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darkhymns-fic · 5 years

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Bakery Rivalries of Love

Two couples, two bakeries, and the beginning of a rivalry that will only leave sweets in their wake. It's Ace Baker’s Maya Fey and Co. vs. Lloydonuts!

Fandoms: Ace Attorney, Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Phoenix Wright/Maya Fey, Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: Written a long time ago just to include mine and SkyWrite's ships together in some way. Originally shorter, then added more to it to fit Valentine's Day but then that day passed.. so, Happy Late Valentines??? This thing is like a year old I'm sorry.

“We only use the finest nuts!” shouted a spiky-haired baker across the counter. He pounded the flat of his hands against it, kicking up spare flour into the air. His arm, in a furious motion, pointed straight at the lady’s face. “You’ll go nuts for our walnut bread!”

The small old lady from across the counter, her hair tied up in a silver bun, started to cough as a cloud of flour invaded her space. “Oh – oh dear…”

“Nick! We’ve been through this!” Maya shook her head at her baker assistant, meanwhile handing the old lady a paper bag full of freshly baked goods. “Sorry about that. Here’s your order! Have a nice day!”

Phoenix self-consciously scratched the back of his head. His apron was smudged from his furious dough kneading, while the sleeves of his suits also sported some stains. Why he insisted on wearing a suit to his job at the bakery, no one really knew. Just another one of Phoenix’s weird little quirks. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I just sometimes really want to point and shout…”

“Well, keep a lid on it! You’re scaring away the customers when you do that.” She clasped her hands before her, smiling wide as an idea lit up her eyes. “Just put all the energy into your bread making! When you get the urge to shout, just shout into the dough!”

“…Is that sanitary?”

“I don’t know! Probably!” Then Maya gave a little shift of her eyes, walking over to the window of their little bakery shop. It was a bit of a crowded place with its numerous tables that barely let most pass through to the counter, and one houseplant that looked exceedingly out of place. (Still, it was very charming to most customers! It even had a little nameplate on it called Charley.) Maya had to maneuver a bit to get to her desired location.

“Besides, we have to up our game a little if we want to out-bake the new guys from across the street!”

Phoenix just felt a little more confused. “Isn’t that mostly a donut shop though? They don’t really bake much of anything else..”

“Oh, Nick! Don’t you understand?” Maya shook her head, bits of flour stuck to both her face and hair. (With all that long hair, Phoenix had suggested that maybe she should wear a hair net? For safety violations? She never got back to him on that). “They’re new and hip, and everyone’s always in the mood for donuts! You can’t say the same for walnut bread!”

“No way! Everyone loves walnut bread!”

“And don’t you see their menu outside? They have a huge range of selections for just donuts! They sure do use a lot of fruit jelly… and they even have a mascot for their business!” She mimicked Phoenix’s furious pointing, using it to target at a large green and white dog that sat outside the shop, relaxing quite peacefully in the sun.

“But… isn’t that just their pet?”

“It’s their mascot!” Maya argued. “And what do we have? A houseplant! We need to re-invent our look! We need to make Ace Baker’s Maya Fey and Co. the talk of the town! Then all the bored teenagers will want to come to our place to hang and eat baguettes!”

“Yeah, uh, about that name…”

“Hurry, Nick! Let’s start by fixing up the sign! I’ll get the paint, and you get the ladder!”

“You mean a stepladder.”

“Not this again!” She untied her apron and threw it at Phoenix’s face as she ran off to the supply room. “Still gotta be so narrowminded…”

Phoenix slowly pulled the clothing away from his head. (And how did I get wrapped up in this again...?)

“Lloyd? What are you looking at?”

While it was normal for Lloyd to get bored throughout the day, he usually stayed by the counter to get the donuts ready for the customers, or to help with the oven in the back, or to look over Colette’s shoulder in wonder as she made cute little animal designs on most of the glazed donuts. Instead, he pressed his face against the window, eyes squinted in heavy suspicion.

“…I swore I saw someone pointing at us,” he said, unsure.

Colette carefully wiped away donut crumbs and chocolate frosting from her gloves onto her apron. “Oh! You mean from the bakers across the street? They seemed nice. I haven’t gone there yet though. I really want to try their walnut bread!”

“Yeah, that does sound pretty good…” Lloyd then backed away, a small frown on his face as he thought hard. “Still, we gotta make sure we keep up! They’ve been here longer, so it’s probably easy for them to get the regular customers and all!”

“Hmm, I think we’ve been doing well! People really like our fruit donuts! That makes me happy.” Colette bounced a bit on her toes, her hair neatly tied in a bun, along with a hair net so that no stray strands could get into their baked work.

“Of course they like them! That was a really good idea of yours, Colette!” Lloyd then held up his thumb and forefinger, looking satisfied as he thought on past accomplishments. “Also, gotta say, that logo of mine that I made really did the trick! Now whenever people see that, they’ll just think Lloydonuts!”

Colette nodded to that. That same logo was on both of their aprons; a cartoonish version of Lloyd’s head, decked out in a baker hat and holding a whisk. It was just so cute! It really was a step up from what their past logo designer had tried to do… Lloyd had been a bit unhappy at that. “I do still think the other one was okay, too.”

“Agh, but he ruined my handsome face!”

Colette could only laugh at Lloyd’s little outburst. She supposed the past design was a bit weird-looking…

Suddenly there was a little clatter outside, loud enough to get Colette’s attention from deeper in the shop. Lloyd quickly turned back, peering past the painted Lloydonuts logo on the glass.

A black-haired woman was standing outside the bakery, just beneath a ladder (or a stepladder? He always got those confused) as she shouted quite loudly at the person who stood atop it. Whoever was up there seemed to be fixing up the shop’s sign.

“Good job, Nick! Now make my smile just a little bit cuter! No, wait, that’s too lopsided! Honestly, Nick, how did you ever graduate from art school?” She nudged the ladder to get that person’s attention.

“Maya, I never even learned how to draw! And I didn’t go to – ahh!” A spiky-haired man wobbled while standing on top of the (step)ladder, holding precariously onto a paintbrush. His arms flailed as he did so, and said paintbrush then made an unflattering black streak across the painting of a young lady’s face, just underneath her nose.

The woman, who looked very much like the painted version, put her hands on her hips. “Nick! You gave me a mustache! That’s not nice!”

“You almost knocked me over, Maya!”

“Now how we are going to fix this? I can’t just grow a mustache! It’s not right!”

“I could have actually broken my back, you know!”

“Oh, now you’re just being dramatic.”

Colette by then, had joined Lloyd’s side, both of them looking curiously at the two bakers. Like them, they also wore aprons over their regular clothes, although seeing bakers decked out in a suit and some strange dress was a bit out of the ordinary. (Lloyd, insisting on wearing his bright red jacket and suspenders, had no room to judge.) Although their rival bakers argued quite a bit, there was a hint of a smile on both their faces. Colette found that admirable – that even when they disagreed, they still cared about each other a lot!

Lloyd, however, was focused on something else entirely. “Hey! They’re copying my logo!”

Colette raised her eyes to the sign. Oh. Well, it did look a bit similar… The shape of the round face was very much like Lloyd’s, though with long black hair instead of short brown hair, and how she was holding up a loaf of bread instead of a whisk. The words Ace Baker’s Maya Fey and Co. were wrapped around the picture in colorful script. Only, that black streak on the face of the logo was very distracting. It did look a lot like a mustache…

“We gotta work twice as hard, Colette!” Lloyd turned to her in expectation, his confidence in her so deep and unyielding that she was instantly inspired. “We can fix this place up! I’ll talk with Dad about putting some cool dwarven decorations and stuff! And some dwarven-styled donuts!”

“Wow! I didn’t know dwarves made donuts, too!”

“Well… I don’t know if they do actually, but it’s worth a shot!” Lloyd pumped a fist into the air. “We’ll still be the best donut shop there is.”

Colette mimicked his action, then a thought hit her. “How much will it all cost then? Even if it’s your dad, that’s a lot of materials…”

“Eh, Genis handles all that financial stuff. It’s probably okay.” Lloyd said all this without knowing his best friend’s suffering – how he toiled away at night adding up the numbers and trying to not let Lloyd’s overspending on things (the doggy decals on the walls, the paints for the Lloydonuts logo, the boxes of fruits they got every week for their special donut recipes) put the donut shop out of business. Lloyd would never know Genis’ sacrifice.

“Also!” Lloyd continued excitedly. “Holidays are coming up soon, so we can make some special menu things for those days! Like Valentine’s and that Easter thing…”

“Oh! Valentine’s Day is pretty soon! We could make our donuts into the shape of a heart!” Colette’s eyes shone with the idea, then reined herself back. “Do you think that would be okay?”

“You kidding?” Lloyd said back with even more enthusiasm. “That’s perfect! We should start that now or something! Whatever expenses we get we can just pass off to Genis to figure out.”

Colette was so happy. Lloyd always supported her ideas one-hundred percent. “Okay!”

Off in the distance, Genis felt a shudder through his spine. No… they wouldn’t be pulling at this month’s budget already, right? No. There was no way Lloyd would be that terrible of a friend. But Genis did not sleep well that night.

The next day, Maya Fey woke up to the scent of freshly baked goods… which were not theirs!

“Nick!” Maya yelled suddenly. She slapped the sleeping baker straight on the back of the head. They just slept on the counters so they could be early to work! Again, not very sanitary. The health inspectors didn’t visit this part of town, luckily.

“Gah! Maya! Wh-!”

Maya then shushed him harshly, her black hair framing her face very intimidatingly. Or, she probably thought it did. Several hair strands stuck up from her topknot in haphazard fashion, and there were bags under her eyes, which she had gotten from ‘scoping their rivals out’ the other night. For one thing, Phoenix had questioned if the other bakers even knew that they existed? And the second thing… (Maya, can we please get some actual beds sometime? I think I swallowed some flour in my sleep…)

Then, he noticed a certain scent, too… but none of their ovens were on. Or he hoped not, because they didn’t have fire alarms here… which was another safety hazard for this place. “Maya?” he asked, but she only shushed him again. Were they pretending to not be here or something? The only time they did that was when Larry Butz came over, whining about his girlfriend leaving him and wanting some free pastries to cope with his loss…

Maya stealthily made her way to the front. The curtains were shut, their place not opening yet for another hour. She peeked through the blinds, squinting hard through the harsh early morning daylight. Those same eyes widened – more than they ever did, even when she channeled certain spirits. No such spirit from beyond the veil of death could have foreseen what she was observing right now…

“They’re already selling Valentine’s Day goods!” she yelled.

Phoenix, still trying to wake up, jumped at the sudden shout. Maya would have shattered his eardrums if he were close enough. “What?!” he said in reflex.

That was the wrong decision. Maya rushed to him, hands clutching the apron he still wore, (yes, even when he went to sleep. It gave him some padding on the hard counter surface) and pulled him near… just to yell in his ear again. “I said, they’re already selling Valentine’s Day goods, Nick!”

Ah, now there was that ringing in his ears. Great.

Maya rushed back to the window, peering through the blinds, the sunlight streaking across her frizzy black hair, making her seem a bit sinister. Or maybe that was just Phoenix’s own perspective. To be fair, he was half-deaf right now because of her and didn’t really like it.

“I thought you scoped them out or something,” he mentioned, voice a little loud as he tried to hear himself.

“Keep it down, Nick!” Maya gestured, still looking away. Then, seemingly unsatisfied with that, she pulled the blinds open fully, effectively blinding Phoenix instead of just deafening him.

(Why?!) But even as he tried to shield himself, Maya stared down at the scene before her. “These guys are better than I thought!”

The Lloydonuts place was open extra-early today, but things were different. There were hearts placed over the logo of the smiling chef now on the window, and that weird dog was standing next to a sign that depicted even more of those hearts! And something about free samples… That was when she finally looked to one of their rivals, a girl with blonde hair and a bright smile, holding a platter filled with freshly baked donuts towards a growing crowd.

“Hi! Get our Lloyd Love Donuts!” she said eagerly. “We have even more choices inside!”

Maya could only be impressed… but… they didn’t do any changes to their dog to help spice up their sales! At least dye his fur pink or something!

“We’re opening up right now!” Maya flipped their sign from ‘We’re Closed!’ to ‘Hey, Get in Here!’ “Start the ovens, Nick! We don’t have time to be dilly-dallying or whatever!”

“I… still can’t really see..”

Maya huffed. She had to do all the work herself around here… “At least get ready to greet the customers! I’ve had some new ideas for our shop later on… but looks like our rivals forced my hand!” She pushed up the sleeves of her robe, cheeks puffed up with determination. “Let’s get to it, Nick!”

(But I only slept for three hours…) He didn’t say such things out loud however, knowing Maya was too busy firing up the ovens to listen.

Their early Valentine’s Day Donuts Sale was a huge success!

Sure, Colette may have tripped a few times while offering free samples to passerby, but that just made her even more endearing to them, convincing customers to go inside and try out the donuts for her sake. Lloyd, handling the orders from within the shop, had a white chef hat atop his head so that he matched the logo, complete with maybe a hand drawn heart or two on his new accessory. He still had on his red gloves, along with the long-sleeved jacket, which probably made things a little hot for him when he got the donuts out of the oven, but he didn’t care. Things were going so well! The heart-shaped donuts were selling like hotcakes! (except they were donuts); from powdered types to yummy glazed ones, and those with fruity filling.

“Thanks for buying Lloydonuts!” he shouted in farewell as a customer left their shop, three large boxes in hand. They were selling so much, and it was only just hitting noon!

The chime of the door continued to ring when Colette came back inside. “Lloyd! I’m gonna need more samples, I think – Waa!”

Lloyd leapt over the counter to catch Colette in his arms, grinning at her clumsiness. “You dork. No need to rush!”

“Ah, sorry.” This was followed soon by a giggle. “You got powder on your face!”

“Oh, where?” He tried to pat it away from his cheek, but missed it by an inch – and even more because the powdered donut sugar was on his forehead and chin, too.

“Here, I can help get it-”

Noishe was barking loudly suddenly, which nearly made them both trip from the suddenness. But each kept the other’s balance, looking towards the door. “Noishe?” Lloyd said curiously.

Colette followed soon after with a question. “Did he see something scary?”

Worried for their dog, both went to the window, the Lloydonuts logo facing them in its reversed, transparent glory, all decked up with Valentine’s Day accessories of pink and red hearts. But despite all that, they could see clearly how Noishe looked excitedly at the shop across from them. It was open already?

And there was someone outside, too! Also giving free samples of… of… Lloyd squinted his eyes. “Huh. What is that?”

The black-haired girl in her robes and apron kindly gave him a clue not long after.

“Get your Love Baguettes! One of a kind! Only here!” She held up said Love Baguette – or rather, two of them. Both have been curved together to form the shape of a heart, a little messily done maybe, but it was still a heart! The shop’s door was open – one could hear the frantic greeting coming from inside, followed by a fierce pounding of fists on a hard surface.

“Thank you! Please come again and share the love! Ugh…”

“With more feeling, Nick!” She shouted back into the shop, which may have startled a retreating customer, several Love Baguettes around their arms.

“What?” Lloyd fumed, still peering through the painted logo of their shop window. All the added hearts everywhere were making this more difficult than it usually was. “That was our thing!”

Colette blinked. “Um… I don’t think heart shapes can belong to people…”

“And they’re using two of them?! That’s… that’s a good idea, actually…”

“Love Baguettes! And don’t forget our Lovely Nuts!” She held up what looked like their famous walnut bread, also mushily curved into a heart-shape. The nuts inside it looked like those little heart candies typically given out on the holiday, too! “You’ll fall for them every time!”

“Oh!” Colette was very impressed with this lady! “Those are really cute!””

Lloyd was decidedly much more annoyed. “They’re going to beat us at this rate! Also, that walnut bread does sound really good!” He ran from the window back to the counter. “I’m gonna hurry and make some more! And… and a give a 2-for-1 special!”

“But what about our break?” she asked, since it was lunchtime. Usually they would go out and take Noishe during this time, walking around the town and maybe have some coffee together. She looked forward to those…

“There’s no time! I’ll make some more free samples for you, Colette!”

“R-right!” Well, it was probably just for today. And she wanted to help Lloyd out! She believed in his dream of making the best donut shop in town!

She just hoped she would stop dropping the samples this time…

“Oh, they’re still going, huh?”

Maya was munching on one of the Love Baguettes, staring hard at the donut place. The blonde girl was frantically sharing the donut samples, and now talking on and on about some special? For two donuts? Now that was just crazy!

“Nick! We gotta start selling these things better!” She paused. “Bring Charley out here! He could use the sun anyway…”

“I don’t understand how leaving our plant outside is supposed to help…” Even so, Phoenix carried out the potted plant from indoors. Its tall stature loomed over his head, several of the leafy fronds covering his entire face. “And you didn’t have to paint him pink!”

“It’s washable paint, don’t worry! Charley just wants to look nice, sometimes.”

“Maya, this isn’t even your plant…”

“Well, Mia told me!” she said, effectively winning that argument. Charley needed to be spruced up to compete with their rival’s mascot. The pink color would be sure to draw some eyes to them!

The other girl looked to them from across the street, tilting her platter towards the ground, seemingly unaware. A few tiny donut hearts fell from their perch. Both Phoenix and Maya could hear her cry of dismay, especially as Noishe sniffed at them.

“Now she’s just putting on the cute and clumsy act! Clever!” Maya turned to Phoenix. “Okay, remember! You’re gonna have to start acting in charge while I woo the customers over with my natural cuteness!”

Normally, he would argue that he was supposed to be in charge of things anyway… and was technically her boss! But… well… life was difficult, and he had no idea how he ended up in a bakery shop, honestly. He shrugged. “Okay, okay.”

While Maya fixed her hair up a little and worked on her cute winks and cuter smiles (all while putting the Love Baguettes around Phoenix’s arms so he could start selling their product!) the door to the Lloydonuts shop burst open. Out came the other half of the donut duo, his brown hair a little ruffled underneath his tilted white chef hat, which looked ready to fall off.

“Colette, look! I made the double donut combo!” He held up his creation proudly – two of the heart-shaped donuts fused together at the side, complete with fancy designs on their front that made it looked like the guy had stuck in actual jewels into the chocolate frosting. (But, they weren’t real jewels, right?) Either way, they looked beautiful! “I uh, kinda accidentally baked two of them together a bit too close to each other, but this would be a really cool idea anyway, yeah?”

“That’s so good, Lloyd!” Colette was praising. “And you added those jewels after?” She wanted to point to those decorations as she said so. This just made her drop the platter altogether in her excitement. “Oh…”

Maya stared again across the street, and soon decided that she had had enough! She hung her last Love Baguette around Phoenix’s neck, then moved forwards. “Maya?” he asked.

“Just trying to run us out of business, huh? With our own idea!” She had her hands on her hips, staring across the street to Lloyd. “That should be illegal, right, Nick?”

“I.. I’m not that kind of lawyer, Maya. You know this.”

Lloyd heard the accusation, the girl’s voice carrying very clear through the air. Not many people were around at the time, and this gave him incentive to finally see just what was the deal with these guys!

Leaving from helping Colette retrieve their fallen pastries, he put his own hands on his hips, staring at the girl called Maya, chef hat still very tilted. “You were already taking our idea first! We came up with the heart stuff!”

“Um, Lloyd, I’m not sure…”

“No way! I had that idea way before you! Besides, we did it better.” Her cheeks puffed out as she stared down Lloyd, mimicking her cool pose! “And stop copying me!”

“You’re the one that’s copying me!”

Colette was at his shoulder, patting his back. “I think it’s okay?”

Phoenix, still looking very tired, still a little hard of hearing, and decked out in weirdly-warped baguettes all over his body, looked to the ground with a sigh. “I went to law school for this.”

“We have to settle this here and now!” Maya proclaimed. “We can’t let this rivalry keep going! Or it’ll destroy us both…” She said the last very dramatically, eyes shining, like a certain samurai made of steel that she binge-watched, even when customers were in the store.

Lloyd followed right along with her, looking serious and grim as he nodded. “You’re right about that at least! But I promise you we won’t be going down without a fight!”

Colette was giggling a bit nervously. “Lloyd… I don’t think it’s that serious..”

Phoenix finally got the Love Baguettes off him, grimacing at all that Maya said. “We’re not even rivals, Maya. They sell different stuff from us!”

“No! We gotta prove ourselves!” At that, Maya was stunned by her own stroke of genius. She turned to him. “We have to prove to our customers with more than just Love Baguettes. We have to show our love, Nick!” She grabbed Phoenix’s arms, bringing him close. “Now give me some sugar!”

Phoenix was red in the face. “W-what? We’re not… we’re not together!”

Maya blinked. “Oh, we’re not?”

“Are we??” This was entirely fresh news to him. Even so, a nervous but gentle smile crossed his face. “I mean… I’ve always thought about-”

“Whatever! This is for the business!” She pulled him in, kissing him probably too roughly. Maybe even violently?

Colette was blushing from the public display of affection! Then she felt arms around her too suddenly. Um.

“We can do that, too!” she heard Lloyd say, but not really believing it. Wishful thinking, right? She’d never kissed anyone before! Especially Lloyd!

“Wha-” was all she got out of her throat before she felt his lips on her. Then her mind conveniently went blank, only noting a certain chef hat having finally fallen to the ground.

It was probably a full minute or two before Lloyd realized what he was doing and pulled back, a blush covering his face. His hair was also a bit disheveled, no hat anymore to cover the unruly strands. “Uh… sorry! I was… um…” His competitive nature was soon tempered by the reality of the situation. Maybe he was too competitive…

Colette’s face was overheating. “It’s okay! For- for the business, right?” So, more kisses were important actually! “We should keep doing that!”

Lloyd stared. “Colette-”

They were then interrupted by yelling.

“Maya, I need to breathe!”

“Why do you still have to be so dramatic?” But Maya finally pulled back while Phoenix clutched a hand to his chest, breathing heavily. How long had they been…? “And you c-clearly need to practice!” Of course, her face was just as red, looking to the panting Phoenix with occasional glances, eyelids lowered.

But whatever that was all about, the rivalry was quickly brought back when she faced Lloyd and Colette again. “I see you’re still trying to copy me! You have no originality, do ya?”

Lloyd’s previous blush was soon replaced with a grimace again. Colette sighed sadly at their moment already being over. “Oh yeah? How’s this for original?”

With that, Colette felt the ground suddenly leave her. Oh no, did she trip again? No, it was just Lloyd carrying her in his arms. Wait. He held her close, making her squeak in surprise once she realized what was happening. Maybe they could still have their moment then…

“Bet you can’t look better than us now!” he bragged, grinning wide as he held Colette easily. “We show our love way better!”

“Lloyd?!” Colette felt she was about to faint. “L-love..”

“Ah, um…” He turned to her with that same blush. “I meant to tell you…”

This only inspired Maya even further. “You think that’ll stop us? Nick! Carry me! Hurry!”

Phoenix’s face went pale. “But, my back! You know it’s not-”

“Stop stalling!” With no warning, she dashed towards Phoenix, then made a gigantic leap for his arms, expecting him to catch her full force. Her purple robes flew behind her gracefully, along with her dark hair. She was like a graceful bird flying towards him... and then he realized she was more like a freight train ready to knock him over.

“Maya!!” And he did catch her somehow! But he stumbled a bit, and then stiffened, a loud, audible crack being heard, even from across the street. “Oh… oh no..”

“Nice job, Nick! …Nick?”

Seeing the other couple do the same, Colette really wanted to help out more! Especially after what Lloyd said.. With firm lips, she hopped out of his arms, then quickly scooped him up with a smile. “How about this?” This will get people paying attention to them! And make their shop the best in town!

“Uh.” Lloyd was at a loss on what to do, his long legs dangling a little awkwardly from her hold. “Uh…” If it was possible to blush redder than a tomato, he was doing that. “This… this is good, yeah.”

“It’s not uncomfortable, is it?” she asked with genuine concern.

“N-no! It’s very comfortable!” Lloyd had answered her a bit quickly, still very red. “Should probably… keep hanging onto me, you know.”

By then, they had missed when Phoenix had fallen to the ground. They only noticed when they heard him moaning in pain on the pavement, Maya standing before him with a slightly worried look. “Oh.. I guess I overdid it a little…”

“Is he okay?” Colette called out.

But once Maya turned back, all concern for Phoenix washed away at the sight before her. “That’s just cheating!”

Now she was getting desperate. She reached for one of the discarded Love Baguettes and then just… threw it at them! “Take this!”

Lloyd, however, was well prepared.

He reached into one of his apron’s pockets, bringing out the double Lloyd Love Donut and flung it straight back at Maya. “Then take this!” he shouted back.

Both pastries arced through the air… straight into the face of a random passerby.

Colette gasped. “Oh no!” But the woman looked familiar…

Luckily, the person, a small old lady by the looks of it, caught the two flying pastries in both hands. She smiled warmly at both bakers. “Why, thank you for the samples. These work so well together. I can share these with my family.” Then she tottered away, keeping both baguette and donut in her hands.

Maya stared. “Oh! That’s the same lady from yesterday… the one you scared off, Nick!”

Phoenix finally got to his feet, slouched over slightly. “I didn’t… I didn’t scare anyone!”

Colette soon remembered! “Ah! Isn’t that Marble? Genis’ friend? I’m glad she’s okay.”

Lloyd was still in her arms, looking confused. “She has like super good reflexes…”

Maya was then rushing up to them, dragging Nick with her by his tie, nearly scaring Colette into dropping Lloyd on the ground. “We have to join forces!”

“What?” everyone asked, including Phoenix.

“That lady was proof! We could grow our businesses if we start selling stuff together. Still our own shops but like… um… specials when you get both!”

“Oh…” Lloyd said dumbly, before finally understanding. “Ohhh.”

“I don’t really understand,” Colette had to admit.

“Two is better than one!” Lloyd then said, as if that explained everything. “I get it! We have to start working together! So anyone that buys stuff from our place like… gets a discount or something from their bakery shop!”

“Yeah, yeah! And same with us! With your donut stuff!” Maya was clenching her fists, which unfortunately tightened Phoenix’s tie around his neck a bit too much. “We’ll be the best!”

“Maya-!”

“Yeah! So uh, partners!” Lloyd held out his hand, still in Colette’s arms, but also ready to do business.

“Partners!” Maya shook his hand, both of them looking very proud of themselves. “I’ve saved our business, Nick.”

“It was never in danger to begin with-! Ack!”

Colette was just happy they could all get along and be friends now. “So, can we try those Love Baguettes, maybe?” They looked so yummy! And maybe her and Lloyd could share one…

“Of course!” Maya said, like they were old friends. “And make sure to try our Lovely Nuts, too!”

“Maya, we need to rethink that name-”

“Also, I get free donut eating privileges now that we’re partners, yeah?”

Lloyd readily agreed. “As long as I get to try that walnut stuff!” Off in the distance, Genis felt a cold shudder run through him again. Ah… economic disaster would be in the future if he was not careful…

But none of that worried anybody. With Maya and Lloyd already discussing their future plans, Phoenix still slightly suffocating, and Colette just so happy that everything worked out for the best, the future of Ace Baker’s Maya Fey and Co. and Lloydonuts was looking bright!

#ace attorney #tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #maya fey #phoenix wright #colloyd #fanfiction #one shot #valentines

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dfroza · 4 years

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A baptism of the heart & body

is the marking of an act of rebirth that is only made possible by grace for those who “believe...” in the True illumination of the Son

and the Scriptures as inspiration of the Spirit have been written down to guide us in this, also to teach and comfort and warn of danger as well, which should spark reverence and humility in us such as read Today in Paul’s Letter of First Corinthians with chapter 10:

Remember our history, friends, and be warned. All our ancestors were led by the providential Cloud and taken miraculously through the Sea. They went through the waters, in a baptism like ours, as Moses led them from enslaving death to salvation life. They all ate and drank identical food and drink, meals provided daily by God. They drank from the Rock, God’s fountain for them that stayed with them wherever they were. And the Rock was Christ. But just experiencing God’s wonder and grace didn’t seem to mean much—most of them were defeated by temptation during the hard times in the desert, and God was not pleased.

The same thing could happen to us. We must be on guard so that we never get caught up in wanting our own way as they did. And we must not turn our religion into a circus as they did—“First the people partied, then they threw a dance.” We must not be sexually promiscuous—they paid for that, remember, with 23,000 deaths in one day! We must never try to get Christ to serve us instead of us serving him; they tried it, and God launched an epidemic of poisonous snakes. We must be careful not to stir up discontent; discontent destroyed them.

These are all warning markers—danger!—in our history books, written down so that we don’t repeat their mistakes. Our positions in the story are parallel—they at the beginning, we at the end—and we are just as capable of messing it up as they were. Don’t be so naive and self-confident. You’re not exempt. You could fall flat on your face as easily as anyone else. Forget about self-confidence; it’s useless. Cultivate God-confidence.

No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you come through it.

So, my very dear friends, when you see people reducing God to something they can use or control, get out of their company as fast as you can.

I assume I’m addressing believers now who are mature. Draw your own conclusions: When we drink the cup of blessing, aren’t we taking into ourselves the blood, the very life, of Christ? And isn’t it the same with the loaf of bread we break and eat? Don’t we take into ourselves the body, the very life, of Christ? Because there is one loaf, our many-ness becomes one-ness—Christ doesn’t become fragmented in us. Rather, we become unified in him. We don’t reduce Christ to what we are; he raises us to what he is. That’s basically what happened even in old Israel—those who ate the sacrifices offered on God’s altar entered into God’s action at the altar.

Do you see the difference? Sacrifices offered to idols are offered to nothing, for what’s the idol but a nothing? Or worse than nothing, a minus, a demon! I don’t want you to become part of something that reduces you to less than yourself. And you can’t have it both ways, banqueting with the Master one day and slumming with demons the next. Besides, the Master won’t put up with it. He wants us—all or nothing. Do you think you can get off with anything less?

Looking at it one way, you could say, “Anything goes. Because of God’s immense generosity and grace, we don’t have to dissect and scrutinize every action to see if it will pass muster.” But the point is not to just get by. We want to live well, but our foremost efforts should be to help others live well.

With that as a base to work from, common sense can take you the rest of the way. Eat anything sold at the butcher shop, for instance; you don’t have to run an “idolatry test” on every item. “The earth,” after all, “is God’s, and everything in it.” That “everything” certainly includes the leg of lamb in the butcher shop. If a nonbeliever invites you to dinner and you feel like going, go ahead and enjoy yourself; eat everything placed before you. It would be both bad manners and bad spirituality to cross-examine your host on the ethical purity of each course as it is served. On the other hand, if he goes out of his way to tell you that this or that was sacrificed to god or goddess so-and-so, you should pass. Even though you may be indifferent as to where it came from, he isn’t, and you don’t want to send mixed messages to him about who you are worshiping.

But, except for these special cases, I’m not going to walk around on eggshells worrying about what small-minded people might say; I’m going to stride free and easy, knowing what our large-minded Master has already said. If I eat what is served to me, grateful to God for what is on the table, how can I worry about what someone will say? I thanked God for it and he blessed it!

So eat your meals heartily, not worrying about what others say about you—you’re eating to God’s glory, after all, not to please them. As a matter of fact, do everything that way, heartily and freely to God’s glory. At the same time, don’t be callous in your exercise of freedom, thoughtlessly stepping on the toes of those who aren’t as free as you are. I try my best to be considerate of everyone’s feelings in all these matters; I hope you will be, too.

The Letter of First Corinthians, Chapter 10 (The Message)

to be paired with the reading of chapter 23 in the book of Genesis:

Sarah lived 127 years. Sarah died in Kiriath Arba, present-day Hebron, in the land of Canaan. Abraham mourned for Sarah and wept.

Then Abraham got up from mourning his dead wife and spoke to the Hittites: “I know I’m only an outsider here among you, but sell me a burial plot so that I can bury my dead decently.”

The Hittites responded, “Why, you’re no mere outsider here with us, you’re a prince of God! Bury your dead wife in the best of our burial sites. None of us will refuse you a place for burial.”

Then Abraham got up, bowed respectfully to the people of the land, the Hittites, and said, “If you’re serious about helping me give my wife a proper burial, intercede for me with Ephron son of Zohar. Ask him to sell me the cave of Machpelah that he owns, the one at the end of his land. Ask him to sell it to me at its full price for a burial plot, with you as witnesses.”

Ephron was part of the local Hittite community. Then Ephron the Hittite spoke up, answering Abraham with all the Hittites who were part of the town council listening: “Oh no, my master! I couldn’t do that. The field is yours—a gift. I’ll give it and the cave to you. With my people as witnesses, I give it to you. Bury your deceased wife.”

Abraham bowed respectfully before the assembled council and answered Ephron: “Please allow me—I want to pay the price of the land; take my money so that I can go ahead and bury my wife.”

Then Ephron answered Abraham, “If you insist, master. What’s four hundred silver shekels between us? Now go ahead and bury your wife.”

Abraham accepted Ephron’s offer and paid out the sum that Ephron had named before the town council of Hittites—four hundred silver shekels at the current exchange rate.

That’s how Ephron’s field next to Mamre—the field, its cave, and all the trees within its borders—became Abraham’s property. The town council of Hittites witnessed the transaction. Abraham then proceeded to bury his wife Sarah in the cave in the field of Machpelah that is next to Mamre, present-day Hebron, in the land of Canaan. The field and its cave went from the Hittites into Abraham’s possession as a burial plot.

The Book of Genesis, Chapter 23 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, february 19 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

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spinayarnindia · 5 years

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The Barber’s Clever Wife

Once upon a time there lived a barber, who was such a poor silly creature that he couldn’t even ply his trade decently, but snipped off his customers’ ears instead of their hair, and cut their throats instead of shaving them. So of course he grew poorer every day, till at last he found himself with nothing left in his house but his wife and his razor, both of whom were as sharp as sharp could be. For his wife was an exceedingly clever person, who was continually rating her husband for his stupidity; and when she saw they hadn’t a farthing left, she fell as usual to scolding. But the barber took it very calmly. ‘What is the use of making such a fuss, my dear?’ said he; ‘you’ve told me all this before, and I quite agree with you. I never did work, I never could work, and I never will work. That is the fact!’ ‘Then you must beg!’ returned his wife, ‘for I will not starve to please you! Go to the palace, and beg something of the King. There is a wedding feast going on, and he is sure to give alms to the poor.’ ‘Very well, my dear!’ said the barber submissively. He was rather afraid of his clever wife, so he did as he was bid, and going to the palace, begged of the King to give him something. ‘Something?’ asked the King; ‘what thing?’ Now the barber’s wife had not mentioned anything in particular, and the barber was far too addle-pated to think of anything by himself, so he answered cautiously, ‘Oh, something!’ ‘Will a piece of land do?’ said the King. Whereupon the lazy barber, glad to be helped out of the difficulty, remarked that perhaps a piece of land would do as well as anything else. Then the King ordered a piece of waste, outside the city, should be given to the barber, who went home quite satisfied. ‘Well! what did you get?’ asked the clever wife, who was waiting impatiently for his return. ‘Give it me quick, that I may go and buy bread!’ And you may imagine how she scolded when she found he had only got a piece of waste land. ‘But land is land!’ remonstrated the barber; ‘it can’t run away, so we must always have something now!’ ‘Was there ever such a dunderhead?’ raged the clever wife.’ What good is ground unless we can till it? and where are we to get bullocks and ploughs?’ But being, as we have said, an exceedingly clever person, she set her wits to work, and soon thought of a plan whereby to make the best of a bad bargain. She took her husband with her, and set off to the piece of waste land; then, bidding her husband imitate her, she began walking about the field, and peering anxiously into the ground. But when any-* body came that way, she would sit down, and pretend to be doing nothing at all. Now it so happened that seven thieves were hiding in a thicket hard by, and they watched the barber and his wife all day, until they became convinced something mysterious was going on. So at sunset they sent one of their number to try and find out what it was. ‘Well, the fact is,’ said the barber’s wife, after beating about the bush for some-time, and with many injunctions to strict secrecy, ‘this field belonged to my grandfather, who buried five pots full of gold in it, and we were just trying to discover the exact spot before beginning to dig. You won’t tell any one, will you?’ The thief promised he wouldn’t, of course, but the moment the barber and his wife went home, he called his companions, and telling them of the hidden treasure, set them to work. All night long they dug and delved, till the field looked as if it had been ploughed seven times over, and they were as tired as tired could be; but never a gold piece, nor a silver piece, nor a farthing did they find, so when dawn came they went away disgusted. The barber’s wife, when she found the field so beautifully ploughed, laughed heartily at the success of her stratagem, and going to the corn-dealer’s shop, borrowed some rice to sow in the field. This the corn-dealer willingly gave her, for he reckoned he would get it back threefold at harvest time. And so he did, for never was there such a crop!—the barber’s wife paid her debts, kept enough for the house, and sold the rest for a great crock of gold pieces. Now, when the thieves saw this, they were very angry indeed, and going to the barber’s house, said, ‘Give us our share of the harvest, for we tilled the ground, as you very well know.’ ‘I told you there was gold in the ground,’ laughed the barber’s wife, ‘but you didn’t find it. I have, and there’s a crock full of it in the house, only you rascals shall never have a farthing of it!’ ‘Very well!’ said the thieves; ‘look out for yourself to-night. If you won’t give us our share we’ll take it!’ So that night one of the thieves hid himself in the house, intending to open the door to his comrades when the housefolk were asleep; but the barber’s wife saw him with the corner of her eye, and determined to lead him a dance. Therefore, when her husband, who was in a dreadful state of alarm, asked her what she had done with the gold pieces, she replied, ‘Put them where no one will find them,—under the sweetmeats, in the crock that stands in the niche by the door.’ The thief chuckled at hearing this, and after waiting till all was quiet, he crept out, and feeling about for the crock, made off with it, whispering to his comrades that he had got the prize. Fearing pursuit, they fled to a thicket, where they sat down to divide the spoil. ‘She said there were sweetmeats on the top,’ said the thief; ‘I will divide them first, and then we can eat them, for it is hungry work, this waiting and watching.’ So he divided what he thought were the sweetmeats as well as he could in the dark. Now in reality the crock was full of all sorts of horrible things that the barber’s wife had put there on purpose, and so when the thieves crammed its contents into their mouths, you may imagine what faces they made and how they vowed revenge. But when they returned next day to threaten and repeat their claim to a share of the crop, the barber’s wife only laughed at them. ‘Have a care!’ they cried; ‘twice you have fooled us—once by making us dig all night, and next by feeding us on filth and breaking our caste. It will be our turn to-night!’ Then another thief hid himself in the house, but the barber’s wife saw him with half an eye, and when her husband asked, ‘What have you done with the gold, my dear? I hope you haven’t put it under the pillow?’ she answered, ‘Don’t be alarmed; it is out of the house. I have hung it in the branches of the nîm tree outside. No one will think of looking for it there!’ The hidden thief chuckled, and when the house-folk were asleep he slipped out and told his companions. ‘Sure enough, there it is!’ cried the captain of the band, peering up into the branches. ‘One of you go up and fetch it down.’ Now what he saw was really a hornets’ nest, full of great big brown and yellow hornets. So one of the thieves climbed up the tree; but when he came close to the nest, and was just reaching up to take hold of it, a hornet flew out and stung him on the thigh. He immediately clapped his hand to the spot. ‘Oh, you thief!’ cried out the rest from below, ‘you’re pocketing the gold pieces, are you? Oh! shabby! shabby!’—For you see it was very dark, and when the poor man clapped his hand to the place where he had been stung, they thought he was putting his hand in his pocket. ‘I assure you I’m not doing anything of the kind!’ retorted the thief; ‘but there is something that bites in this tree!’ Just at that moment another hornet stung him on the breast, and he clapped his hand there. ‘Fie! fie for shame! We saw you do it that time!’ cried the rest.‘Just you stop that at once, or we will make you!’So they sent up another thief, but he fared no better, for by this time the hornets were thoroughly roused, and they stung the poor man all over, so that he kept clapping his hands here, there, and everywhere. ‘Shame! Shabby! Ssh-sh!’ bawled the rest; and then one after another they climbed into the tree, determined to share the booty, and one after another began clapping their hands about their bodies, till it came to the captain’s turn. Then he, intent on having the prize, seized hold of the hornets’ nest, and as the branch on which they were all standing broke at the selfsame moment, they all came tumbling down with the hornets’ nest on top of them. And then, in spite of bumps and bruises, you can imagine what a stampede there was! After this the barber’s wife had some peace, for every one of the seven thieves was in hospital. In fact, they were laid up for so long a time that she began to think that they were never coming back again, and ceased to be on the look-out. But she was wrong, for one night, when she had left the window open, she was awakened by whisperings outside, and at once recognised the thieves’ voices. She gave herself up for lost; but, determined not to yield without a struggle, she seized her husband’s razor, crept to the side of the window, and stood quite still. By and by the first thief began to creep through cautiously. She just waited till the tip of his nose was visible, and then, flash!—she sliced it off with the razor as clean as a whistle. ‘Confound it!’ yelled the thief, drawing back mighty quick; ‘I’ve cut my nose on something!’ ‘Hush-sh-sh-sh!’ whispered the others, ‘you’ll wake some one. Go on!’ ‘Not I!’ said the thief; ‘I’m bleeding like a pig!’ ‘Pooh!—knocked your nose against the shutter, I suppose,’ returned the second thief. ‘I’ll go!’ But, swish!—off went the tip of his nose too. ‘Dear me!’ said he ruefully, ‘there certainly is something sharp inside!’ ‘A bit of bamboo in the lattice, most likely,’ remarked the third thief. ‘I’ll go!’ And, flick!—off went his nose too. ‘It is most extraordinary!’ he exclaimed, hurriedly retiring; ‘I feel exactly as if some one had cut the tip of my nose off!’ ‘Rubbish!’ said the fourth thief. ‘What cowards you all are! Let me go!’ But he fared no better, nor the fifth thief, nor the sixth. ‘My friends!’. said the captain, when it came to his turn, ‘you are all disabled. One man must remain unhurt to protect the wounded. Let us return another night.’—He was a cautious man, you see, and valued his nose. So they crept away sulkily, and the barber’s wife lit a lamp, and gathering up all the nose tips, put them away safely in a little box. Now before the robbers’ noses were healed over, the hot weather set in, and the barber and his wife, finding it warm sleeping in the house, put their beds outside; for they made sure the thieves would not return. But they did, and seizing such a good opportunity for revenge, they lifted up the wife’s bed, and carried her off fast asleep. She woke to find herself borne along on the heads of four of the thieves, whilst the other three ran beside her. She gave herself up for lost, and though she thought, and thought, and thought, she could find no way of escape; till, as luck would have it, the robbers paused to take breath under a banyan tree. Quick as lightning, she seized hold of a branch that was within reach, and swung herself into the tree, leaving her quilt on the bed just as if she were still in it. ‘Let us rest a bit here,’ said the thieves who were carrying the bed; ‘there is plenty of time, and we are tired. She is dreadfully heavy!’ The barber’s wife could hardly help laughing, but she had to keep very still, for it was a bright moonlight night; and the robbers, after setting down their burden, began to squabble as to who should take first watch. At last they determined that it should be the captain, for the others had really barely recovered from the shock of having their noses sliced off; so they lay down to sleep, while the captain walked up and down, watching the bed, and the barber’s wife sat perched up in the tree like a great bird. Suddenly an idea came into her head, and drawing her white veil becomingly over her face, she began to sing softly. The robber captain looked up, and saw the veiled figure of a woman in the tree. Of course he was a little surprised, but being a goodlooking young fellow, and rather vain of his appearance, he jumped at once to the conclusion that it was a fairy who had fallen in love with his handsome face. For fairies do such things sometimes, especially on moonlight nights. So he twirled his moustaches, and strutted about, waiting for her to speak. But when she went on singing, and took no notice of him, he stopped and called out, ‘Come down, my beauty! I won’t hurt you!’ But still she went on singing; so he climbed up into the tree, determined to attract her attention. When he came quite close, she turned away her head and sighed. ‘What is the matter, my beauty?’ he asked tenderly. ‘Of course you are a fairy, and have fallen in love with me, but there is nothing to sigh at in that, surely?’ ‘Ah—ah—ah!’ said the barber’s wife, with another sigh, ‘I believe you’re fickle! Men with long-pointed noses always are!’ But the robber captain swore he was the most constant of men; yet still the fairy sighed and sighed, until he almost wished his nose had been shortened too. ‘You are telling stories, I am sure!’ said the pre* tended fairy. ‘Just let me touch your tongue with the tip of mine, and then I shall be able to taste if there are fibs about!’ So the robber captain put out his tongue, and, snip!—the barber’s wife bit the tip off clean! What with the fright and the pain, he tumbled off the branch, and fell bump on the ground, where he sat with his legs very wide apart, looking as if he had come from the skies. ‘What is the matter?’ cried his comrades, awakened by the noise of his fall. ‘Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!’ answered he, pointing up into the tree; for of course he could not speak plainly without the tip of his tongue. ‘What—is—the—matter?’ they bawled in his ear, as if that would do any good. ‘Bul-ul-a-bul-ul-ul!’ said he, still pointing upwards. ‘The man is bewitched!’ cried one; ‘there must be a ghost in the tree!’ Just then the barber’s wife began flapping her veil and howling; whereupon, without waiting to look, the thieves in a terrible fright set off at a run, dragging their leader with them; and the barber’s wife, coming down from the tree, put her bed on her head, and walked quietly home. After this, the thieves came to the conclusion that it was no use trying to gain their point by force, so they went to law to claim their share. But the barber’s wife pleaded her own cause so well, bringing out the nose and tongue tips as witnesses, that the King made the barber his Wazîr, saying, ‘He will never do a foolish thing as long as his wife is alive!’

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writelikethelight · 7 years

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Ashland, prologue

We were watching the literal total eclipse of the heart video. And I remembered that I once started a novel based on the actual lyrics of Total Eclipse of the Heart...so it’s a vampire novel set in the early 80s (no, really, Total Eclipse of the Heart is a song about vampire lovers). Anyway.

Lili saw the open door from down the hall as she approached with one bag full of groceries, one bag filled with booze, and a final bag filled with books. She huffed, wondering who had the audacity not only to break in, but leave the door wide open and put on one of her records.

She set her bags down before looking in, just in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Inside, she saw two men, both of whom Lili recognized. Thom, who lived across the hall, bustled around her kitchen, his shoulder length hair pulled back into a bun on his head. He pulled a stoneware dish out of the oven and placed it on the counter and then looked up at her with a smile. “Need any help with your bags?” he asked.

He didn’t wait for a response, merely stepped out into the hall with her and took the large bags of food and booze. Thom hummed as he began to put away the bottles and fresh groceries in their proper places. Lili wanted to ask how he knew where they went, but decided against it. Instead, she took the bag of books and began to unpack them onto the desk in her living room. As she did so, she passed the second man who occupied her apartment.

This man Lili only recognized from photos. He sat at table a decanter in one hand and a bottle of 1886 Merlot in the other.

“I was saving that, you know,” said Lili as she finished unpacking the books. The man looked up at her and blinked. He looked a distinguished fifty, Lili decided, his hair and beard well groomed with only a touch of silver in each. The eyes, though, they gave everything away. His eyes were too dark for a normal, human man.

As she finished with the books, Lili crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You know, popular film will have you believe that vampires will open your balcony doors at night and try to jump into bed with you so they might suck you blood. Really,” she said, crossing the room to close and lock her door, “they’re mostly nuisances. They break into your apartment and fix dinner with your dishes and decant your wine.”

“I’ll match the bottle, if you like,” said the man at her table.

Thom muttered something about having done the dishes already, but did not break off from his bustling.

Lili waved him off. “I suppose it is the point of fine things, is to use them. And there will always be more wine.”

He poured a glass and handed it to her. “Oh, certainly, as long as there are people to drink it there will be more wine.” He poured himself a glass and tapped their two together.

“And what are we toasting?” Lili asked.

“History, my dear,” he said with a wide smile, so much that she could almost see his fangs. “As if there is anything left to toast.”

“Sir Henry thought you might be more comfortable in your own apartment,” said Thom. He pulled the roast out of the stoneware dish he had used to bake it in and set it down one a cutting board. “And you know me,” Thom said as he began to slice up the roast, “I love food.”

He had already placed a bowl of potatoes and carrots to the side, as well as dish of potatoes and one of gravy. Lili reached over the table and took the bowls from the bar and placed them on the table, around a loaf of bread that had yet to be cut. “Thank you,” he said, as he passed her a plate of roast carvings. “Now, where are you plates.”

Lili directed him to the plates and silverware. “Is this my last meal then?” asked Lili settling down in a chair opposite Sir Henry.

“Not as such for you, my dear,” said Sir Henry who began to serve up each plate. “There is the matter of turning you, but there are new laws of course. These days we typically wait until someone has aged to about thirty. To ensure their brain has matured.”

“No more child vampires, like me,” said Thom, winking at her. Thom appeared to be in his early twenties. Not a child by any means, but still not the age of Sir Henry.

“But Thomas and I are here on a personal as well as government matter.” Sir Henry passed her a plate of food. “A matter of setting the record straight, as it were.”

“Oh,” said Lili, as she took the plate of food. “You’ve come to ask about Ashland.”

“Yes,” they said as one.

Thom set about cutting the bread while Sir Henry made up another plate of food. Thom placed a piece of the sourdough bread on her plate.

“What do you want to know?” Lili asked as they passed food among each other.

Sir Henry waved her off. “First, let us eat. It has been a long day for us all, and the sun only just set.”

There was a pause as they each began to cut into their meat and food. Lilli had to admit, as she ate, that Thom was an excellent cook. “Thank you,” she said. “For the food.”

“Oh, you are most welcome,” he said, taking a bite of the roast. “But tell me, what did you think of the latest film?”

“Which one?” Lili asked.

“You know...” With a giggle he flashed his fangs.

“Oh,” she said. “That one. Descent, as far as vampire films go. Had a few problems as far as film in general. And I don’t think it quite replaced The Vampire Lovers in my heart.”

Thom jerked his head to Sir Henry, who was taking great interest in his food. “Sir Henry dislikes the vampire film on principle.”

“I simply choose not to endorse that which takes guesses at our nature.” Sir Henry thoroughly chewed a piece of roast. “Excellent fare, Thomas.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Dinner lapsed between banter, inquisitions of work and other topics of conversations until they had all finished eating. Thom twitched when Lili told him to leave the last round of dishes in the sink.

“And when was the last time you fed?” Sir Henry asked, as Thom fidgeted taking up an occupation in Lili’s desk chair.

He proceeded to pull up a folding table, on top of which was a typewriter, and mess with the typewriter’s settings. “I’m fine,” he said, not looking up at Sir Henry.

“That is not what I asked, Thomas.” Sir Henry turned to Lili with a sigh. “My dear, since Thomas cannot seem to asked, would you be so kind?”

“Certainly,” said Lili. She settled her glass of wine down onto an end table. Moving the folding table out of the way, Lili straddled Thom’s lap and began to unbutton her blouse.

“You don’t have to,” said Thom, though his hands slid onto her hips, holding her in place as he spoke.

“I’m offering,” she said, moving her hair to one side, that she might clear away the last of his obstacles.

For his meager protests, Thom did not hesitate. His fangs grew long and sank into her neck with ease. It felt almost less painful than some shots. He suckled at her, drawing the blood from her and gulping it down in large mouthfuls. Lili felt him go still, almost slack, save for his suckling and the growth of his penis between his legs.

Sir Henry came over after a minute or two and began to run his hands thru Thom’s hair and over his shoulders. “Now, now, Thomas, leave some for her.”

Thom suckled for a second more before he pulled his mouth away from her neck. Lili jumped as he pulled his fangs out, something one never quite got used to. They both sat still for a moment, catching their breaths. Then, Thom, with his fangs still drawn asked, “Bathroom?”

Lili stood with a groan, and pointed him down the hall. “First on the right, you’ll know where you’ve come to it.”

“Thanks,” he said, slowly standing as not to jostle the bulge in his trousers.

Lili stumbled a little as she moved to return to her couch. Sir Henry caught her, guiding her until she could sink down with the cushions around her. “Thank you,” she said.

“Let me get you some water.”

Lili squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to get her head to stop swimming. She tried not to flinch as Sir Thomas moved around her kitchen, banging the cabinets as he searched for a glass. Once he had found it though, and filled it, Lili did not hear from Sir Henry again until he reached out for her hand saying, “Be careful, it’s quite full.”

Lili opened her eyes and drank deep from the water.

“Do you have any iron?” Sir Henry asked.

“There are supplements in the bathroom,” said Lili, as she managed to open her eyes. Thom stood before her in a moment holding the bottle in front of her. “I hope you washed your hands.”

“Of course,” he said, doling out a horse pill of iron.

Lili took it, swallowing with the water. Her head was beginning to clear, and she didn’t feel quite so weak as she had a moment before. She still closed her eyes again and focused on her breathing, making sure that her dinner didn’t want to come up after giving up her blood.

When she heard the winding and ting of the typewriter, Lili opened her eyes again. Sir Henry had taken up residence in her arm chair and had a field journal on his lap with a fountain pen in his hand. Thomas had taken up his folding table again, and poised himself over the typewriter, ready to go whenever Lili was.

“So then?” Lili asked. “What is it exactly, you wanted to know?”

Sir Henry pursed his lips. “I suppose,” he said after a moment, “for Thomas and myself we are looking for some closure. There is also...an administrative need to discuss what happened to you. Given that there was both the death of a vampire and a hunter, we do need a record for our annuls.”

“Very well,” said Lili. She shuffled herself forward to get a fresh glass of water. Thom, swooped in and took her glass from her before she could stand. “Where would you like me to start?” she asked as she watched him go to the kitchen. “I’m not exactly sure how to tell this story?”

“Like any other,” said Thom, returning her glass, now filled. “Start with the beginning, go on to the middle, stop when you find the end.”

“Ah but where does this story begin?” Lili asked. “Does it start that night the both of them died? Does it start when he awoke from his shallow grave? When he was turned? With the first turning?”

“Well, we already know how those last two went,” said Thom.

“Tell us where the story begins for you, my dear,” said Sir Henry.

Lili took a long drink of water, then nibbled her lip as she thought. “We, my mom and I, moved to Ashland in late December the year before. She had just left my dad—at the time I thought it would be best to go with her,”

“Was it?” Sir Henry asked.

“I don’t know—even after all this time, I really can’t say. In the end, it’s what I did, and there’s no changing that.”

Thom clicked away at his typewriter. “So the story starts when you and your mother moved?”

“Not really,” said Lili. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened for the first few months. Mom-taught—I went to school and got a job myself,. Really I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary until my senior year started.”

Thom paused in his typing. “So that’s when it starts?” he asked, pulling his paper free and running through the typewriter a new sheet of paper.

Lili thought for a moment more. She nodded. “Yes—that’s when it started. August 15, 1983.”

#original #prologue #ashland #vampires

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readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

The Order of the Phoenix

'Your--?' 'My dear old mum, yeah,' said Sirius. 'We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again.' 'But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?' Harry asked, bewildered, as they went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them. 'Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house,' said Sirius. 'But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for Headquarters--about the only useful thing I've been able to do.' Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. He followed his godfather to the bottom of the steps and through a door leading into the basement kitchen. It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son Bill were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired man who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet. 'Harry!' Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him, and shaking his hand vigorously. 'Good to see you!' Over his shoulder Harry saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table. 'Journey all right, Harry?' Bill called, trying to gather up twelve scrolls at once. 'Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?' 'He tried,' said Tonks, striding over to help Bill and immediately toppling a candle on to the last piece of parchment. 'Oh no--sorry--' 'Here, dear,' said Mrs. Weasley, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In the flash of light caused by Mrs. Weasley's charm Harry caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building. Mrs. Weasley had seen him looking. She snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Bill's already overladen arms. 'This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings,' she snapped, before sweeping off towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates. Bill took out his wand, muttered, 'Evanesce!' and the scrolls vanished. 'Sit down, Harry' said Sirius. 'You've met Mundungus, haven't you?' The thing Harry had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake. 'Some'n say m'name?' Mundungus mumbled sleepily. 'I agree with Sirius....' He raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, his droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused. Ginny giggled. The meeting's over, Dung,' said Sirius, as they all sat down around him at the table. 'Harry's arrived.' 'Eh?' said Mundungus, peering bale fully at Harry through his matted ginger hair. 'Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah ... you all right, 'arry?' 'Yeah,' said Harry. Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him within seconds. 'Owe you a 'pology,' grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud. 'For the last time, Mundungus,' called Mrs. Weasley, 'will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!' 'Ah,' said Mundungus. 'Right. Sorry, Molly.' The cloud of smoke vanished as Mundungus stowed his pipe back in his pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered. 'And if you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand,' Mrs. Weasley said to the room at large. 'No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey--' 'What can I do, Molly?' said Tonks enthusiastically, bounding forwards. Mrs. Weasley hesitated, looking apprehensive. 'Er--no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today.' 'No, no, I want to help!' said Tonks brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried towards the dresser, from which Ginny was collecting cutlery. Soon, a series of heavy knives were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr. Weasley, while Mrs. Weasley stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others took out plates, more goblets and food from the pantry. Harry was left at the table with Sirius and Mundungus, who was still blinking at him mournfully. 'Seen old Figgy since?' he asked. 'No,' said Harry, 'I haven't seen anyone.' 'See, I wouldn't 'ave left,' said Mundungus, leaning forward, a pleading note in his voice, 'but I 'ad a business opportunity--' Harry felt something brush against his knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione's bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry's legs, purring, then jumped on to Sirius's lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry. 'Had a good summer so far?' 'No, it's been lousy,' said Harry. For the first time, something like a grin flitted across Sirius's free. 'Don't know what you're complaining about, myself.' 'What?' said Harry incredulously. 'Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights.... I've been stuck inside for a month.' 'How come?' asked Harry, frowning. 'Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix ... or so Dumbledore feels.' There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore's name that told Harry that Sirius, too, was not very happy with the headmaster eithe. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather. 'At least you've known what's been going on,' he said bracingly. 'Oh yeah,' said Sirius sarcastically. 'Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time ... asking me how the cleaning's going--' 'What cleaning?' asked Harry. 'Trying to make this place fit for human habitation,' said Sirius, waving a hand around the dismal kitchen. 'No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages--' 'Sirius,' said Mundungus, who did not appear to have paid any attention to the conversation, but had been closely examining an empty goblet. 'This solid silver, mate?' 'Yes,' said Sirius, surveying it with distaste. 'Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest.' 'That'd come orf, though,' muttered Mundungus, polishing it with his cuff. 'Fred--George--NO, JUST CARRY THEM!' Mrs. Weasley shrieked. Harry, Sirius and Mundungus looked around and, within a split second, they had dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before. 'FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!' screamed Mrs. Weasley. 'THERE WAS NO NEED-- I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS-- JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!' 'We were just trying to save a bit of time!' said Fred, hurrying forward to wrench the bread knife out of the table. 'Sorry, Sirius, mate--didn't mean to--' Harry and Sirius were both laughing; Mundungus, who had toppled backwards off his chair, was swearing as he got to his feet; Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from where his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness. 'Boys,' Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, 'your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age--' '--none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!' Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer onto the table, and spilling almost as much again. 'Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't charm everything he met! Percy--' She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden. 'Let's eat,' said Bill quickly. 'It looks wonderful, Molly,' said Lupin, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table. For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius. 'I've been meaning to tell you, Sirius, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out.' 'Whatever you like,' said Sirius indifferently. 'The curtains in there are full of doxys, too,' Mrs. Weasley went on. 'I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow.' 'I look forward to it,' said Sirius. Harry heard the sarcasm in his voice, but he was not sure that anyone else did. Opposite Harry, Tonks was entertaining Hermione and Ginny by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with the same pained expression she had worn back in Harry's bedroom, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape's, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Hermione and Ginny were soon requesting their favourite noses. 'Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks...' Tonks obliged, and Harry, looking up, had the fleeting impression that a female Dudley was grinning at him from across the table. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Lupin were having an intense discuss on about goblins. 'They're not giving anything away yet,' said Bill. 'I still can't work out whether or not they believe he's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it.' 'I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who,' said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. 'They've suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?' 'I think it depends what they're offered,' said Lupin. 'And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?' 'He's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment,' said Bill, 'he hasn't stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know--' A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill's words. Fred, George, Ron, and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats. '...and then,' choked Mundungus, tears running down his face, 'and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, " 'Ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Sludger's gone and nicked all mine!" And I says, "Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?" And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for a lot more'n what 'e paid in the first place--' 'I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus,' said Mrs. Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forwards on to the table, howling with laughter. 'Beg pardon, Molly,' said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry. 'But, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong--' 'I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,' said Mrs. Weasley coldly. Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of Butterbeer; George was hiccoughing. For some reason, Mrs. Weasley threw a very nasty look at Sirius before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Harry looked round at his godfather. 'Molly doesn't approve of Mundungus,' said Sirius in an undertone. 'How come he's in the Order?' Harry said, very quietly. 'He's useful,' Sirius muttered. 'Knows all the crooks--well, he would, seeing as he's one himself. But he's also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don't. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you.' Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband on Harry's jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight (which was saying something as the jeans had once been Dudley's). As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the general conversation. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal, and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chase. 'Nearly time for bed, I think,' said Mrs. Weasley with a yawn. 'Not just yet, Molly,' said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. 'You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.' The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary. 'I did!' said Harry indignantly. 'I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so--' 'And they're quite right,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'You're too young.' She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched an its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone. 'Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?' asked Sirius. 'Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen--' 'Hang on!' interrupted George loudly. 'How come Harry gets his questions answered?' said Fred angrily. 'We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!' said George. '"You're too young, you're not in the Order,"' said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. 'Harry's not even of age!' 'It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing,' said Sirius calmly, 'that's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand--' 'It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!' said Mrs. Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. 'You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?' 'Which bit?' Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight. 'The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,' said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George's heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius. 'I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,' said Sirius. 'But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back' (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), 'he has more right than most to--' 'He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!' said Mrs. Weasley. 'He's only fifteen and-- ' '--and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order,' said Sirius, 'and more than some--' 'No one's denying what he's done!' said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. 'But he's still--' 'He's not a child!' said Sirius impatiently. 'He's not an adult either!' said Mrs. Weasley, the colour rising in her cheeks. 'He's not James, Sirius!' 'I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,' said Sirius coldly. 'I'm not sure you are!' said Mrs. Weasley. 'Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!' 'What's wrong with that?' said Harry. 'What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!' said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. 'You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!' 'Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?' demanded Sirius, his voice rising. 'Meaning you have been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and--' 'We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!' said Sirius loudly. 'Arthur!' said Mrs. Weasley rounding on her husband. 'Arthur, back me up!' Mr. Weasley did not speak at once. He took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly on his robes, not looking at his wife. Only when he had replaced them carefully on his nose did he reply. 'Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that he is staying at headquarters--' 'Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!' 'Personally,' said Lupin quietly, looking away from Sirius at last, as Mrs. Weasley turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, 'I think it better that Harry gets the facts--not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture--from us, rather than a garbled version from ... others.' His expression was mild, but Harry felt sure Lupin, at least, knew that some Extendable Ears had survived Mrs. Weasley's purge. 'Well,' said Mrs Weasley, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, 'well ... I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Harry's best interests at heart--' 'He's not your son,' said Sirius quietly. 'He's as good as,' said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. 'Who else has he got?' 'He's got me!' 'Yes,' said Mrs Weasley, her lip curling, 'the thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?' Sirius started to rise from his chair. 'Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry,' said Lupin sharply. 'Sirius, sit down.' Mrs. Weasleys lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly back into his chair, his face white. 'I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this,' Lupin continued, 'he's old enough to decide for himself.' 'I want to know what's been going on,' Harry said at once. He did not look at Mrs. Weasley. He had been touched by what she had said about his being as good as a son, but he was also impatient with her mollycoddling. Sirius was right, he was not a child. 'Very well,' said Mrs. Weasley, her voice cracking. 'Ginny--Ron--Hermione--Fred--George--I want, you out of this kitchen, now.' There was instant uproar. 'We're of age!' Fred and George bellowed together. 'If Harry's allowed, why can't I?' shouted Ron. 'Mum, I want to hear!' wailed Ginny. 'NO!' shouted Mrs. Weasley, standing up, her eyes overbright. 'I absolutely forbid--' 'Molly you can't stop Fred and George,' said Mr. Weasley wearily. 'They are of age--' 'They're still at school--' 'But they're legally adults now,' said Mr. Weasley, in the same tired voice. Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face. 'I--oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron--' 'Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!' said Ron hotly. 'Won't--won't you?' he added uncertainly, meeting Harry's eyes. For a split second, Harry considered telling Ron that he wouldn't tell him a single word, that he could try a taste of being kept in the dark and see how he liked it. But the nasty impulse vanished as they looked at each other. 'Course I will,' Harry said. Ron and Hermione beamed. 'Fine!' shouted Mrs. Weasley. 'Fine! Ginny--BED!' Ginny did not go quietly. They could hear her raging and storming at her mother all the way up the stairs, and when she reached the hall Mrs. Blacks ear-splitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he had returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that Sirius spoke. 'OK, Harry ... what do you want to know?' Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that had obsessed him for the last month. 'Where's Voldemort?' he said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. 'What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything--' 'That's because there haven't been any funny deaths yet,' said Sirius, 'not as far as we know, anyway.... And we know quite a lot.' 'More than he thinks we do, anyway,' said Lupin. 'How come he's stopped killing people?' Harry asked. He knew Voldemort had murdered more than once in the last year alone. 'Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself,' said Sirius. 'It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up.' 'Or rather, you messed it up for him,' said Lupin, with a satisfied smile. 'How?' Harry asked, perplexed. 'You weren't supposed to survive!' said Sirius. 'Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness.' 'And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore,' said Lupin. 'And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once.' 'How has that helped?' Harry asked. 'Are you kidding?' said Bill incredulously. 'Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!' 'Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned,' said Sirius. 'So, what's the Order been doing?' said Harry, looking around at them all. 'Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans,' said Sirius. 'How d'you know what his plans are?' Harry asked quickly. 'Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea,' said Lupin, 'and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate.' 'So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?' 'Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again,' said Sirius. 'In the old days he had huge numbers at his command: witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters.' 'So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?' 'We're doing our best,' said Lupin. 'How?' 'Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard,' said Bill. 'It's proving tricky, though.' 'Why?' 'Because of the Ministry's attitude,' said Tonks. 'You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened.' 'But why?' said Harry desperately. 'Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore--' 'Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem,' said Mr. Weasley with a wry smile. 'Dumbledore.' 'Fudge is frightened of him, you see,' said Tonks sadly. 'Frightened of Dumbledore?' said Harry incredulously. 'Frightened of what he's up to,' said Mr. Weasley. 'Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister for Magic.' 'But Dumbledore doesn't want--' 'Of course he doesn't,' said Mr. Weasley. 'He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job.' 'Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice,' said Lupin. 'But it seems he's become fond of power, and much more confident. He loves being Minister for Magic and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it.' 'How can he think that?' said Harry angrily. 'How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up--that I'd make it all up?' 'Because accepting that Voldermort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years,' said Sirius bitterly. 'Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilise him.' 'You see the problem,' said Lupin. 'While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse.' 'But you're telling people, aren't you?' said Harry, looking around at Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Bill, Mundungus, Lupin and Tonks. 'You're letting people know he's back?' They all smiled humourlessly. 'Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass-murderer and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?' said Sirius restlessly. 'And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community,' said Lupin. 'It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf.' 'Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off,' said Sirius, 'and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them.' 'We've managed to convince a couple of people, though,' said Mr. Weasley. Tonks here, for one--she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage-- Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.' 'But if none of you are putting the news out that Voldemort's back--' Harry began. 'Who said none of us are putting the news out?' said Sirius. 'Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?' 'What d'you mean?' Harry asked. 'They're trying to discredit him,' said Lupin. 'Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true; he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot--that's the Wizard High Court--and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too.' 'But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards,' said Bill, grinning. 'It's no laughing matter,' said Mr. Weasley sharply. 'If he carries on defying the Ministry like this he could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to he's going to go cautiously. If Dumbledore's out of the way--well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field.' 'But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?' asked Harry desperately. 'Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry,' said Sirius. 'He tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in. He's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on those for the moment.' 'What's he after apart from followers?' Harry asked swiftly. He thought he saw Sirius and Lupin exchange the most fleeting of looks before Sirius answered, 'Stuff he can only get by stealth.' When Harry continued to look puzzled, Sirius said, 'Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time.' 'When he was powerful before?' 'Yes.' 'Like what kind of weapon?' said Harry. 'Something worse than the Avada Kedavra--?' 'That's enough!' Mrs. Weasley spoke from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious. 'I want you in bed, now. All of you,' she added, looking around at Fred, George, Ron and Hermione. 'You can't boss us--' Fred began. 'Watch me,' snarled Mrs. Weasley. She was trembling slightly as she looked at Sirius. 'You've given Harry plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway.' 'Why not?' said Harry quickly. 'I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight.' 'No.' It was not Mrs Weasley who spoke this time, but Lupin. 'The Order is comprised only of overage wizards,' he said. 'Wizards who have left school,' he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. 'There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius. We've said enough.' Sirius half-shrugged but did not argue. Mrs. Weasley beckoned imperiously to her sons and Herrnione. One by one they stood up and Harry, recognising defeat, followed suit.

#OrderofthePhoenix #HarryPotter

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dfroza · 6 years

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it’s a significant thing to look back into History and to learn from it. which is why i share things from my daily reading of the Scriptures with Today’s ancient script being the paired chapters (a chapter from each Testament) of Zechariah 9 and 1st Corinthians 10

and from Zechariah we see a turning of the page with the announcement of a King in Jerusalem riding on a donkey, which occurred at the time of Passover nearly 2,000 years ago with Yeshua (Jesus) who is Lord and King and who did just that, fulfilling the prophetic writings of Zechariah and paving the way for the revelation of rebirth by an act of grace, both for the hearts of people and of beautiful earth (in a baptism of water and fire by the Spirit that cleanses and refines the treasured gold inside, Anew)

and this is the significance we see in how things start over, such as the sunset and sunrise, how a week begins Anew every 7 days, how the months and years change, including the seasons. and at some point a full rebirth of the world will occur to cleanse the past (tense) warfare and the pride of mankind. a beautiful promise, indeed.

[The Whole World Has Its Eyes on God]

War Bulletin:

God’s Message challenges the country of Hadrach. It will settle on Damascus. The whole world has its eyes on God. Israel isn’t the only one. That includes Hamath at the border, and Tyre and Sidon, clever as they think they are. Tyre has put together quite a kingdom for herself; she has stacked up silver like cordwood, piled gold high as haystacks. But God will certainly bankrupt her; he will dump all that wealth into the ocean and burn up what’s left in a big fire. Ashkelon will see it and panic, Gaza will wring its hands, Ekron will face a dead end. Gaza’s king will die. Ashkelon will be emptied out, And a villain will take over in Ashdod.

“I’ll take proud Philistia down a peg: I’ll make him spit out his bloody booty and abandon his vile ways.” What’s left will be all God’s—a core of survivors, a family brought together in Judah— But enemies like Ekron will go the way of the Jebusites, into the dustbin of history. “I will set up camp in my home country and defend it against invaders. Nobody is going to hurt my people ever again. I’m keeping my eye on them.

[A Humble King Riding a Donkey]

“Shout and cheer, Daughter Zion! Raise the roof, Daughter Jerusalem! Your king is coming! a good king who makes all things right, a humble king riding a donkey, a mere colt of a donkey. I’ve had it with war—no more chariots in Ephraim, no more war horses in Jerusalem, no more swords and spears, bows and arrows. He will offer peace to the nations, a peaceful rule worldwide, from the four winds to the seven seas.

“And you, because of my blood covenant with you, I’ll release your prisoners from their hopeless cells. Come home, hope-filled prisoners! This very day I’m declaring a double bonus— everything you lost returned twice-over! Judah is now my weapon, the bow I’ll pull, setting Ephraim as an arrow to the string. I’ll wake up your sons, O Zion, to counter your sons, O Greece. From now on people are my swords.”

Then God will come into view, his arrows flashing like lightning! Master God will blast his trumpet and set out in a whirlwind. God-of-the-Angel-Armies will protect them— all-out war, The war to end all wars, no holds barred. Their God will save the day. He’ll rescue them. They’ll become like sheep, gentle and soft, Or like gemstones in a crown, catching all the colors of the sun. Then how they’ll shine! shimmer! glow! the young men robust, the young women lovely!

The Scroll of Zechariah, Chapter 9 (The Message)

So, my very dear friends, when you see people reducing God to something they can use or control, get out of their company as fast as you can.

The Letter of 1st Corinthians, Chapter 10 (The Message)

and to close out ‘17 on its final day, my personal reading from the Psalms include numbers 31, 11, 65 along with Proverbs 31 for december 31, also known as the 11th day of Winter and the 365th day of the year which coincides with Psalm 65 since the book of 150 Psalms cycled through twice thus far and is currently in its 3rd revolution to rewind back to the beginning again tomorrow on january 1 of ‘18

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