Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future Sunday afternoon
The newscaster wrapped up the report on a minor river troll rampage and moved to a tiny bit of business news before the segue back into music:
"Enterprising mums are getting the hop on the back-to-school season by doing their shopping a bit ahead of the crowds soon to be swamping Diagon Alley. Shopkeepers report their early August sales receipts are up 5 percentile points from last year."
"And the perfect soundtrack to accompany all your summer fun is just around the corner — a little birdie has slipped the WWN the latest from the Weird Sisters! We'll be bringing it to you before it hits the shops, right after these messages."
It's only forever It's not long at all Lost and lonely That's underground Monday, August 7 to Tuesday, August 8 .::. In the dark of night
The Queen stepped unseen from the shadows at the border of the camp when the werewolf left. His frustration and anger was almost palpable; it truly was a shame she'd not get to tame it following this trip.
But there will be other harvests, Maev thought with a philosophical smile.
This one would have to be cut short — dislodging the fae would be a simple thing, if only the castle dwellers knew, and now that the wizards were roused it was no longer prudent to rely upon their ignorance.
But the fae could afford patience, though it chafed her.
The decision was made. They would leave tonight, with such prizes as they'd gleaned from these fields.
Puzzling evidence Done hardened in your heart It's hardened up your heart. Monday, August 7 • Evening
They'd dropped in at Hogwarts so Izabel could pick up her birthday presents from some of the staff staying over. At first it had just been Vera, but then Madame Sprout had entered the room, followed shortly by McGonagall. Remus had quickly made his excuses and left the ladies to their chat — it didn't take more than one arch comment followed by giggling for him to decide a quiet sitdown by the lake would be more his speed.
That had been about three-quarters of an hour ago, or thereabouts. It didn't matter over much — he was content to sit and listen to the wind, and it was good for Izabel to see her friends.
The thought of taking her away from them still didn't sit easy with him.
A few ripples disturbed the surface of the water; Lupin tossed one of the biscuits he'd stuck in his pocket before leaving the impromptu hen party to the giant squid.
There were children in the village. Aeval liked to sneak away from the tents and walk through the streets of the village, smiling and speaking to the children. They seemed to be fascinated with the stories she told, the little tricks of light and sound, and the Unseen which brought trinkets and tokens. Aeval was equally fascinated by them.
It was extremely rare for Aeval to remember the time before she'd joined the Fae. Those memories only seemed to return once in a blue moon, and then only as vague wisps of recollection that faded with the first breeze. But since they'd journeyed to the Mortal Lands, these ancient memories had begun to seep into her thoughts more and more often.
Come with me. My garden needs tending. ~ Poison Ivy
Monday, July 17th ~ Late Afternoon
Aeval had found a small patch of lawn far enough away from the tents that the noise would not bother her, yet near enough that should her Queen need her she could respond in a timely manner. The unseen ones had brought a small rug for her to sit upon, and Aeval had done just that - leaning back on her arms to raise her face to the warmth of the sun.
Someone had come from the castle, and Aeval turned to look at the man walking in the direction of the forest. He had a small basket with him, and seemed to be walking with a purpose.
Standing quickly, Aeval moved to join him with a ready smile. She had not been formally introduced to the castle Potions Master, but she knew of him and could recognize him easily.
Be the best, prove them wrong A winner's work is never done Tuesday, July 11 ~ Morning
The Queen had listened with interest to the reports of all her people from the garden party and their other outings. Finvar and Vasily had such fascinating details to impart — and Stigg and Aeval did not disappoint, either.
Sprites readied themselves to deliver on a moment's notice; Maev was ready to dictate a few notes.
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name Friday, July 7th ~ Afternoon
The grounds of Hogwarts had never looked better. Pomona Sprout was in heaven.
The hedges had been trimmed and were bristling with pride, the songflowers were trilling softly in the breeze, the creeping vines had twined up onto the tables and were gently offering passersby cups of punch or tiny trays of appetizers.
She had never once in her life doubted that Hogwarts was fit to receive royalty, but to have it confirmed ... Oh! She nearly glowed.
The guest list had grown a bit in the planning. It was a once in a lifetime event, after all, to see the faerie-people and of course to see the castle grounds in the summer. Luckily, Minerva hadn't seemed to mind.
Everything, thought Madame Sprout as she looked around the mingling crowd, was simply perfect.
Even I can be wary, sometimes. No, really! Thursday, July 6th - Early Morning
It was good to be back home. Seamus was actually glad to be back in Hogsmeade, because, as exciting as Ireland could be, nothing beat a real bed, a roof above his head and a real bathroom.
After taking a good long shower, he'd decided to take a walk and see if anything new had happened while he was gone.
He found himself heading towards the park, as if a few weeks in Ireland's deep forests hadn't quenched his love for nature. Whistling merrily, he walked aimlessly until he noticed two strange looking people. Is there a carnival, these days, or something? And what are they doing next to the well?
His curiosity pushed him and he walked briskly towards them, something nagging in the back of his mind. The closer he got, the familiar they became, even if familiar probably wasn't the right word for it.
Midsummer's Festival Saturday, June 24th ~ Early Evening
"This is Anastasia Witherpool, live in downtown Hogsmeade where the Midsummer's Festival is well under way. People are crowding the streets, vendors are out offering their - "
A slight scuffle is heard over the air, ending in Anastasia muffling a curse and muttering about her foot.
"Rita Skeeter here. Voting for this year's Litha Queen is still open and remember, every vote counts some more than others so be sure to come out and vote for your favorite candidate. Someone you know and trust, someone you would welcome into your homes every evening during her segment on the nightly news. Someone, for instance, like me?"
-back that microphone, woman, before I -
"Ezekiel Brunderbluss, back at the WWN studio once more. We seem to be experiencing some technical difficulties with our live broadcast.