forgive me, brother.

"Heaven help ya I’m telling the truth, heaven help ya she’s coming for you, heaven help ya the girl likes to fight. Afraid of nothing and she carries a knife."

[witchbxnes]

Amelia Bones, Frank Longbottom and Dorcas Meadowes meet in the war council cottage to discuss a plan to search Ottery St. Catchpole.

It was a quiet night in Godric's Hollow. Most everyone had returned to their cottages and tents, hoping to drift off into a dreamless sleep, far away from the state of the world outside. While everyone else hid away from the war, there were three others who knew now was not the time to hide, but to plan, and hopefully to create a path forward to ending the conflict that left them exiled. 

Amelia Bones, Frank Longbottom and Dorcas Meadowes sat at the long wooden table in the war council cottage. Amelia had a piece of paper in front of her with a list of names: Amelia, Frank, Dorcas, Arthur and Sirius -- five people that could possibly create a shift in this war that would finally give the Order of the Phoenix an upper hand.

AMELIA: "So how do we envision this happening? We need to come up with a concrete plan so everyone is on the exact same page," said Amelia, looking up at the other two.

DORCAS: “Something easy, just in and out ideally—but if there are Death Eaters there it probably won’t be so easy.”

AMELIA: "You're right. We probably shouldn't be there long. No longer than an hour. It might be best to create two teams, so we can cover more ground."

DORCAS: “Who’s with who?”

AMELIA: "You could go with Sirius. He could probably use your help remaining inconspicuous. He's sort of a show off, and if we run into any death eaters, you might need to hold him back from charging them should hiding still be an option. If hiding isn't an option, he's skilled enough to help you fight them off. Arthur knows Ottery St. Catchpole well, so he could go with either team, which would leave me with Frank. Does that sound all right?"

FRANK: Frank nodded in agreement. “Fine by me. I think that’d be wise. We should also have a place to meet up in case there’s need to regroup.”

AMELIA: "Good. Which team should Arthur be with?" she said, looking at the other two. "And yes, we should have somewhere to meet up. Any ideas where?." Amelia got up and grabbed a book of maps from one of the bookcases, before opening it to a page with details on Ottery St. Catchpole. "Truthfully, I don't know the area well other than what we can see on this map."

FRANK: “Arthur can stay with us. With our combined experience we could probably manage him better if we run into any trouble.” Frank then recalled his earlier conversation with Xenophilius, now grateful for the information he had received from it. “Also we could meet at the Lovegoods’, I doubt the Death Eaters are keeping tabs on their home. They’ll be more focused on the Burrow.”

AMELIA: "Good," Amelia nodded before pulling out five antique looking watches from her pocket. "Hideous, I know. But they'll help us stay in contact. I've charmed them to do two things. First, if you turn the dial on the side, it flashes twice, see? We can do that to let the others know if we've found anything. Second, if you rub the watch's face in a counter clockwise pattern, it flashes solid red. That'll let the other team know if something's gone wrong. Make sense?"

FRANK: He nodded again, “Sounds simple enough. Didn’t know Charms was your forte though, Bones.”

AMELIA: "As long as you're not asking me to keep a plant alive, or take care of some magical creature, I can handle myself," she laughed. "I know my way around charms enough to do simple things like this."

AMELIA: "Anyway, we should try and find where Glenda Chittock was hiding out. It's clear she knows more than all of us do, and if she was ambushed like it sounded like she was in her last broadcast, chances are she left some things behind. Doe, do you and Sirius want to handle that?"

DORCAS: “We’ll see what we can find at least, hopefully something, if not then we’ll at least try to keep ourselves out of trouble.”

AMELIA: "Good," Amelia said, turning toward Frank. "Aside from searching through the town, we should probably see if there's any clues to who the Fawcett girl is that was mentioned in the letter Dorcas found. I don't like the sound of her. Sounds like she's working with the death eaters. We might not find anything, but we should keep an eye out."

FRANK: “Alright. We should also keep an eye out for our dear friends, the Carrows. They ought to be snooping around as well.”

AMELIA: "I don't doubt it," Amelia said, rolling her eyes at the thought of taking on the Carrows. It wouldn't be the first time. Their spell casting was all wrath, and no skill. Amelia wasn't so worried about running into them. This Fawcett girl, on the other hand, was an unknown. "Anything else we need to nail down?"

FRANK: His mind drifted to Alice, knowing she’d have to be privy to this. He owed her that much at least. “How secret are we keeping this?”

AMELIA: "Kingsley can't know," she said, looking at Dorcas, who'd seemed to be around the man a lot lately. "He won't approve of it, and we can't risk him intervening. We need to do something and if we leave it to Kingsley to decide, we'll be holed up here until were dead and buried in the ground. Alastor knows we're doing something, but don't tell him any details. Plausible deniability and all that." Amelia turned back toward Frank. "If Alice can keep quiet, you can tell her. I know you won't say anything unless you know you can trust her not to say anything. Aside from Alastor and myself, you may be the only other person in this damn place who knows we can't just sit here and let the death eaters carry on. We both know what's at stake," she said, placing her hand on his. Amelia wasn't all that good at comforting others, but a part of her felt connected to Frank. They'd both lost so much, and he wasn't even aware that she was wagering her brother's life over their chance at winning this war.  "No one else can know.  Not under any circumstances."

DORCAS: “Kingsley would kill us,” she said softly. And truthfully, she knew that it was true, he would. He’d probably throw a fit and refuse to let them leave the town. “There’s no one on my end that would need to know in case something happened, so I’ll be okay.”

FRANK: It felt odd to be wholeheartedly understood. Of course, Frank knew the Order was evenly divided, but with all the recent talk of vigils and healing, he felt as if he were on the warpath alone. For that reason, he fully appreciated Amelia's gesture and support. He had no doubt in his mind that if he asked Alice to keep quiet, she would—not that she had much to say anymore, but that was a different problem for a different time. Even at this juncture Frank couldn't imagine deceiving her. "Of course we can confide in Alice," he answered assuredly. "She'll keep our secret." 

FRANK: He then looked resolutely at Dorcas, mouth set in a firm line. "You're invaluable Doe; you're our eyes and ears outside of here, nothing can or will happen to you. If we treat this as a simple reconnaissance mission we should get out of this fairly unscathed, but if we run into anyone that's more foe than friend then we have to try to only use defensive magic. We're the ones taking a risk and walking into the unknown so let's just focus on getting our information and getting out."

DORCAS: "But I also know it isn't irreplaceable, if we get someone else in, and I don't have anyone to be waiting worried, I promise I'm not about to take any undo risks either way though."

AMELIA: "Are we all set then? Does anyone have any additions or concerns? We're all clear on it all?"

FRANK: Frank shook his head, satisfied with the result of their meeting.

[witchbxnes]

rcmus‌:

     ‘I’m not going to stop you,’ he repeated. 

He let out a sigh. At least it seemed like she was listening to him, now. They might never agree on everything, but someone in this village needed to cooperate, someone needed to work together if they were ever going to get anything done, and Remus had always been the one to play peacemaker. 

     ‘It’s just, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that there’s a difference between heroism and suicide. I know you want to do something, and I think you should. But I also think it’s possible to act decisively without acting impulsively. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt who doesn’t have to, because we were so desperate to do anything that we didn’t stop to figure out the best way to do it first.’

Maybe, he thought, this was his chance. Maybe this was his new role. He wasn’t a soldier anymore, he couldn’t be, not with the weight of this secret on him, not with so many people depending on him. He wouldn’t be like Peter, wouldn’t be caught and captured and tortured into revealing the location of the Order, or whatever other terrible thing had happened to his friend that had led to Voldemort finding Lily and James and Harry. But he’d always had a sharp strategic mind. He knew how to plan careful contingencies, how to find flaws in even the soundest of logic. He could help Amelia figure out the best way to do what she wanted to do, and the safest. 

     ‘I’m sorry if I sounded like I was doubting you. I didn’t mean that. But everything’s so tense… well–’ He stopped for a moment, gathering his thoughts, licking his dry lips and swallowing to stop his voice from catching. ‘I can’t go with you, but I’d like to at least help. With the plan, whatever it is.’

It didn’t matter if he doubted her. Remus didn’t intend to come across that way, but still, it didn’t matter. All her life, Amelia had worked to prove everyone wrong who’d underestimated her. She told herself she didn’t care what they thought. Before the war, she was just a girl with a smart mouth, nothing but a minor inconvenience that men could complain to their wives about after a long day in court. That’s all she was to them -- until she started winning. She won for those who couldn’t fight for themselves, for those who were treated unfairly, and had their rights violated. But there was still a tiny part of her that fought for those who thought she couldn’t win, and another part of her that fought because she deserved a victory.

This was no different than her time in the Wizengamot. Remus was no different than the men who’d underestimated her. He thought she had no plan, that she was recklessly endangering the small bit of peace they’d found in Godric’s Hollow. Amelia knew going to Ottery St. Catchpole was dangerous, but it was necessary, and she was just the only one bold enough to say it out loud. 

“I have a plan.” Amelia pushed up off the ground and went back into the strategy room, knowing Remus would follow. She grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing on the board at the head of the room. 

“Five or six people. We apparate to a spot outside of Ottery. That’ll be the point we all meet back up if things go as planned. We then split off into two or three groups and search the town for one hour. That’s it. No longer. I’ll charm some old watches I found in one of the cottages to sync up so we all know exactly when it’s time to leave. They’ll also work as a way to communicate. Turn the dial on the side and the watches will flash twice, to let the rest know you’ve found something. Rub the watch’s face, and the watch will flash red, to let everyone know something’s gone wrong,” she paused. It wasn’t often Amelia admitted someone had a valuable contribution to her plans. “It’s smart to have a second safe place to apparate to. Did you have an idea where?”

[witchbxnes]

omg-dorcasmeadowes‌:

Hearing it out loud was different than feeling that it was coming. Dorcas had known that, but the weight of the words hung in the air as she stared at Amelia for a few long moments before sinking down in a chair.

Alastor would have been where she’d put her money, that the man might be willing to buck whatever tentative peace with Kingsley to maybe see something, even if it was a small group that would inevitably go out. Never in a million years would Doe have put her money on the small woman in front of her. But it didn’t change the fact that she was the one asking and that there was a finality to the fact that this was happening, that there would be some kind of information gathered.

At the very least they would leave knowing that Ottery St Catchpole was eliminated from a list of possibilities where this second location may be, where the Death Eaters were honing in.

Raising her eyes to look at Amelia, she nodded her head. “Frank,” she said softly, nodding her head. Kingsley. The thought popped into her head and she bit back the word before it slipped out, the man wouldn’t dare come on something like this and he might end up having her head for considering to go as well. “Sirius would be good… maybe Pandora in case we have any injured, though I don’t know how good her defense is.”

"Not Pandora. We can’t risk losing our only healer.”

It was already a risk bringing in so many people. She didn’t need to lose the only person who could mend their wounds after a battle. If they got hurt they’d just have to apparate out of there. That had to be a requirement. You had to know how to get the hell out of there fast if things went sideways. This wasn’t the sort of mission for people who couldn’t fend for themselves. 

“Sirius and Frank are good. That’s four. I think Arthur should join. He knows the area well. His home isn’t far from the center of town.” That should be enough. If she trusted them more, Emmeline might have made a good sixth, but she couldn’t let someone come who might turn on them if any death eaters showed up. 

As long as everyone agreed to come, Amelia had her five. Her plan was coming together. Something was finally happening. It was about bloody time. Still, as she scribbled down the other three names on the piece of parchment in front of her, she couldn’t help but think about what Remus had said. They needed a safe place to apparate to. Somewhere other than Godric’s Hollow, just in case.

“Can you apparate? We’ll need to get out of there fast if something goes wrong. We can’t have anyone lagging behind.”

[zoeydeutch]

[witchbxnes]

omg-dorcasmeadowes‌:

It wasn’t as though Dorcas had ever thought that people would welcome her with open arms when she’d joined the Order, to a degree she was a known entity walking in with her public image being the way that it was. People thought that they knew all that she could be, and if it had been a few years earlier? Well, they would have been more than correct; it didn’t really matter what Dorcas had thought at the time. Certainly she couldn’t have blended around the edges then like she managed to now, she couldn’t pull attention directly to her and away from something that needed to be avoided.

No, Dorcas would have been a massive mistake to bring on to a project like this, a mission meant to shift things for people.

“I mostly fit where I’m needed,” she said with a shrug, giving the woman a smile to help placate the situation. She’d never got the impression that Amelia was overly fond of her, granted… she was pretty damn sure that there were a number of Order members that were leery of her. It wasn’t as though she was a shining example of what is right or the most logical person for Arabella to bring on.

“As long as you’re not having me light myself on fire, I’m here for whatever is needed.” Though her eyebrow quirked up in curiosity. “What was running through your mind?”

"We need to go to Ottery St. Catchpole.”

It was only the second time she’d said it out loud. Only the second time she’d told anyone what she thought their next move should be. Dorcas was hardly the sort she looked toward for discussions of strategy, but Alastor had been unavailable as of late, and she knew Kingsley and Arabella wouldn’t even hear her out. 

She only managed to get a few sentences of her plan out to Alastor before he turned her away. I can’t know about this, he said, neither turning down her plan or encouraging her. Amelia knew what he’d meant. 

“Us, and three or four others. We need to go there, just to look around. We might run into some trouble, but we need to see why it was so important for the death eaters to be skulking around there. At the very least, Glenda had been there. Maybe she left something behind that could be useful. After all, in her broadcast It seemed she knew an awful lot more than we did.” 

Amelia pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from one of the drawers in the long desk they’d been using as a meeting table. She wrote down her name and Dorcas’, leaving space below for a few others. 

“Who else?”

[witchbxnes]

rcmus‌:

She wasn’t listening.

That much was abundantly clear: if she’d actually listened to a word he said, she would have known that he wasn’t going to stop her from going. That he only wanted to make it clear that there was a fine line between caution and recklessness and they needed to be sure to tread it knowing full well what might happen. Someone should go, sure, and he wouldn’t dream of stopping her, but if she was this angry at the very idea of someone questioning her plan, then she was going to get herself killed, and everyone she took with her. 

Amelia didn’t just want to go to Ottery St. Catchpole. She wanted to fight someone about it. Wanted to argue. Was this really what their war council had become? Four people so polarized in their beliefs and their intentions that they were incapable of even listening to one another for long enough to see that each side had a point? 

It was no wonder Sirius had run off the second he’d heard word of Rodolphus Lestrange’s location and tried to kill the man with his bare hands. If this was what the war council was talking about, how they were behaving, it was frankly more of a surprise that they hadn’t encouraged him to do it again.

He waited for a long moment before following her into the next room. 

      ‘I didn’t mean you shouldn’t go,’ he said, finally, voice quiet but terse, from the doorway behind her. 

He folded his arms across his chest, leaned against the doorframe. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a coward. He certainly felt that way, most days, knew she wasn’t the only one who thought he was. 

        ‘I know war, Amelia. We’ve all lost people. And some of us have done a lot worse than that, for it.’ Degraded ourselves, he thought, but did not say: Arabella and Amos were the only people he knew for a fact didn’t still see him as an animal, a monster, a beast, and he didn’t need to bring up the werewolves and give her another excuse not to listen to him. ‘But you all gave me a job. The lot of you. You gave me a job to keep people safe no matter what direction you decide to go, and that’s what I’m going to do. I won’t have you so desperate to run off and do something that you bring the Death Eaters down on all of our heads.’

Amelia didn’t turn when she heard Remus enter the room. Her eyes remained fixed on the fire as he spoke, watching as the orange and yellow flames turned the twigs from the elm trees outside as dark as night before they crumbled into ash. 

“I’m going, Remus.” Her voice was steady now. She’d realized there was no reason for her to fight with him. She’d made up her mind. It was just a matter of whether anyone else would go with her. 

“I can’t sit here anymore doing nothing. I’m going mad. We can’t just sit here while everyone else is dying out there... or worse.”

Voldemort and his death eaters were capable of things far worse than death. The letter in Amelia’s pocket confirmed that much. She kept it there as a constant reminder, not only of what was likely happening to her brother, but of what was happening to hundreds of other witches and wizards, and would continue happening until they stopped this madness. 

“Our lives aren’t as precious as we all think. They’re not worth a damn thing if we just sit here. We’ve got to do something, and soon. We can’t just spend our time wasting away here, arguing amongst ourselves about how we can best help. If we keep doing that, there won’t be anyone left to help. We’ve got to help in the way we know best, and this is how I know best."

“I’m going,” she said, finally turning to look at him, “With or without approval, and with or without anyone else. So you can either help me with a plan, or leave me alone, but don’t try and stop me, because it won’t work.”

[witchbxnes]

CHARACTER PROMPT 001. // THE MUGGLEBORN CENSUS

First it was rage. It  started like a fire burning in the depths of Amelia’s mind. She couldn’t believe it. Who the fuck had let this happen? As she contemplated that very question, her anger lost its edge, before fading into something entirely different. Guilt. She let this happen. 

What was she doing in Godric’s Hollow? Sitting around? Trying to convince those who’d already accepted defeat that there was a reason to keep on fighting? She already had a reason. Perhaps it was a waste of her time to help everyone else find their own. 

Could she have stopped this all from happening if she had been in London? Maybe not. Maybe the death eaters would have succeeded in killing her by now, but at least she could have tried. What infuriated her most about the article wasn’t the story itself, but that it seemed no one, not a single soul stood up to protest what had happened. The Daily Prophet wasn’t always the most accurate of publications, but it was at least balanced. They would have mentioned it if someone had shouted at the interim Minister about how he was green-lighting further genocide. 

Amelia wondered if they’d even let her back into the Ministry if she tried at this point. Surely, every death eater in the place had been warned about the insolent girl in crimson robes who refused to acknowledge her place in their war -- buried six feet under. 

Still, she had to do something. It wasn’t right to keep hiding. It wasn’t right to let thousands of people sign the dotted line on their death certificates. Amelia knew one thing for certain. If someone hadn’t stopped this bloody census by collection day, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be in Godric’s Hollow. 

[witchbxnes]

rcmus‌:

He took a deep drag from the cigarette as she answered, closing his eyes for a moment in part to let himself enjoy the feeling of it, the acrid taste in his mouth and the smoke filling his lungs, and in part because he knew her answer in his heart before she’d even finished saying it. In truth, he didn’t want to answer, or continue this conversation. But he couldn’t very well walk out now, and so he let himself enjoy the cigarette for a moment longer before opening his eyes again and finding some way of responding. 

     ‘And the contingencies?’ he asked. There would be no arguing with Amelia – Kingsley would, Arabella might, and they’d stand a chance at making a difference, at stopping her from going along with it if not at changing her mind. Remus didn’t know her well enough to do that, to persuade her otherwise. But he could do what he always did: prepare for the worst, make sure there was at least a plan that stood a chance at not destroying them, in case she did go through with it. 

Make sure that her plan, whatever it involved, wasn’t going to get Sirius killed, or leave their little village decimated and empty. That whatever it involved, he kept as many people safe as he possibly could.

     ‘I mean, who goes and who stays? How many do we take? And if things go wrong on the other end, do you plan to engage or to apparate back until we can assess a new situation? We need–’ his mind was turning now, like the paralysis it had been trapped in was dissipating finally, knowing that if he didn’t think through these things, no one might. ‘A second apparation location, just in case. We can’t go directly from there back to here, in case they’re tracking us.’

The we sat heavily in his ears as he said it: he wouldn’t be going. Couldn’t. But it was an old habit, from before all of this, when he was in the thick of things and still trying to fight. 

Amelia expected concern from Remus, but not outright opposition. He rattled off question after question about her plan, but Amelia wasn’t listening. Sure, she heard him, but she wasn’t listening. She was too busy thinking about what to say next, how to prove to him wrong, how to show him it was foolish not to go to Ottery St. Catchpole. 

Amelia knew there were those among them that would rather live out the rest of their days rotting away in Godric’s Hollow along with the cottages and the bodies of those who gave their lives all for some boy who might one day defeat the dark lord. But who even fucking knew when or if that was to happen. After all, he was just a baby, and Amelia wasn’t about to put her fate into the hands of someone who couldn’t even form complete sentences yet.

How the hell was he still asking questions? Frankly, Amelia was offended Remus thought she hadn’t thought this whole thing through. How many people? Six. Just enough to be strong enough as a group if things go sideways, but not enough to leave Godric’s Hollow vulnerable. Who goes, and who stays? Well, she certainly wasn’t inviting Remus. If things go wrong? If he thought Amelia Bones was going to apparate away without taking a few death eaters down first, he was mental. The only good he had to offer was the suggestion of a second apparition location, but by then Remus had rattled off enough nonsense that Amelia didn’t even care if he’d made one valid point. 

Amelia was frustrated. She’d been frustrated. She couldn’t just sit and wait anymore. Maybe some of the order was content to call Godric’s Hollow their new home. Maybe all they needed was to plant a garden, or furnish their tents on the edge of town, far away from the realities of war. But the war had a grip on Amelia. It had her brother. She sure as hell wasn’t about to sit around and play school teacher for Arthur’s children, or bake cakes with Charity to soften the blow for those who’d lost loved ones. She was going to take action.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” she spat as she pushed up off the ground and turned to look down at him. “You want to hide here forever? Is that the plan? I’ve got news for you. War has casualties. You’ve got to take a fucking risk if you want to win. Unless you want Voldemort to win, we’ve got to start taking action, otherwise we’ve already lost. Might as well march right on through the streets of London with a white flag and wait for the death eaters to kill us all. Is that what you want? You want the few people you have left dead for certain, or do you want to fucking try to rid the world of this injustice?” 

Amelia marched out of the meeting room and into the lounge before plopping down in front of the fireplace and lighting another cigarette on the flames. If he wanted to follow her, he would, but she needed some fucking space. Truthfully, Amelia could have said a lot worse, and she almost did. She almost mentioned James. 

[witchbxnes]

omg-dorcasmeadowes‌:

Dorcas tended towards being a mess. She knew this better than anyone, but it didn’t change the fact that it was a little bit easier when other people were flustered. The only place that she had ever truly been organized and put together was on the Quidditch field, and that had certainly ended a long time previous. Instead it had left her in the Order, something that she likely never would have considered if she was still playing – blessings in disguise, or something to that effect from what the Muggles would say. 

“Suppose that there are worse habits that you could indulge in,” she said with a shrug, though she’d put money down on the fact that even if Amelia had something going on that was in over her head, the general population of the Order might not pick up on it until far too late.

No, Dorcas was probably lucky that the woman had even asked for help to procure the packages of cigarettes even, let alone anything else. “You could just tell everyone to buggar off and get their own.”

She wasn’t going to lie if asked if she had perked up when the idea was thrown out about scouts – she knew that there was a good chance that Alastor would be all for it, though Kingsley would be more reserved about what to do. No, Dorcas would jump at the ability to go forward and see if there was any kind of truth to this, or if it was all just fallacies or the potential of a trap hidden within a sliver of hope. Dorcas leaned towards the fact that it was likely just at trap than anything else, but it also wasn’t her call – though… she knew that she had a hell of a lot less to lose in this war than many of the others. 

“I think the last thing that we need is anyone blowing our cover,” she said softly, shrugging her shoulders. “You probably just need people that can blend in decently without seeming like they’re doing something they shouldn’t.”

“You seem to fit that bill.” 

Amelia would be lying if she said she had a good first impression of Dorcas Meadowes. Months ago, when Arabella introduced her as their newest member, Amelia couldn’t help but sound off about how having a celebrity among the Order’s ranks would only endanger the low profile they were trying to keep. Amelia thought it even worse when Dorcas started leaving Godric’s Hollow to go out on runs for merlin knows what. 

But in the time since the Order had relocated, and since Dorcas found that letter, she’d proved useful, and as far as Amelia knew, she still hadn’t blown her cover, which seemed damn near impossible as a former quidditch star. It’d become clear to Amelia that Dorcas had more to offer than she’d first afforded her, and perhaps she could be useful yet again.

“You think you’d be up for another run? Something a bit more dangerous this time than just picking up cigarettes and sorting through mail?”

[witchbxnes]

hollowedmoody‌:

The sudden consciousness came with a shiver, with the momentary flash of fear brought by every sudden noise. There was someone in the house. Alastor led a rigid hand to the wand under his pillow. He rose from the couch as carefully as possible, uttering a muffling charm before making his way to the door. The cold feeling in his stomach spilled into the rest of his body, and suddenly it was fear itself that was driving him, turned exhilarating rather than paralyzing. He knew there would be a hooded figure. He knew there would be a flash of green light.

But there wasn’t. Alastor opened the door to find a familiar woman smoking a cigarette. It took a few seconds to tell his body that it was Amelia, that it was fine. He lowered his wand, raising a hand in apology. That would teach him not to fall asleep in the war council cottage.

“Morning”, he grumbled. Then there was a prickle of the same feeling that had woken him up. “Is there a problem?”

This was far from the first time Amelia had caught Alastor unaware. Rightfully, he was always on the defensive. She didn’t even flinch when she saw him enter the room with his wand drawn. As talented of an auror as Alastor was, Amelia knew she had a knack for catching people off their guard. 

“No problem here,” she said, taking another drag off her cigarette before getting up off the floor and walking toward Alastor. “I’m just restless. I couldn’t sleep, and I figured if anyone still gives a damn, they wouldn’t be able to either.”

Amelia was tired, not of fighting, but of waiting. This place was driving her mad. She needed action, needed to strike back, to end this bullshit ceasefire, which she was fairly certain was just a cover up for the death eaters to rebuild. After all, that’s what they were trying to do, right? 

“Care for some breakfast?” she said, shaking the pack of smokes in front of him. “Might be just the fuel we need to finally get some sort of a plan in place.”

[zoeydeutch]

[witchbxnes]

rcmus‌:

     ‘Just… trying to get a sense of what to expect the next week or two, I suppose,’ he said, taking one of the cigarettes from the outstretched pack gratefully, a quiet, unspoken gesture, cheers, accompanying it. It was– true, that’s what he was trying to do: despite his status as Secret Keeper, he wasn’t a part of the War Council, wasn’t privy to a lot of the planning and strategizing and… well, infighting, which was probably for the best. But as for the rest of it, it would have helped to know. What was coming, what he should be worried about. Who might be going and possibly never coming back. Whether they should start making room for the bringing back of people that Remus was almost certain were never coming back. 

He lit the cigarette with one finger, an old trick, one piece of practically useless wandless magic he’d struggled for months in fifth year to perfect for a laugh, because he was fifteen and had no needs more pressing than being able to light a cigarette without his wand. The action has been habit for a long time, but it’s been so long since he had a cigarette that it hits him with a pang of nostalgia for simpler times. 

     ‘I don’t know if you’ve made any decisions yet–’ and he knew it was unlikely, between Kingsley and Alastor, that they’d decided on anything, but at least this way he might be able to see how Amelia felt about it all. And what had Sybill said to him the other day? That he deserved a say in what happened here as much as any of them? That maybe, maybe, people would listen to him? ‘But… well, I thought I ought to check.’

Amelia let out a brief laugh, a short huff of air out of her nose. As if Alastor and Kingsley could ever agree on anything nowadays, she thought. There was a reason for the war council. It was for the people who still had a fire burning in their bellies, who still would risk life and limb to end this war. As far as Amelia was concerned, neither of those things applied to Kingsley. 

Despite the indecision between the Order’s two founders, Amelia had her own ideas about what they should do. The letter Dorcas found made it all too clear; they needed to go to Ottery St. Catchpole. Even if it was a trap, even if death eaters had taken over the entire town, there was an opportunity there. The Order needed some sort of win to inspire those of them who’d given up, even if it had to be won through bloodshed. Plus, Amelia wouldn’t mind taking out a few death eaters along the way. 

“We need to go to Ottery,” she said flatly, staring off at nothing in particular on the opposite end of the cottage. She knew her plan would be met with opposition from the more cautious members of the Order, but Remus seemed to be among the most logical of them, and she needed to gauge how people would respond. So she waited. 

[witchbxnes]

DORCAS:

There wasn’t much that Dorcas could do these days except her job, except for the fact that she could drive herself mad thinking about all of the possibilities of things that could happen or the what ifs on whether or not the situation cold have been different if they’d done something different. Dorcas knew that but yet it was something that kept her up some nights, the nights that she made it to Godric’s Hollow. Mostly she worried that everyone had what they needed, the things that she was able to at least get when she was out of the small town. For some it was answers, others it was teas, for Amelia it seemed to be that when Dorcas could make it into Muggle London, cigarettes were the desired commodity. 

It’d been over a month since she’d gone into London outside of Diagon Alley, though it had certainly been intentional that she’d found herself roaming around in Hyde Park, trying to clear the thoughts of her mind out and the worries that seemed to weigh everyone down from this war. They’d sat in the bottom of her napsack for a few days before she’d come back through the wards, roaming the street to try to figure out which place it was that Amelia was lurking around in again before seeing some movement in the cottage that housed the war council, when you could get all members in one place.

She knocked on the door first, not wanting to completely interrupt a train of thought before pushing the door open and chuckling when she spotted Amelia with a cigarette in her mouth. “You know you don’t really have to hide that, or hide that you’re taking a few moments to yourself even,” she said softly, digging to the bottom of her bag and pulling out a couple packs and setting them on the table. “I figured you could use those at some point. How are you doing though?”

Amelia heard a click as the cottage’s heavy door swung open. These homes were so old it was almost impossible to do any sneaking around. It was almost comforting though. At least if the death eaters attacked, maybe a few of them would hear the enemy coming. 

She was relieved to see a familiar mess of curly hair. At this point, she’d almost come to associate Dorcas with cigarettes. Another run, another few packs of smokes, and she was running low. Amelia was relieved when Dorcas pulled a few out of her bag. She usually did supply runs herself; Alastor knew better than to stand between Amelia and nicotine, but it was nice to have someone other than herself bringing in a steady supply. 

“I don’t hide it because I’m ashamed. I hide it because I’m up to nearly half a pack a day, and I don’t feel like sharing my supply,” she laughed. There was some truth to that. Although Dorcas was right about her taking a moment to herself. 

The war hadn’t changed Amelia much at all. She’d always kept her emotions private, except for with Edgar. There was no use in that; he could always read her like a book. Still, there was a certain responsibility that came with serving on the Wizengamot, and with being one of the few vocal supporters of an entire group of disenfranchised people. Amelia never minded though. She was used to being the strong one, the one who did what needed to be done, no matter the cost.

“I’m just thinking about the letter,” she said, putting her cigarette out on the floor before lighting another. “That, and Glenda’s message. Might be smart to send a few scouts to Ottery. People who can cover their tracks and hide if need be. Last thing we need are some amateurs blowing our cover.”

[dailydeutch]

[witchbxnes]

REMUS‌:

He was still sore from the full moon, and restless, and tired, exhausted. But he was feeling better than he often did. He and Sirius– well, things weren’t entirely fixed, but it felt as if they had finally shattered the glass wall that had been standing between them since James’ death, like they might finally be able to talk to one another again, like there was a chance at patching things back up and actually supporting one another again. It was nice, to not be constantly worried that Sirius was going to run off and get himself killed without saying anything first. 

But things weren’t fixed. He was still scared, still convinced that the new information they’d gotten – the information that no one knew was true, that people seemed to be trusting even though it was more than likely every bit of it was a trap – was going to be the thing that would have half their meager population sprinting full tilt away from the relative safety here and directly towards their own deaths. He knew what Alastor thought – everyone did – and he knew what Arabella thought. But… Amelia was still a mystery to him. 

It was only by chance that he happened to be awake early enough to see her walk past the front window of his kitchen, wrapped up in her jacket and moving somewhere with purpose. And it was instinct that had him on his feet and following only a minute later, his own coat half-buttoned, his scarf draped loose at his side.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say, what he could ask her, as he ducked into the cottage a minute or so after her. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. So when she looked up and noticed him entering the room, he wasn’t sure what to say.

    ‘I was, erm… looking for Alastor…’

He faded off, the poor attempt at a lie fading as he noticed the cigarette in her hands, the pack she was holding. Maybe this clumsy attempt at conversation would end in something other than disaster.

      'Sorry, ah– could I have one?’

Amelia took a long drag on her cigarette, and shut her eyes as the nicotine seeped in. She almost choked on the smoke when she heard the cottage door slam shut. So she had been seen.  

At least it was Remus. Honestly, it could have been far worse. She wasn’t sure if she could handle Charity’s cheer or Arthur’s gaggle of children this early in the morning. Plus, she was fairly sure they’d just try to get her to stop smoking inside. Really, Amelia couldn’t be sure Remus wouldn’t do the same. 

There was little she knew about him, other than he was one of the few threads keeping this place together. Secret keeper. It sounded more like a death wish to Amelia. An opportunity to mark yourself a dead man walking. Still, she appreciated what Remus had done for them all. He was one of the few people who’d stepped up, one of the few who seemed like they still had some fight in them. Amelia knew how hard it was to hold onto that now; it was why she was here, and why Remus deserved one of her smokes. 

“Alastor’s a fighter... just not this early in the morning,” she laughed, as she extended the pack toward him, “What’d you need, anyway?” 

[witchbxnes]

date: february 10, 1982 location: war council cottage status: open

It was early when Amelia woke; the sun had only just begun to peek in through her ice covered windows. Most of the Order preferred living in the tents at the edge of town, but no matter how insulated they insisted they were, Amelia found it silly to live like vagabonds when there were plenty of cottages to house them all. She had plenty of her own ghosts to be afraid of; the ones that haunted this town made no difference. 

She reached out from under the covers for the pack of cigarettes she’d been hoarding in the drawer in her nightstand. Most people snuck out of Godric’s Hollow in hopes of finding their loved ones, or following up on a foolish lead they swore would help them win the war. Amelia knew better. The only thing she crossed the wards for were cigarettes. Everything else she needed to win the war was right here in Godric’s Hollow, as long as the Order got its act together. "Fuck,” she muttered. The pack was empty. She’d been hoping to stay in bed a little bit longer. A smoke and a few more hours of sleep might help drown out the words that kept circling her mind. Two letters, no more than two hundred words between them. The first, was hers and hers alone to bear. The second provided some hope, if she could figure out what it meant. 

Amelia’s chance at sleep was lost, but she at least knew where she could find more cigarettes. She’d left a pack under a floor board in the war council cottage for when things got especially tense, which had been often lately. Amelia threw on some boots and the warmest jacket she could find before leaving her cottage. She walked through the center of town as quickly as she could, praying no one else was up this early. The last thing she needed was someone asking her, well, anything at this hour. Luckily, she made it to the war council cottage unseen, or at least unbothered. 

Amelia pushed the large desk at the front of the room back a bit, before waving her wand over one of the floor boards. Thank Merlin, they were still there. After prying the pack out from underneath the board, Amelia plopped down against the wall, pulled out one of the cigarettes and lit it on the spot. She couldn’t risk being seen again, and she needed to take the edge off now.

[hollowedrpg]

“Oh no, ain’t it a drag. If you take a swing, she swing back. She say I’m not your punchin’ bag. Heaven help ya I’m telling the truth, heaven help ya she’s coming for you, heaven help ya the girl likes to fight. Afraid of nothing and she carries a knife.”

AMELIA BONES / TWENTY-FOUR

BLOOD STATUS: HALFBLOOD OCCUPATION: MEMBER OF THE WIZENGAMOT ORDER STATUS: MEMBER GENDER: CISGENDER FEMALE PRONOUNS: SHE/HER

↳ INTRODUCTION

You’re a woman with a warning label. Touch her and you’ll burn, they say. Cross her, and you’re ashes to ashes. Perhaps it’s better everyone knows what you’re capable of. You’ve dared to love before, and it’s never ended well for those you’ve cared for. They’re nothing more than kindling for the fire burning inside you. Woman, you’re like a wildfire; you don’t discriminate, don’t spare anyone in your path. A fire has one goal, and so do you. The only hope for those who stand in your way is to snuff you out. That’s the only way you’ll ever stop, no matter who gets burned. 

AMELIA BONES IS CLOSED.

↳ STORY

From the moment Amelia Bones uttered her first word, she didn’t speak, she screamed. Her parents knew better than to try to quiet a voice so loud. When one word turned into several, and sentences turned into speeches, they knew that one day their little girl’s voice would do much more than insist she and her brother had more time to play outside. Both of Amelia’s parents were in law. Her mother was an auror, and her father was a muggle civil rights lawyer. For some time, Amelia’s parents thought their daughter would follow in her mother’s footsteps. She showed signs of magic long before her eleventh birthday, an indication that she could one day be a powerful witch. Amelia didn’t disappoint. Despite their best efforts to discipline her, Amelia’s parents couldn’t help but feel proud when she yelled at a boy from a nearby village for bullying Edgar, and her sheer anger alone forced enough magic out of her that the boy toppled over backwards. Amelia always stood up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. During her time at Hogwarts, she often got into fights with purebloods who bullied muggleborns, and spent more time in detention than she did in a classroom. That didn’t matter much to Amelia, who much preferred to learn on her own terms rather than in a classroom. She tore through every book on offensive spells in the Hogwarts library, mastering one after another, and proving it with yet another trip to detention. Each time Professor McGonagall learned of another pureblood Amelia had sent to the infirmary, she struggled to hide a smile. Soon, even she was pushing for Amelia to become an auror, but as much as Amelia valued her mother’s work, it was her father’s work that truly inspired her. As tensions rose over blood purity, it was him that she looked to as an example; it was him that she used to justify her actions in continuing to stand up for muggleborns in whatever way she could. 

After Hogwarts, Amelia got a job at the Ministry in Wizengamot Administration Services. She hated secretarial work, but it was a necessary first step. Amelia may have started on the lowest rung on the ladder, but from her first day she made it clear she intended to climb as quickly as she could. Still, it’s a miracle she didn’t get fired. She was always sticking her nose where it didn’t belong and challenging her superiors; she quickly became known for her vocal support of muggleborns. No matter what her colleagues thought of her, she certainly made an impression on every single one of them. Amelia made sure she wouldn’t be forgotten among a long list of secretaries and administrative assistants. She knew she could do more, and apparently so did some of her superiors. Within three years, Amelia was appointed to the Wizengamot, becoming the youngest member in the court’s history. The court was made up of blood purists and muggleborn sympathizers alike; her ideology gained her both friends and enemies among them. However, unlike most of the court, Amelia thrived in such turbulent times. In the midst of perhaps the darkest moments the wizarding world had ever faced, Amelia found a fire burning within herself. Forged in the throes of war, she hadn’t known a world at peace since her youth. Her dedication to the law stemmed from a society that saw each day as a battle. One day she’d put an end to it all, no matter how uncertain she was about who she’d be once the dust settled.

Amelia knew she was a target. She knew there was a chance she’d disappear one day, never to be heard from again. Her friends in the court could only do so much to protect her, and frankly, Amelia hated the idea that she needed to be protected. They insisted she come stay with them, insisted she leave the office with the rest of them instead of staying long after they’d all gone home. A part of her wanted them to come for her. She wanted the chance to show them exactly what she was made of. She wasn’t some naive girl, fighting a war she had no place in; she was their worst nightmare. But perhaps she’d underestimated her enemies. They knew exactly who she was, which is why it wasn’t her they went after, it was her parents. In the summer of 1979, Amelia’s childhood home was attacked. She’s still not sure what happened to her parents. It was clear there’d been some sort of a struggle, but there was no evidence indicating who’d won the fight. Amelia didn’t worry for her mother, who was a skilled witch and an even better auror, but for her father, who would have been rendered helpless during the attack. Everyone assumed the death eaters attacked the Bones home because they were looking for Amelia’s mother, but that wasn’t the case. Amelia knew they were looking for her. After the attack, Amelia asked her brother to move in with her. Less than a year apart in age, the two Bones siblings had been inseparable since they were young. Although their lifestyles were different, Amelia and Edgar found a comfort in each other they never could find in anyone else, especially after their parents’ disappearances. 

When Amelia was approached by Alastor Moody to join the Order of the Phoenix, she insisted her brother be able to join as well. This was his fight as much as it was hers. The attack on her childhood home and joining the Order were just fuel added to a fire that had been burning within Amelia for years, only now, her motivations were tainted with a vengeance. She made no apologies for how aggressive she’d become in court, and showed no hesitation in identifying the blood purists among their ranks. Not only did she want to protect muggleborns from being captured and killed in the streets, but she wanted her parents back, or at least for someone to answer to the crimes against her family. Perhaps, a few months after her parents had disappeared, Amelia’s desire for retribution would have faded; after some time had passed, she would have stopped acting in such a way that forced her removal from the court more than once, but any small chance of that died when the death eaters took her brother. This time, Amelia knew for certain it was her they were after. They left a note in her flat. She managed to pocket it before the investigators arrived: her life for his, and they were willing to wait. Amelia folded and unfolded the paper ten times over as she contemplated their offer. Edgar was the strongest person she knew, but still she couldn’t help but think of what they were doing to him; her brother’s cocky smile dissipated into a defeated, emotionless gaze right before her eyes. Still, she knew her brother wasn’t the only one being subjected to such torture. As much as it pained her to leave him in the hands of death eaters, they said they would wait, and she had hundreds of thousands of other lives to consider. 

FACE CLAIM: ZOEY DEUTCH (non-negotiable)