December 24, 1995
I pulled my scarf up a little higher to cover my red nose and secured the flaps of my hat around my ears while my hair whipped around behind me. The blistering cold wind moved through me like I wasn't there at all. Tavish stepped forward, his knees high as he took a few steps through the fresh snow checking how deep it was before clearing a path with a wave of his wand for Lucinda and I who followed behind him.
My own wand was in my hand helping Tavish melt patches of ice and blow extra snow off the path, watching it melt away with satisfaction as Tavish led us to the tiny village I could begin to see over the hill ahead of us.
I suddenly understood why he was so insistent on taking the walk up to Hogsmeade. In the dimming light of the evening it was a beautiful sight that spoke of warmth and Christmas joy.
Though, my hands ached for a warm drink.
"C'mon, lass! Gettin' soft behind a desk are ya?"
"Your taxes pay me to be behind that desk and bring you office gossip," I said, causing Lucinda to laugh.
"Yeh, buncha numpties runnin' the country!"
"In that we agree!" Lucinda added in her dignified tones as she adjusted the scarf I had given her for an early Christmas gift and tapped her glasses with her wand to stop them from getting condensation from her breath.
I understood none of that but got the spirit of it.
We made it up the hill to the village, the elderly women thanked us for clearing the path before heading into one of the shops lining the street. I slid my wand into my sleeve as I looked at the lights, took in the sounds and watched the heavy snowfall around us come down to earth.
"This is beautiful!" I breathed, a cloud of warm air coming up from behind my scarf. "Oh, look at the Christmas tree! It's bigger than the one in Times Square!"
"Really? I thought America was all about bigger being better?" Lucinda's sardonic tones were not lost on me and made me wheeze in restrained laughter while she calmly adjusted her scarf before reaching over to straighten mine. "It's crooked."
Tavish laughed and motioned me on, leading us down the street.
Hogsmeade was full of people. There were couples on dates, holding hands or walking arm in arm as they admired the lights. Young families with small children who babbled about the big tree in the square and warm drinks while their parents smiled indulgently.
Tavish led us onward, both Lucinda and Tavish were stopping to talk with people they knew as they went. Many of them, he told me, were part of his gardening club or worked as landscapers like he did. These people had heard about me at their meetings apparently and would tease kind old Tavish about his little assistant being taller than they expected for giving me a smile or a wink. Lucinda's acquaintances were older women who were selling candies for a last burst of holiday charity to help support their causes in the new year for one of the charity societies that Lucinda helped run.
Lucinda waved Tavish and I away, "I'll be here for a while to double check the accounting. You two go on ahead and I'll meet you by the tree."
"That'll be fine Lucy." Tavish looked down at me with a smile, "Let's get ya a butterbeer. Sommat ta warm yer bones aside from tha' weak coffee ya like."
"It's not weak," I giggled. The office gift exchange had been a success. The Fudges had given the three of us a combination of baked goods and new quills. I had given Eddie a travel memoir about Spain by a man who was visiting all of the major historical sites in the region. Eddie had given Percy a box of nice ink in an assortment of professional colors. In turn, Percy had given me a nice coffee mug with three sample bags of coffee. I showed Lucinda and she gave me one of my Christmas gifts early, a coffee press. I was thrilled! Now I could engage in my normal coffee habit with good coffee and all was right with the world.
We passed a group of wizards talking about politics while their wives were minding the children. They were talking about Harry Potter and Tavish grew still for a moment before he pressed on. He looked like there was something on his mind.
"Tavish?"
"I… I don't want Potter ta be righ'." Tavish mumbled as he pulled his hat over his ears. His cheeks glowing pink from the cold. "The war was so long… I lost many o' my cousins and two uncles. My son... Ten years o' terror. I can't do it again…"
I looked at Tavish, in that instant I could see every year of his life in his eyes. Each shock and pain that had aged the old gardener, that had left him wondering if life was worth living afterwards. He still had enough love inside of him to treat me as a friend or granddaughter.
"Your son?"
"Alistair, his mum left an' I raised the boy. 'E grew up with Lucina, the best o' friends. They did everythin' together. Got into all sorts o' trouble all the way through Hogwarts."
Tavish paused.
"'E got caught with a muggle girl in sixty-nine and they left'em in da street. Ya-Know-Who supporters who were testin' da waters before da war really began a few months later."
What could I say to any of that? How do I offer comfort to a man who had lost a son he clearly loved? How do I connect with a woman who is far too much like me in putting intellect over emotion? Even if it means letting go of someone you love so much after a devastating loss? How can so many terrible things happen to a single family? Were we cursed in some way? Or was this just the cost of a war that had left clear and obvious scars on this part of the magical world? I had no answers, all I could do was hope that all of that never happened again. That a boy was besieged with madness from a curse that should have killed him as a baby. What a terrible thing to hope!
"I don't think you'll have to go through that again. I mean, You-Know-Who died years ago and all magic in the world can't bring back the dead, right?"
"No, but there was always sommat 'bout him… Like 'e was arrogant 'nough ta defy nature 'erself."
"What do you mean?"
"Ta've the number of followers he did, there musta been something maniacal, a power beyond a mortal's comprehension."
"What? Like necromancy? The only necromancer I know about was killed by my grandfather and he was not successful in his creation of his mother as a flesh monster in any capacity." Reportedly the creation had twitched and moaned, but that may have just been my grandfather exaggerating.
Tavish looked at me with a concerned expression. So did some of the families nearby.
Oh, by the Twelve, I sounded like Annette!
He looked at me with a smile. "Come now, no sad talk. No politics. It only starts fights."
I giggled and took Tavish's offered arm as he led me towards the Christmas tree and the merry band of carolers singing God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs.
"How long have you known Lucinda?" I asked as the soloist began a moving rendition of the Many Bells of Mary Dotter.
"Met her in school. She was a brilliant, high minded sorta girl, like ya and yer mother. I was a fat little Hufflepuff who wanted ta play with dangerous plants. She took a likin' to me after I dropped a bit o' devil's snare on a bully o' hers. Been friends ever since."
"Did you know my grandparents?"
"O' course! Callum was a reasonable sort of man, Lorna was a very nice woman. Used to make me biscuits and invite me ta family parties. I helped Lucinda with yer mother after they passed. Lucina was da worst farmer I'd ever seen. Killed everything she touched wit' 'er black thumb!"
I laughed as Tavish guided me towards a place called the Three Broomsticks. He stopped short at the line leading out into the street. "Poor Rosemerta, packed full again dis year. Let's try another place, but don't tell Lucinda!"
That sounded ominous and… intriguing!
Tavish guided me through the crowds and towards a quiet street closer to the edge of Hogsmeade. It was ominous and quiet, making me feel watched and a tender, shivery anticipation of something forbidden moving up my spine. My wand made no sound, so I knew I was quite safe from whatever nefarious things were out here.
We stopped outside of a pub called the Hog's Head. It was dingy looking and smelled like a barn, but had a kind of charm about it as a place I would never be allowed to be seen in or around in the United States. The thought was thrilling!
"You'll want ta clean da glasses before ya drink anything."
Tavish held the door open for me and I walked into the strange bar that smelled like… goats. Wait. I think I heard a goat bleat from somewhere behind the bar.
Oh! Oh the goat was wearing a little bell and two hats on its horns! Cute!
I knelt down to pet the goat who had come out from behind the bar, giving her a few scratches around the base of her horns while cooing over her while Tavish grabbed a table.
"I used ta take da kids here whenever we were in town."
The bar was empty and sparsely decorated for the holiday season and seated only a few patrons. One a man wrapped up like a mummy. A woman in black with a scar on her face and a large raven hat that occasionally flapped its wings and clicked its beak. The other patrons sat in shadowy corners and whispered to themselves.
I took the seat across from Tavish, enjoying the strange, forbidden atmosphere that was so different from other places I had visited in the last couple of months. It felt sketchy and exciting. If I had stepped into a place like this back in the States, I would have brought hell upon myself from my father for embarrassing the family if I had been caught by the newspapers.
Tavish created a plain glass from a small mirror he pulled out of his pocket. I conjured one with a quick flick of my wand and a held image in my mind of a crystal glass I had seen in the Fudge's home.
"Yer quite talented."
"Thank you!" I blushed as I removed my hat and scarf. I had good grades, but that was an expectation, never a thing to be commented or complimented on by my family. "I wish I was in a job where I could use magic for more than filing."
"Being an apothecary is a good career, you can work with your own garden and make potions upon request."
"That does sound nice, but I'm not sure that's the right fit."
"Don't go inta politics, Audrey. Yer smarter than that."
"No, never. I've lived it and am still living it and I honestly don't like it. It's better here than at MACUSA, but I know too much about it and am too interested to really give it up. I don't like the spotlight it puts on people by proxy."
"What do ya mean?"
I lowered my voice to a whisper, "All my father wanted was the presidency. For over twenty years he carefully cultivated his image, in America we judge our candidates by if they would be a good drinking buddy and if they have a nice family. From the time my parents were married, my mom was out on his arm like a prop for the cameras. They paid attention to what she wore, how she parented and judged her by every childish mistake Alex and I made from the time we could walk. I learned about politics at my father's table and…" I struggled to find the right words. "I don't want to spend my life that way. I admire how Elizabeth has a private life, separate from her husband's career. She goes to private events, not public ones and people forget about her until they see her with him. The Minister let's her do what she wants. That is a marvel to me."
Tavish looked thoughtful as the barkeeper came over.
"Be a writer."
I looked up at him, but had no chance to respond before Tavish introduced me to Aberforth Dumbledore. He was a scruffy man who smelled like goats and wore a kilt even in the cold of the Christmas holidays. He gave me a gruff nod as he filled our glasses with hot butterbeer, the smell of which made me sigh with contentment. He spoke with Tavish for a few minutes, updates on the bar and the plans for the Thornell garden for next year.
When Aberforth left to tend his bar and new patrons, Tavish leaned towards me and said quietly. "Aberforth is strange, but he's a good person. If you need anything, you can go to him if Lucinda and I can't help you. He knows all kinds of things."
"I didn't know Albus Dumbledore had a brother."
Tavish shrugged, "Most people don't. Like ya, he doesn't advertise 'is relations and they don't talk much."
"Why not?"
"May've something ta do with Abe's illegal goat charms."
"...Huh?"
"Don't think abou' it. You'll be happier for it."
Oh… Oh dear Merlin!
My horror must have shown on my face because Tavish was snickering as he covered his face with his hand.
"Drink yer butterbeer, it'll help ya forget."
I did as I was bid, the warmth filling me from the inside out and making my brain pleasantly fuzzy. We drank in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, I reached down to scratch the head of an occasional visiting goat.
"Why a writer?" I asked as I reached the halfway point in my glass. "That seemed to come out of nowhere."
Tavish smiled and wiped the foam from his face with the sleeve of his coat. "Ya have a way wit' words. It's comfortable and intelligent. I think keeping all of yer thoughts to yerself is a waste when you see so much o' what's wrong in da world with such clear eyes."
That… that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. Should I ever decide to take the romance plunge, Tavish was going to be the standard I held men too.
We finished our drinks and Tavish stood up, tossing a few coins to Aberforth behind the counter. "C'mon, let's go find Lucinda."
Oo0Oo0
December 31, 1995
Zara was, at heart, a bit of a raucous party girl. She sang and danced to the bar songs, twirling a laughing Misty around the floor while she sang in a bawdy offkey manner. I clapped along with the rest of the pub, stomping my feet and laughing as the pair spun faster and faster and the steps of the dance grew more complicated.
The song slowed to what sounded like a funeral dirge and the dancers slowed in time until the song stopped with a final roar of the crowd. The dancers laughed and bowed as they were met with cheers and I could not think of a time I had more fun.
I poured the drinks for Misty and Zara as they stumbled back to the table, their cheeks pink with color and their voices exhilarated with excitement.
"Great party!" Zara exclaimed as she gave me a bright smile before dropping into her chair with a happy sigh as she stretched her legs out and knocked back her mug of butterbeer. "Thanks for the drinks!"
"My round, my treat!" I replied, feeling a little tipsy and smiley myself. "I'll get the next one too!"
Misty whooped and clapped while Zara pushed the third mug towards me with a mischievous smile. "We're gonna get you drunk tonight poppet you may even dance!"
"To Audrey and her generous purse!" Misty raised her glass, slopping butterbeer on the table and down her hand.
Zara met her mug with her own and I tapped their mugs with my own in what ended up being the first of many toasts that evening.
The pitcher was soon emptied and I staggered and swayed to my feet. The room felt hot with all of these people in it, a swarm of bodies underneath the surge and swirls of color from their brightly colored clothes. I shuffled through the crowd towards the bar with the faint inkling of what direction I should be going. The drinks made me feel lightheaded to contrast the heavy, sluggy motions of my body.
I was bumped and jostled as I moved closer to the bar where the barman called out drinks and orders almost as fast as he could make them. The group of women next to me laughed, one putting her head on a tall man's shoulder as she caught her breath, accidentally sloshing her drink down her friend's back. I made it to the bar as the second woman yelped from the cold and quickly placed the order for another large pitcher, grasping tightly to the counter to keep my place and stay upright.
I paid the barman quickly for the pitcher of butterbeer and my moment of clarity for a second pitcher of water before I called a thank you as I was once again sucked into the crowd. I took a few steps, carefully freezing the pitcher of water so it would not spill on myself or any of the other people I was trying to squeeze through, allowing me to focus on not spilling the butterbeer. A true stroke of brilliance!
Only, there was an issue with this amazing idea.
It was hard to get through the crowd with occupied hands. I stumbled over someone's misplaced foot and felt myself topple forward, dropping the frozen water pitcher to the floor with a crash and a shout of pain as someone put their hands on my shoulders to steady me as my pitcher of butterbeer baptized the shoes of a couple next to us. There went my hard earned money!
"I'm so sorry!" I managed to say to the couple before I looked up, wincing at the idea of making eye contact with someone whose toe I may have just broken.
It was Percy.
In a crowded bar.
Toes unbroken judging by his expression.
My face felt warm from more than just the crowded bar and the alcohol.
"'Lo Percy."
"Audrey?"
I straightened myself up, taking a step away from him to try and put some space between us before being pushed forward into his chest by the crowd surging behind me.
I could hear someone cursing next to us. I assumed it was the man whose foot I had dropped the pitcher of solid ice on.
"My toes are definitely broken!" He sounded Scottish and in a lot of pain. I looked over at the young man, he was about my age with dark brown hair, he threw an arm over Percy's shoulders to keep himself from falling over, pressing me closer to Percy in the process.
"I'm sorry! I think I could fix them for you if we could sit down somewhere," I spoke loudly to try and be heard over the crowd of people around us.
"Where's your table?" Percy said from somewhere over my head. One of his hands had moved off my shoulders, the other seemed content to stay put for the moment. Oh, he just summoned my ice hammer pitcher. Good. We may need to break more toes to get out of this crowd.
"That way," I pointed in what I thought was the direction I had come from. If not it would get us out of the crowd for a better look.
The three of us moved forward like a many limbed creature, managing to navigate better as a group then as three separate people. The dark haired man made uncomfortable noises as we shuffled forward.
When we emerged from the crowd and we're able to separate, it was like a breath of fresh air. As fresh as bar air could be. I stepped away from Percy, trying to forget how close we had been as I cuddled the pitcher of butterbeer to my chest. I was impressed I had not slopped more of it on the floor or other people. Percy handed me the frozen pitcher, I considered using it to cool my very warm face but still had enough grip on my senses to realize how awkward that would be.
I turned towards the tables only to find myself greeted by the sight of Misty and Zara kissing over the empty glasses on our table.
Kissing. Passionately.
I turn my back for five minutes and my friends decide to explore romance. At least I know why I always felt a bit like a third wheel.
I put the pitchers on the table and guided the Scottish fellow into the chair across from my kissing friends. Was that tongue? No, I didn't want to know.
Percy coughed loudly.
Misty and Zara didn't seem to hear him.
"Hey!"
Misty and Zara pulled apart with a popping sound that was barely audible over the roar of the bar. Zara's expression was content, Misty's face was as red as her hair, only growing more so when she locked eyes with the Scottish guy, myself and Percy.
"Weasley."
"Nightspur."
"Wood." Zara said in a low voice as she glared at the dark haired man.
Wood made a pained noise in response as he helped me get his shoe off so I could look at the damage while I swayed about.
"Perce, maybe someone sober should fix my foot?"
"I've seen her grades, you're fine!"
"Anymore anti-goblin legislation coming out of the Minister's office, Weasley?" Misty asked, her tone snooty and confident. "Probably not with Umbridge out of the picture."
"Madam Umbridge is teaching at Hogwarts and acting as High Inquisitor to bring Hogwarts back up to its previous high standards," Percy's pompous tone caught my ear as I prodded Wood's foot with my wand as I tried to remember the process of healing breaks and bruisings while the world tilted to the left like I was on a ship.
"Oh, she's teaching? Well, she'll be dead by the end of the year." Zara's voice was cutting.
"Huh?"
"Job's cursed." The man whose toes I was fixing said over the roar of the crowd. "Defense teacher's never last a year."
"How?"
He shrugged as the tip of my wand glowed. I was fairly confident I remembered how to do this spell, no matter how foggy my mind was as Misty, Zara and Percy continued a three-way debate or heated discussion about this Umbridge woman.
"Oh, that's an achievement in ignorance, Weasley!"
"I'm Oliver by the way."
"Audrey Graves, nice to meet you." That was not the right spell for healing a bruise. My words sounded slurred even to my own ears. I had another idea. I was pretty sure that this was the right spell to fix a break.
"I think you're too drunk for this," Oliver started to move his foot off my knee. I grabbed his ankle to hold him in place.
"I am not! Hold still so I can fix it!" He had oddly shaped toes.
"Audie," Zara's voice caught my attention as I started casting another spell. There was some discoloration and webbing appearing on Oliver's foot. "Tell us about the MACUSA candidates."
I gave a squeaky hiccup.
"Jack Graves is an asshole!" I pushed the newly formed flipper out of my lap as I stood up to give my angry rant some gravitas. "He never paid me! And he wears too much cologne!" I steadied myself on Percy who kept me from falling to the floor while looking over at Oliver who was saying something I could not make out as preparations for the countdown to midnight began. "And he cheated on his first wife on her deathbed! What kind of scumbag does that!"
I could feel Percy's eyes back on me as Misty and Zara's mouths fell open, Oliver stopped fussing over his new flipper.
"Ismelda Wolf has the personality of a blank piece of paper. I've had more engaging conversations with a garden snake!"
"Garden snake?" Zara laughed. "I like that. What's it mean?"
"It means she's an idiot!"
"Americans have weird euphemisms," Misty chimed in as Percy managed to lead me to a chair as the countdown began.
"TEN!"
"She's all 'family values' but one of her kids was charged with poaching!"
"SEVEN!"
"She made sure it was covered up!"
I refused to sit. I was flying hot and swaying back and forth like the pendulum of a grandfather clock. I could feel Percy's hand on my shoulder.
"FIVE!"
"We have hunting seasons for reasons!"
"FOUR!"
"Nobody's-"
"THREE!"
"Above-"
"TWO!"
"The-"
"ONE!"
"Law!"
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
I looked at all of the cheering, kissing people and focused on Percy as Zara and Misty clapped at the completion of my rant. My mouth moved without input from my brain for the next several minutes before I had a brief awareness of leaving the bar with both of my arms over Misty and Zara's shoulders for support.
Oo0Oo0
January 1, 1996
I woke up in what I recognized to be Misty's apartment, sprawled over her fluffy carpet next to the couch with a small trash can laying next to my head. I must have fallen off the couch, I had a vague recollection of being dumped on something soft, or this carpet was really, really comfortable.
"Hey," Misty appeared above me looking like an angel, her copper hair circling her head like a halo as it flew in all different directions.
"Hello," I smiled, noting that the left side of my face was kind of numb and my head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.
I could hear a third person, Zara I assumed, moving around in the kitchen.
Misty smiled mischievously, her slightly pointy teeth on display giving her an edge of danger. "So… You like redheads huh?"
My face grew hot so quickly I could have cooked an egg on it. Zara poked her head out of the kitchen with a smile as mischievous as Misty's.
"Wh-what makes you say that?"
"You told everyone last night before you passed out on the table," Zara clarified as she leaned against the wall. "You told Weasley you liked his hair after your political rant."
Oh, no…
I sat up so quickly I made myself nauseous. Misty handed me the small trash can.
"That it was pretty!"
Oh, fu-!
I did not get to finish that thought as I began to retch into the trash can. Misty rubbed my back soothingly with comforting noises between her bouts of gentle mockery.
Oo0Oo0
Author's Note: Audrey is a sloppy, dangerous drunk with no alcohol tolerance and should not be left unattended in that state.
Alistair is functionally a Scottish variant of the name Alexander, so Lucina named her firstborn after a dear childhood friend in a roundabout way. Alistair was thrilled about his pseudo-nephew and pretty honored about the whole thing.
Fun fact- I was originally going to do alternating Points of View for the story, but it would have taken forever to write and I had ambitions of things like heavy British English and spelling. It was among the last things I cut, I had to wrestle with my delusion of talent and the concept of time. Oliver was going to be a sounding board in Percy's chapters.
Richasa- Yes! I thought your name looked familiar! Welcome back! I was 16 when I churned Government Pigs out, I stopped writing in college just got busy, now I am old. I think I still have some of the original draft concepts and I'll put those on Tumblr or something, they're weird. I need to finish that series up and would love to go back to it, but they'll be shorter stories I think around 7-10 chapters apiece after book 3 which needs reworking. One for Sorrow will be my last traditional long fic so I can do that for the Septenary-verse and maybe move on to original fiction.