Author's Note:
It's been a while since I've posted anything, but I've been having a bit of writer's block. I have so many ideas, but I feel like I just don't have the words for them. Nonetheless, this is an idea I've had since the summer, and am super excited to be posting. This past summer I read Anne of Green Gables for the first time, and I immediately could just picture the story as a Jily AU, so that's what this is!
I'll be basing most of my writing off of the novel, but I have watched the movies from the 1980s, as well as the Netflix show, so I might incorporate some ideas from those as well. That being said, I'm trying to keep the characters fairly canon, with an emphasis on fairly. It should also be noted that this will be taking place in the early 1900s as the books do. I debated for a long time over whether or not to write it that way, but ultimately decided to keep it the same timeline. I also do quote and take scenes directly from the book, so kudos to anyone who noticed similarities.
Now without further adieu, please enjoy and leave a review if you enjoyed it, hated it, or just need some place to dump your thoughts. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Everything here is inspired by, or taken from the amazing minds of the lovey ladies, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Joanne K. Rowling
Miss Rita Skeeter is Surprised
'If Marilla had said that Matthew had gone to Bright River to meet a kangaroo from Australia Mrs Rachel could not have been more astonished. She was actually stricken dumb for five seconds'
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If a resident of Lyndegate Brooks had a secret they wished to keep to themselves, they had best not spend time around Miss Rita Skeeter. Miss Skeeter had a talent for persuading one to share their darkest desires, and most wistful wishes. She'd managed to get Filius Flitwick to share that he added a dash of cinnamon to his famous chocolate chip biscuit recipe, a family secret passed down from his great-great-grandmother, and had manipulated Pomona Sprout into revealing that she used a mixture of manure, mineral water, and brandy to get her pumpkins to grow to the ginormous size that won her first prize at the Halloween festival each year.
You see, Rita Skeeter was the town gossip, and she loved to tell a tale. She'd fancied herself a writer when she was younger, working for newspapers around the world and writing about scandals that earned her headlines, a rare feat for a woman. Since she'd moved to Lyndegate Brooks, in the hopes that the fresh air and the silence that accompanied small towns would benefit her whilst writing her autobiography, she'd taken great delight in discovering what the residents of Lyndegate Brooks were hiding.
She often took to sitting in the old rocking chair on her front porch, claiming that she was "clearing her head, and getting the juices pumping, the better to recall all her fantastic feats", so that she could look out across the town square. When she'd first chose a house upon her arrival in Lyndegate Brooks, she'd picked one right in the center of town, in front of the town greens, so that she could spy- er, that is, greet - all who passed by her house. She could often be seen with a pen in hand, scribbling furiously in a notebook, marking down the times of the actions of her neighbors.
On this particular day, she found herself out on the front porch in mid afternoon, around 2:00 pm, attempting to get cool. It had been a hot and humid late spring day and no matter how many windows she opened, she was unable to get her house aired out. So she found herself rocking in her chair, a newspaper open on her lap. The paper was a prop, so that she could pretend to be reading should anyone glance her way, but she fooled no one, as she hadn't turned a page in over thirty minutes. As she watched, she saw a buggy go by with Albus Dumbledore sitting on the bench. She was most surprised, as he was wearing his best blue suit, the one he wore when attending town meetings, or when going into Ottery St. Catchpole on business.
What really caught Rita's attention was that it was a Tuesday, and Albus never went into Ottery St. Catchpole unless it was a weekend. And beside, he should be out working his fields, as she'd overheard him telling Dedalus Diggle after the last meeting that he was going to sow his turnip seed this week. And the only reason she knew that was because Diggle had asked Albus what he planned to do for the week. Albus Dumbledore was a man who played his cards very close to his chest, offering as little information as possible, all the while his bright blue eyes sparkling with a mischievousness that made Rita grit her teeth in frustration.
She watched the buggy disappear down the road, and almost immediately jumped to her feet. It was most peculiar, hence, making it most interesting. "Perhaps I ought to drop by Godric's Hollow for a spot of tea…" Rita muttered to herself, grinning.
Making up her mind quickly, she hurried inside to put her things away, locked up, and set off up the road toward Godric's Hollow. It was quite the trek, as Godric's Hollow was a mile from the town center, but Rita was willing to go to great lengths in the pursuit of gossip.
When she arrived at the house, and quite of out breath, she stopped to admire the house. It was one of the oldest houses in Lyndegate Brooks, yet it was well kept and quite tidy, to the point that Rita noted that all the blades of grass looked to be of equal height, and despite the abundance of trees - most of the orchard's cherry trees were pink with blossoms that rustled softly in the weak and spare gusts of wind, the willow's long limbs gently brushing the dirt - that there were no spare twigs, leaves, or petals on the lawn. Bet she sweeps the yard as often as she does the house, Rita thought sardonically. She wondered what her maid would say if she asked the girl to sweep her yard.
She knocked on the front door, mostly out of the expectation of politeness, waiting a few seconds before pushing it open and walking inside. She fastidiously wiped her feet on the mat, gods forbid she should track some debris onto Minerva's floor and never be invited over again, and immediately headed for the kitchen, where she could heard Minerva bustling about.
As always, Minerva looked well put together, with her glasses perched primly on the bridge of her nose, a stern look upon her face, and her slightly greying black hair back in a tight bun. Not a single strand had come loose from the bun, despite all the chores Minerva performed on the day-to-day basis, and Rita found herself wondering if Minerva gave her hair a stern talking to each morning to discourage the hairs from escaping. She found herself subconsciously straightening out her coiled hair, and checking her skirts for wrinkles, as Minerva's piercing gaze often made even the most confident person feel slightly self conscious and chastised for being untidy.
Perhaps that was why she'd never gotten married, Rita considered. Minerva was not a particularly attractive woman, maybe she'd been striking when she was younger, but she was tall, and thin as a rail, and had a very intimidating manner, so that one was always reminded of a school marm about to scold a naughty pupil. In her youth, that was the exact profession she'd had, first teaching at an academy for girls in London, even going on to work at a university, and later for the children of Lyndegate Brooks, but she'd retired a few years back. She lived at Godric's Hollow with Albus, who was a distant relation, and together they worked to keep the property running. But they were both getting on with age, and Rita often wondered how they managed.
"Good afternoon, Minerva!" Rita said, though she knew the other woman had heard her come in.
"Good afternoon, Rita," Minerva replied, placing down the jug of fresh milk next to the steaming teapot already set on the table, and wiping her hands on her apron. Rita was uncertain whether she should be embarrassed that Minerva had been keen enough to know that Rita would drop in for tea as to have it already prepared.
Rita folded her hands in front of her, trying to come up with a reason for her appearance. "It's so hot in town," Rita started, fanning herself dramatically. "I thought I'd walk up here to pay you a visit, as I thought your house, what with the orchard and all, would be cooler than down there. I hope you don't mind."
Rita could have sworn she saw Minerva's mouth twitch, but she'd blinked, so she wasn't certain. Nevertheless, the older woman's eyes twinkled in a way that told Rita she was not fooled by the story at all. "I was just going to make myself a cup of tea. Would you like to join me?" This was once again merely a show of politeness, as both women knew why Rita had shown up.
"Yes, how kind of you," Rita said, already pushing past Minerva and plopping down ungracefully into a chair. She greedily reached for a little cake, taking a bite out of it. Minerva was known all around for her baking, which some said even rivaled Prissy Elvington's, the Elvingtons having been in the bakery business for generations.
Rita impatiently, though hopefully with an air of calm, sat back and made some small talk, hoping to get the story out of Minerva without having to bring it up herself. She talked about her book, and the recent scandal she'd caused when she spotted Rodolphus Lestrange walking around with a much younger Bellatrix Black. Minerva merely hummed, making few comments here and there, till Rita could no longer stand it.
"So," Rita began, keeping her focus on her second cup of tea, adding yet another sugar cube in. "I saw Albus this afternoon heading out of town on his buggy."
Minerva made a sound, though whether it was to agree or disagree, it was hard to tell. Her mouth was hidden behind the rim of her cup as she took a sip.
"He was headed toward Ottery St. Catchpole," Rita pressed.
"Biscuit?" Minerva offered, holding out a plate of her famous biscuits. Rita took one, never quite able to resist something sweet.
"He was wearing his best blue suit," Rita continued.
"Was he?" Minerva replied.
"Minnie…"
Minerva allowed herself a small smile now, but finally conceded. Rita was likely to find out sooner, or later, and better to tell her now, than to hear one of Rita's fictional versions spread around later. "Albus has gone to town to pick up an orphan boy coming in from London on the evening train."
Rita couldn't have been more surprised if she'd been told pigs could fly. "An orphan boy?" She gasped. She'd never pictured Minerva as the motherly type. As for Albus, he was such a silent man, and when he did talk, he said such strange things that she often thought him a simpleton. "Whatever for?"
"It's something we've been considering for a while now. Over Christmas holidays we paid a visit to the Abbott's, and Diane told us she was going to London to pick out a little girl for herself. You know she and Albert have been having a difficult time having their own, so they've decided adoption is the next best option. The Abbotts have some relation in London, who will help Diane with the whole process. We thought it would be a good idea to get a boy for ourselves, as Albus is getting on in age, and he'll be needing help around the farm. Plus, having an extra set of hands will free up more time for Albus to work on his research."
"Yes, but couldn't you just ask one of the boys from town to help? You know the Weasley's have no shortage of children, and Augusta Longbottom's son, Frank, is about eleven, definitely old enough to lend a helping hand."
"We discussed the possibility, but the eldest Weasley is only five years of age, and ever since Franklin senior passed, it's been Frank up to tend to the Longbottom land, so he's unavailable. And lord knows that Wallburga would never willingly allow one of her sons to work on a farm." Minerva and Rita shared a significant look, both women rolling their eyes at the snobbiness of the richer families in town.
"Well, what about hiring out? I know I heard the Lupin's hired a boy to help the out since their son is always so sickly," Rita said.
"Yes, well, Albus was dead set on adopting, and you know how he gets once he sets his mind to something," Minerva sighed, staring at her cup.
"Yes, but an orphan," Rita pushed, her voice spitting the word with all the horror and disgust one might construe to having to change a soiled diaper. "You don't know where he's been!"
Minerva just held back the urge to roll her eyes, instead narrowing them at Rita. "Well, it's not as if we're adopting from the continent, or, gods forbid, the States! He'll be coming from London, so at least we know he's of good stock. A boy of eleven; we figured that was a good age. Not too young to help, but not too old to learn."
Rita still looked unconvinced. "Orphans are an absolutely awful sort, greedy, untrustworthy, deceitful. Why, only last week Dolores Umbridge told me a tale of a former pupil of her's who was an orphan. Apparently, the boy tried to burn down the school house during break, and very nearly succeeded!"
Minerva rolled her eyes. "One knows better than to trust the judgement of Dolores Umbridge in regards to children. She hates all of them, even the McKinnon bunch, and they're the one of the best bred family in all of Lyndegate Brooks."
"I admit there's truth in your statement," Rita submitted regretfully, but she was not yet done. "But I heard yet another tale from Katherine Podmore, that one of her sister's neighbors adopted a girl, an orphan girl. She offered to do the baking one day, as a thank you to the family for adopting her, and the next day they all died! It was later discovered the powdered sugar was mixed with arsenic!"
Minerva bit her lip to keep from laughing. Rita always found the most fantastical stories to spread. "Well, we're not getting a girl," she replied simply, picking up the empty cups and placing them in the sink for a wash.
"Fine, don't listen to me," Rita said, standing imperiously and holding up her hands in surrender. "But don't come running to me when something horrendous happens."
"Don't worry," Minerva replied dryly. "I'm more likely to call George Finnegan should the boy set fire to our house, as he is the fire marshal."
"Ohhhhh," Rita growled, turning on her heel and walking from the house. Mark her words, this whole orphan escapade would end terribly, and then she'd have the satisfaction of wiping the superior look off Minerva's face when it all fell apart.
Truth be told, she had no idea how Minerva and Albus would fare with a child in the house. Sure, Minerva had been a teacher, and thus around children, but she was not exactly the motherly type. Nor had Rita ever seen Albus interact with children before. In a way, she almost felt pity for the child. To have to put up with Minerva and Albus everyday for years… Rita didn't think she could manage it.
She decided she would head to the mercantile where she could quickly spread the news. She simply could not wait to see the looks on everyone's faces when they heard the tale! But little did Rita know that upon his arrival at the Ottery St. Catchpole train station, Albus would find a surprise that would have made Rita's gossip all the more juicy.
P.S. I am currently looking for a beta, so if anyone has a rec, or would like to volunteer, please PM me. Thank you!