought you and Dad w—"

That's when the reality hit. Like pieces of puzzle, Faye began to see the picture poised in front of her begin to take shape. Aunt Tabitha's tears. The fresh wound that cut across her mother's left cheek. The empty spot on the couch. The sudden way the floor seemed to give out from under her feet. The way her stomach went empty, all guts and nerve absent.

"Mum, where's Dad?" Her eyes shot towards her aunt, wanting to see a different reaction than the telling one she provided. For a girl that always sought out the truth, it was in that instant that she wanted nothing more than to live in a lie.

Her mother shook her head, drawing Faye's attention back towards her. The two of them— mother and daughter— did all that they could to still the trembling of their lips. The sadder, shakier their words came, the heavier truth landed. "Faye..."

"No." Faye dropped her hands and jumped a step back. Her head shook hard from side to side, disallowing the words before they could even be spoken aloud. "No! No, he's fine!"

Her aunt looked down into her lap, a handkerchief clutched in her hand. Faye wanted her to speak up, correct whatever her mother was about to say. The one time Faye wanted her to talk and her aunt gave her nothing. Her own defense dissolved in the silence, granting her mother the chance to say the words not one of them wanted to hear. "Faye, honey, your father didn't make it."

Didn't make it. Faye stilled at those words, hating them. They did her father no justice, spoken like all that had gone wrong was that he had taken a wrong turn or got caught up with an old friend and that he'd be around eventually. That wasn't where he was. If they had to do this, Faye wanted that version, the harsh and hard to hear but the real story her father deserved. Not this watered-down insult.

"What happened, Mum? Tell me what happened to dad." Her words were sharp and demanding. She sounded older, more mature than a sixteen year old girl ought to have been. None of them had the fortune to see her be soft and tiny and protected. Nine years away. Faye wasn't going to give her mother that now. The past was too far away to try to get back.

There was a breath, a long breath that seemed to steal all the air from the room and force their chest to tighten in dreadful anticipation. "Your father and I were in the back room of The White Wyvern to meet with others in the cause and strategize our next move. The attack hit the front first. I was able to apparate before the barriers were put up, but your father-"

"You left him there?" Faye asked, cutting off her mother with sharpened words. She was met with the shaking of a head, denial. Parted lips were prepared to defend but Faye cut them off too, jumping into accusations as the feelings finally, truly began pouring out. "You left him there! He needed you and left him there to die! How could you do that to him?" Her heart shattered. The perfect picture she'd painted for her family gone in an instant. "HE NEEDED YOU AND YOU RAN LIKE A COWARD!"

Her mother stepped forward. "Faye-" But she was met with a step back and hands put out, ready to push her back. They both stilled. Heartbreak wasn't unfamiliar to them, but betrayal, felt towards one another, that was new. Painfully new.

"No." Her head shook from side to side, another warning for the others not to step an inch closer. "Don't. Don't talk to me. Don't defend what you did. Don't... just... don't."

Just as quickly as she'd come in, Faye flew towards the door, grabbing the knob and flinging the door open. She'd begun to cross through the threshold when words caught in her throat stopped her dead in her tracks. The tears had finally begun to fall, blurring her view of the apartment as she looked over her shoulder for one last painful glance. Though she couldn't make out her mother's face, she knew it had to be as twisted and strained with hurt as hers felt. She knew that there had to be a tear sliding down her wounded cheek. She knew this tragedy did not just belong to her. But she didn't care.

Her father was dead. Nothing else mattered.

"You may have well have killed him yourself," she choked, her voice barely rising above a whisper. But the room was silent. Dead silent. No one missed a word.

With the slam of the door and Faye's exit, each blonde broke, each in their own way.

[morena-avery-blog]

And Now I’m Covered in the Colors || Self-Para

The attack was coming to a close. The amount of people in the streets was starting to decrease, both Death Eaters and everybody else. But there were still plenty of fights going on, and Morena was trying to weave through them. Only a little farther, she thought, until she could dump these robes and hide. But she learned while turning a corner that that was not to be.

In yet another alley, Syreni Thomas was there. The older girl seemed to almost snarl as soon as she laid eyes on Morena. Or the mask, rather.

“You people just seem to come out of nowhere! Hopefully by the end of this day there will be a lot less of you.” Syreni had her wand out and was slowly stalking towards the other girl. Morena slowly raised her own wand, her mouth going dry with terror; another duel she was preparing to lose. She had been lucky too many times today to make it out of this alive.

“Densaugeo!” It was unlike Morena to strike first, but she thought that there was a chance she could end this before it began; enough harmless spells, and Syreni could at least be subdued, just long enough to make an escape. The spell flew right past Syreni’s head, the other girl’s face darkening even more.

Before she could react, Morena felt herself fly back into a wall. Her head made a loud thud as it hit the brick, and she immediately yelled out in pain. Syreni was on her in a second, holding her wand against Morena’s throat, roughly grabbing the girl by her hair as well, staring down at her. Morena struggled, unwilling to be in the same position as before, but Syreni had almost superhuman strength.

Behind the two on them, a loud scream came from the rest of the battle. Syreni turned her head towards the noise, and Morena took the opportunity to push the other girl off of her. Her wand was out again, and Syreni had her own wand facing Morena in a silent challenge to try and hex her again. Audelia Prince came to the Hufflepuff’s mind almost immediately. She had been able to knock out a boy with just a stone, just by hitting his temple, but he didn’t seem to be hurt other than that. Hoping to mimic that, Morena pointed her wand to the ground. She didn’t dare take her eyes off of Syreni, but murmured a spell under her breath, feeling her wand levitate a stone off the alleyway ground. Syreni’s eyes widened, her wand pointing, her mouth moving to say an incantation, but Morena didn’t hear her; she sent her own rock flying towards the Slytherin. 

But it hadn’t been a tiny stone at all; Morena had picked up a large and heavy piece of ruble. The large brick went flying, right for Syreni’s head, and the other girl didn’t have time to do anything except scream. Morena yelled as well, trying to drop her wand, but it was too late; the brick hit Syreni in her left eye, sending her into the wall behind her. She slowly slid down the wall and left a trail of blood as she did, before landing on the ground with a final death moan.

“No!” Morena whispered the word, too shocked to even scream. She ran over towards the girl, shaking her head, ears ringing. “Please don’t be...”

But she was; Syreni Thomas was dead. There was blood dripping from her eye that was struck, more blood than Morena had ever seen. Hesitantly, Morena’s hand reached out, turned the girl’s head to one side; Syreni’s skin had been scrapped away, brain matter and more blood visible into her skull.

Morena screamed as she tore her hand away. Standing slowly, Morena gripped the wall and took only a few more steps before collapsing. She began to vomit, tears streaming down her face as she did. The stained red on her hands made Morena even sicker, loud sobs escaping in between heaves. Once she was sure it had stopped, Morena stayed on her knees for another minute or two. But the sounds of the battle soon brought her back, and she needed to escape the alley for her own sake. Rising to her feet, Morena wiped her tears roughly as she tore the Death Eater robes off of her body. Hesitating for only a moment, Morena bunched up the robes and covered Syreni’s face with them.

She couldn’t stand looking into the girl’s eyes for one second longer.

Taking off the mask, Morena let it loudly clatter to the ground. She hated the sight of it now more than ever. She pointed her wand towards the metal mask, glaring it at as she whispered, “Incendio.” Smoke began to rise as the metal shrank as it burned into mere ashes. Morena watched it disappear, the smoke evaporating as quickly as her tears.

Turning back to Syreni one last time, Morena dipped out of the alley, not having to fake the look of panic on her face. People were still scrambling, and Morena looked like another student, desperate to try and make it back to the castle.

As she ran to safety, Morena couldn’t help but think of Syreni, think of how little she knew about the older girl, about her brother, wondered about who her parents were. Tears were welling up again, threatening to fall. But she blinked them back, not ready to cry. She didn’t deserve to cry, not until she was alone, safe. She could see familiar faces as she ran, one or two calling out to her, but she still ran, trying to make it to safety without being seen by any Death Eaters. She eventually ducked into a shop, deciding to wait with other students for the rescue she knew was soon to come. 

There was nervous chatter and sniffles all around her. But Morena stared straight ahead, unable to do anything except breathe.

[fayetravers-blog]

Choice || Self Para

“Go find your mother.”

Faye’s heart pounded in her chest, matching the sound of her feet against the cobblestone. With her wand clutched tightly in hand, she thread through the battle, eyes shifting left and right searching only for one face. As curses shot past, nearly grazing her on either side, the hairs on her arms stood tall. Every nerve heightened in the fear and the excitement.

Her search ended outside the tea shop. Off in the distance, chaos separating the two, Faye caught sight of a witch draped in black; her similar blonde hair fell stark in contrast. The ring around her finger felt heavier in her presence, as if it too knew that it had found its way back home after all these years.

As she moved to step forward, a blue light found her chest. The air was stripped from her lungs as her body propelled back, feet knocked from the ground. Her back made contact first. Then her head. Then the pain. The seconds that followed were slow. Staring up at the sky, Faye watched as the clouds spun, the air itself almost tangible.

Her mind returned before her body. Only her fingers could respond well enough to know to curl around her wand. But little movement followed. Rendered immobile by the shock, Faye’s thoughts could only scream within her skull as she listened to the cries and to the blasts and to the footsteps that drew closer. ‘Get up. Get up. You’re not going to die like this. Get up. Get the fuck up, Faye.’ Just feet away, the man was closer now, dangerously so. Faye turned her head. Looking though his legs, through the crowd, she could still see her mother. Her beautiful, aged face was aglow, kissed by the most crimson light. Faye saw not of the girl at the other end of the wand, only the ferocity in her mother’s eyes. After all she had been through, strength remained.

The spark of her fight ignited into flames, Faye returned in full, the world around her no longer spinning slow. She saw his face only for a moment, enough to tell he was strange to her, enough to tell she wasn’t to him. Not her name at least. That she saw in his eyes, held amongst the anger and lust for retribution. It was one look, one moment, and it was gone with the aim of her wand and the casting of a curse she’d only but heard. “Sectum Sempra!”

He fell and she rose. Faye wasted no time to watch him bleed. His fate- life or death- remained a mystery to her as she left him behind.

“Mum!” Faye shouted, the call useless in the crowd. Her eyes went towards the shop, frantic in search to spot her mother again. But her face wasn’t there. Unable to beat any faster, her heart only boomed louder. Worry pushed her through the crowd. Worry brought her sights onto the girl on the ground.

Amelia Knotts looked broken. Her eyes, wide as ever, had forgotten how to blink. They looked forward, spooked and pained. Her hair was knotted and her clothes were stained dark, the color of her own muddied blood unrecognizable. Her whole body shook but no part more than her outstretched arm. Had it not been for the wand she held, Faye could have looked upon her simply as her roommate. She would have considered the memories they had shared, the giggles passed between neighboring beds. Had it not been for the wand, quivering in her weak grasp, Faye would not have raised her own. But the wand could not be forgotten, not with its aim at her mother’s back.

Five years of friendship could not outweigh the nine of longing.

“Bombarda Maxima!” The charm hit the front the tea shop causing an explosion. As windows shattered and debris rained down, Faye lifted her arms, hands covering her face in a quick response to block the rubble. Small splinters made scratches against her palms and tears into her robes. As the dust finally settled, then she saw the true impact of her actions.

Amelia was still, covered in a blanket of wreckage. Her eyes looked upon her hauntingly. The fear within them remained; even in death, Amelia could not escape it.

Faye’s eyes held something far different: relief. To her side, her mother stood, heart still beating, body intact. Somewhere off in the chaos, her father remained fighting. They were all still there. Together. Fighting together. Because beyond the relief of life, she finally knew what her parents wanted. Their beliefs had not changed despite what they had been forced to give up and, even if it had taken years, Faye had finally chosen her side. There was no mark on her arm but her choice had come from blood: both pure and familial.

Her choice was cemented in her first kill.

In taking her mother’s hand, in disappearing into the fight, Faye turned her back on Amelia. In the same instant, Faye turned her back on the life she knew, prepared to become the daughter she had always wanted to be.

[ddlumosradio]

featuring @terrazeller

“This is Lumos and I’m your host-slash-DJ, Aidan Higgs” he greets with his usual chirpy tone when opening, “For those of you that are listening in for the first time this is Hogwarts’ radio show full of great music, and only great music. And today it’s a special day. Someone else is here with me to co-host and it’s no other than..” There is the sound of hands rhythmically hitting a surface, much like a drum roll. “.. the one and only, Terra Zeller.” His voice sounds sincerely enthusiastic as he presents them.

“Hello everyone, it's very good to be here, thanks for having me,” they say in their husky Cambridgeshire accent.

“It's a pleasure,” Aidan replies, with sincerity and one can almost hear a smile in the way his voice sounds. “And the sight has improved since my last co-host. No offence, Fred.” There is a low rustling sound of papers moved around. “Speaking of our second-older Weasley. Terra is here, much like Fred was, to talk about a project close to their heart. Some of you may have already read about it in the Hogwarts Gazette.. but I'll let Terra explain what is about and why it's so important for them and many other students here at Hogwarts.”

“Well, as I’m sure some of you know Teddy and I have been asking for signatures on a piece of paper, those signatures are for a petition to the headmaster to create a third dormitory in each house, one for students who do not identify as either male or female, such as myself.” Terra pauses for a moment and says something inaudible to Aidan. “We need at least half of the student body to sign it before we present it to the headmaster, and we’re going for the final push, we’re nearly there. We believe that a third dorm would help younger students figure out their identity, and we need to show support to the people who are too worried about what their peers think to come out, and while the change won’t affect us, we hope it can help the generations of students behind us.”

There is a brief pause for Terra's words to sink in. “Heard that people? Join Terra, Teddy and all the others who already signed the petition. This is a way to both help our fellow students and to leave our mark in Hogwarts history.” His voice is steady, enthusiastic. “Where do people can come to sign the petition? Is there more they can do?” He asks them, leaving once more to them to talk and explain.

“Come find me or Teddy, and, I think there are sheets up in all the dorms, we’re both easy to find, or if you can’t find us, send us an owl, or speak to your head of house, I’m sure they will help you to find us. Same goes if you would like more information or even advice. We’re here to help!” They say, their voice full of the passion they feel towards the project. “And if you want to do more to help, we’re open to ideas to get the third dorms in, and help any students who need help, even if it’s an ear to listen or advice, you can come speak to us, I promise we don’t bite”.

“Unless someone shows up as a doughnut, I would guess,” Aidan jokes. “So, listeners, you heard them, and I hope you'll help spread the word through the school. I thank Terra for being with me, today, and I'll leave to them to announce our next song.”

Terra chuckles, “Thank you Aidan for having me, we have a fairly old muggle song by the name of ‘Little Game’ by Benny up next, so enjoy!” They say happily.

mention: @teddy-lupining

[ely-lewellyn-blog]

Sniffing Out the Sad

ELY & OPEN

There was a weight in the castle, there had been all year, and as viciously as Ely could he was trying to bring up the spirits of people. In the past week he had had three younger Slytherin girls cling to him with a death grip and cry. Granted they were all for opposing reasons, but still he listened. He was the neutral. As the boy approached the Great Hall he noted one individual, their eyes cast into their mug as if it held a prophecy of grave darkness. The boy cocked his head back in time with a frown as he approached them, his eyes blinking down rapidly, and then slinking into the seat. “I wouldn’t let it bother you.”he began as he picked up the mug, smelling it and making a goofy face, and then continuing “If it smells like garbage then it can’t possibly tell you real fortune. Besides, you should save tea reading for Divination.” Albeit it was a lame way to distract them, but he had to try.