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!
Between you and the setting sun you're doing the best you can do
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Post by ASKOLD PANIN on Jun 23, 2019 11:02:51 GMT
The last Saturday of November came with a herd of gray cloud sheep and a lazy breeze for a sheepdog. The large snowflakes slowly floated down, towards the sleepy town of Hogsmeade, as a reminder for people to fire up their stoves. One by one in the early morning hours, columns of smoke raised up - grass for the cloud sheep.
One of the windows had been lit up by a yellow flame even before the sun decided to come out. Nowadays, the Hog's Head Inn was a place of bustle and hustle - not the criminal kind, mind you. No, workers went back and forth with furniture and materials, and at least once a day a loud boom came from the building, followed by strings of swear words in several languages. Today though, a sheltered booth had sprung up by the front door. The light blue curtain was shut, shielding the booth from curious eyes and the playful wind.
At around 8 in the morning, the front door flung open and a man walked outside, bending over backwards to put his platter of pastries on the booth while keeping the door open with his foot. He was wearing a white t-shirt, black pants, fuzzy blue slippers and a black apron, and all of it was covered with hand prints of flour. For a while he ran back and forth, carrying platters and muttering under his nose whenever he slipped on the pavement, until most of the booth was covered. Then he emerged with a samovar made of polished brass, set it on the booth and opened the curtain.
Rows of golden-backed pirozhki lay on a silver platter next to a large bowl of pryaniki. There were vatrushkas and zephyrs, and a plate with a stack of pancakes, all with labels of names and ingredients, so everyone would feel a bit safer trying something new. The samovar was steaming lightly on top of its own platter, surrounded by boxes of tea bags and plastic mugs. The baker disappeared into the inn to prepare another batch.
Askold had been working since four in the morning, trying to prepare as many pastries as he physically could. A week ago he had distributed fliers inviting people to come and visit the new Inn. One of the fliers was currently on the kitchen table, serving as a coaster for a forgotten mug of peppermint tea. It read:
The Hogs Head Inn Trade your worries for a cup of tea!
I, Askold, invite everyone who feels like attending, and even those who don't, to visit the new Inn a week before its opening. There will be hot pastries and tea, a warm fireplace to sit around. Let us all take a moment to step away from our daily troubles!
When: Last Saturday of November, from 8:30 Where: In front of the Inn What: Food and drink. (Bring your own mug just in case!)
He didn't expect a lot of people to arrive, but it was best to prepare more than not enough. He could always gift them to his workers later if anything was left over. Askold still had half an hour and three different batches in the stove - the young man didn't have time to change his clothes or keep an eye on what was happening outside.
and i'm calling for my mother/as i pull the pillars down
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Post by NADEZHDA KAREVA on Jun 24, 2019 0:57:39 GMT
If there was one thing that Nadya could identify in a second, it was the scent of Russian pastries wafting through the air. This was the last thing she had expected to smell in Hogsmeade that day (clearly, she had ignored any flyers that might have been pinned to the Slytherin noticeboard), but she was not about to ignore that for long. Suddenly she was transported back to holidays as a young child, when Papa had spent all day baking pastry after pastry, while Nadya and her sisters played the game of "who can steal the most food from the table before we actually sit down to eat?", a game that Nadya had been quite proud of being good at, having the lightest steps out of the three girls. She probably still did, now that she thought about it...
She inhaled deeply before locating the source of the baked goods, a booth directly in front of the door to the Hog's Head. It took a bit of self-control not to run over and grab the first pastry she could reach, even though her stomach rumbled a little at the sight of so many pirozhki. Pulling her bag around her shoulder to dig inside it, she grabbed the little pouch where she kept her money, glad to still hear the jingle of several coins inside. She still needed to buy presents for her family with the money inside, but that could wait for now, with the tables of golden happiness spread out in front of her.
The man at the booth was unfamiliar, and she took a second to consider him before approaching. An apron covered in flour--he must have baked all this himself!--and slippers outdoors, something she was sure her own Papa would shake his head at her for. Was he new in the village? She clutched her pouch in one hand, walking over to him. "How much would it be to get one of everything?" No, she had to bring some back for Lyuba, too, in case she didn't find the booth. "Or two of everything, actually?"
Post by GRACE LONGBOTTOM on Jun 26, 2019 12:53:34 GMT
The Hog's Head Inn was being renovated and honestly, Grace was excited to see what the new inn held. Was it going to be a bit cleaner and more pleasant than the old inn had been? She certainly hoped so. In the past, she had often avoided it in favour of The Three Broomsticks, but unfortunately The Three Broomsticks just got so... busy and full of rowdy students. It could be a bit overwhelming at times, in all honesty, and having a quieter yet still lovely place to sit down, read a book and have a cup of tea at sounded like a dream.
Straightening her thick woolly jumper, Grace headed over to the booth set up in front of the inn, her eyes lighting up as she saw the many pastries and tea, as well as a familiar face from Hogwarts. "Hi Nadya... bit chilly out, isn't it?" she said, greeting the girl with a smile before turning to the man standing behind the booth. Merlin, he was... young. Very young, and covered with flour, and... well, cute. He was cute too, enough to make her a little nervous. "Hi, um... I... I brought a mug, and I wanted to buy some pastries as well, but I'm afraid I don't really know how to pronounce the names of them... and I really don't want to mess them up and offend anyone or sound silly because I can't, um... say the names of them properly."
With that particularly awkward ramble over, Grace bit her lip in an effort to make herself stop talking before she made everything worse, and before she made an even bigger fool of herself in front of Nadya or this man. Goodness.
I will tiptoe down that line but I will feel unstable
Mara was a master in disguise when she needed to be, it was a skill she picked up in Egypt when she was trying to get by there. Her father funded her travels sure but she worked for her food, she worked for everything else. All he could do was make sure she was free to go wherever she pleased until she could return home safely. Knowing him he was still looking for a cure.
The brunette was dressed as one of Askold's construction workers and grinned a bit as she was seated a bit away from the people entering. She was doing this so she could get easy access to food and Askold promised he'd help. The girl drank from her water since she wasn't the type to consume alcohol and looked at the two girls entering the bar.
Just relax, they don't know who you are.
"Thanks again mister Sutherland." she told him quickly before letting him attend to his guests.
And while you are sitting indoors waiting for the storm to pass I will be outside dancing in the rain
❧
So his buddy bought the dreadful Hog's head and Kiernan never said no to a drink though he would really start questioning himself if he ever said yes to tea, he would be there for his friend. The Irish quidditch player made his way to the bar, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looked around the place noticing so far a construction worker and two students being present.
"Hey Askold!" he called from the door and waved as he passed the girls by. "Excuse me ladies, you look amazing today." he said with a sweet smile before walking past them to greet his friend. "Wow look at the place, it doesn't look like death anymore!" he joked a bit and nodded at the construction worker.
"They doin a good job huh?" Kiernan asked him and smiled. "How have you been bud?"
Between you and the setting sun you're doing the best you can do
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Post by ASKOLD PANIN on Jul 1, 2019 10:03:15 GMT
All this running back and forth with platters and other hot objects was taking a toll on Askold, and the young man wanted to sit down for a moment, to catch his breath and enjoy the fruits of his labor. Alas, his blue slippers were soaked, a bunch of piroshki had their ends burned and he'd gotten pastry batter on his glasses. Yes, he was a wizard and it would take him mere seconds to deal with it all, but he was too busy to think about it. He didn't have time to wave around his wand when he had to salvage his last batch of pastries! He'd become so engrossed in his work, he had forgotten that he wasn't the only one inside the unfinished Inn.
Sitting at one of the tables was a construction worker. Or, at least someone who looked like a construction worker. In truth, it was Mara -- an unfortunate sixteen year old werewolf. It wasn't safe for her to be in Hogsmeade with all the aurors skulking around, looking for anyone they could grab by their shirt collar and lock up instead of dealing with the root of their problems. Back in Russia, Askold had made waves in the wizard community when he campaigned for the rights of werewolves. He had been contacted by a few people outside of Russia who had relatives in need of help, and Mara's father had been one of them. His daughter and a friend of hers had been hiding in Russia, and with the public's discontent towards werewolves growing, he had inquired if Askold knew of a way to safely transport the two out of the country. Now, in Scotland he'd been asked to help Mara out once more, this time with food and other supplies, before she set out on her way. He'd promised to help in any way he could.
As he scooped out a few burned pastries from the stove, the girl's voice torn him out of his consideration of the benefits of eating coals. For a second he couldn't understand why she was thanking him, his brows furrowed above his stained glasses, but then he spotted a figure moving towards the entry, signaling that it was time to rush outside and attend to his guests.
"One moment, please." He told the construction worker, before starting to open every single kitchen cabinet door, looking for a brown paper bag. He muttered curses underneath his nose as every door opened something -- pans, mugs, plates -- that wasn't the bag of supplies. Finally, the very last door held the treasure. A bag filled with cheese, wholegrain crackers, a jar of strawberry jam and a small box of sugar, a bag of peppermint tea, plastic boxes with pickled vegetables in them, a few hygiene items and a pouch of coins. The bag had been enchanted to not tear from the weight. He set the bag in front of the girl, offering her a warm smile.
"Here is your, uh, payment," Askold said, trying to play along with her disguise, "I'll see you again next week?" Then he leaned in closer and reduced his voice to a whisper. "If you want to rest before leaving, you can go to my room. If there is anything else you need, leave me a note."
Straightening his back, he patted her shoulder with a hand covered in flour, "Have a safe journey, and don't be late for your next shift." He...Wasn't the best actor around, but he was almost sure that whoever was outside couldn't see or hear them anyways.
The first figure outside the window had been joined by another one, and Askold didn't have time to linger around. He made his way outside, his wet slippers leaving puddles behind him. He was met by two blondes, both looked about the same age as Mara, and Askold felt a cold hand grasp at his chest. He couldn't imagine how Mara must be feeling, being next to the castle and being unable to see her friends or even let them know she was alive and well. The baker didn't have much time to linger on these thoughts and be sad, he had visitors! He'd promised to listen to their worries, not burden them with his.
His arrival had drawn the attention of both of the girls. One of them had very light hair and a pale complexion, and there was something oddly familiar about her, but Askold couldn't quite understand what it was. The other one, with hair like hay rather than sand, seemed a bit uneasy and out of place. They were united by one thing -- they both asked Askold how much they had to pay.
"Pay? I..." He was confused. He'd intended it all to be for free, even the fliers had stated it, right? Right? He pulled the flier he had in the pocket of his apron and his eyes skimmed over it, as he mumbled the words out loud. As he got to the end of it, he closed his eyes before laughing at himself.
"Kак всегда1..." he sighed, looking at the girls. "My apologies, I've forgotten to write that it's free. Please, treat yourself! My name is Askold, and this here is a samovar," he began, pointing at the brass contraption, and continued with an explanation of how to use it. Then he quickly went over the pronunciation of all the pastries, but before he could finish, the door behind him opened and a very familiar voice greeted him at full volume. He spun around as quick as he could while wearing a pair of slippers, and a huge grin appeared on his face.
"Kiernan Stevens!" he exclaimed, opening his arms for a hug, but quickly backtracking on the thought -- he was still covered in flour, after all. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at training camp? Or is the season over?" He inquired.
Kiernan Stevens was a professional Quidditch player...from Ireland. And he was 6 years younger than Askold. The story of how they met was quite simple - when Kiernan's team was having a friendship game with the St.Petersburg team, Askold had signed up to be a volunteer at the event as a favor for a friend of a friend. He'd gotten a pass for the after-party and ended up saving a drunk Kiernan from being tricked into giving an interview for the local tabloids. They'd become fast friends after that, and Kiernan had been great help at planning Askold's escape from Russia. That was the long and short of it.
"Now, now, Kiernan, don't fluster the girls, they won't pay attention to my pastries with you around!" he laughed, taking off his glasses to finally clean off that dot of pastry dough that had managed to become stale. "I've been okay, we can discuss my life in detail a bit later. If you're here, could you take over for me for a moment? See that circle of stones?" He pointed at a snowed-in formation some feet away from the road and the building. "Could you clear it out while I change my clothes? I want to light a bonfire there."
"Girls, I leave you in his hands," he said to the two students before rushing inside to get a clean change of clothes.
and i'm calling for my mother/as i pull the pillars down
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Post by NADEZHDA KAREVA on Jul 11, 2019 4:15:44 GMT
At the first sound of not only that familiar accent, but perfectly pronounced Russian words, Nadya's hands flew to her face in delight. She had never been the kind of person to squeal in excitement, but if she had been, she probably would have at that moment. Now she could remind herself of childhood every time she came to Hogsmeade, with just one bite of these pastries. And all for free, today--she'd have to restrain herself from piling as many as she could into her bag. It was better to eat them while fresh, she reminded herself, and restrained herself to take only what she and Lyuba could eat quickly. And a cup of tea as well. She had no teacup, which was a shame, but she took one of the plastic cups next to the samovar, carefully pouring the hot liquid into it, both her hands and her heart already feeling warmer.
"Я из России," she said, as the baker started to walk away, speaking to someone who had just appeared at the door of the inn. Before he could leave, she needed to ask him where he was from, why he was here! "Меня зовут Надежда." But he disappeared into the door, seemingly before he could hear Nadya speak, and her face fell a bit. She turned to Grace instead while she waited for him to return, pointing out her favorite items on the table. "They're all Russian!" she said, her eyes sparkling with a rare animation. "My Papa makes most of these for holidays. It's like Christmas already." Grace, she felt, could put up with a little bit of enthusiasm--it was usually the other way around with them. Nadya raised the cup of tea to her lips, taking a sip of the warm liquid. A content smile settled on her face as the tea cut through the chill of the air outside.
(what she says in Russian is: I'm from Russia, my name is Nadezhda.)
Post by GRACE LONGBOTTOM on Jul 11, 2019 5:41:11 GMT
The man, Askold, looked absolutely befuddled as Nadya asked for one - no, two of everything and Grace said she couldn't pronounce some of the names in order to buy anything. After pulling out a piece of paper, evidently reading over it, he suddenly proclaimed that it was free. "Oh, gosh. That's... that's very hospitable of you, Mister... uh... Askold," she said, although admittedly it felt a bit strange to call someone at least a decade older than her by his first name. She didn't even call her friend's parents by their first name, it felt a bit rude. Not that he was old enough to - well, actually, maybe he was old enough to have children. What a delightful life they'd have, surrounded by such delicious pastries all the time! Grace wasn't game enough to ask if he had children, but it did make her wonder...
She was drawn out of her thoughts all of a sudden as a familiar-looking, tall man emerged from the Hogs Head, exclaiming that she and Nadya looked 'amazing.' It was kind of him to include her in his compliment, even though Grace didn't agree. Compared to Nadya? She definitely didn't look 'amazing.' "I think that's... that's some Quidditch player. Plays for the, um... orange team... the Chudley Cannons, I think," she murmured to the girl with a smile.
Looking up after Askold had greeted the man, Grace tried her best to smile but really, found herself awfully overwhelmed because gosh, he was most definitely handsome and it was enough to make her start wringing her hands in front of her. As she was 'left in his hands,' Grace only just managed to get out a soft, "Hi."
Then Nadya was excitedly sharing and pointing, exclaiming all of the pastries were 'Russian' and Grace's eyes light up because wasn't that exciting? "That's wonderful! Do you, um... do you have a favourite, Nadya? One you think I should try first?" she asked, before placing the mug she'd brought from home on the table and fixing herself a steaming hot cup of tea. "That... um, Mr... er, Askold. He spoke another language before... was that Russian as well? I mean, I guess... if it's Russian food, it would make sense, wouldn't it?"
Kiernan coming to a thing like this was surprising as he was often portrayed as a celebrity with no time on his hands but truth be told, he never listened to his managers. Kiernan came and went where he wanted to come and go without anyone being able to tell him otherwise. Now this opening was important to Askold and so it was important to him, it was important for Kiernan to support his friends and not let his status as a quidditch player get in the way of that.
As he hugged his friend ever so briefly, Kiernan just flashed him a smile. "Nah, family wanted me to come home for a bit but a man can only stand so much arguing before it gets annoying you know?" he said with a shrug. Kiernan didn't really want to get into his family situation at a good day like today. His smile remained when Askold mentioned the girls and he quickly turned to look at them before looking at Askold again.
"Oh but you know how rude it is not to compliment a woman Askold!" Kiernan would never let an opportunity to compliment women pass. Kiernan looked at the place where Askold wanted a bonfire and took off his jacket. "You got it my friend." He nodded and looked at the two girls. "Sorry I don't speak Russian but feel free to take some pastries." he told them and started lifting some of the stones away from the spot Askold wanted to light the fire.
Kiernan just got to work and just felt glad he was a big guy who could easily lift things. Sure he could've used his wand but what was the fun in that? He hummed softly as he worked and waited for Askold to return.
The text in the white is a bit of a pun, because if you put the emphasis on the second word in a different place, instead of "Torture" it means "flour"
...Nobody here understands russian.
As Askold started to speak about all the different types of baked goodies that lay on his table, one of the girls, the paler one, became more and more excited, with her hands covering her mouth and eyes twinkling with delight. She must really love Russian cuisine! The other one thanked him, and he offered them both a wide smile before proceeding to talk about his trusted samovar. Then Kiernan had barged right in like rain from clear sky, and Askold had been whisked away from the girls.
He patted his friend's shoulder when he mentioned his family. Askold wasn't aware about all the ins and outs of it, but if Kiernan ever needed someone to listen, he'd be first in line. "Either way, I'm glad you're here."
When he opened the door to go inside, one of the girls called out to him... In Russian? He hadn't quite heard what she had said, but there was no denying that it was his own language. His chest swelled up with a kind of joy that only a homesick heart knew. It put a spring in his step and a few minutes later he'd already changed his whole outfit, exchanging his stained clothes for a knitted gray sweater, a pair of padded blue jeans so his bottom wouldn't freeze, leather boots and a mink fur ushanka with its ears tied up. And, as he hurried out the room, he grabbed a pair of blue, knitted mittens.
Askold wasn't known for his fashion choices.
He went back outside and immediately noticed Kiernan, who had taken off his jacket -- it was December -- and was moving snowed-in rocks with his bare hands -- it was December -- causing Askold to audibly snort and mutter 'Showoff' in Russian. The girls were lingering by the pastry booth, both holding steaming plastic cups and chatting quietly. After a brief moment of indecisiveness, Askold decided to approach the girls. Kiernan can show off for a bit longer if he wished to freeze his hands.
"So, have you tried anything yet?" he asked, clapping his hands together as he took his place behind the booth. He turned to the paler girl and opened his mouth to start a conversation, when a realization hit him -- he should have brought out some chairs for them!
He hurried back inside, grabbed a pair of padded pine wood chairs and carried them to the front of the booth, placing them down and patting on the light blue fabric that covered the seating, urging the girls to get comfortable.
"Where was I..." he drawled as, once again, he returned to his booth. Was there something else he was forgetting?
"You're Nadezhda, right?" he asked the girl who had been so excited about his pastries. "I didn't expect to meet anyone from home here. If you don't mind, I'd like to speak English for now? Don't want to exclude your friend here." he explained, once again smiling, this time towards Grace. She struck him as the nervous type, and he wanted to make sure she was comfortable. After all, he had invited them to trade their worries with him.
"What's your name? And how are you both? I hope you're enjoying the tea!"
and i'm calling for my mother/as i pull the pillars down
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Post by NADEZHDA KAREVA on Jul 26, 2019 3:10:23 GMT
"Yes, he was speaking Russian. Only a couple words, but I'd know that anywhere!" Nadya sipped at her tea again, studying the table to figure out what she should recommend to Grace first. "If you want something savory, you should try the pirozhki--" she gestured at the little filled buns-- "or if you want something sweet, the zephyrs. They're sort of like marshmallows, only even better." Nadya, for herself, picked up one of the pirozhki, biting into it and realizing how freshly baked it was, possibly even warmer than the tea in her other hand. It was so soft that she could practically believe she was eating the dough plain, if the bun wasn't so hot.
It might have been the best Hogsmeade visit she had ever had.
While she ate, too excited to be graceful, and with her mouth a bit too full to continue speaking to Grace, she watched the Quidditch player dragging stones around. He seemed nice enough--he had complimented them--but he wasn't what Nadya was interested in. Where was the Russian-speaking man?
As if on cue, the door opened once more, and Nadya shoved the rest of the bun into her mouth just in time to give the man a smile. "Yes, I've had a pirozhok already--" and he had disappeared again. It was only when she was seated in a chair and he seemed to be firmly standing behind the booth again that she started to speak.
"Nadezhda, yes. Are you from Russia? I can't imagine you could speak without an accent if you weren't!" She wrapped her hands around the tea, hoping to keep her fingers from freezing in the cold air. "I'm well. Looking forward to Christmas."
Post by GRACE LONGBOTTOM on Aug 1, 2019 2:32:06 GMT
Grace had learned through their little run in at the greenhouses that Nadya spoke Russian, and so it was wonderful to see just how enthusiastic the other girl was over meeting another Russian-speaker so close to Hogwarts. "Perhaps you can ask him to have a cup of tea with you later, a bit more privately. I'm sure you'd both have so much to talk about," Grace said with a smile, before taking in all the suggestions Nadya threw at her. Gosh, so many options. But right now, the 'zephyrs' were calling her name. She had a bit of a sweet tooth, so much so that some nights she made her tea so sweet with honey that it was like a dessert. Leaning over, Grace took one of the zephyrs and bit into it, eyes widening in delight as the marshmallow-like taste flooded her mouth. "That's delicious."
Eyes drifting over to the Quidditch player once more, Grace wondered if perhaps he was a bit too cold as he shrugged his jacket off. Merlin, he was... rather fit, but didn't he need his jacket on? It was December, and she'd hate for him to freeze. "Maybe..." she started, before trailing off and going quiet. He'd already gotten to work, lifting and moving the stones about. The muscles in his arm worked and well... he was older, right? He'd put a jacket on if he got too cold. "I hope he doesn't get frostbite," Grace murmured to Nadya and Askold, as the older man returned.
Then she was nodding her head enthusiastically at Askold's question of trying the pastries because, "I have - " but then he was gone in a blink of an eye, returning a split second later with some chairs. How kind, going to all that effort. Sitting down, albeit a bit stiffly, Grace started smoothing her thumb over the handle of the her mug, trying to find something to do with her hands. She felt a bit awkward, due to the whole... new social situation, new cute people, new... well, everything. She just felt out of place, especially as Nadya and Askold launched into a conversation about Russia. Maybe she needed to excuse herself, let them have their moment... she didn't want to intrude, making them feel like they had to include her...
Vaguely, Grace heard Askold say the words 'don't want to exclude your friend' and looking up, she was about to say, 'no, no, it's okay. I should go,' but then he asked her a question. Forcing out a small smile, she said, "I'm Grace... some people call me Gracie, or... or my last name, but you can just... call me whatever you want to. I don't... I'm good. I'm... I tried the zephyrs, they're delicious. Did you make them? I like to bake too, but... but I suppose I really only make the standard English baked goods like scones and muffins and pies. I... I don't really branch out, other than that." By Merlin, she needed to stop talking and so Grace lifted her tea to her lips, swallowing a great big mouthful because if her mouth was occupied, she couldn't speak and make things worse, right?
