With the capture of Verandi Farley and several high-ranking Trossach members, the British wizarding world has finally caught a break. The rate of rogue werewolf attacks have started dropping at a steady rate and, hopefully, things will stay that way. The Ministry is starting to loosen some restrictions, like not arresting werewolves standing on the street for loitering, however there’s still an obvious power imbalance between wizardfolk and werewolves.
The Cotswolds pack are continuing to advocate for the rights of werewolves and petitioning to change the legislation that has been set in motion by the current Minister for Magic, whilst the remaining Trossachs members are trying to stay out of the spotlight and keep a low profile… for now.
Whilst the British wizarding world seems to have calmed down, the same cannot be said for over in Northern Europe where a rebellion of magical creatures has risen. The state of things has gotten so bad that the European Ministry has enacted protocols to protect those under eighteen whilst their adult witches and wizards fight to keep control of their countries.
Students from Durmstrang have been sent to Hogwarts to keep them safe and those not old enough to attend school have been sent to live with relatives or designated British Ministry officials outside of Europe for the time being.
Will the low rates of werewolf attacks in Britain continue? How long will Durmstrang students stay at Hogwarts? Will the creatures usurp the wizardfolk in Northern Europe? Only time will tell.
SEPTEMBER 2019 It's been a very long, eventful summer in the wizarding world. A baby was stolen, several high ranking Trossach members were imprisoned, and werewolf attacks have drastically dropped as a result. What will happen now school has returned?
MAY 2019 An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
The red tongues of fire turned green for a few brief moments, spitting out a cloud of ash as the shape of Ivan Karev formed in the fireplace of the Crooked Wand.
Hope Grimblehawk, his Ministry colleague, had suggested the two meet over drinks for a chat, to break out of the daily routine of mentally exhausting Ministry work -mountains of Howlers and nasty side-eyes of teenagers respectively. Ivan hadn't been exaggerating in his letter to Hope -- he really couldn't recall the last time he'd went out with someone just for fun.
Before heading over to the bar, Ivan had briefly went home to grab one of his old, dusty albums. One of his friends back in Koldovstoretz had a camera and was very keen on taking a thousand photos every day, and upon graduation she had made an album for each of her friends with images from their adventures at school. Ivan thought that this would be a great way to keep the conversation away from the tedious details of work.
His freshly dyed honey-blond hair had been swept back neatly, yet the wrinkles on his forehead and the scruffy beard on his face were tell-tale signs of the man being rather tired. He stepped out of the fireplace, brushing ash of his long, light blue coat and looked around while peeling off his leather gloves, trying to spot the witch.
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Nov 28, 2019 9:34:14 GMT
It was chilly outside, the icy gusts of cold night wind biting through the layers upon layers of clothing Hope was wearing as she strode towards The Crooked Wand as quickly as her heeled boots would take her. Thankfully, it didn't take long until she was pushing into the bar, a small shiver escaping her.
She had always been a bit of a cold frog - back in Hogwarts, in fact, she'd had a reputation for pinching her friend's layabout scarves to try and layer up as much as she could. All these years later, her susceptibility to the cold hadn't changed... though the pinching of scarves definitely had. Now Hope stuffed an extra scarf into her bag whenever she went out, just as a preventative measure in case her warming spells didn't quite do the job.
Glancing around the room, tightening the scarf around her neck, a small smile slid onto Hope's lips as she caught sight of Ivan near the fireplace. He'd floo'ed in, which made sense given how he'd mentioned disliking apparating. It had been a while since she'd last seen him - a few months, at least, with her current position at Hogwarts - and he looked well, albeit... a little exhausted. "I think you made the right choice going with the honey blonde," she said lightly as she moved to step next to him. "White would have washed you out far too much, given you the pallor of a vampire and all." She was only teasing, and the gentle nudge to his shoulder said as much.
He didn't even notice as Hope sneaked up to him. The sound of her voice and the gentle nudge on his shoulder took him aback, making him turn sharply, his blue eyes a bit wide. At the same time he let out a light laugh and smiled at his younger colleague.
"You spooked me, Hope," he admitted, "I think the Howlers do a good enough job of making me pale as it is. But we didn't come here to talk about work, did we?" He stuffed his leather gloves into the pocket of his coat and looked around the bar once more.
"There, in the back, that seems to be an empty booth. Let's go occupy it,"he said, pointing with his hand to a set of empty seats before making his way over there.
"Looking at all the layers you're wearing, I should have brought you an ushanka!" He quipped while offering to hold her winter jacket. "If you don't mind, I'd prefer not to drink anything strong tonight and settle for some tea. Since you seem to know this place, I'd feel better if you'd order. And while we wait..."
He fished out a small photo album from one of his jacket pockets. It was white, with the crest of the school in the middle. The corners of the album had suffered from the hand of time.
"I found something in my archives that I think you'd like to have a look at."
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Dec 1, 2019 10:02:57 GMT
Ivan had a wonderful smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and felt contagious. He always had, and back when she'd done administrative work for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures - a decade ago, she could barely believe it had been that long - his smile was often the only one she'd have directed her way during a work day. Osian had often told her when she used to crawl into bed, crying, that it was because Ivan was a 'good lad' and that the rest of the department were a bunch of 'pricks with broomsticks shoved up their behinds.' By Merlin, she missed him. He had always been there when she'd had such an awful day, felt so isolated and... now she had nobody. She didn't have her husband, she hadn't for ten years now, but the longing for him or Arwen to return to this world never faded.
Before she could get too far lost in her memories, Hope brought herself back to the present. She wasn't here to think of what she'd lost in her life, but to think of what she could gain - a steadily maintained friendship. "You should have a return policy on Howlers. They send you one, you said one back. Maybe screaming the Russian national anthem," she joked, before following his lead to the booth he'd gestured to. He was right, they weren't here to talk about work... but Hope didn't have much of a life outside of work nowadays. She thought of herself as relatively unexciting.
It was much warmer inside, and after shrugging off her winter coat, Hope didn't miss the way Ivan's hands extended to take it. "I wouldn't mind an ushanka but it might be overkill, and I'll ask them to store my jacket out the back," she said, before taking in his order with a surprised raise of her brows. "You're a rare gentleman, Ivan. Most men I know would be overly presumptuous and order for me. I can't tell you the amount of times I've ended up with some floaty cocktail with a little umbrella inside of it instead of wine." Despite the tinge of annoyance in her words, a small smile played at her lips because this? Someone not assuming to know what she wanted better than she did? It was refreshing. "Just a tick."
In a flash of an eye, Hope disappeared over to the bar, at first handing her jacket over before ordering Ivan and herself a pot of tea. If he wasn't drinking tonight, then she'd forgo it too. Returning to the table a moment later, Hope slid into the booth before crossing her legs. "They'll bring it out when it's ready. Crowd's not too wild so it shouldn't be long."
The sight of Ivan pulling out something from his pocket had Hope's eyes darting downwards immediately, intrigued as she caught sight of the crest. "From your time at Koldovstoretz?" she asked, before giving him an encouragingnod as if to say go ahead. She wanted to see what memories it held inside.
Hope's suggestion on a Howler Repelling Strategy had the man laughing with his head thrown back, "I think they'd have me deported before the first verse was finished if I ever did that," he sighed deeply trying to catch his breath, wiping a stray tear, "Call me a spy or whatnot."
His brows furrowed in confusion when she called him a rare gentleman. "One would think England would be the land of gentlemen, but it seems not all is as it...Well, seems." Even after 16 years of living in the UK, sometimes his language knowledge failed him. "I prefer not to make assumptions if I'm not confident about what the other person wants. It's only polite."
He had tilted his head in confusion when Hope had said that she'd put her jacket in the back, and now he watched her walk away to hand her clothes over to the bartender with his head tilted to the side. A short hum of approval and a nod greeted his colleague upon her return as Ivan took off his own coat and hung it up by the entry to the booth.
"I've never seen bars have dressing rooms," he remarked, sitting down across from Hope and placing the album down on the table. His fingers slid over the crest a few times before he opened the album.
The first picture was of a palace, like the one at Tsarskoye Selo. And then the next one was of a young Ivan, barely 12, standing next to a statue of a lion. The boy in the image was waving at the camera, the ushanka fallen over his eyes and the winter coat seeming several sizes too large.
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Dec 3, 2019 6:01:19 GMT
"Perhaps you could use your deportation as an opportunity to invest in a new ushanka," Hope suggested, her eyes twinkling before she continued, "I suppose I'd vouch for you if they decided you were a spy. I'd swear on the Auror's Handbook and all." There was no Auror's Handbook, however... the point still stood. There was absolutely zero chance of Ivan being a spy because what type of undercover agent sent howlers roaring the Russian National Anthem to their enemies?
Ivan looked so confused about being called a rare gentlemen that it actually made Hope's lips quirk up in amusement. "England. Gentlemen. I don't get where that stereotype came from. I mean, if you were a woman and walked the streets of Diagon Alley at night... or even at day, sometimes, you'd understand why that's not true. The amount of times I've had chavs shout at me just because I walked past them," Hope said with a small shake of her head. It never happened when she was in the company of other men, but when she was by her lonesome? All the time. The fact that Ivan was so polite had her wondering it was just an Ivan thing, or whether it had to do with the culture in Russia. Were they all so polite over there?
"Wow. It's so different than the castles we have here," Hope breathed as soon as she caught sight of the palace Ivan was showing her. When the page turned, a smile was brought onto her lips immediately. "You look so precious. Like you've borrowed your dad's coat or something, to try and be like him. Had you started school yet?"
When Hope reminded Ivan, that there were men out there -- far too many men -- that feet entitled to the time and attention to women they didn't even know, his previous giggle fit was wiped away.
"Hm, yes, you're right," he said, "I am in a position where such things are very easy to ignore. " He opened his mouth to continue, but after a few seconds he closed it right back up. Ivan didn't have a clue about what to say -- it seemed absolutely pointless apologizing for the actions of other men; Saying that Hope was completely capable of putting them in their place felt like disregarding the fact, that she shouldn't have to put it up with it in the first place. Instead, Ivan offered an apologetic smile and let the conversation move on.
For a few more moments he let his mind linger on the topic, though. His daughters were all grown up, even the youngest now was turning into a beautiful young woman, and the mere thought of someone hassling his girls made Ivan upset. But that was a headache for later.
He didn't miss Hope's reaction to the first image, and a little flame of pride bloomed in his chest, making him stir in his seat and sit up a little straighter. "Yours are much older, though," he remarked, "this is 18th century style. Similar to the Tsar's palace, it's all really aristocratic and such."
"That actually is my father's coat," he continued, smiling," if I remember right, that first winter break Papa came to visit. I was a sickly kid, so Mama made him bundle me up as we went for a walk."
He flipped over to the next page. The photos here were static and tinted yellow by the passage of time.
"This is me and three of my friends piling into the middle of one of those tree trunks we spoke about," he said, pointing to the first picture. Indeed, four little boys had crawled into the log, with Ivan on the bottom. Little Ivan didn't look too pleased about the situation.
"And this," he looked at the other picture for a few moments, "This...Oh, I remember now! Winter Ball -- they had us all dress like aristocrats, our formal robes look more like soldier's uniforms. They also made us learn how to waltz, but most children don't care for that at all."
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Dec 6, 2019 8:07:25 GMT
"There's some things that are almost... enviable to me that men get to experience," Hope said honestly. Men didn't seem nearly as affected by the constant harassment she dealt with, nor was it automatically assumed that they were more 'sensitive' than the rest of the room. "When I fell pregnant with Arwen, I remember being asked when I planned on coming back to work - if I plan on coming back at all. If I was returning, would I prioritise my baby over the very important Ministry work instead? I... don't think they expected it when I informed them that I'd be taking six months off, and then Osian would be staying home with her." There was an automatic assumption in society that staying home with the baby was the woman's job, and the looks on these old men's faces when she had told them that no, her husband would be, was priceless to this day. Hope had only just barely not giggled when they'd looked at her, then at each other like that.
"They are. Ours are nearly crumbling from where they stand," Hope said with leaning in to take an even closer look at the photograph if that was possible. She'd never been to Russia, and so she wanted to take in everything. "So did they royals live there too, or was it just for the upper class in the 18th century? Forgive me, I don't know much about Russia. I'm just an uneducated Brit." A smile played on her lips, hinting that she was merely joking but... she really wasn't experienced when it came to travelling the world. She'd never had the time to explore outside of the UK, even with the convenience of portkeys and such.
The mention of Ivan's father, then his mother made Hope's heart clench for a moment. She had only been ten when she'd lost her own, and the memories... they weren't so strong after twenty years. "Are your parents still in Russia?" she asked him, wondering if his were still alive too. It was just a more polite way of asking. The next photo had Hope's eyes lighting up with amusement. "Wonderful. Goodness, they really are quite large trees to fit four little boys. I hope the trees didn't take off without your permission."
Eyes following Ivan's movements as he flipped the page, Hope's brows quirked slightly. "Aristocrats... an interesting theme. You all look quite dapper," she remarked, before cracking a smile. "We had to learn how to dance for our balls too. I didn't mind it for the most part - it probably came in handy, actually. I waltzed at my wedding for a minute or two." The tutelage of Professor McGonagall had come in handy after all, as it turned out.
Ivan didn't try to explain why men were like that. He knew it would only come off as apologetic, or, at worst, blatantly patronizing of him. Of course, he couldn't relate to Hope's feelings, not truly, as he would always be a man, not having to endure such nonsense. But he could always learn to be a better father, a better man. A better human. After a long pause, he looked at Hope and simply asked her a favor - to tell him if he was ever acting like an idiot.
Before long they were engulfed in the discussion of days long gone by as Ivan flipped through his old photo album.
"Nothing is forever, nor muggle, nor magic, " he commented, "At first Koldovstoretz was meant only for the elite of the wizarding world in the Russian empire. Anyone lesser was educated by their local herbalist or shaman, depending on where in the empire you were. But in the last century, with the muggle revolutions, the school became open to anyone who could afford to go. They kept to their roots though, as the old elite thought that the muggles and their new ways were obvious degradation." He paused for a moment and looked at the image of the castle once more, "At least that's what they told us."
"You're never too old to learn," he smiled at Hope as he flipped the page.
"Yeah, my parents are still alive. They live in Moscow, seperate though. The whole 'I'm a witch' thing didn't go over well with him, and they divorced...But he came around, as evidenced by the coat." A soft sigh escaped his lips as he continued, "I haven't been in Russia for 16 years now. I'm not even sure where my brother is... But let's not frown, I'm sure he's safe and sound."
"I think this one was from a rather old oak, and it did take off right after we took this picture. We got down all fine though, it was good fun."
"Ah, yes, waltzing. A few years back my eldest, Vera, begged me to teach her. I think she wanted to impress someone at the Winter Ball... Don't know what came of that, but it is not my place to pry...Nadya and Lyuba though... The complaints! Kids these days have no appreciation for the fine art of etiquette." His eyes had crinkled as he spoke about his daughters, smile wide and genuine. And the last sentence was uttered in a mockingly posh tone.
"I'm really not the best dancer out there, but I memorized the basics. In fact, I quite like waltzing. What about you, Hope?"
Post by HOPE GRIMBLEHAWK on Dec 29, 2019 7:36:32 GMT
It was definitely refreshing, hearing a man - or anyone, really - saying that they wanted to know if they were acting like an idiot. "I wouldn't have any problems telling you if you were acting like one, favour or not," Hope told him with a small smile. She felt with Ivan, he had a good handle on his feelings and so approaching him about anything, positive or negative, wasn't intimidating to her. With some people... you had to pick and choose your battles, he wasn't one of them.
"Are they quite purist there at Koldovstoretz?" Hope asked, the mention of 'keeping to their roots' drawing her attention. When she'd attended Hogwarts, there were quite a few purists about but none of which were Professors to her knowledge. "When I attended school, it was right after the war and there were horror stories going around the castle of these two Professors called the Carrows. They were Death Eaters apart of Voldemort's regime - and they used to run 'Muggle Studies' with a twist, which was to tell all the students about how 'horrible' muggles were and - sorry, this probably isn't the appropriate conversation for this venue."
"Oh, so your father is a muggle then?" Hope questioned, before glancing up at the server who appeared next to them, sliding a tray of warm tea and two cups of the table. With a warm smile, Hope thanked them before pouring herself one, gesturing for Ivan to do the same so he could make the tea to his liking. "Are you no longer in contact with your brother?"
Hope let out a laugh at Ivan's overly posh tone as he complained about his daughters not wanting to learn etiquette. "I think it's went out of fashion years ago but, you know, maybe it'll make a comeback like those lowrider jeans," she joked. She had been quite fond of them when she had been sixteen but that had been the style they wore back then. "If you ever see me wearing a pair of them, please do everyone in the vicinity a favour and obliviate them. Nobody should be subjected to seeing someone don those."
"I liked waltzing on my wedding night but I can't say I'd do it now other than for a Ministry function," Hope admitted, taking a sip of her tea. "I'm not opposed to moving about, but dancing definitely isn't my thing. I'd take a krav maga class any day."
It was chilly outside, the icy gusts of cold night wind biting through the layers upon layers of clothing Hope was wearing as she strode towards The Crooked Wand as quickly as her heeled boots would take her. Thankfully, it didn't take long until she was pushing into the bar, a small shiver escaping her.
