#bradford pendleton iv

[lifeofkaze]

Tokens of Love

A very Merry Christmas to my favourite person from across the (big) pond, my most relentless cheerleader, my friend with the incredible, unstoppable mind, and the life story I still hope to one day get told in all its glorious and unbelievable-but-true detail.

Thank you for another year of creativity and friendship, for letting me be part of your creative process, thank you for taking care of my brainchildren while yours are playing at my place. None of this would've been the same without you @kc-and-co.

Merry Christmas. I love you dearly 💛🎄💙

“Why is this not working?”

The impatient voice of Carolyn Pendleton rang through the abandoned rooms of Pendle Hall. Her husband Brady had taken their children for hot chocolate and biscuits after decorating the family manor, so no one was there to witness her plight - no one but the old house-elf who tentatively poked her head inside Caro’s workroom.

“Is the Lady Carolyn alright?”

Caro sighed, pressing the fingers of her gloved hand against the bridge of her nose. Her dress was wrinkled, her hair a frizzy mess from the dampness in the room. After checking her recipe book again, she threw it onto the work table with an irritated noise.

“Mitze, why is this not working?” she repeated her question, this time directed at the startled house-elf.

“Mitzie is ever so sorry, but she doesn’t know anything about potions.” When she advanced the bubbling cauldron anyway, her big eyes widened even further as she recognised the pale yellow liquid bubbling inside. “Is Lady Carolyn brewing eggnog?”

“This is everything, but certainly not eggnog,” Caro replied stuffily. She eyed the cauldron darkly. “I really don’t know what went wrong this time. I tried all possible combinations, rations and light conditions, yet I can’t seem to get it right.”

“But Lady Carolyn doesn’t enjoy eggnog. Why is she going to such lengths to make some?”

Caro sighed deeply. “It’s my husband’s drink of choice on Christmas Eve. He is always so very attentive with his gifts, but I have a notion that he took no pleasure from what I gave him in the past.” 

“Master Brady would adore even the most trivial thing if it was selected by his lady,” Mitzie assured her, but Caro shook her head.

“He doesn’t deserve trivial. He deserves the best.” She glanced at the old house-elf bashfully. “He used to love your eggnog growing up. He never tires of telling me how he stole a goblet full when he was but a boy and fell asleep beneath the Christmas tree.”

The memory made Mitzie smile. “Master Brady had to be levitated to his bed before Master Bradford would have found him. He was a sweet boy.”

“He still is,” Caro agreed with a slight smirk, “even if he’s all grown up now.” 

“The Masters never really grow up,” Mitzie said with a sheepish smile. Kneading her gnarly hands, she peered up at Caro. “Does Lady Carolyn require Mitzie’s help?”

Caro blinked in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”

“Because Lady Carolyn isn’t the only one to hold affection for our good Master Brady.”

“It is supposed to be a gift. Having you assist me would feel like I was cheating.”

“But Master Brady will never know,” Mitzie replied innocently. When Caro nodded after a moment’s hesitation, she clapped her hands in delight. “The Lady is too kind to old Mitzie.”

With a snap of her long fingers, the fire burning beneath the cauldron went out, making Caro’s brows draw together in irritation.

“First rule of Mitzie’s Extra Eggy Eggnog - no magic allowed.”

“But whyever not?”

“Eggnog needs to be made with love,” Mitzie said and summoned a fresh batch of ingredients from the crate at their feet. “And also, it is not cooked. Now Mitzie would humbly ask Lady Carolyn to put down her gloves and listen.”

After overcoming the initial qualms of accepting the house-elf’s help, they made good progress. Caro continuously relaxed as Mitzie guided her through the recipe, and not only because of the prolonged stage of finding the perfect mix of spices.

“Does Lady Carolyn know why Master Brady loves Christmas so much?” Mitzie asked as Caro bottled the finished eggnog, her words followed by a little hiccough. “It was the only time Master Brady could express himself, even if furtively. He was a good boy, so very different from his father. It was a source of grief for Master Bradford. He didn’t want his heir to decorate the halls and ice biscuits. 

“We house-elves let him do many a thing that was forbidden when the Master and the Lady weren’t looking. Mitzie once had to burn her ears because Master Bradford caught Master Brady wrapping gifts. But he enjoyed it, so Mitzie thought it was worth it.” She thoughtfully rubbed at the burn mark on her ear. “Christmas allowed Master Brady to be who he was instead of who he was expected to be, and he never forgot about old Mitzie and the others.”

Caro nodded her head. “You raised him to be a good man.”

“Master Brady deserves everything good in this world.”

“He does. And, Mitzie?” Caro added as Mitzie was almost out the door. “I -”

“It’s alright, Lady Carolyn. Mitzie knows.” 

***

The Pendletons spent Christmas Eve singing carols by the enchanted pianoforte Brady’s cousin had gifted them, sharing the feast the children had helped the house elves prepare, and sitting by the fireplace watching the candles glitter on the gigantic Christmas tree. 

After the four children had finished their hot chocolate and had passed out on the sofa, Caro leaned back in her armchair with a sigh.

“Finally,” she breathed, brushing a blonde lock from Cressida’s little face. “I nearly feared they would never tire.”

“Did you do anything different, my love?” Brady asked, smiling affectionately at this son, who had fallen asleep over the pages of his book. “They did seem more resilient than last year.”

“They grow so quickly. It messes with the doses,” Caro replied, rising to her feet to put away the bottle of Sleeping Draught she had kept hidden in the sleeve of her dress. She returned to Brady carrying two glasses of port wine. As she handed him one, he sniffed it, shrugging apologetically when he saw the look on Caro’s face. 

“Only making sure it’s without extras.”

Caro wrinkled her nose. “Do you really think me capable of drugging you?”

They looked at each other for a moment before touching their glasses together with a laugh. Both of them sipped on their wine, the comfortable silence only broken by the crackling of the fire. Presently, Brady rose to his feet.

“I know it may be early, but I simply cannot wait to see your face any longer. And don’t tell me I shouldn’t have. I won’t ever resist spoiling you.”

From behind his back, he pulled out a present. It was clad in emerald green wrapping paper, with a ruby satin bow and a twig of holly stuck on top. Caro raised an eyebrow at her husband, her scepticism fading into a chuckle as she read what he had written on the card in broken Swedish; even after all these years, he pretended to have a poor grasp on the language, and for his amusement, Caro made a point in playing along.

The soft expression on her face fell away as soon as she undid the bow and opened the gift. Inside was a jewellery box, the most intricate one Caro had ever seen. It was fashioned to look like a cauldron, its silvery sides engraved with intertwining vines and flowers. In the middle of each flower, tiny emeralds were set, gleaming and glinting in the flickering firelight. The vines climbed the sides of the cauldron onto its lid, joining together at the centre and forming a single blooming rose. Caro touched her finger to it and raised her eyes to Brady.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered reverently and swallowed hard, “and entirely too much.”

“Nothing could ever be too much for you.”

“Where did you find this?”

“Nowhere. I had it made, especially for you,” Brady smiled, visibly satisfied with himself.

Suddenly feeling like she couldn’t speak, Caro set the silver cauldron on the side table. With an abrupt motion, Caro rose to her feet and strode to the window. It was dark outside, so all she could see was her pale reflection, the ruby earrings Brady had given her for her birthday gleaming in the light. A moment later, Brady’s image joined her.

“Have I done something wrong?” 

“You have not.” 

“Then what is the matter?”

His voice and touch were gentle as he laid a hand on her arm, but Caro shrugged him off.

“You can’t ever seem to do wrong,” she said hotly, glaring at her dumbstruck husband. “You always ensure Christmas is perfect - the perfect feast, the perfect decorations, the perfect gifts.” 

Bardy laughed as she gestured at the silver cauldron sitting innocently on the coffee table. “Are you complaining about finding my gift to your liking?”

“Of course it is to my liking!” Caro called out. “How could it not be?”

“My apologies, but in that case, I can’t seem to find the issue. Come,” he added with a soft smirk, “let us see your gift. I bet my cauldron will pale in comparison to the newest silks from Paris.”

“Bradford Pendleton, don’t you dare mock me,” Caro hissed, wiping the grin from Brady’s face.

“It wasn’t my intention. Oh, very well, it was,” he admitted after a moment. “But surely your gift is going to be marvellous. What is it?” 

Caro pursed her lips. She was a potioneer, not a cook, but even so, she knew that her eggnog was far from what she considered passable. Mitzie had told her it was fine, but Caro had seen her tinkering with it in an seemingly unobserved moment.

“You’re going to see tomorrow,” she decided eventually and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“That’s hardly fair.”

“If you decide to give me my present early, it is hardly my fault.”

They argued back and forth for a while until Caro threw her hands in the air. 

“Godric, fine. I’m going to get you your present.”

She watched Brady apprehensively as she brought the eggnog bottles inside and handed them to him. A flicker of surprise passed his face, followed by a somewhat astonished smile as he lifted one of them from their basket.

“You got me some eggnog?” he chuckled. “Now, this is a surprise.”

“I didn’t exactly get it,” Caro said, hating how warm her cheeks felt. “I made it.”

Brady almost dropped the bottle. “As in, by yourself?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Caro replied, secretly glad when Brady decided not to answer. Instead, he conjured two fresh glasses and popped the bottle open.

“Let’s put your skill to the test then, shall we?” 

He poured them some eggnog, and even before she tasted it, Caro knew it wouldn’t be good. The consistency had changed overnight, more so than she had expected. The cream-coloured liquid looked clumpy, not at all like she knew it to be from previous years, but if Brady noticed, he didn’t let it show.

“This is quite delicious. Who knew you’d have such undiscovered talents in the kitchen?”

He was lying, and both of them knew it. What had been a reasonably well-balanced taste the day before was now too strong on the brandy, with too much clove and too little cinnamon. Brady, who knew how to read her silence, sighed.

“Come now, it’s not that bad.”

“‘Not that bad’ is quite different from ‘delicious’, don’t you think?”

“It’s a technicality.”

“It is not,” Caro said and rose to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Before Brady had a chance to say something, Caro stalked from the room. She already was in the process of removing the last of her hairpins when it knocked on the door, and Brady cautiously stepped into their bedroom.

“Has your temper worn off?”

Caro glared at him, even more so when he set the tiny cauldron down on the dressing table. “Why did you bring this here?”

“Because this is where I meant for you to put it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Whyever not?”

Caro sighed. “Because it’s beautiful.”

Brady tilted his head in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“What is there not to understand?” Caro said, angrily flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Your present is better than mine.”

“Giving gifts is not a competition. It’s -”

“If you continue this sentence with ‘the thought that matters’, I’m going to poison you for real.”

“- the thought that matters,” Brady finished anyway, “and I think you making eggnog for me was very thoughtful.” 

“But you don’t deserve thoughtful. You deserve the best, and this was not it.” Caro sighed in frustration. “Every year, you go above and beyond to spoil me, but I simply cannot compete with you. I love making you happy, but your unique way of giving gifts… it’s just not me.”

The words had tumbled from her mouth in a rush. Caro pressed her lips together once she was done, but Brady only shook his head at her.

“I know it’s not you, and that’s why your effort is all the more special to me. I never would have expected you to put on an apron without poisonous splatters to make eggnog for me.” He paused. “You did put on a fresh apron, didn’t you?”

Caro’s glare was piercing. “Who do you take me for?” 

Not quite sure what to make of her answer, Brady shrugged it off. “It was your own idea, and how could that not make me happy? You do so every day. I would never want you to change, especially not for me. So if that means I’m going to get an overpriced, dull -”

“They’re not dull at all!”

“- scarf or hat for the rest of my life, it’s perfectly fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Caro insisted. She pointed at her jewellery box, which was stuffed to the brim with all the elaborate pieces Brady had given her over the years. “All of these you either selected or had made for me, but there’s nothing I have ever done to compare, and it doesn’t even stop there.”

She stood up, marched past Brady and returned with a big box she set on the bed. The silk paper lacing the inside rustled softly as she took off the lid.

“Look at all these things,” she said to a wide-eyed Brady. “Here’s the very first sketch you ever made of me when we barely knew each other; and here, the leaflet from the ballet in Moscow, where we danced on the snowy street after; the postcard you bought in Central park from that Muggle and drew all the little fairies in for William to find; the rose you pressed after I helped you brew Amortentia because you fool nearly failed at Potions…”

She took a deep breath, indicating all the things she had just mentioned and the many more still lying in the box. 

“You show your love so openly and kindly while I can’t bring myself to care for all these little things. Sometimes I hate you for being so disgustingly perfect in that regard.”  

“Good gracious,” Brady breathed. “I don’t think anyone ever called me that before.”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not, I promise,” Brady said, sitting beside Caro on the bed. “But how can you think that you’re not caring? You kept all of these things and never said a word. Some of them not even I remember anymore.” He picked up a token from the Ferris wheel they had visited in Paris. “I shouldn’t be surprised you and your remarkable mind memorised all of this. You are like our family’s extended archive.”

“You really think so?” Caro asked quietly, leaning against Brady’s shoulder as he pulled her closer.

“I do. This is a roadmap of what has shaped us, and I can’t wait to discover what’s next for us.” His lips pulled into a smirk. “And if it makes you feel better, I can always exchange the cauldron for cooking lessons.”

At that, Caro leaned away from him and raised her eyebrows. “Don’t push your luck.”

“What to say?” Brady laughed and flipped the token into the air. He caught it, pressed a kiss to it and placed it into Caro’s hand. “I’m a gambler at heart.”

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #bradford pendleton iv #carolyn nyberg #bradlyn #christmas 2022 #merry christmas kate

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 36

A/N: the night of the ball has finally arrived, and Ophelia is determined to make the most of this opportunity.

Warnings: Ophelia’s usual antics, plus fake-dating trope gone wrong.

OCs featured/mentioned: Carolyn Nyberg, Selene Fraser, Alan the ferret and Henry Lovecraft @lifeofkaze, Bradford Pendleton, Ivy Anders, Oliver Gerard and Eliot Gerard @kc-and-co, Adelia Selwyn @thatravenpuffwitch, Marigold Sterling and Cledwyn Ironwood @that-scouse-wizard, Victoria Summer @whatwouldvalerydo, Primrose Gray @endlessly-cursed, William Devlin and Maxwell Pembroke @unfortunate-arrow, Lydia Ellis @mjs-oc-corner

May 1897

The night of the Celestial Ball had arrived at last, and it was everything Ophelia had dreamed it would be. The Great Hall had been transformed into a grand ballroom, with the tables vanished to make enough space for people to dance, and a large obelisk in the very middle. Even the enchanted ceiling appeared more star-filled than usual, as if the very sky knew that this night was going to be one where something magical might happen.

Ophelia observed the scene from one of the seats that lined the walls of the Great Hall. Carolyn, Adelia, and Marigold were all on the dancefloor; Caro with Bradford Pendleton, Adelia with Teddy Ellison, and Marigold with Lydia Ellis. All three of them looked beautiful in their dress robes, and were the very pictures of poise and grace as they danced with their suitors.

The Slytherins were not the only ones who were looking and dancing exquisitely. Hufflepuff’s Ivy Anders flashed Ophelia a wide and friendly smile as she paraded past on the arm of Maxwell Pembroke, while Gryffindor’s Oliver Gerard and Victoria Summer appeared to be saving their smiles for each other. Primrose Grey from Ravenclaw was among the best dressed, smiling as she danced with her fiancé William Devlin. Ophelia felt a pang of jealousy. It was not fair, really. Primrose’s parents had picked out a wealthy suitor for her as a child, and she did not even need one. She clearly had enough money for pretty dresses and dance lessons without one.

As for Ophelia herself, she had managed to magically alter the dress her mother had bought her for birthday so it looked brand new and far fancier and more fashionable than it was in reality. She had arranged her newly blonde hair very prettily and applied a subtle amount of Marigold’s rouge to her cheeks in order to accentuate her newly green eyes. But as of yet, no one had asked her to dance with them.

It was peculiar; she looked as close to being beautiful as she ever would, and the stage had been set perfectly for her to showcase that, but somehow, she still found herself waiting in the wings. She had so many potential leading men, but she had yet to become a leading lady. Sitting to the side of the dance floor next to the wall, she may not have even been part of the ensemble. No, she was merely a piece of the scenery.

She was trying to act as if nothing was vexing her - after all, no gentleman would want to dance with a lady who did not smile nicely - but she was finding it increasingly difficult to not show how disappointed she was by this turn of events. Still, she was able to force a smile as Carolyn approached her, Bradford at her side, the two of them having retired from the dancefloor.

“Ophelia, are you not dancing?” Caro asked her, and Ophelia shook her head. “Why, has no one yet asked you?”

“No, sadly not.”

“Now, that simply will not do. You must have a dance,” said Brady. Ophelia looked at him hopefully, but his eyes had started to scan the dancefloor. “I’m certain that we can find someone to dance with you. Let’s see… Ah, just the person. Jim, old bean!”

At the sound of his name being called out, Jim Hexley walked towards the group. When he reached them, Brady etched around to clap him on the back.

“Jim, my friend, we have a young lady who wishes to dance and has no partner to dance with, and I see that you appear to have misplaced your dance partner.”

“Oh, well, I… I have not misplaced her. That is to say, I am quite certain of where she is. Over there, look.” Jim pointed in the direction of the refreshment table, where his twin sister Ethel was drinking pumpkinade with her own dance partner, Cledwyn Ironwood. On her other side, Selene Fraser was intently listening to something that Eliot Gerard was telling her.

“I take no joy in being the man to deliver this news to you, old chap, but it would appear that there are three of you in this partnership.”

“Yes, but then that… that has been the case since the beginning of the evening.”

As Jim spoke, the small, minky-furred body of a ferret climbed up over Selene’s shoulder and came to rest there, a small bow tie tied around its neck. Brady guffawed, Jim chuckled, and even Carolyn’s lips twitched a little.

“So, what do you say, Jim?” Brady asked, once he had finished laughing. “Fancy a turn about the room with Miss Burke here?”

Jim cleared his throat before nodding his head. “Uh, yes. Of course. It would be my pleasure. An honour. I… Ophelia, would you like to dance?”

Ophelia considered the offer. Jim Hexley was not the sort of wizard she had hoped to dance with. He was a decent enough fellow, but not at all wealthy. Still, one had to start somewhere, and everyone knew that a gentleman showing interest in a woman was sure to garner the interest of other men. So, she took Jim’s proffered hand and accompanied him to the dancefloor, where the couples had just begun to dance along to the polka music being played by an unmanned orchestra.

“I am afraid that I… I am not the best dancer,” Jim apologised. “Ethel and Selene did teach me - or attempted to teach me, I should say - but their efforts, I fear, have been in vain.”

“Do you think that is why Miss Fraser has set her sights on Eliot Gerard?” Ophelia asked. Jim shook his head. His face looked somewhat saddened. “Are you upset by this snub?”

“No. Not at all,” Jim almost smiled. “Selene and I are just friends. Perhaps more like family, with how close she and my sister are.”

“Then why do you seem downhearted?”

“It is nothing. I mean, I am not. I… Well, I had wished to accompany someone else tonight. I am sorry.”

“That is very well. I had wished to accompany someone else, as well.”

“Really? Who?”

“No one in particular. Just someone of status.”

“I see,” Jim nodded slowly, frowning. “I feel that I must be a disappointment.”

“It is better than dancing with no one at all, is it not?” Ophelia asked him.

“I am not certain that I agree. I… It seems to me that the more dances one has with others, the more one misses the company of the one they truly wish to dance with.”

“Well, maybe if the one you wish to dance with sees you dancing with another, she will find herself wishing that it was her you were dancing with and miss you in return.”

Jim looked thoughtful. “That is what my sister said. But so far, Héloïse has barely looked at me.”

“Does she know that you and Selene are only friends, and that Selene has also been accompanied by her ferret?”

“I… I do believe that she does.”

“Then perhaps this is why your sister’s plan has not worked. Say, I have an idea,” said Ophelia, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “A ruse, one which will allow us to help one another. If we each appear to be enjoying the other’s company as we dance, then other wizards shall wish to dance with me, and… Héloïse, did you say? Perhaps Héloïse will take notice of you at last. What say you?”

“It is as good a plan as any, I suppose,” Jim sighed. “How… How should I act towards you.”

“You may start by smiling,” Ophelia told him, and Jim laughed quietly to himself. “See? You are doing quite well already.”

They smiled at one another as they danced, barely talking. Jim did not seem to want to talk much, seeming to be too preoccupied with counting his steps to attempt to hold a conversation. Eventually, though, he asked her:

“Is it working? The ruse?”

“I think it is, yes,” Ophelia said. She looked around her at the boys at the edges of the hall. Several were looking at her, including Henry Lovecraft, who was watching the scene with the little dark-haired, dark-eyed girl at his side. “Héloïse is looking at us.”

“She is?” Jim’s eyes brightened. He cleared his throat. “Is she… What is she doing?”

“At present she is talking with Henry Lovecraft.”

“Ah.”

“He is putting an arm around her shoulders.”

“Oh.”

“I do believe that he is attempting to comfort her,” Ophelia informed Jim, watching as Héloïse took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. “Yes, she looks quite upset.”

“What? Is she-”

“No, don’t look, you’ll ruin the ruse,” said Ophelia. “It is working, is it not?” Jim nodded, but he looked doubtful. Ophelia turned her attention back to Héloïse and Henry Lovecraft. “She is sad, but Henry is saying something to her. She is shaking her head, and has stepped away from him.”

“She has?”

“Yes, but he’s taken hold of her hand. Oh, but she’s taken her hand back. She’s taken another step away from him. She… Oh.”

“What?” Jim asked urgently. “What is she doing?”

“I do not know,” said Ophelia. “She has left. She ran that way.” She pointed in the direction of the main doors out of the hall, and Jim turned his head to look, his lips parting and his arms falling to his sides. Ophelia sighed. “You should go after her.”

“Are you… You do not mind my leaving?”

“Of course not. The ruse has served its purpose.”

Jim bowed his head to her, and she curtsied back. And with that they parted ways, their ruse over. And it had worked. For as Jim rushed out of the Great Hall, Ophelia returned to her seat by the wall with more eyes on her than ever, knowing fully well that this time, she would not remain a wallflower for long.

#the beginning of a symphony #ophelia burke #carolyn nyberg #bradford elijah pendleton iv #jim hexley #hogwarts legacy

[endlessly-cursed]

𝑯𝑷𝑯𝑳𝑨𝑾– 𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝟒: 𝑭𝒂𝒗 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒆

Josie Edwards x William Devlin by @slytherindisaster & @unfortunate-arrow

Teddy Ellison x Adelia Selwyn by @cursebreakerfarrier & @thatravenpuffwitch

Stella Farrier x William Berkeley by @beloved-bucky & @cursebreakerfarrier

Bradford Pendleton x Carolyn Nyberg by @kc-and-co & @lifeofkaze

Of course there are more that I love, but these are long favs ^^

#hogwarts legacy #hphlaw #HPHLAW #hphlaw; day 4 #carolyn nyberg #bradford pendleton iv #stella farrier seabright #william berkeley #josie edwards #william devlin #bradlyn #tedelia #josie x william #william x stella #stelliam #mine*edit

[hogwartsmysteryho]

💛

gaaaahhhhh there’s so many to choose from! but i think that on this wonderful, stupendous, lavish, radiant day, i have to choose an equally wonderful, stupendous, lavish, radiant character. a man as over the top as as those adjectives are, bradford pendleton iv is one of the most interesting characters out there. scared of being controlled, whether it be by society or his parents? artist with a kind, complicated soul? someone who feels conflicted about what he wants? not to mention his love story is like my favorite romantic premise ever. ever ever. can we fastforward for a second and discuss the fact that he starts his own art gallery thingy in his later years? ok wait rewind to his schooling years where he would purposefully slack of in subjects like potions to spite his parents. like… i’m just obsessed with that idea? ALSO, he has those dramatic little roman numerals in his name and i love it sooooo much😖!!!!

#bradford pendleton iv #hphl #2 #4 #6 #8 #who do we appreciate? #BRAD #I APPRECIATE BRAD

[that-scouse-wizard]

Take your pick between Reuben & Siobhan - David & Orion - Marigold & Brady or all of them if you feel like it

You gave me the option for all of them... so you’re getting all of them mate!

Reuben and Siobhan

-These two absolutely note down the birthdays of any dragons or magical creatures they rear and celebrate them like they would for a person.

-Frequently discuss books that they’ve read in the Ravenclaw common room.

-If ever these two get to meet up they do so over a glass of one of the Willows spirits and always swapping stories of their adventures with magical creatures. Also discussing their partner’s accomplishments.

-Reuben is insistent that Siobhan be one of the first to see Connor after he’s born.

-These two have definitely baked cakes and pastries together.

David and Orion

-David met Orion in first year after receiving a letter from his dad about joining him for Christmas. Keep in mind this pissed David off as he had little contact with his dad in years.

-He didn’t actually get Orion’s name at first but learned who he was from Sprout after asking about the odd senior student who had told him “To go forward, sometimes we must go back. Whether you discover something or not, you shall find an answer.” Basically, go to your dad’s and you might get closure.

-Orion saw the potential in David and Judith Harris (@judediangelo75) as beaters. This was how he convinced Erika to train them both went:

Erika: “Why should I train these two, Amari?”

Orion: “Because if you don’t, Phoenix will.”

Erika:...

Erika: “Right! You two! Start swinging, I want to see your form!”

-David occasionally joins Orion for broom-balancing sessions alongside Amelia as a form of meditation.

-Orion named David his successor as captain during his last moment of vivification.

Marigold and Brady:

-They formally introduce themselves in their first year, Brady was going through a bit of artist’s block but when Mary’s fiery locks caught his eye he knew exactly what he wanted to draw.

-While at first he would help her design clothes by providing a visual reference, he soon started teaching her how to draw.

-These two definitely have duets in the music club, the two of them either playing their instruments or singing together.

-She’s definitely making a suit for Bradford that will absolutely help him wow Carolyn ( @lifeofkaze ), she’s basically Hogwarts’ resident matchmaker at this point.

-While Cledwyn and Reuben might be two of her best friends, she’s supporting the Slytherin Quidditch team every time they play. She’s one of the loudest voices in the stands cheering Bradford on.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #david willows #orion amari #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hphl #hphl mc #hphl oc #reuben willows #siobhan llwelyn #marigold sterling #bradford elijah pendleton IV

[lifeofkaze]

Hat-Hunting

Summer Break Challenge, Day 2: Hat

Carolyn Nyberg x Bradford Pendleton

Find all the stories of this challenge here. Bradford Pendleton belongs to my favourite @kc-and-co. This challenge was created by the wonderful @usernoneexistent

It was the hottest day of the summer so far, and the beach was crowded. Because of the heat, everyone venturing outside had opted for as little and light an attire as could still be considered appropriate. To Carolyn Pendleton, comfort came second on her list of priorities. It took more than a few rays of sunshine to make her appear anything less than poised and perfect.

She had chosen to display her new hat today. It was big and cream-coloured, with a light green hatband that matched the colour of her dress. Following the latest trend, it was adorned with two giant white plumes, which were gently stirring in the sea breeze. Despite its delicate look, the hat was surprisingly heavy. The pins with which it was secured on Caro’s head were pulling at her roots, giving her a slight headache. She braced her shoulders and raised her chin higher; thus was the price of being fashionable.

Her husband Bradford Pendleton, who was walking next to her, gave her a sideways glance. “Is everything alright, my dear?”

“It is,” Caro replied. “Only a matter of slight discomfort. It will pass before long.”

She wanted to add something but had to duck when something small and white suddenly darted past her, close to her face. Caro startled, looking after the seagull that had almost hit her. It turned and made for her again, opening its bright, yellow beak and snatching the rim of Caro’s hat. Caro cried out as the seagull took off again, ripping the hat - including the pins and a good few strands of her hair - clean off her head. She gasped, trying to get hold of the thieving bird, but it was already out of her reach.

“Can you believe this?” she asked Brady, outraged at the audacity of the bird. “It stole my hat!”

“Maybe the plumes made it appear a suitable companion,” Brady chuckled. His laughter died when he saw his wife slowly raising her eyebrows at him. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, this behaviour is utterly unacceptable and shall not be condoned. I will retrieve it for you immediately.”

Caro’s look changed into a sceptical one. “Are you quite sure about this?”

Brady huffed indignantly. “It is merely a bird. What is the worst that could possibly happen?”

Not heeding Caro’s doubtful expression, Brady set off after the fugitive seagull. He stepped off the wooden walkway, immediately sinking into the tiny, colourful pebbles that made up Brighton’s beach. He stumbled, cursing under his breath as some of them went inside his shoes, but he was not to be deterred by something trivial as stones in his socks - he had a bird to catch. 

The seagull had already flown a good bit ahead, Caro’s hat dangling from its beak. Brady dashed after it, pebbles flying to all sides as he made his way across the beach. He tripped several times and apologised profusely as he stumbled right through a haphazardly built stone castle of two loudly protesting children. But nonetheless, the distance between him and the seagull steadily decreased.

When he was almost within reach, Brady lunged at the bird sitting at the edge of the water, but the seagull was quicker. It took to the air, still in possession of the hat, and Brady hit the ground face-first, a wave of cold seawater washing over him a mere second after.

Spitting out a mouthful of seaweed, Brady raised his head and looked after the bird and its prey. It was leisurely flapping towards the water, and Brady cursed the seagull, his pride, and his wife’s wretched hat.

Suddenly, the seagull froze mid-air. The hat fell from its beak and zoomed back towards the beach, right into Caro’s outstretched hand. With the other, she was holding her wand. Brady’s hunt for the hat had taken them to a barely frequented part of the beach. Caro must have followed him and - out of sight of prying eyes - had made short notice of the hat thief.

The seagull - robbed of its quarry - had dropped into the water and emerged a moment later with an angry squawk, but Brady found himself distinctly lacking in compassion. He rose to his feet, brushing the dirt off his beige linen suit. Caro was doing the same with her hat, securing it on her head with another flick of her wand.

She looked at her husband with a raised eyebrow and a smirk she didn’t even bother hiding. “Merely a bird, huh?” 

Her eyes settled on the stains on the light fabric of Brady’s jacket. “Let’s go home, shall we? I’m sure Mitzi will know a way to salvage this suit.” She righted his lapels and her smile softened. “I would hate for you to never wear it again. It is looking too good on you.”

Brady only hummed, embarrassed by his crushing defeat. With a sigh, he offered Caro his arm and they made their way back to the walkway. When they had reached it, Brady paused.

“You will not tell Mitzi about this, will you?”

Caro laughed lightly, a sound that made Brady smile every time he heard it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. Did anything out of the ordinary happen?”

“Nothing, dear,” he smiled and put the one lock that always fell out of Caro’s hairdo back in place. “Nothing extraordinary whatsoever.” 

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #carolyn nyberg #bradford pendleton iv #bradlyn #summer break challenge 2022

[lifeofkaze]

Happy Birthday, Brady!

Happy Birthday to my favourite drama queen, my favourite entitled snob, my sarcastic little rebel, the only one who could soften Caro enough for me to work with her.

Force-betrothing you two was the best idea @kc-and-co - who is of course the owner of this precious darling-disaster - ever had 💚

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #bradford pendleton iv #happy birthday brady #oc birthday

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 34

A/N: after an embarrassing encounter, Jim decides to face his fears at last…

Warnings: mild angst, pining.

OCs featured/mentioned: Bradford Pendleton @kc-and-co, Lysander Mercury @slytherindisaster, Selene Fraser, Alan the ferret, Henry Lovecraft and Carolyn Nyberg @lifeofkaze

April 1897

It was lunchtime, but Jim wasn’t hungry. It was also time for his Art Society meting, but he was not feeling particularly creative, either. He only felt nervous, but he knew that he could not let his nerves get the better of him. So, he took a deep breath and swallowed the hard to get the knot out of his tongue.

“Very well… I’ll just say what I wish to say, then,” he said. He cleared his throat. “And, er, what I wish to say is… Well, it’s this. I’d very much like to accompany you to the ball. To the Celestial Ball. As your friend. Actually, no. Not as your friend. I mean, yes, we are friends, but I’d like for us to be more than that. And perhaps, if you’d grant me the honour of… of your company next weekend, we might make our first, um, steps in that direction. How does that suit you?”

Jim’s offer was met with silence. He sighed.

“That was no good at all, was it?” he asked. “Well, if at first you don’t… Try and try again. Right. It’s the Celestial Ball next weekend, and I know lots of people are partnering up for it, and I wondered whether you might like to partner up. With me, that is, not... So,what say you, Héloïse?”

Héloïse said nothing, because Héloïse was not there to say anything at all. Jim was merely practising asking her, and her stand-in was the only person Jim could think of who would neither judge him for his stutter, nor interrupt him whilst he was speaking. However, he could have used some constructive feedback. Perhaps he should have practised on a person rather than a ferret.

“Okay, Alan,” said Jim. “Third time lucky, yes? Well, I really do enjoy your company, and I consider you to be a very dear friend. I also think that you are… incredibly beautiful and… I’d rather like to escort you to the ball on Saturday. Only if you’d like me to, of course.” Jim sighed. “I wonder if I perhaps should not mention the beautiful thing. It’s rather… forward, don’t you think?”

In response to Jim’s question, Alan the ferret twisted around on the desk to nibble at the base of his tail. He made no noise, but somewhere nearby a snickering noise could be heard. Jim frowned. The noise was coming from behind a cupboard.

He pulled out his wand and walked towards it, and the snickering grew louder, and louder, until he came around it to find…

Ethel and Selene, sitting with their backs against the cupboard, their knees tucked up by their chests and their hands pressed to their mouths, in a poor attempt at stifling their giggles.

At the sight of his sister and her friend, Jim lowered his wand, and at the sight of him, they dropped their hands from their mouths and gave into their laughter.

“For the love of Godric,” Jim said crossly. “This isn’t… It isn’t funny!”

“Oh, but it is!”

“It really, truly is!”

The two girls laughed even harder, their eyes watery and cheeks pink.

“Stop laughing, Ethel!”

“I cannot,” Ethel wheezed. “I cannot stop. Oh, Jimmy. I did not realise you held such strong feelings for Alan.”

“I can see for why you would,” said Selene. “He is a very fine ferret.”

“A beautiful ferret, or so I’ve heard it said.”

“Indeed, I believe I have heard that said, too.”

“Unfortunately, Jim, Alan shan’t be accompanying you to the ball. He prefers to form attachments with his own species. I’d strongly suggest that you do the same,” Ethel told him. “I know that Mamma and Pappa are rather liberal in their views, but this might be too much for them to take. And I dread to think what Héloïse would think of you having such an unnatural-”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Jim snapped at his sister, far louder than he had intended. Ethel blinked, but otherwise appeared nonplussed.

“Suit yourself, Jimmy. We have far more interesting people to spend time with. Ferret-fancier or not, you still bore us terribly.”

She and Selene stood up and crossed the empty room. As they did, Selene scooped Alan the ferret up into her arms and threw a dirty look at Jim over her shoulder.

“Don’t you fret, Alan. We shall take you far away from this nasty depraved boy.”

Jim sighed loudly as he watched them disappear from sight, before picking up his things and making his way through the castle to the empty classroom where Brady and Lysander were having their meeting.

“Jim, old chap,” said Brady. “You’re late. What kept you?”

“My sister.”

“Ah.”

Lysander frowned. “What’s the matter with frog-face this time?” he asked. “Bitter that no one’s asked her to the ball?”

“I’m not sure,” Jim replied. “Someone might have asked her.”

“Really? Who?”

“I don’t… What does it matter to you? You despise Effy.”

“It doesn’t,” said Lysander quickly. “And I do. I was simply wondering whether or not we might have a lunatic in our midst, that is all.”

“I see,” Jim nodded slowly. “Have either of you two asked anyone?”

“Indeed I have, old bean. I’ll be escorting Carolyn Nyberg.”

At Brady’s announcement, Lysander’s eyebrows shot up.

“Perhaps we do have a lunatic in our midst,” he muttered. “There is a fine line between lunacy and bravery, or so they say. Carolyn Nyberg… You’re a far braver wizard than I am.”

“And me,” Jim sighed. Brady’s eyebrows furrowed, and so he explained. “I cannot even pluck up the courage to ask Héloïse.”

“Really?” Brady shook his head. “But, Jim, this is your perfect opportunity to get closer to her.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“So why on earth have you not taken that opportunity in both hands? Carpe diem!”

“Precisely for that reason,” said Jim. “It is too… I feel a lot of pressure, and that makes me too nervous. I try to ask her, and then when I do, my mouth goes dry and my words get stuck and I can’t say anything at all.”

“Not even a word?”

“No. Well, yes. In a way. The other day I managed to tell her that she has lovely handwriting.”

“Ah,” Brady said. Lysander looked up from his sketch.

“Does she?” he asked.

“Does she what?”

“Have nice handwriting.”

“Oh, yes. Very nice handwriting. Small and neat and pretty and French… Like you’d expect, I suppose,” Jim told Lysander, who exchanged glances with Brady. “Um… What?”

Brady rolled his eyes and placed his head in his hands. “I simply cannot cope with this,” he said. “You must ask her.”

“But… Excuse me!”

Jim’s mouth fell open as Lysander pointed his wand at his hand, the one holding his favourite sketchbook. The sketchbook shot up into the air and hovered above Jim’s head, tantalisingly out of reach of his fingertips.

“Here’s a bargain for you, Jimbo,” Lysander said with a smirk. “You can have the sketchbook back when - and only when - you ask Héloïse to attend the Celestial Ball with you.”

“But that’s… Brady, make him see sense.”

But Brady chuckled and shook his head.

“Jim, old chap, I think Lysander is making perfect sense. You require a - pardon my French - jolly good kick up the derrière.”

“That’s…”

“The library is two corridors away. If you hurry, you’ll have a companion for the Celestial Ball and your sketchbook back by the time we start afternoon lessons.”

Both Lysander and Brady’s faces were earnest, and Jim knew that there was no persuading either of them to give him back his sketchbook, not until he had done what he had so far failed to do. He sighed angrily, as frustrated with himself as he was with his friends.

“Go on, old chap. Be bold.”

“Carpet demon,” said Lysander, and Brady put his head in his hands again.

Jim left them alone and walked through the two corridors to the library, his heart beating faster and his feet growing heavier with each step. He was not ready for this, he would never be ready for this. What if he was unable to get his words out again? What if he did, and she laughed at him? What if she said no? Oh, Godric… What if she said yes?

He found Héloïse in a quiet corner of the library, far from the noise that was coming from the librarian’s desk, where his sister was pestering Madam Khanna about something, he did not care what. At this moment, he cared bout nothing but managing to be bold, to ask Héloïse to attend the ball with him, and getting his sketchboook back from Lysander.

“Héloïse,” he said as he approached her. Slowly, she raised her brown eyes from her astrology textbook and regarded him with a look of curiosity.

“Jim. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Héloïse.”

There was a long pause in which neither of them spoke. Jim swallowed hard three times and cleared his throat.

“Héloïse, I was wondering…”

“To what… Sorry. I am… intruding your speaking.”

“No, I’m sorry,” said Jim. “You continue.”

“I was to ask why you are here, but I think you are now to tell me,” Héloïse said with a wry little smile. “What have you wondered?”

This was it. Jim’s chance. He had to take it. He had to be bold.

“I wondered whether anyone had already asked to accompany you to the Celestial Ball, and if no, then whether you might allow me to accompany you.”

Jim spoke faster than he had intended. It potentially was too fast, for Héloïse frowned as if she had not understood his meaning.

“You are wanting to… escort me to the ball?” she asked, and Jim nodded.

“Yes. Yes, indeed. I… It would be my privilege. Only if you wish to do me that honour, of course.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Jim was half-hope, half-achingly deep despair and longing.

“I… Jim, this would be nice.”

His heart skipped a beat. “It would?”

“Yes,” Héloïse smiled sadly. “But… Unfortunately, I cannot to go with you. I am sorry. I have promised to my friend Henry that I will to go with him. I did not think… I am sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” said Jim. He forced himself to return Héloïse’s smile, in spite of the fact that he felt more like crying. “A promise is a promise, and… I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“For… asking, I suppose. I hope that this shall not ruin our… our friendship.”

“Friendship, yes,” Héloïse nodded. She swallowed and looked down at her book. “I must to study.”

“I must to go… I must be going. I shall see you soon. At the ball, maybe.”

Héloïse said nothing in response, just stared at her book, already clearly engrossed in it. Jim walked away from her, focusing on the sound of his footsteps echoing on the floor of the library, for her knew that if he did not focus on something, his thoughts would fly to Héloïse, and then he would look back. And if he looked back, then the tears that pricked his eyes would start to run away from him, and he would start to cry in front of everyone.

And if that happened, he might never be able to be bold again.

#the beginning of a symphony #jim hexley #ethel hexley #selene fraser #alan the ferret #bradford elijah pendleton iv #lysander mercury #Héloïse Perrault #harry potter hogwarts legacy

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 24

A/N: Jim has an encounter with a green-eyed monster…

OCs featured: Bradford Pendleton @kc-and-co

Warnings: none.

October 1896

The new term, and Jim’s fifth year, was well under way, and Jim had so far found himself incredibly busy. Between the additional homework and Saturday lessons, he and his classmates had less free time than before, and so it was not until a month into the term that he, Brady, and Lysander were able to organise their first Art Society meeting of the year.

Having gathered his sketchbook and graphite from his dormitory, Jim set off for the library, where he had agreed to meet Brady prior to the meeting.

As he reached the top of the stairs, the wooden doors of the library opened, and he felt his face flush as he recognised the person who had stepped out into the corridor in front of him.

“Héloïse,” said Jim.

“Jim,” said Héloïse. There was a pause, during which neither of them spoke. “Hello.”

“Ah. Yes. Um, hello. Sorry,” Jim cleared his throat. “Are you… That is to say, I do hope that you are well.”

Héloïse frowned slightly before responding, “I am not so bad, thank you. And you are well also, I am hoping?”

“Yes, quite. Very well also, yes. Have you been reading, or studying, or… What have you been doing in the library?”

“I am trying to learn my… lessons.”

“Which lessons?”

“The ones of tomorrow. No,” Héloïse shook her head. “Yesterday. I am sorry. I am a little tired, I am thinking.”

“Of course,” said Jim. He cleared his throat again. “Well then. I do not wish to keep you.”

“To keep?”

“Yes, um… Sorry…”

Jim tried his hardest not to seem disappointed as he looked at the somewhat bewildered expression on Héloïse’s face. In spite of writing to each other weekly over the summer, the two had barely shared more than five conversations since returning to the castle, and each time they spoke, it had been stilted and awkward. Jim was not certain what he had done wrong, but he knew that he was likely to be at fault somehow.

The library doors opened once more, and Bradford Pendleton the Fourth emerged from behind them, a silk scarf draped over his shoulders and his own sketchbook tucked under one arm.

“Jim, old bean!” Brady clapped Jim on the back with the hand not holding a sketchbook. “Ready to sketch? Jolly good day for it, I must say.” He did a double-take at Héloïse and bowed to her theatrically. “Pardonnez-moi, Madamoiselle. Héloïse, comment ça va?”

“Oh,” Héloïse shrugged, her lips slightly pursed. “Comme ci, comme ça, comprends?”

“Pas si bien, hein? Mais, pourquoi?”

Héloïse sighed heavily, before beginning to speak to Brady in a fluent stream of French, which Jim did not understand. Brady, however, apparently did understand her perfectly, for he nodded and made noises and verbal responses - also in French, also incomprehensible to Jim - at intervals as she spoke. All the while, Jim stood beside him, surplus to requirements, a dark feeling somewhere between pain and anger growing in his chest as he did so.

As the feeling grew to the point that it was unbearable, Jim turned around and left Brady and Héloïse to continue their conversation without him, and stomped down the corridor to the empty classroom the boys liked to use for their meetings without even uttering a word. He had no words to say, neither in English nor in French, not to Héloïse nor to Brady, who was able to understand and converse with Héloïse far more easily than Jim could ever hope to do. It seemed unjust, all things considered. Brady always made friends so easily; why did he feel the need to take one of the few friends Jim had?

“Hexley!”

Brady’s voice and the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, both interrupting Jim from his thoughts and vexing him further. He turned to see Brady striding towards him, and scowled.

“What’s wrong, old chap?” Brady asked. “I thought that we were going to go to the society together.”

“I decided to go alone.”

“Oh,” Brady frowned. “You should have said, rather than just take off like that. I had to leave Héloïse all alone, and she was quite taken aback by how abruptly-”

“You did not need to do that,” said Jim. Though his voice trembled slightly, for once, he did not stutter. “You could have continued without me. The two of you did not require my presence to hold your conversation.”

“That is not the point. I think Héloïse was quite upset by it, you know.”

“I don’t see why. She was perfectly happy talking to you.”

“Perfectly happy?” said Brady, incredulously. “Hexley, did you not understand a word she was saying?”

“No!” Jim snapped. “No, I did not understand a word, because unlike you, I do not have the luxury of having been taught to speak French.”

Brady took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Jim, my good man,” he said, with the diplomacy of a politician, “that is precisely what she and I were talking about, and why we were holding that conversation in French. She doesn’t have many friends to talk to, you know.”

“But that’s… Well… I was just talking to her!”

“In English, which she struggles to understand, and finds even harder to speak.”

“That’s not true,” Jim shook his head. “No, her English, it’s… it’s good. Remarkably good. We… we wrote to one another over the summer, and-”

“You wrote. You did not speak.”

Jim pursed his lips as he considered Brady’s words, and his eyes widened as he realised how true they were. Writing was different. There was so much more time to consider one’s thoughts and words, to decide what one wanted to express and how precisely to do it. He knew this. After all, he never stuttered when he was writing. He should have realised before that Héloïse would have the same problem as he did, he should have been more sympathetic, and he should definitely not have begrudged her having the companionship she deserved, even if he was not the one to be able to provide that.

“I… I have been a… Well, perhaps I should not say it,” he said, and he swallowed. “I am sorry, Brady. Truly, I am.”

“That’s quite alright, old bean,” said Brady, clapping Jim on the back. “Though I do not think that I am the one you should apologise to. After all, you walked away from Héloïse as well as me, and I am not the one you feel strongly about, am I?”

“Well, I… I feel for both of you,” said Jim, frowning. “You are both very… The pair of you are good friends to me.”

Brady guffawed and used the hand on Jim’s back to shake him from side to side. “You understand my meaning, Hexley.”

Jim’s frown deepened. He was not certain that he did understand Brady’s meaning at all.

#the hexley legacy #the beginning of a symphony #jim hexley #heloise perrault #bradford elijah pendleton iv

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 15

Summary: the Art Club has a new member, and Jim asks for Brady’s help.

OCs featured: Lysander Mercury @slytherindisaster, Bradford Pendleton IV @kc-and-co

Warnings: one lovesick teenage boy.

March 1896

The still relatively young Hogwarts Art Society was about to start its tenth meeting. It was a somewhat momentous occasion; not only did this meeting mark the fourth month of the society’s existence, but they were also welcoming their first female member.

“I was not aware that you had an interest in art, Ophelia,” said Lysander, frowning at the newcomer.

“I have many interests,” was Ophelia’s response.

“Ah. Do you prefer sketching or painting?”

“Yes.”

Lysander shared a look with Jim, and both boys quickly averted their eyes from Ophelia.

“Where is Brady, I wonder?” Jim thought out loud. “We are… That is to say, we were supposed to be practising with colour today.”

As if on cue, Bradford Pendleton the Fourth sauntered into the classroom that the society had commandeered for their meetings, a large leather sketchbook tucked under one arm.

“Dreadfully sorry, old chaps,” he said, before doing a quick double take at Ophelia and adding, “and lady.” He bowed his head to her as a greeting, and Ophelia immediately smiled and sat up poker straight in her seat. Brady took his own, still talking as did so, “I got caught up in a conversation, you know? That poor new girl, the French one-”

“Héloïse,” said Jim, without even meaning to say anything at all. The name echoed in his ears, like it had done for a few weeks previously, ever since he had learned of Matilda’s true identity.

“Yes, Héloïse Perrault, that is the one. She has been attempting to teach herself English. I did offer to give her lessons, but she was not too keen on that idea. Seems like she’s doing a far better job on her own than I’d have expected, generally speaking, but she had a few questions about some specifics. Didn’t think that she’d want to approach Nyberg, for obvious reasons, so I thought that I’d help her out,” Brady continued, levitating his open sketchbook onto an easel as he spoke. “Jolly nice girl, though perhaps a little too French, if you understand my meaning.”

Jim did not understand Brady’s meaning in the slightest, but then he did not speak any French, nor any other language besides his native English, for that matter. His mother had attempted to teach both him and Ethel Latin as children, but it had been a somewhat fruitless endeavour. Ethel may have been good at the subject if she had put any effort into her learning whatsoever, but Jim was nearly hopeless, in spite of his labours. He had been relieved when his mother had given up on the idea of teaching the twins Latin entirely, less than a year after first commencing the lessons. Now though, he was beginning to regret not having persevered with his second language. After all, it might have been useful. Brady’s ability to speak French was certainly proving useful to him, at least.

“It must be rather… well, lonely,” Jim mused, realising that no one had spoken for several moments. “For one to be unable to understand or communicate with those around them, that is.”

“Oh, yes. Jolly lonely, I’d wager,” agreed Brady. “But I’m certain that she will pick it all up soon enough. She seems like an intelligent sort of person.”

“But until then…”

“Now, don’t you fret, old chap. There’s plenty of us here that have had French tutoring during our youth, after all.”

“Would you be able to tutor me?” Jim asked, before he could stop himself. When Brady gave him a quizzical look, he cleared his throat. “That is… What I mean to say, rather, is that if more of us were to speak her language, it might be, uh… Well, there would be a more welcoming environment, would there not? And, well, they do… they do say that French is a, uh… a wonderful language to learn, and, um…”

“I would also like to learn to speak French,” said Ophelia, and Jim nearly passed out from the sheer relief he felt not to have the others’ eyes solely on him anymore. “Naturally, I also had many private tutors growing up, but sadly, my education was somewhat lacking where foreign languages are concerned.”

Brady appeared to consider the proposal for a moment, before once more pointing his wand at his barely touched art materials, and with a single flick of his wrist, packing them all away.

“Very well, chaps,” he said, placing his wand back into his pocket and making his way over to a blackboard at the front of the classroom. “Let’s all learn some French.”

#the beginning of a symphony #hogwarts legacy #the hexley legacy #jim hexley #ophelia burke #lysander mercury #bradford elijah pendleton iv

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 14

Summary: in this very short chapter, Ethel tries to help her new acquaintance.

OCs featured/mentioned: Selene Fraser and Carolyn Nyberg @lifeofkaze, Adelia Selwyn and Gwen Archeron @thatravenpuffwitch, Bradford Pendleton and Siobhan Llewelyn @kc-and-co, Frederick Lavigne and Lysander Mercury @slytherindisaster, Leila Hellebore @whatwouldvalerydo.

Warnings: one borderline NSFW joke.

February 1896

With the echo of the school bell still ringing in her ears, Ethel ran at full pelt all the way from the Ancient Runes classroom to the Great Hall, half-dragging Matilda behind her.

“Where are we going?” Selene called out, sprinting after them in order to catch up.

“To find someone for Matilda to talk to!”

“But she is a mute.”

“No,” Ethel replied, shaking her head. She looked across at Matilda, who looked a little flushed as she struggled to keep up with Ethel’s long legs. “She isn’t a mute, she’s French!”

Reaching the Great Hall, Ethel slowed down and took a look around the room before making a beeline for the Slytherin table, where Carolyn Nyberg and Adelia Selwyn were sitting with the other girls from their dormitory. As she, Selene, and Matilda approached them, the Slytherin girls fell quiet, regarding the newcomers with looks of suspicion.

“May we help you?” asked Adelia, casting an apprehensive glance at her well-dressed companions.

“You may indeed,” Ethel told her, and she pushed Matilda forward. “Have you met Matilda?”

Adelia gave Matilda a small smile. “You must be Siobhan and Gwendolyn’s new dorm mate.”

“She is, but there’s no point talking to her about it.”

“Not in English, anyway,” Selene added.

“She doesn’t speak English?” Carolyn Nyberg, who was sitting next to Adelia, raised her eyebrows.

“Not even one single word,” said Ethel. “That’s why I brought her here to you. I heard that the Slytherin dormitories are simply rife with cunning linguists.”

Carolyn did not return Ethel’s impish smile. Instead, she pursed her lips, looking more disapproving than ever.

“Well?” asked Selene. “Will you help us, or no?”

Carolyn sighed loudly and impatiently. “So be it. What languages does she understand?”

“Runic and French.”

Ethel had barely finished answering Carolyn’s question before Adelia smiled at Matilda once more and began to talk to her in French. Matilda’s dark eyes lit up, and she began to speak out loud and fluently in the same language, her voice and face wildly expressive.

As Carolyn joined in the conversation, her voice must have caught the attention of Bradford Pendleton and Frederick Lavigne, as the two boys appeared from further down the table, and both of them began to talk to Matilda as well. By the time the usually quiet Leila Hellebore had begun to contribute to the discussion, a small crowd had gathered to watch the scene.

“Is that Matilda?”

“I didn’t think she could speak!”

“She’s never said a word to us, and we share a room with her,” muttered Siobhan Llewelyn. “I just thought that you didn’t like us, Matilda!”

“Well, you can hardly blame her for that,” Bradford retorted, switching seamlessly from French to English. For once, Carolyn Nyberg actually appeared to be amused. “After all, you all insist on calling her Matilda all the time. Her name isn’t Matilda, it’s Héloïse.”

“Oui?”

At the mention of her name, Héloïse stopped talking to Adelia mid-sentence, and looked across at Bradford, who slipped back into French to talk to her once more.

“So, if she’s not a mute, and she’s not called Matilda… Does that mean that she isn’t a champion yodeller, either?”

“Of course she isn’t, Lysander,” Ethel snapped. “Really, just when I was beginning to think that you might not be quite as stupid as you look, you say something like that.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Effy,” Lysander hissed back, and Ethel scowled at him. “I know that it’s hard not to eavesdrop with ears as big as yours, but could you at least make the effort to try?”

Ethel took a deep breath and took a step away from the Slytherin table. Now that she had helped Héloïse to find her voice, it was time to use her own. After all, she always had several choice words to give to Lysander Mercury.

#ethel hexley #selene fraser #lysander mercury #bradford elijah pendleton iv #carolyn nyberg #adelia selwyn #the beginning of a symphony #hogwarts legacy

[lifeofkaze]

Something Wicked This Way Comes

A/N: This story is was written for @hp-12monthsofmagic October prompt. Happy Halloween. OCs featured belong to @whatwouldvalerydo (Victoria Summer... sorry for bothering her again), @the-al-chemist (Jim and Ethel Hexley), @endlessly-cursed (Nilüfer Sultan, in mention), @slytherindisaster (Gabriel Sapieha, Lysander Mercury) and @kc-and-co (Bradford Pendleton IV). Warning: serious Shakespeare blasphemy. I'm sorry.

The day had been overcast, and darkness come early over the Forbidden Forest. Swathes of mist rose from the moss and root covered ground, and the night was silent except for the rustling of fallen leaves, the soft sounds of the creatures that had ventured out under the cover of nightfall, and a resounding scraping sound as something heavy was dragged over a piece of stone, followed by a groan and the hasty shuffling of feet.

“How much further is it?”

“It can’t be very far, I daresay.”

“You said that ten minutes ago, Ethel. I swear I recognise this tree.”

“Hush, I believe I can see it from here. Quickly, now.”

Three figures stepped into an opening in the trees, in the middle of which the ground rose gently to a grass-covered mound. On it, bathed in the light of the full moon, six boulders of varying sizes had been erected to form a circle, in the middle of which a seventh stone lay on its side, forming what looked to be an altar.

It was there that the three girls, clad in skirts and blouses that marked them as students of the nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dragged the cauldron they had been pulling behind them. They were breathing heavily by the time they had made it to the top, and the faces of Ethel Hexley and Selene Fraser grew red as they hoisted the heavy metal pot on top of the horizontally lying stone. 

Selene and Ethel had found the stone ring a couple of days ago while prowling the woods, and had been dying to return ever since. They had prepared diligently, but with the unsteadiness of the late October weather, it had taken them until the very last day of the month to make their way out into the Forbidden Forest again. They were chatting in hushed whispers amongst each other now, excitedly checking the contents of the bags slung around their shoulders.

Victoria, who had seen herself half-compelled, half-forced to accompany her dormmates, seemed less enthusiastic. She looked around uneasily, observing the shadows cast by the tall stone monuments. Wrapping her arms around herself to keep from shivering, she stepped closer to the stone altar.

“Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?” 

Ethel and Selene stopped whispering and shared a meaningful look.

“We have something special planned for tonight,” Selene said in a low voice.

“Something to mark the occasion,” Ethel agreed.

“We’ll do magic,” the two of them said in unison, the sable-coloured ferret that had appeared on Selene’s shoulder nodding his head as if in agreement. 

Victoria looked between them sceptically. “But why come here? Why all that hustle? We could have just as well stayed at the castle.”

“Because, dearest Victoria,” Selene said and motioned at the stones surrounding them. “This place is special.” 

“Most magical.”

“Of the utmost importance.”

Ethel paused, looking at Selene curiously. “It is?”

“It must be, must it not?” Selene shrugged. “Why endure all the hardships to set these stones up otherwise?”

“You must be right, of course.” Clapping her hands together, Ethel turned back to Victoria and pointed at the cauldron. “There is a spell that Selene and I have been wanting to attempt but Professor Sharp refuses to let us into the Potions classroom by ourselves after this most unfortunate incident with Carolyn Nyberg’s calming draught.”

“Which was not our fault, if I may say so.”

“Far from it.”

“The farthest.”

“And what did you need my help for?” Victoria asked patiently.

“See, the spell needs three wielders to succeed.”

“Three witches, to be precise.”

“And who would be more inclined, more perfectly suited to complete our trio than you?”

Victoria could think of a handful of people better suited; the matter of inclination was another one entirely but she chose to remain silent. 

“Shall we begin then?”

Victoria was still at a loss for what was about to happen when she was directed to stand at the head of the stone, with Selene and Ethel facing each other on its side. 

“You might want to take that,” Selene whispered to Victoria, producing a densely written note from the folds of her skirt. “We have it memorised.”

Victoria was just about to ask what she meant when Selene and Ethel began chanting, in grave, hushed voices that didn’t sound like them at all. 

“Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries ‘Tis time, ‘tis time. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw.”

They began moving to circle the stone altar with the now bubbling cauldron, underneath which Ethel had set fire. 

“Toad that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Sweltere’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.”

Selene reached into her bag and pulled out a stoppered bottle which looked suspiciously like the ones Professor Sharp had on display behind his desk in the Potions classroom. She held it over the cauldron and shook its contents inside. The slimy green something that had fallen out sank to the bottom, and Selene and Ethel continued to sing, in a much louder, almost gleeful voice,

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.” 

“Hold on,” Victoria cried out. “Did you drag me out here to enact a play?”

“We never would even think of dragging you.”

“You walked quite by yourself.”

“And this is not any stupid spell from any stupid play we are putting to the test here. This is Macbeth!”

“By the greatest poet of all times.”

“The master of words.”

“The bard of bards.”

Wearily, Victoria held a hand up and the stream of chatter ceased. “And does Professor Sharp know you stole… borrowed one of his cauldrons and ingredients?” 

Ethel and Selene exchanged a glance that had the sinking feeling in Victoria’s stomach intensify. She stifled the sigh lodged in her chest. 

“Go on then.”

Breaking into smiles, Ethel began rummaging through her bag again, while Selene reached across the stone to squeeze Victoria’s hand. The chanting recommenced as Ethel produced a small parcel. In places, moisture had already seeped through the parchment, and Victoria could only briefly glimpse something reddish as its contents were tossed into the cauldron. 

“Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s legs and owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, ike a hell-broth boil and bubble.”

They continued in that fashion as ingredient after ingredient made its way into the cauldron. Selene and Ethel seemed to have acquired everything the recipe listed, adding newts’ eyes and lizards’ legs with more and more glee as the potion boiled up and began changing its colour, bathing the clearing in an eerily green glow. 

“Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse…”

“You didn’t actually put someone’s liver in there, did you?” Victoria asked with wide eyes.

“No,” said Ethel and sounded almost regretful. “A piece of someone’s liver is surprisingly hard to come by.”

Victoria chose not to comment on this. “Then what did you put in just now?” 

“We got some calf liver from the kitchens. Did you have any luck with the Tartar’s lips, Selly?”

“No,” sighed Selene, “and not with the nose of Turk either. I asked Nilüfer Sultan if she cared to help out but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“How rude.”

“Don’t you think so?”

“So can we go back now if you don’t have everything to complete the spell?” 

“Oh Victoria, don’t be silly,” Selene laughed. “A good witch knows how to adapt!”

With pinched fingers, she pulled a tissue from her pocket and let it float into the cauldron, topping it up with something that Victoria could only assume to be a handful of ground meat. She and Ethel took up singing again.

“Cool it with a baboon’s blood, Then the charm is firm and good.” 

Ethel produced a slender vial from her now empty bag, unstoppered it and poured some red liquid into the cauldron. She and Selene exchanged excited looks and stepped forward to peer inside. Victoria did not. The eerie green glow from before had vanished, the colour of the potion they had brewed changing disconcertingly fast. The soft sound of the bubbling had given way to a deeper rumble, too, making the metal pot shake on the stone altar.

“What exactly did you brew there?”

“We brewed a potion most potent and most fantastical.”

“Dare I say, the potion of potions.”

“I gathered,” said Victoria, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear and watching the quivering cauldron from the corner of her eye. “But what does it do?”

Selene and Ethel stopped in their tracks.

“What do you mean, what does it do?”

“What are its effects? What’s going to happen now?” Victoria paled as a thought struck her. “I’m not going to drink it if that’s what you intended.”

“Well, in the play, Macbeth is supposed to see apparitions telling him of his fate now.”

“There is no Macbeth here, though, and no apparitions either.”

Ethel and Selene looked at each other shrugging, as if the thought had only now occurred to them. Feeling suddenly more stupid than possibly endangered, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I can’t believe you two,” she sternly told her friends. “Every time I think you can’t get anymore silly you top my expectations. Not only that you drag me away from the Halloween feast in the middle of the night to clamber over sticks and stones with a stolen - yes, Ethel, stolen - cauldron, you didn’t even spent a thought at the purpose of such a doing, or what might possibly come off it!”

“But we did!” Selene protested loudly. She was barely audible of the rumble of the potion. It splashed higher and higher, and glowed brighter and brighter, coming up as high as if someone had thrown a stone into water. “In the play —“

“‘Play’ being the operative word here,” Victoria scoffed. “Did you really think I would fancy seeing a severed head and a bloody baby telling me about my doom?” She snorted. “Pray, forgive me if I do decline.” 

Selene looked torn between feeling sorry to have upset her friend and the righteous urge to prove Victoria wrong, while Ethel geared herself up to defend their endeavour. Before it could come to it, however, the light changed yet again. With a resounding boom, the cauldron shot up into the air and came crashing down with a loud bang, bouncing off one of the vertical stones as it did so. 

Victoria and Ethel gasped as they jumped away from the glowing drops flying their way. Selene shrieked and pressed Alan to her chest with one hand, rubbing at a stain on her skirt with the other. The formerly peaceful, moonlit clearing was reduced to chaos, but when suddenly a low, agony-filled moan reached them from the blackness of the trees, the three girls and one ferret froze. 

Alan gave a whimper, clambering up onto Selene’s shoulder. Selene held him and stroked his fur, but her excitedly glittering eyes were trained on the darkness ahead. She started towards it with a couple of determined steps, but Victoria caught her by her sleeve and pulled her back. Reluctantly, she turned and followed her fleeing friends, quick footsteps carrying them away from the stone circle and back towards the castle. 

When they were gone, the moaning and groaning stopped. A rustle sounded in the underbrush beyond the clearing, and from the darkness four figures emerged, three of them grinning broadly, and one not so much, slowly trailing behind the others. They approached the clearing, standing in the middle of the exploded potion with three of them on one side, and the remaining on the other. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen,” said Gabriel Sapieha, watching his vandalised surroundings with a look of profound satisfaction.

“Anytime, old chap.” Bradford Pendleton hooked the toe of his boot under the handle of the cauldron and pushed it back into a standing position. Curiously, he peered inside. “Who would have thought that my tempering with potion recipes would not result in failure for once?”

“Carolyn Nyberg would be proud of you.”

Brady chuckled. “I certainly hope not. Good aim, Mercury.” 

“Thank you. Did you see their faces?” asked Lysander Mercury with a grin. He screwed up his face and it morphed into the features of Ethel Hexley, her eyes wide and her mouth rounded to a perfect circle as Ethel-Lysander waved his arms above his head in a hysterical gesture. He held his stomach as he laughed. “This was priceless, gentlemen, absolutely priceless.”

“If you say so,” Jim Hexley mumbled, watching as the hair on his friend’s head turned back to its original golden shade and he looked like himself again. “Are we quite done now? There are honeyed cakes at the feast. I’d be loath to miss them.”

“Not afraid of the dark, are we, old chap?”

Jim was spared a reply when something - or someone? - moved beyond the treeline. A low howl carried through the moonlit night toward them, swelling in volume and pitch. The boys in the clearing looked at each other uneasily. Jim swallowed.

“It hasn’t worked, though, has it? The potion?”

“Don’t be a fool, Hexley,” said Lysander, but he didn’t look away from where the howl had come from. “It is bound to be a wolf or something.”

“You sound like that wouldn't be a problem in itself.”

The howling took up again. The four boys looked up at the full moon hanging silvery above their heads and back at each other.

“I say we make for the castle,” Gabriel suggested in a light tone but his eyes never left the shadow of the trees. “My friends are eager to hear of our success, and we wouldn’t want Jim to miss his honeyed cakes, would we?”

They all agreed, and so left the clearing. One by one they stepped onto the path leading under the canopy of trees, which Jim could swear looked darker than it had upon their arrival. He was the last to follow, and he cast one look back at the stone circle across his shoulder. The cauldron still sat where it had fallen, now upright again, in a ring of glowing specks of potion, which shimmered ominously in the moonlight.

A shiver running down his spine, Jim turned away, hurrying his steps to catch up with his friends toward the warmth and safety of the brightly lit castle. 

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #selene fraser #12mom #twelve months of magic

[lifeofkaze]

Meet the Pendletons

A/N: This family tree focuses on the line of Carolyn's and Bradford's first child William Pendleton that eventually leads to Mina Pendleton. For Ava Campbell - my other OC coming from the Pendleton family - there is a separate family tree here.

Bradford Pendleton IV belongs to the wonderful person that is @kc-and-co, Dahlia Nott belongs to my favourite @the-al-chemist.

Carolyn Acelia Nyberg

Faceclaim: Natalie Dormer

Even though she is technically only half-Swedish, Carolyn knew from very early on that the North was where her heart was lying. For the longest time, her grandmother's estate on Gotland was the only place the usually a little stuck-up and reserved Caro was able to let her hair down. Sharp-witted and incredibly gifted in anything involving potion making, Caro is never shy to withhold her opinion from anyone, even if - or especially so - it might hurt. She never had many friends because of that, but those she has are most precious to her. Among them is Bradford Pendleton IV, the boy she was betrothed to by her parents, then resented, and eventually learned to love. The potions shop she runs in Diagon Alley and passes on to her descendants was Brady's wedding gift for her.

Bradford Elijah Pendleton IV

(Character and summary by the wonderful@kc-and-co)

Faceclaim: Will Weaton (find Bradford's profile here)

The last thing Bradford Elijah Pendleton IV expected to do with his life was to marry Carolyn Nyberg as his father had insisted. Not only did she save The Pendleton Apothecary, she saved Brady’s opinion of it. Upon their union, Brady was able to focus on his own dreams or freedom and art. He went on to open galleries in Hogsmeade, Amsterdam, Paris, and New York. Though he was initially unhappy with his sorting into Slytherin, he learned loyalty and ambition are not a prison but a privilege.

William Anders Pendleton

Faceclaim: Ian Somerhalder

Being Caro's and Brady's oldest child, lots of expectations were placed on young William's shoulders - most coming from his paternal grandfather Bradford Pendleton III, who hoped his grandson wouldn't turn out quite as disappointing as his actual son. He was delighted when William's ambition and cunning secured him a place in Slytherin, the traditional house of the Pendleton family. William never exhibited the same talent for potion making his mother displayed, but had a knack for numbers and business decisions, which was why Caro was all too happy to hand the administrative reins of her business over. It was William who renamed the shop back to its old name Pendleton Potions & Apothecary as it was his grandfather's condition to hand the family fortune over to William. Once the money was transferred into William's vault at Gringotts, he cut ties with Bradford Pendleton III and never once looked back.

Astrid Lyanna Pendleton: Faceclaim: Vanessa Kirby

As the second child, Astrid was always more free to pursue what sparked her interest, which was primarily gathering knowledge of all kinds. She was sorted into Ravenclaw and couldn't have been a better fit. She delved into natural science after her Hogwarts education and helped improving her mother's potion recipes by deepening her understanding the interactions between the different ingredients on a deeper level. Her love for learning and her sharp mind eventually passed on to her daughter and even her granddaughter Ava.

Cassandra Acelia Pendleton: Faceclaim: Emily Van Camp

Cassandra is the older of the two twin sisters and as you would suspect the more sensible one - but not by much. She was sorted into Gryffindor at school, which her grandfather found scandalous, and her favourite subject quickly turned out to be Potions. She wanted to help run the shop alongside her brother after graduating, but Caro wasn't ready to step back from her life's achievement just yet. Not wanting her light to be dimmed by her mother, Cassandra agreed to accompany her twin sister Cressida when she decided to leave England for the United States. She pursued her studies there and became a Potions Master in her own rights, eventually teaching the next generation of potioneers at Ilvermorny.

Cressida Ingrid Pendleton: Faceclaim: Taylor Swift

Cressida isn't only the younger twin, she is the youngest of the family and it showed very early on. Loud, bubbly and adventurous, Cressida was sorted into Gryffindor, just like her sister Cassandra, much to their delight. Contrary to her, however, Cressida had no intention of working in the family business after school and instead continued what she had started at Hogwarts - not missing a single party in sight. Her craving for fun and glamour eventually took her and her sister across the pond and to New York City where she enjoyed life to its fullest.

Dahlia Pendleton née Nott

(Character and summary by the fantastic @the-al-chemist)

Faceclaim: Scarlett Johansson

The Nott family, though wealthy and powerful, lost a certain amount of respect among the elite members of wizarding society after Malvolio Nott’s wife Ophelia and youngest daughter Marguerite disappeared without a trace. Malvolio and Ophelia’s older daughter Dahlia took it upon herself to maintain whatever remained of the family’s diminished reputation, taking over her mother’s duty of managing the household expenses, having inherited Ophelia’s talent for budgeting, but not her tendency to hide money for personal use. Her talent for numbers caught the eye of fellow Arithmancy student William Pendleton, and after their marriage, she became the financial manager of the Pendleton Estate and Apothecary. (Summary by @the-al-chemist)

Boreas Alexander Pendleton

Faceclaim: Rob Lowe

Boreas Pendleton inherited neither his parents' knack for numbers, nor was he a Potions prodigy like his grandmother. He wasn't bothered too much by it, however, and happy to leave the business at the Apothecary to those who actually cared about the work. He was more interested in learning more about his Swedish roots and the culture of the Scandinavian people. He travelled around Scandinavia for a while after school but it was only when he returned to Gotland - traditional home of the Nyberg family - that he should meet the future love of his life.

Sonia Pendleton, née Sjöberg

Faceclaim: Julia Stiles

Sonia Sjöberg was born and raised on Gotland. Her father, a magical sculptor specialised in the limestone found on the island, and her mother, a dedicated Herbologist, took Sonia outside to enjoy the singular flora and fauna of Gotland whenever possible, instilling a deep love for nature in their daughter. She returned to Gotland for a while after graduating from Durmstrang. There she met a handsome young wizard from England whom she'd known to visit the big estate on the coast every year with this family. Sonia was eager to help him learn more about his roots on her beloved Gotland and they quickly fell in love. Her condition if she was to follow him to England was at least one trip back home per year - a request Boreas was only too happy to comply.

Wilhelmina Wren Pendleton

Faceclaim: Jennifer Lawrence

Whatever Mina does, she does it with all of her heart. She loves brewing potions as strongly as her great-grandmother Carolyn did, the greenhouse where she grows her own ingredients is her happy place, and she hates anything even remotely resembling a reptile or amphibian with a passion bordering on hysteria. She had a tough time being sorted into Slytherin, even though she combines all of the famous traits of Slytherin House - ambition, a strong sense of self-preservation and a resourceful mind. Her great-grandmother Carolyn has been her personal hero from a very young age and she learned the subtle art of potioneering from Caro herself. She showed so much promise that Caro decided to step down from her work at the Pendleton Apothecary with an easy mind. Her wish for self-preservation was put to the test when her cousin Ava Campbell got her involved with an underground group called The Phoenix Resistance (@kathrynalicemc) during the Second Wizarding War, and her whole world got burned down to the ground.

#masterpost #meet the pendletons #the pendleton family #carolyn nyberg #bradford pendleton iv #william pendleton #astrid pendleton #cressida pendleton #cassandra pendleton #mina pendleton

[lifeofkaze]

Valentine's Challenge 2022 - Day 2

Prompt: Perfect

Find all stories of this challenge in the masterpost here.

A/N: Bradford Pendleton belongs to @kc-and-co, Héloïse Perrault (in mention) belongs to @the-al-chemist

A concerned frown appeared on Carolyn’s brow and she bowed deeper over her cauldron. She gave the bubbling concoction inside a scrutinising look and clicked her tongue in annoyance. Ignoring the familiar fragrant smell of roses and powder, she stirred her potion three times clockwise, and then one and a quarter times counterclockwise. After the potion had changed its colour, she noted something down onto the piece of parchment next to her.

“Half of a Billywig sting and 1.5 additional ounces of Ashwinder egg, twenty-five minutes exposure to winter sunlight,” Caro mumbled under her breath as she wrote. “Better than before, but still not the desired effect.”

She laid down her quill and picked up one of the many bottles with ingredients lined up around her. She weighed it in her hands and thought about what to try next before setting it down again. With a frustrated sigh, she dipped her head into her neck and closed her eyes.

“The new formula for my Pulchritude Potion shall be the end of me,” she complained into the room. “I wished for it to be done by Valentine’s Day, but as it appears, it will have me done, instead of the other way round. What was I even thinking of tinkering with it…”

Her voice trailed off when she noticed that the other person in the vast studio her husband was using for his art wasn’t responding.

Bradford was standing in front of his easel with a frown almost as deep as Caro’s. He was holding a palette with an assortment of colours in one and a brush in the other. A second brush was stuck behind his ear and he had his lips pressed together, looking deeply unhappy with himself and his work.

Brady must have felt Caro’s eyes on him because he gave a start and shook his head. He seemed to come back from a very far away place and his frown made way for a bewildered look.

“What were you saying, my love?”

“What is the matter with you?” Caro asked in response.

“Nothing whatsoever,” Brady replied, already lost in thought again.

“Don’t take me for a fool,” Caro said curtly. She vanished her unsuccessful potion with a flick of her wand, took off her gloves and walked over to him. “Is something the matter with your portrait?”

Brady hummed thoughtfully, his eyes slowly wandering over the canvas. “I have to admit, I’m not as happy with it as I would wish to be.”

Caro tilted her head and gave the picture Brady had spent the last few days working on a critical look.

“It is a remarkable piece of work,” she said. “Whyever don’t you like it?”

“Alas, I do not know.”

“How utterly helpful.”

“What can I say?” Brady shrugged. “I just don’t like it. It looked better in my head.”

Caro took a closer look at the portrait. It showed a dark haired woman with equally dark eyes and very fine features. She stood in front of an inky blue night sky through which differently shaded bands of green light were weaving. The face of the woman looked familiar.

“Is that Héloïse Perrault?” she asked.

Brady nodded. “It’s her birthday next week.”

“On Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?”

“It is. This was supposed to be my gift. I intended to send it to her as a surprise but it looks like I may need to start all over again. I shall never make it on time for it to be posted.”

“Surely it can’t take that long to have a portrait sent across England?”

“She is in Norway as we speak, to study the Northern Lights.” Brady sighed again and looked at his portrait wistfully. “I wanted her gift to be perfect.”

Caro glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and snorted derisively. “Norway. Whatever does she want in a land full of barbarians?”

When she noticed the smirk appearing on Brady’s face Caro stood straighter and put on a pointedly stern expression.

“You never lacked in talent or skill when it comes to capturing a person’s essence in your artwork, but look here,” she said and pointed at the background, “the shadows are all off. How is Héloïse so light when you are trying to evoke the beauty of a Northern night? Auroras cast a light different to this.”

“You always were my best and harshest critic,” Brady smiled. “Yes, the light might indeed be the root of the problem.”

Caro couldn’t help the smile forming on her lips as she remembered the first time she and Brady had stood beneath the miraculous beauty of the Northern Lights.

“You always had your trouble with the auroras.”

Brady laughed softly and draped his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to his side. “Some things are too perfect to be captured on canvas. Nothing could ever compare to the beauty of reality.”

He bowed his head toward her and Caro chuckled when the brush behind Brady’s ear tickled her skin as he kissed her softly.

“Some things are indeed,” she muttered against his lips. “They’re perfect just the way they are.”

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #carolyn nyberg #bradford pendleton iv #bradlyn #valentine challenge 2022

[lifeofkaze]

Meet the Campbells

A/N: This family tree focuses on the line of Carolyn's and Bradford's second child Astrid Pendleton that eventually leads to Ava Campbell. For Mina Pendleton - my other OC coming from the Pendleton family - there will be a separate family tree here, which includes the rest of the Pendleton family as well.

Bradford Pendleton IV belongs to the wonderful person that is @kc-and-co

Carolyn Acelia Nyberg:

Faceclaim: Natalie Dormer (find Carolyn's profile here)

Even though she is technically only half-Swedish, Carolyn knew from very early on that her heart was lying in the North. For the longest time, her grandmother's estate on Gotland was the only place the usually a stuck-up and reserved Caro was able to let her hair down. Sharp-witted and incredibly gifted in potion making, Caro is never shy to withhold her opinion from anyone, even if - or especially so - it might hurt. She never had many friends because of that, but those she had were most precious to her. Among them was Bradford Pendleton IV, the boy she had been betrothed to by her parents and resented, the befriended and eventually learned to love. The apothecary she runs in Diagon Alley and passes on to her descendants originally belonged to Brady's parents and was Brady's wedding gift for her.

Bradford Elijah Pendleton IV:

Faceclaim: Will Weaton (find Bradford's profile here)

The last thing Bradford Elijah Pendleton IV expected to do with his life was to marry Carolyn Nyberg as his father had insisted. Not only did she save The Pendleton Apothecary, she saved Brady’s opinion of it. Upon their union, Brady was able to focus on his own dreams or freedom and art. He went on to open galleries in Hogsmeade, Amsterdam, Paris, and New York. Though he was initially unhappy with his sorting into Slytherin, he learned loyalty and ambition are not a prison but a privilege. (Summary by @kc-and-co)

Astrid Lyanna Armstrong née Pendleton:

Faceclaim: Vanessa Kirby

As the second child, Astrid was always more free to pursue what sparked her interest, which was primarily gathering knowledge of all kinds. She was sorted into Ravenclaw and couldn't have been a better fit. She delved into natural sciences after her Hogwarts education and helped improving her mother's potion recipes by deepening her understanding of the interactions between ingredients. Her love for learning and her sharp mind eventually passed on to her daughter and even her granddaughter Ava.

Bertrand Armstrong:

Faceclaim: Neil Patrick Harris

Keeping up with a brilliant mind as Astrid's was never going to be an easy task but somehow Bertrand managed to be intimidated by neither her mind nor her somewhat blunt behaviour. He didn't always understand everything Astrid was telling him, but he was trying his best to understand and support her regardless. When their daughter turned out to be just as intelligent as their mother, he just laughed and shrugged it off - it would have been a shame to not see his beloved wife's brilliance being passed on, after all.

Agatha Elin Campbell née Armstrong:

Faceclaim: Michelle Pfeiffer

Blessed with the same analytical mind as her mother and grandmother, every last bit of Agatha's power is set on discovering the secrets of our world and the magic within. She built her first laboratory when she was only six and almost blew up the house in the process, so it was no surprise to see her follow her in mother's footsteps and become a member of Ravenclaw House. In the same year as herself was Thomas Campbell, a boy with dreamy eyes and a thirst for knowledge just as keen as Agatha's. While she was fully ready to rival him for the top of their classes, she was surprised to see that his interests were profound but seemed to change every other week. If he wasn't up for a rivalry, Agatha decided, he was going to be a well-enough study partner and she wasn't disappointed to learn that Thomas was a perfect match for more than only her intellect.

Thomas Campbell:

Faceclaim: Hugh Dancy

Where his wife Agatha's mind is focused on a few disciplines with all its power, Thomas prefers to learn a little bit of everything. He has many interests and pursues them with as much passion and discipline as you would suspect - until there is something new to spark his interest. His thought are jumpy and tricky to keep up with but mostly so brilliant that it makes the taxing conversations with him worth it. He owns at least a dozen books for each interest he's ever pursued - of which there are a lot - and no one but himself even stands a chance of making sense of the chaotic hell of paper and parchment that is his study.

James Warrick Campbell:

Faceclaim: Evan Peters

No one was surprised when James Campbell picked up on new things as a child a lot more quickly than all the other children in his age group. Wickedly intelligent and fully aware of it, Jamie was a fascinated by history and uncovering all sorts of secrets and truths. His conviction of having a superior intellect got the better of him when he deemed himself smart enough to deal with the fabled Cursed Vaults on his own. After getting himself stuck inside a portrait he was freed by his little sister Ava and continued his hunt with her by his side. When Ava's life was threatened by Patricia Rakepick Jamie flung himself in front of her and was hit by Rakepick's curse, resulting in his death.

Ava Lyanna Campbell:

Faceclaim: Katheryn Winnick (find Ava's profile here)

Growing up, Ava always looked up to her brother Jamie, whom she thought more more talented and intelligent than herself. After Jamie suddenly vanished, Ava was struggling with fear for him and never stopped wondering whether she could have done something to prevent it. When the rumours about her brother and the Cursed Vaults reached her ear, Ava started looking for and eventually finding him, only to lose him forever shortly after. Like all members of her family, Ava has a sharp mind and high intellect, but she doesn't only thirst for knowledge, she also knows how to apply it practically. Driven by logic and reason, she sometimes seems emotionally detached and is reluctant to let go of control. She is a highly capable witch who combines her talents in a career as a Curse-Breaker. Most time she pushes the dubious morality of her job aside and focuses on gaining and preserving knowledge. Her areas of expertise are Nordic forms of ancient magic and, after she was first confronted with it in the jungle of South America, blood magic.

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