The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - will you be a quidditch pro or maybe a prefect? The year is now 2021, and now it's time for the next generation to make their mark. The newest batch of Hogwarts students have entered this historic school and no one knows how their future will turn out - and that is where the fun begins.
The plot will be determined by the characters of the site as of now - future plots will change as these forces weigh in on the Wizarding World, and we see where these characters take us. So join in and let your character make their mark!
Minimum word count is 200.
Post by Ginevra Molly Weasley on Nov 27, 2019 23:25:08 GMT
The winter was icy cold that year: harsh and dark. Ginny’s lips were so cracked they’d almost bled that morning alone, before she could look up whichever charm she was forgetting that could help, and now that she was back inside her cheeks were burning at the temperature change.
She could probably have waited to go until after the sun had had a chance to warm Godrics Hollow and melt some of the mist, but she didn’t want to have to explain where she was going. Which was stupid, really, pride more than logic - the kids knew, and she knew they knew, and they knew she knew they knew, that she’d started every 25th December since he’d died at Harry’s grave.
She was wearing his last Weasley jumper - a big green thing, with a glimmering golden snitch - the one he’d never gotten to wear. Now that she was back in the house, her fingers cold and dirty, she took it off gently and folded it, banishing it up to her room. No point upsetting them.
They’d leave for the Burrow for lunch, and who knew what would happen before then. No point attempting to cook a big breakfast like Harry had done - she’d made that mistake before, and whilst her magical ability to put out fires was well-practised by now, she didn’t particularly want to use it before midday on Christmas.
So cornflakes and quibbler it was. She flicked her wand at the fireplace and curled up on her favourite chair, her feet tucked underneath her and a thick blanket just where she wanted it. She hadn’t been that bothered by Christmas since she’d gone to school. She loved seeing her family, for sure, but there were definitely better circumstances than this one day that everyone would insist on trying to make perfect, despite the fact it couldn’t and wouldn’t be.
Post by Lucy Anne Weasley on Nov 28, 2019 15:47:58 GMT
They were the first there - this at least wasn't a surprise when Lucy stepped into the kitchen, shaking off the floo that was clinging to her clothes and the ends of her hair. Her father had gone ahead of her, impatient to get going but trusting at least that his youngest wasn’t too far behind. In all fairness she’d been ready to go until she’d proclaimed that she’d forgotten to change her earrings, swapping out her trusty hoops for some kitschy christmas wreaths like she’d promised Roxy and Rose she’d do for a laugh, to look as cheesy as possible. Her father had done that thing when she’d told him she’d forgotten them - the thing where he just looked at her and blinked like he couldn’t understand where she’d come from - but he sent her off upstairs with a loving sigh all the same.
“I’m off,” he called behind her as she bounded back up the stairs two at a time. “Don’t be too long!”
“I won’t,” she’d shouted back, and meaning it - she knew from experience that if she let herself dawdle, he’d be flooing back to check what was holding her up. Not that it mattered, obviously, because much as she predicted the Burrow’s kitchen was emptier than it was going to be for the rest of the day when she arrived. Now, if she’d turned up and saw any of her cousins there - that would have been a surprise. But no, quite as always this offshoot of the Weasley family were punctilious to the point of ridiculousness and were the only ones to have arrived for Christmas day so far - but Lucy couldn’t find it in her to care when she was on the end of the first warm, welcoming hugs of her grandparents.
“Merry Christmas, Gran,” she said, wrapped up in the arms of her grandmother. Behind her was her grandfather, rosy cheeked and grinning as he leant over to kiss the top of her head noisily in greeting, ruffling her hair slightly as he did so. “Merry Christmas,” Lucy added to her grandpa over her gran’s head. In the corner, she could see her father had already been put to work, rolling up the sleeves of his Christmas jumper to help organise the furniture - it was hard to tell whether Gran had asked him already, or he’d just set about it himself, knowing that it was always the job he helped Grandpa with when he arrived. Either way, he looked happy to be doing it, already thinking out-loud to Grandpa about what he thought the most space efficient way to lay out the sitting room was to improve on last year. Her mother was much the same, smiling while leaning against the kitchen table and waiting to be put to work by Gran.
All of them to work, none of them noticed as she slipped off to dump her bag in one of the spare rooms. She pulled out the gifts she’d been carrying ready to put them under the tree for later, and came back into the sitting room presents under one arm, and thumb tapping her Quiv in the other.
merry christmas love <3 <3, she tapped out to Linus. Then to her group chat with Rose and Roxy: firewhisky successfully smuggled. in my gold bag in spare room later if u wanna swig. lets get lit hunnies xoxo
Post by Amelia "Rose" Granger-Weasley on Dec 1, 2019 1:00:18 GMT
It was Christmas Day, and Amelia Rose Granger-Weasley was already on her second shower. She was pretty determined that this wasn’t her fault and that the flour all over her post-pancakes was a result of her dad’s overenthusiastic mixing, not hers. She hadn’t yet managed to win that particular argument with her parents, and Hugo hadn’t been much help either, but either way she was absolutely not taking the blame for the fact they were now running late. Which was pretty arbitrary anyway given that Gran didn’t set a time and that there would be so many of them there that no one would notice what time they arrived, all of which she’d said to her parents and none of which they’d listened to. She’d gotten her shower at least, and she scrubbed away at herself, cinnamon and vanilla steam clogging up her nostrils in a way that might’ve been festive overkill for anyone else.
Out of the shower and significantly less covered in baked goods, Rose took a long moment to think through her day; forcing herself to slow down. As family days went, this wasn’t looking like the least complicated she’d ever had: first there was James, who still hadn’t really spoken to her all term since he quit the team, and then there was Dom who was taking that even more personally; then there was this weird thing with Baggy and her dad that would hopefully not end up with her father attacked by an eagle but at this point she couldn’t really call; and then there was - well. Rose couldn’t put her finger on what it was about two of her best friends dating that pissed her off, but she knew that watching Scorp and Rox together that night wasn’t going to be fun, at the very least. To be fair, at least Baggy would prove a distraction to that. Particularly when he saw his present. “All of this can be done.” she murmured to herself, pulling on the mustard yellow jumper Gran had sent over a couple of nights before.
“Mam? Dad!” she yelled down the stairs, her voice travelling just ahead of her, “are you ready to go yet?”
Post by William A. Weasley on Jan 2, 2020 20:48:19 GMT
With a gust of wind that blasted a biting chill against their sides, Bill felt the grip on his right arm tighten slightly as his daughter instinctively clung a bit closer. He smiled to himself and leant into it as she tried to shield herself from the coldest of the wind, unable to help himself. There reached a point where all of his children grew out of holding on to him at every opportunity, but out here on the beach - with no pretences and no-one else but the two of them - Dominique had linked her arm up with him the minute they’d left the house and hadn’t let go since. Every now and then, she’d rest her head against his shoulder, he’d plant a kiss in her hair, and they’d just keep walking in a happy silence.
Jacques trotted along a few paces in front of them, his festive antlers jingling with every step. Dom, much like himself, seemed to find a queer delight in them, and loved bringing them out for him to wear every year - unlike the other members of their family who Bill had noticed could only frown in a way the Delacour blood in them allowed. Still, there wasn’t much that could dampen his spirits this time of year: Bill Weasley loved Christmas. He loved the decorations, the music, the jumpers, his parents, his siblings and all their families, and his wife and his kids, - and above all, being given the excuse to make them all happy.
He knew it wasn’t Fleur’s…favourite holiday. He’d tried, in vain somewhat to try and make it more palatable for her. It was Bill that had insisted on them making a bigger deal of Réveillon, to really make sure that they spent Christmas Eve in France with Fleur’s parents and sister’s family, and just as importantly, with good French food. It was almost an apology, he’d tried to joke, after he’d made her sit through so many stodgy and admittedly deeply average English dishes that he loved so much during their marriage. And even with all of that, he could tell she still entered the holiday with as much disinterest as ever. Christmas, it seemed, was one of their marriage’s impasses.
Bill was thankful then, to have at least one ally.
“Can I go change before we go?” Dominique asked, piping up for the first time in a while.
“‘Course,” Bill replied. Even if Lou and Fleur were already ready to go before the time they got back (which was doubtful in itself), Dom wouldn’t take long; she never had been the kind of daughter he’d had to drag away from preening to get going anywhere. She could be remarkably low maintenance in that regard.
When they finally reached the cottage, she barely stopped to kick the sand off her boots before she was zipping off into the house, striding off with her singular brand of determination. Bill was a little slower, unwrapping his scarf and strolling into the kitchen much more casually.
Post by Roxanne Weasley on Jan 4, 2020 21:25:04 GMT
Roxanne wakes up in a sudden rush to the sound of her alarm just like any other day, followed immediately by a deafening silence. It emanates through the house - still and hollow in the air. She hates it.
Being home from school is always this way, especially in the mornings. Too quiet. No movement. She drags a hand across her face as she sits up in bed, and at least something ripples through the air as she reaches out to check her quiv. Its early and she's not expecting anything, so seeing a message from Scorpius makes her smile even though its just a reply from their conversation last night that she must have fallen asleep during. As per usual.
She replies quickly with a LOL ok u keep thinkin that babe as she gets out of bed, before pausing and realising that that probably doesn't constitute enough for Christmas day, and sending another message Also! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! C u later xoxo
Up until earlier in the week, Roxanne would have said she was still getting used to this whole Scorpius thing. They've been friends for years, and she wasn't sure carrying anything on after the ball they went to earlier in the month was going to be a good idea. Jeopardising a good vibe and all that.. but its turned out to be such a good thing. He'd turned up a couple of days ago for a "Day of Birthday Fun" and dragged her into Muggle London - for ice skating and fair rides and an entire day of laughter and madness. Scorpius had taken her for dinner and the waiters sang them both a Happy Birthday song whilst they stood on their chairs and danced like idiots and all Roxanne had given him for his was a box of her favourite WWW goodies. He'd seemed pretty excited about the fireworks inside, at least..
She grins at the giant stuffed monkey now taking over half her room as she walks passed it on her way out to the shower. They're protecting her new broom, which is extravagant and acts as both a Christmas and Birthday present from her parents. Roxanne thinks about just how many attempts winning the thing had taken Scorp - and the look on Fred's face when she'd brought it home too. He loved it, she could tell, but he didn't say anything of course. Not when it was just two of them in the house: dad, working; mum, travelling back to care for their grandfather, feeling guilty enough about leaving him alone for 5 days to celebrate her daughter's birthday and an early Christmas with her family. He was too stubborn to come live with them, probably too ill to make the journey even if he wanted to too really - and it left their family at this strange impasse. Dad unable to leave the shop, mum unable to leave Bubba for any real length of time.
Maybe, Roxanne thinks to herself, she should have offered to go back with her for the rest of break - but mum didn't let her go back in the summer so she hadn't bothered to ask again this time. Besides, it would have meant no sleepovers (birthday or otherwise) or Christmas or New Year's Eve with the Gals, and she'd needed those.
The house is still eerily quiet when she's done with her shower. Her dad definitely enjoying one of his few lie ins of the year, her brother most likely out flying somewhere. They'll all see each other at the Burrow for dinner, that's how this usually goes.
Roxanne checks her quiv once she's mostly dressed and her make-up is done, grinning because of course Lucy is already at the burrow. excellente she types back altho i swear im still hanging from the other night. b there in 5 xoxo
Her mood instantly lighter just knowing there's good company ready and waiting on the other side of the floo, Roxanne grabs her bag and her new broom, throws on this year's jumper (she, Lucy, and Rose always get matching ones and this year its yellow so as to not to seem linked to any of their houses - Gran always thinks these things through) and heads towards her favourite thing: people.