We are a post-Potter roleplay set in 2019.
We have an active character driven plot, a short app and no word count.
It's June 2019 and at the moment, the wizarding world is facing a lot of tension with the werewolf community.
This is a result of anti-werewolf legislation being passed in 2016 after a series of brutal attacks.
Unfortunately, this legislation passing hasn't achieved anything.
Werewolves can't find jobs and without a source of income, this has left a lot of them facing poverty.
But instead of taking it laying down, there's starting to be waves of attacks once more.
How will the Ministry of Magic solve this problem now? Is it too late?
One pack, The Trossachs, have decided that an obvious solution is to no longer be a minority. The more wolves, the better.
Yet another pack, known as The Cotswolds, believe that approach will only deepen the mistrust and ostracism faced by the werewolf community.
Instead, this group, led by an independently wealthy werewolf means aims to educate the ignorant wizarding community and change legislation by winning the support of the majority.
An attempt to capture the beta of the Trossachs has been launched. Were the Aurors successful in their mission? Go read more here!
Isobel knew there were more than a few daggers being glared in her direction. It wasn't like she'd warned her parents before she stepped off the train that she was bringing someone else back home with her. Maybe, despite all of her determination to live her own life, she dreaded the thought of the reaction she would be able to read behind her parents' words, if she were to write to them that they were meant to be picking up Wolfgang as well. They would be kind on the surface but ask too many questions beneath, about how serious they were and if they should be planning to teach Wolfgang about the upkeep on the farm and--
No, she didn't want that. Somehow the shock all at once seemed easier to her. But as she and Wolfgang sat at the kitchen table in the farmhouse, across from her parents, their silence as they set steaming teacups in front of the young couple seemed like it spoke volumes. The shift in weather from summer to winter seemed bad enough without the chill that Isobel felt about the questions she was going to be asked.
"How long are you planning to stay here, Wolfgang?" came Mum's question, then, breaking the ice. "We're happy to have you, but the only bed we have for you right now is the couch." Of course, Isobel thought, she wouldn't want him in mine. How old had they been when she was born--only a few years older than she was right now?
She swallowed before speaking, wishing she had thought to grab Wolfgang's hand under the table. "Not long, actually. Maybe a few days. We--we had a plan for the summer, actually. To spend it together."
If you'd told Wolfgang a year ago, that his first day of summer would be spent in a sheep farm half way across the world, being stared down by a man whose red hair and beard were more akin to a lion's mane than a haircut, and that he'd be trying to coax said man and his family into letting him move in with their daughter, Wolfgang would have thought that the speaker needed to be sent to St.Mungos for life.
And yet that was exactly the situation he was in. He, in all his blue blazer, gel coated hair glory was sitting at the kitchen table, fingers curled around a hot mug, opting to letting his hands be on fire rather than fidgeting with them as his innards and nerve system were having a Cirque du Soleil worthy performance. Isobel was sitting right next to him, alas, that only made him even more nervous. He didn't want to embarass her in front of her parents, he didn't want to make her feel like bringing him here was a disaster in the making. He tried to fake his usual self-confidence, but it wasn't hard to tell that right now it was just an act.
When Isobel's mother spoke up, Wolfgang couldn't help but to swallow hard, his throat going dry the moment his name was called upon. He had a feeling he looked like a deer in the headlights. This was...Way harder than he had expected.
"Yes, exactly," he finally spoke up, nodding at Isobel's words and shooting her a quick glance before continuing, "We would like to move into an apartment for the summer. Back in England." He took a deep breath and tried to turn on the charm. "I am aware that we are of age only by wizard standards, and not muggle, but as I have spent most of my life living as muggle, I am confident in my ability to navigate the paperwork and such."
Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Feb 13, 2020 4:10:36 GMT
With wide grey eyes, Isobel watched her parents carefully, judging their reactions. Perhaps it had been too sudden, hadn't it? And yet the feeling remained: if she'd been telling them about Wolfgang all this time, they would've said something earlier, would've dashed her dreams sooner.
But she knew that when her father stared at the table instead of at them, clearly overthinking whatever it was he wanted to say, that she'd probably made a mistake. It was too late now, though. She opened her mouth to say something else, to try and be reassuring, only for Mum to beat her to the punch.
"That sounds very nice, Wolfgang, but I think you'd find difficulties finding a place to rent. With your ages, and such short notice, and only for such a short time." Just as Isobel had expected.
"Well, we've been looking, but it's been hard, seeing as we've been at Hogwarts all this time, and we weren't allowed to go to Hogsmeade," Isobel explained. Even when her parents had been at school, with the war and all, she couldn't remember them ever saying that Hogsmeade had been banned, but perhaps they just hadn't told her. It felt so much like it separated them from regular society.
"When I was your age I spent a summer here, at the farm, with your father," Mum said. "I understand your desire, but maybe you'd be better staying here? Wolfgang could get a taste of your everyday life." And Isobel thought she could feel her nose wrinkling at those words even as she tried to keep her face neutral. The whole point was to get away from the farm, from the freezing winter and the endless chores and most of all, the isolation. She was sure Wolfgang would never want to be with her if he was forced to live like that.
The tension in the room grew with every shallow breath that escaped through Wolfgang's nose. His brown eyes were pinned to Isobel's mother, darting across her face, never quite looking in her eyes. She wasn't someone the boy would ever deem intimidating if judged by looks alone, no, that title would go to her husband without a second thought. But her words and the way she had taken the reins of the conversation without any hesitation, while her husband just sat there, staring at the table like it was the most interesting thing in the room -- Wolfgang knew who was the real opponent in this chess game.
Of course, she immediately tried to shut them down. The sentiment behind her words, though disguised as healthy and reasonable concern, didn't slip by Wolfgang. She thought they'd decided to move out 5 minutes before this conversation even started, that they were ruled by impulse and "teenage maximalism" as he'd heard some people call it. And, to be completely honest, he was a little bit offended by that. He was more intelligent than that -- couldn't she tell by his appearance alone?
He sat up straight, his jaw tensing as he tried not to grimace while Isobel tried to retaliate, albeit weakly. He opened his mouth to add to Isobel's words, but then her mother had the audacity to offer them to stay at the farm -- to have them trapped in the frigid winter on a lonely isle? After they had spent the last 9 months trapped in Hogwarts?
"If I may," he started, his voice still pleasant and steady, "But the apartment issue has almost been resolved. Pardon me, Isobel," he continued, taking one of Isobel's hands and squeezing it, his eyes turned to her grey ones, trying to reassure her, "For not telling you this sooner, I didn't want to get your hopes up before I had a result, but I've been sending letters back and forth to someone, who is willing to rent us out an apartment." He faced her mother once more, a false smile on his face. "There are only a few formalities left to settle, upon our arrival."
As with many things that Wolfgang said, this was a half-truth. Indeed, he'd been sending letters to a muggle, written on paper with a pen, but he hadn't mentioned anything about their age or that he didn't actually have the money necessary. But now that he was 17, a few flicks of his wand would solve a lot of these issues. What Isobel doesn't know won't hurt her, right?
"As for the rest of the summer -- the plan is simple. I will be getting a job at a muggle retail store, they're always short on hands, while Isobel can spend her time working on her art." He released Isobel's hand and got up from his chair, straightening out the brilliant blue blazer.
"This," he gestured at it, "This was handmade by Isobel, and I am not exaggerating when I say that this is the best article of clothing I have ever owned." Isobel knew how much truth there was behind his words.
Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Feb 17, 2020 16:50:03 GMT
Isobel's eyes flicked to Wolfgang, narrowing slightly. She wanted to ask how, and why didn't he tell her he was talking to people, and was he sure it would work, but saying all those things now would even further convince her parents that they hadn't thought this through. She wasn't sure why he didn't want to tell her what he was planning, not when she would have to live there for two months at least!
But they'd been talking about it for at least two months now, with no change in their desire to try, and she wasn't going to have that argument now. The idea of spending the summer in Britain--hopefully in London, though she knew what the cost of apartments there was, and she wasn't sure that Wolfgang would have looked for that on his own--was still a powerful image. Under the thumb of nobody, not even her grandparents, who she'd spent a couple summers with before.
"A Muggle retail store? Surely you have more ambition than that," Mum said, shaking her head, and Isobel wanted to hide under the table, hearing the intonation in her mother's voice. "I have no doubt Diagon Alley would pay better."
"It's just for the two months," Isobel tried to explain. "Since we're both going back to school after that. We have to finish our exams."
"Or you could stay here for free, as long as you help with the animals," Dad spoke up. If this had been last summer, when Isobel didn't have any sort of plan she needed to convince her parents of, she would have simply rolled her eyes and gone off to her room, but now she had to remain calm.
"I was hoping I could use the time off of school to work on my designs," she said. "It's hard to sew a lot of things in a dorm full of other girls, with classes all the time. I want to have something ready for when I graduate." She could do it here, she knew, but where would she be getting new inspiration then?
Mum clearly thought the same thing, because she crossed her arms. "You've been sewing right here since you were small, I don't know why you have to be somewhere else to do it."
The fake smile that had been on Wolfgang's face during the conversation, the one he tried to use to convince Isobel's parents that he was a good choice for their daughter -- it was wiped off as soon as her mother dared to insinuate that Wolfgang wasn't ambitious. His eyes narrowed, and he tugged on his sleeves, biting his tongue.
"I am well aware that Diagon Alley would pay much better," he started, busying himself with fixing the ends of his blazer sleeves, his voice as cold as the wind howling in the chimney, "But as we are going to be living in a muggle apartment in a muggle neighborhood, I find it to be much easier to earn muggle money, without the involvement of Gringotts." That was the full truth -- he found that the wizard finance system was archaic at best, and why would he hassle with having galleons converted to pounds, and have to pay a fee for the conversion, when he could just earn pounds?
Then Isobel tried to convince them that she needed to get out of the house so that she could gain inspiration, but it was apparent that her parents thought that this desolate island was the best bloody place in the world. In the few moments he'd been outside, all that Falkland's had inspired in him had been depression.
Why would you have to be somewhere else to do it? Wolfgang huffed.
"Can you answer one question? Just one question." he started, his brown eyes pinned to Isobel's mother, frustration mixing with anxiety, "Why are you so adamant on caging her in this house?"
Post by ISOBEL LINWOOD on Feb 17, 2020 18:06:26 GMT
"Because she's seventeen, and so are you." Mum looked incredulous, as if she couldn't believe what she'd just been accused of. "It would be different if you were out of school. You aren't."
Isobel had always seen Wolfgang perfectly polite, smooth-talking, especially to her, and she hadn't expected him to start antagonizing her parents on the very first meeting. She wanted nothing more than to be back at school, laughing on the Quidditch pitch together, certain that the summer would be perfect, spending time together, having all the freedom in the world for one last school break.
"Seventeen is of age," she pleaded. "You and Dad were already together when you were seventeen, I know, and you're still together today. I can know what I want, too."
She could see her mother's shoulders deflating, frustrated. That was the kind of thing she saw when one of the girls was being too stubborn to deal with, and Isobel hoped that the conversation wasn't making her look like the petulant child that she knew she'd often been when she was younger.
"All I've been wanting for perhaps my whole life is to be in London where I actually have a chance to make it in the design world," Isobel said, her voice becoming steadier. "That's really what I want this for. To get a head start. That's all."
"So we should be asking Mia-Rose to take on the farm, then?" Dad asked.
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