The Garden

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 06:15:44 GMT

Who: Tom and Minnie
Where: the room of requirement, I'm guessing.
When: eight o clock

Minnie stood in front of the tapestry at eight o clock sharp, never one to be late. As much as Tom freaked her out, she was still incredibly intrigued by him. He was charming for some reason, and he had this way of making you think he could read your mind. It was unnerving, but fascinating. Minnie was always hesitant to get to know him better, however, since there was something about him that didn't seem right.

Of course, that feeling obviously didn't extend to her learning more about the castle. And she figured if he tried anything, she'd be fine. She could take care of herself, after all.

You think it's cool to be crazy.

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Tue, 04 Aug 2009 06:22:03 GMT

WHO: Olive Hornby and Alfred Potter.
WHAT: Alfred is attacked by books, and Olive comes to his rescue.
WHEN: Evening, first week of school.
WHERE: Library.
STATUS: Incomplete.

Despite the fact that she had intentionally ignored Alfred on the train, Olive found herself missing his company. After being annoyed to death by his attempt at ignoring her back, she had convinced him to give her another chance, and he responded by telling her he was trapped. And Olive, whose imagination was probably far too odd for her own good, believed that he really was trapped. And ever the hero, she had raced to the library to save her best friend from the tower of books that seemed to have ensnared him.

“Fredo!” She shouted, disregarding the fact that shouting in a library was practically taboo. After getting shushed by nearly everyone in the library, she raced through the shelves, loudly whispering his name while knocking every poor soul that happened to be in her way to the side.

But Alfred was no where to be seen. She brought a hand to her forehead rather dramatically, and sighed, letting herself fall back against the bookshelf behind her.

“I’m too late!”

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 19:18:14 GMT

Who: Everyone
Where: Platform 9 3/4
When: September 1st, 1942

It was a dreary day, which was rather unfortunate since everyone seemed to be proper chuffed to be going back to school. All the students were milling around the Hogwarts Express, saying good by to their families and siblings, hoping they made it out of London safely. The attacks had seemed to stop, or at least platform 9 3/4 had enchantments against it for the safety of the students.

The train whistled loudly and all the students said their final goodbyes, hoping to see their families again soon. When everyone was on the train, it began to leave, a turret of smoke billowing up in the sky behind it as it gathered speed.

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 21:40:25 GMT

WHO Minerva McGonagall and Abraxas Malfoy
WHAT A meet up in London
WHEN 3:00 PM
WHERE Diagon Alley
STATUS Incomplete

After the initial protests of his mother had been eased with gentle assurances and reassurances that yes he was going to be alright, and no there weren’t likely to be any bombings, and he was going to Diagon Alley anyway, which is probably one of the safest places you could be in all of England, let alone London. Abraxas wasn’t sure how true that was, but no good telling his mother that.

“And since you’re going into London,” his father had said, not looking up from his paper, “Do you remember that little puzzle box your uncle gave me?”

His son sighed. “I don’t know. If you’re talking about that one that drives you mad trying to open it and makes you bleed every time you get it wrong, then yes.”

“Yes, that’s right. I had Burke make sure it was all in working order a few months ago and haven’t had time to pick it up. Kept slipping my mind. Go get it. If he hasn’t already sold it.”

“We’ve had that thing for ages. Are you going to give it to someone, father?”

The elder Malfoy gave his son one of those exquisitely piercing, scalpel-sharp ‘mind your own business’ glares that he was so good at. If Abraxas wasn’t used to them by now, it probably would have drawn blood. The next few minutes consisted of the expected drilling from his father. He wouldn’t forget? He would be careful? He wouldn’t touch it with his bare hands? He’d make sure Burke double-wrapped it, and put the necessary protective spells on it just in case? And he wouldn’t forget?

Which is why he was in a hurry to leave, reaching London a full three hours before the agreed upon time. And he’d been overgenerous with the floo powder, snatching a handful and nearly-shouting with all too much enthusiasm “Knockturn Alley”. It made the ride through the fireplace quick, but disorienting. After being spat out into the one dingy pub in the place (the other patrons looked on with mild interest as he staggered out, shaking the ash from his robes, and leaned against a wall until the room stopped spinning), he had time enough to pick up the trinket and browse, and make sure everything was still whole and untouched by the bombs. Not that one would be able to tell very much, in that place. There were parts of Knockturn Alley that were half in ruins as it was.

And then, with business attended to and enough time to order a butterbeer and get himself settled, he made his way out into the light into Diagon Alley proper, and then to the Leaky Cauldron to wait for McGonagall.

we gotta get back

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Tue, 21 Jul 2009 06:19:32 GMT

Who: Minerva McGonagall and Alfred Potter
Where: Alfred's house
When: after this.
Rating: PG-13 just for safety because cursing yes.

Minnie was frustrated, to say the least. She was tired of all the indecisiveness of her two best friends and she was tired of the fact that she always felt some odd sort of nagging feeling whenever she saw Alfred, so she decided quite decisively to take care of it. Yes, that was what she was going to do. She was going to take care of her plan in the most Minerva McGonagall way possible. Head on. She didn't even want to deal with the fact that she was going to spend time with a Slytherin the next day, a Malfoy at that, just to get back at Alfred for making her feel awful. He didn't even know he'd made her feel awful, hence, the decision and the head on.

So, when she rushed out of her room, brushing by her mother quickly, ("Minnie dear," her mother's voice drifted past her lazily, "Where are you going?" Minnie hadn't answered.) to get to her fireplace and throw the floo powder in, she had hardly stopped to think about her decision. She was Minerva McGonagall, and once she made a decision, there was no stopping her. There was trying to stop her and failing miserably and perhaps even getting a little injured in the process, but there was most definitely no stopping her. She flung the powder into the fireplace and stepped in, positively yelling, "GODRIC'S HOLLOW."

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 03:06:14 GMT

Alfred,

Olive and I have decided that you are a SLYTHERIN.

That is all.

~ Ren

I'm always pretty happy when I'm just kicking back with you.

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:35:30 GMT

WHO, Olive Hornby and Alfred Potter.
WHAT, Olive’s making dinner and Alfred has to eat it.
WHEN, End of August, a few weeks before school.
WHERE, Olive’s house.
STATUS, Incomplete.

Olive Hornby was not a cook. Despite the fact that it was the forties and most girls knew how to cook a hearty meal at the age of twelve, Olive was an exception. Her mother was a working journalist with a sick son and had little time to teach the lessons of being a lady to her daughter, especially when she herself didn’t even know how to cook. In fact, the best cook in the house was her father. So Olive learned on her own, and though she wasn’t great, she wasn’t THAT bad, not matter what Alfred Potter said.

“Liam,” She called to her brother from the kitchen, covering her face from the steam rising from the boiling water, “look out for Alfredo, okay? He should be flooing over here soon.” She heard her triplet mumble in acknowledgement and satisfied, went back to her cooking. Already she had been belittled twice; once from her other triplet, Sebastian who claimed that who ever was eating that would end up dead the next morning, and the second from her father, who had taken one look at his boyish daughter wearing a frilly pink apron and trying to cook and laughed.

“I can cook!” She demanded both times, and it had become her mantra as she poured the pasta into the hot water, and began mixing the sauce and prepping the salad. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration, and she was in the zone.

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 04:41:10 GMT

OWLS.

pinkpanther5627@hotmail.com — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 14:22:22 GMT

Attached is A baby blue beret, a matching ascot, and a lovely striped sweater.

Attached is an eiffel tower souvenir, a basket of baguettes, and a picture of a true blue frenchman.