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 parchment in Zoë's hands was starting to get crinkled, being folded up and taken out and worried in her hands so often, every time she thought of a new bullet point to write down. And she was thinking of them a lot, now that she was spending most of her time alone. The fight with Rodrik had ruined everything--their friendship, their schedules, Zoë's self-esteem. She was quieter than she'd ever been, sitting at the back of class with her shoulders hunched over, trying to sink down in her chair.
And the thing was, even after it all, she missed Rodrik. It seemed impossible to believe that seven years of friendship had all been a lie. She needed to talk to him, to find out what he had really been thinking. Because maybe some of it was true, that she didn't like the idea of growing up, of becoming stale and boring and leaving behind all of her friends, but that alone couldn't have made him as angry as it did.
She knew it had something to do with his brother. But that, too, was a hard topic to bring up, because just like she'd told him, she couldn't solve grief all on her own. Especially when it wasn't even her own grief.
That was where the parchment came in. She took a page from a notebook, and every time she thought of something else she wanted to tell him, she made a bullet point, before she could forget what she wanted to talk about. That way it wouldn't turn into yelling again, wouldn't turn into picking at each other's insecurities, the way that only people who knew each other really well could.
The page was starting to get full, although Zoë knew that her own large handwriting was half the problem, but it had accumulated what seemed like a pretty good list of topics. She had paused on the lawn to sit down and add apologize for my mother when the distant blaring of bagpipes reached her ears. Over the last two weeks the only times she'd seen Rodrik were the couple of classes they shared--they'd even avoided each other at meals, which Zoë had done her best to participate in for about a week before she'd realized that if she ever wanted to address the problems, she'd actually have to speak to him again.
She could do it now. The paper was full. Rodrik was easy to find if she just followed the noise.
Picking herself up off the grass, she trudged toward the sound of the bagpipes, raising her voice to be heard over the droning.
The pipe of his instrument was vibrating against his lips as it emitted a low, long, droning noise. It was a sorrowful tone, fitting for the grey October afternoon. The only other accompaniment Rodrik had were the sounds of waves crashing against the lake shore and his own breathing.
It was the middle of October and he had picked up his bagpipe for the first time since that faithful day in August. Rodrik loved the bagpipe and cherished the memories of his grandfather teaching him how to play, but his eldest brother absolutely loathed the instrument -- mainly because he was never any good at it. As life had it, both of these men Rodrik held dear were named Vaughn, and, when his brother's death was so fresh in his mind, he had felt like he would be soiling his memory by playing the instrument.
But it had been two months since that, and Rodrik's world had, if not turned upside down, then it had become rather skewed. He'd gotten in massive arguments with his brother Damian, then his former best friend Zoe, and then his father to boot, too. And while he could patch things up with Damian in time, and father's fussing about the arranged marriage was not going to be tolerated anymore, it was the loss of Zoe that hurt the most out of all of it.
Why? Because it was his fault. He'd taken out all of the bitterness he had acquired over the last few months and poured it out on her, in the middle of the common room, voices raised and hands wildly gesturing about, with no sense of tact. No, he had just went and made a scene in the most public place possible, if you didn't count the Great Hall.
The last two weeks had been strange, to say the least. They avoided each other. Rodrik pretended Zoe didn't exist, never looking down, using his height to try and block her out of his sight. At first it was out of bitter stubbornness, but after a week or so it was more out of awkwardness.
He missed her. But how did one even begin to patch things up after...that?
He'd come out here, by the lake, seeking comfort in his bagpipe, playing one of his favorite tunes, or, rather an exercise that helped him sustain his exhales for a longer time, producing monotone, uninterrupted notes that could be heard all the way back in the castle.
To his great surprise, someone approached him, but, rather than asking him to stop the wailing, as some had in previous years, it was...Zoe.
He stopped playing, the last note still hanging in the air for a couple of seconds and turned to her, looking down at her, not knowing what to say. Meanwhile, the waves kept crashing against the shore, reminding him that time didn't stand still.
"Hi," he finally got out, his voice sounding terribly small and quiet for a man his height.
"Hi," Zoë answered, as if she hadn't already greeted him. "Yeah, uh--I had some things to say." She slipped the parchment out of the pocket of her jacket, unfolding it yet again. "Sorry for reading off this," she explained, an apologetic smile on her face, "I just didn't want to forget what I wanted to say--I didn't want to yell again." She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, looking up at Rodrik. He had always been so much taller, even from their first year, but in the past couple years he'd really started to tower over her. Normally it didn't bother her, but now, well--she was hoping it didn't make him look at her like she was a little kid.
"First, I wanted to apologize for yelling." She looked down at the scribbled words, recalling what she'd been thinking about when she wrote them. "It didn't help the situation, it only made you more upset with me. I don't want to do it again." It was hard not to yell sometimes, Zoë thought, especially when people said offensive things, and Rodrik had definitely hurt her. But Rodrik wasn't like some Slytherin boy who she had to flip off for hitting on her one too many times. Now, maybe she would have the chance to explain to him, calmly.
"But next, I want to explain why I got upset," she said, gripping the parchment tightly. "You called me stupid and childish and you said you wished you never met me." She looked up nervously, half expecting Rodrik to yell and tell her that was exactly what he thought after all. "And I felt bad, because I wanted to help you, I always did, but I'm just a person, I can't be there all the time. I have to sleep, and eat, and take care of my own emotions, too." Her breath puffed out. "I don't wish I never met you. I missed you, really, and I worried about you. But I can't--I can't help you if I get insulted. It'll hurt me, a lot."
All Rodrik could do was just stand there, hands wrapped around his bagpipe, clutching onto it, just to give his hands something to do as Zoe spoke to him. She'd written out an entire apology and all, far more than he had ever expected from her. Truth be told, he hadn't expected much from her, perhaps several months of silence and then an attempt to slide back into his life as if nothing had happened, or, perhaps she would begin to antagonize him, but... Not this.
This was the grown-up thing to do, this was what Rodrik should have done. He should have done it first, because... As much as Zoe could be careless and a little air-headed now and then, he had been far too harsh.
His jaw clenched as he noticed the anxiety with which Zoe looked up at him as she repeated the things Rodrik had yelled right before leaving her in the middle of the common room, and he swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to do with himself. Did he sit down on the grass? He sure felt like he needed to sit down, but then again, the grass was wet and cold and then Zoe didn't have a seat either... And then part of him wanted to play the bagpipe again, to try and focus his thoughts, but would she take offense to that and think he was ignoring her? Rodrik was at a loss, and he was sure it showed in his expression.
"I..." he started, but his voice got stuck somewhere in his throat, so he quickly lifted up his bagpipe and blew in it, producing a few long, low notes, his brows furrowed both in effort of playing and thinking at the same time.
"I was too harsh and unfair." He finally said after a minute or so, placing the bagpipes on the ground and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders pulled up. "I..." he could feel his throat clenching up again, and a prickling pain by his eyes, "I... I missed you too, Zoe."
Wide brown eyes watched Rodrik play a few notes on the bagpipe, nothing that sounded anything like a song to Zoë. The few seconds that it took felt like ages, the parchment beginning to crinkle in her hands again as she waited for a response. After a few stuttered starts, finally, finally Rodrik said something, admitted that he'd been too harsh, and Zoë let out a relieved sigh.
It was going to be hard to forget the things that Rodrik had said to her, and Zoë wasn't sure if she ever really would forget it, the icky feeling in her stomach when he'd said he never even wanted to be friends in the first place.
But he had admitted he was wrong to lash out, and that was a start.
"Thank you," she said quietly, smiling slightly. "It means a lot, because I still--I feel really bad about myself." She wondered if maybe she should give him a hug, like she had in the train, although she thought it might be much too soon for that sort of thing. It had helped him then, but he probably didn't want a hug from her now.
"And I have more to say, too." She looked down at her paper once more, at the scrawled lines of things she had deemed important. "I understand why you might think that I'm childish, but the truth is that I'm just scared about what will happen to me when we graduate." This year, the constant talk of exams, exams, exams wasn't helping that at all. "I won't see my friends anymore, I'll be dealing with my mum poking me constantly about marriage and children, and--I don't even know if there's a job I would like to do." The last time she'd been forced to think about it, at the time she'd been picking her N.E.W.T.s, she'd shrugged, dodging all of the Head of House's questions before just telling him to pick her five best O.W.L.s. And now she still didn't know any more.
"And, speaking of my mum, I'm sorry for her, too." Zoë sighed, looking at the ground, remembering how Rodrik had used the engagement she hated more than anything to attack her. "I wish she didn't interfere. She ruins so much." A lump was gathering in her throat again, and Zoë willed herself not to cry.
Rodrik stood there, hot tears streaming down his face as he tried to swallow them down, without much luck. He couldn't say that he hadn't intended to make Zoe feel bad about herself -- that would be a blatant lie from his side, one that nobody would buy. He had meant what he had said to her -- about her not taking things seriously, but after a few weeks of thinking it over, or rather, overthinking it, he had figured out about a hundred other ways he could have gotten his point across without screaming and attacking her like he had. But what was done was done, and now all there was left was to pick up the pieces. The question was if those pieces could be glued back together?
All of Zoe's worries were far too real, far too raw. Rodrik hadn't had the time to wallow in stress about what he would do after graduation, he'd been too consumed by his grief, but now that Zoe brought it up...
"We're in the same boat, I guess," he shrugged before trying to wipe his nose in his shoulder, "Or, similar boats, if you don't want to be in mine anymore. I've not a clue about what I'll do after graduating. Haven't really felt like I will get that far for the last few months," a half-hearted chuckle followed, trying to make the mood of the sentence more self-depreciating than downright suicidal.
Then Zoe brought up her mother, and Rodrik cleared his throat, trying to straighten his back. "Your mother won't be ruining anything between us anymore," he spoke, "Right after leaving you I might or might have not sent a couple of howlers, calling it quits. Wasn't the best idea, but... Eh."
"Are you kidding me? That's the best idea you've had in years!" Zoë couldn't help a grin sneaking onto her face, even if she was still sort of mad at Rodrik for calling her all those things. "Look, if me arguing with her for the entire summer didn't do anything, it was time to bring out the big guns." Not that Zoë had ever seen a gun in real life, but it was a figure of speech, right? "I mean, it wasn't like it was ever going to happen anyway, but the more we argue, the less she'll try to push us." That was probably a big chunk of the tension in their friendship as well--the fact that, whenever they were in front of their parents, they practically had to pretend like they hated each other, just to stop them from talking about what a good match they'd make.
"I mean, it's not going to stop her from trying to hook me up with whatever pureblood boy she can convince, but maybe it'll stop your parents from trying." She was well aware that the main reason the Belangers had agreed to it was money, and to be honest--if she did inherit money, she was pretty sure she could give some to Rodrik anyway. That was what friends were for--helping each other.
"So... does that mean you don't hate me anymore?" Zoë's voice got quieter, the grin fading from her face. "If she isn't forcing you to be around me?"
Seeing the wide grin on Zoe's face made a wave of relief wash over the boy, his voice shaking as he laughed briefly at her enthusiasm, even though the tears kept rolling down his cheeks.
"Oh, I told them we only pretended to not like each other," he explained, putting down his bagpipe on the ground and using the sleeves of his old jacket to clean his face, "I told them the truth. In so many words that I'm never saying yes, and if they ever tried to marry us behind our backs somehow, my family wouldn't see a dime from the money -- I'd spend my part on something that my father would really hate, and I'm sure you wouldn't waste a moment to do the same. And," he stopped, taking a few moments to get his breathing steady, "I know my father is defeated, he agreed to drop the entire thing. I think he was going to drop it anyways because of what happened with-"
The name of his brother got stuck in his throat and Rodrik quickly averted his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Come on, Rodrik, you have to learn to live with it. You can't break down every time you even think of him. Get it together, man.
"What with Vaughn," he finished, chewing on his bottom lip.
"And I've never hated you, Zoe," he continued, though the words didn't come easy. All those scenarios he had thought of had been wiped from his mind at a moment's notice. He wanted to apologize, he did, but if it all went back to how it was before, if she would continue being the way she was, this would happen again, he knew that, too.
"I just," he stammered, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders pulled up, "I got really frustrated with, with everything. I'm really tired of feeling awful, and everything riles me up, and I took it out on you, which was wrong of me. I.. I can't really explain it anymore than that. I'm... I'm sorry, Zoe,"
The tears resumed to pour out at an increased rate, and Rodrik dropped down to the ground, crossing his legs and burying his face in his hands, his entire upper body shaking as muffled sobs escaped his mouth.
Rodrik was laughing and crying at the same time, which definitely worried Zoë a little bit, but at least that was more normal for him than yelling. It still didn't answer quite yet whether she should be relieved or not, and she worried a lip between her teeth, chewing at a piece of skin that was beginning to peel off in the cool fall air, while she listened to Rodrik speak again.
"I mean--you don't have to not give him anything, we don't have to get married for that." Logically, Zoë knew that this wasn't the issue at all, that Rodrik must be just as frustrated with his parents as she was with hers, but it had always felt a little weird that she had a big empty house when Rodrik had to share a room with all his brothers. She didn't want him to suffer--she just couldn't possibly marry him. It was a nightmare so vivid that she'd seen it even in a Boggart, twice.
She played with the cuffs of her jacket, short, half-bitten nails digging into the soft leather, as she sorted through her emotions. When he said that he never hated her, she really hoped she could believe it. It had been such a shock to hear it, to hear that their whole friendship had been nothing, and yet once it had come out it was hard to make it go back to the way it was before.
"I'm glad," she said, finally. "I don't hate you either." She tucked a lock of blue hair behind her ear, although it immediately fell back around her face. "I know it's been really hard. But--you'll make it through. That's why you have me, and all your other friends." She offered a small smile. "Would a hug help?" It was weird, again, to be all huggy, but hey, it seemed to be good for Rodrik.
Those words should have been like healing salve to Rodrik's heart, but all they really did was make his sobs become louder, guilt washing over him with every wave he could hear in the background. Her words were taking their sweet time getting to him, and Rodrik didn't even quite register his own answer to Zoe's offer for a hug -- but moments later he'd wrapped his arms around her, sitting up on his knees so that he could bury his face in her chest as she patted his hair.
While he wasn't convinced he could make it, her words did remind him that he wasn't alone. There was Lyuba and Grace, and Hugo, and Damian -- at least, he hoped that Damian would still want to talk to him, though Rodrik didn't even know where to start patching things up with him. And at this moment, most importantly, there was Zoe, even after all of this.
And maybe he had needed this -- destroying everything he held dear and building it up from the ground. The world would never be the same as it was, not after Vaughn. But, moving forward, Rodrik had to be more careful about this destruction, because he'd almost lost Zoe, and losing her again... That would be that last time, he was sure of that.
