Honestly This Is Like. The Best Weather. Please No More Sunshine, Or Maybe Gloomy Sunshine I Want The

Honestly this is like. The best weather. Please no more sunshine, or maybe gloomy sunshine I want the storm and the rain.

There's definitely some likeness between the two but you can tell Richard has a different nose (more apparent from the side view, Richard's is smaller), eyebrows, eye and hair colour. They're both just very smoochable 😌

I don't really know why they chose to give them both the same distinctive hair style AND voice actor though. Was it a weird artistic decision to make Richard a 'ghost Garreth'?

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hey again !! more mdni banners / dividers, but this time with deeper, richer colors (mm, I think this’ll look cute on dark mode). feel free to use ♡

more : star / hearts / rich tones / greys / template

please like, reblog, and credit if you use :)

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Because he's just such a cutie...enjoy!

A Bouquet of New Beginnings Chapter 20: "Devil's Guts"

[AO3]

Floriography: Parasite

Summary: The Keepers are *actually* teachers, and Halloween with the Helm of Urtkot.

An excerpt is under the cut as usual; the full fic is located in the AO3 link above!

Long before the sun rose, she opened the grandiose double doors to the Map Chamber. The two professors slid into their frames as if they were alerted to a visitor.

“Ah, Artemis. What a pleasant surprise,” greeted Professor Rackham.

“I presume you’re here regarding our previous discussion,” said Professor Rookwood.

Artemis nodded. Yesterday’s discoveries in Feldcroft hastened her need to learn as much as she could. It was clear they wanted her, at least partially, as a hunting dog. If the size of those drills were anything to go by, they were digging for something big.

Professor Rackham cleared his throat. “We have come to a decision. With provisions, we will teach you how to hone your ancient magic.”

Artemis’ thumb subtly rubbed her scar. “Provisions, sir?”

“Yes,” started Professor Rookwood. “First, is that we decide which questions we will answer. Not to say we won’t in time, but it will depend on your trials. Second, what is taught here is to be kept between us.”

“The sole exception would be Professor Fig. There is an importance of a guiding hand,” added Professor Rackham. “Finally, we will expand on what you already know. Until you progress further in the trials, we will not teach you anything that is wholly new. Do you accept these conditions?”

It wasn’t as much as she’d like, but she’d take it. She was patient enough.

“Yes, sir.”

The professors nodded, and she was glad portraits could not read minds. She was going to take some creative liberty in comparing their teachings, the book’s contents and Sebastian’s thoughts.

“Good. I believe we should start with seeing what you can do.”

Professor Rackham waved his hand as the floor shook. The pointillistic stars lifted from their pooled map and formed a statuesque shape. Artemis whipped out her wand and had a hand on her legside bag.

“Do not worry; it will move and attack but won’t hurt you. After all, stars are a million miles away from us.”

“Percival…” deadpanned Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham chuckled. “Use both ancient magic and regular spells – I’d like to see it. Begin.”

For a statue made of pointillistic stars it moved abhorrently fast. She felt the arcane coolness wash through her as she dodged the sword sings and landed more than ten feet away silently. Silvery petals flitted as she brought forth the tempest. In this arena, she could see clearly how blips of ancient magic existed in the very air that surrounded her and how they wove together at the tip of her wand as it interwove with her standard spells. The oil paintings remained silent as she flung spell after spell with practiced footing.

When the stars returned to the black pool underneath, she looked back toward the portraits. Her heartrate was elevated, but her breathing was relaxed.

“Well. I daresay that was… impressive,” said Professor Rookwood.

Professor Rackham stroked his beard. “Allow me to confirm a theory. When was the first time you saw the silvery petals?”

“When I cast Protego,” answered Artemis.

“In what circumstance?”

“Ranrok’s troll tried to crush a boy in Hogsmeade.”

“I see,” said Professor Rackham. “You mentioned my ancient magic shimmered like stars before.”

“Yes, is that tied to our individual cores?” Artemis asked.

“Niamh is going to adore you,” commented Professor Rookwood.

“Correct. To start, our magical cores are different even among wizardkind. We weren’t able to research as thoroughly as Charles would’ve liked, but people like us have a few specific requirements for our magic to manifest.” Professor Rackham counted off his fingers. “A longer gestational period, a specific mixture of blood, and a powerful catalyst. The first is because we can naturally access the foundational levels of magic – latent or active. That is why when we use the same incantations and wand movements as others, the effects are slightly different. More diverse. We surmised this ability means that it takes double the time for the magical core to develop. This allows us to, for the lack of better term, soak up ancient magic around us and channel it into our spells.”

“The second,” said Professor Rookwood as he pulled out parchment, “is a specific mixture of blood. It is a theory, mind you… this ability only seemed to surface within half-bloods. Unless you would like to provide contrasting data?”

“I – frankly I don’t know my blood status, sir,” answered Artemis honestly. “Both my parents were magical, but status never came up in discussion.”

If true, then Artemis learned something new about her own lineage. She wondered who was which… not that it mattered in the end.

Professor Rookwood tutted. “Pity. I could’ve added to my notes.”

“Charles,” admonished Professor Rackham quietly. “Now, the most important – the catalyst. The gestation period, the blood – those are just the foundations. What our core needs to activate is an emotional trigger so the foundations can take root. Something profound, and it must be before the person turns sixteen.”

Artemis raised her hand out of habit. “So, there’s a chance there have been others like me, or, like us, within the past four hundred years? Just, they didn’t experience the catalyst?”

“Potentially, yes. There are many unknowns. I won’t ask of yours, but I can tell you, my catalyst… was seeing the most profound meteor storm and being completely swept in awe.”

She sucked in a breath. She knew exactly what hers was – the one-year mark when Leto and Kierston rescued her from the depths of limbo. It felt then, truly, that it was real, that they were there to stay, and she felt completely and utterly safe for the first time in years.

“The reason the catalyst is so important is because your instinctive ancient magic is tied to that trigger. Yours is, I dare say, something protective,” analysed Professor Rackham.

“The best defence is a good offense,” said Professor Rookwood.

“That tempest was a marvel, but you must learn how to control the power levels. I suggest practising by thinking of a single lightning bolt, and tempering the intensity. You will need both discipline and patience in yourself; it will not be resolved overnight. Now, I believe we’ve given you enough to digest for today. I suggest a bi-weekly visit; you will need to concentrate on your regular schooling as well,” said Professor Rackham.

“Wait, I have one more question, sir,” called out Artemis hurriedly as the portraits made to leave. She turned to Professor Rookwood. “It’s about the memory of Feldcroft. Were you able to wield ancient magic? Or did you augment Professor Rackham’s magic?”

The portraits exchanged a glance. Professor Rookwood sighed.

“I only tell you this because you’d piece it together on your own at this rate. Those of us who cannot see ancient magic cannot cast ancient magic out of nothing. But we can wield, and augment, existing pieces.”

Not ten minutes later, she sent out a letter to Professor Fig. An hour later, she sat in her designated arm chair within Professor Fig’s office with Nocturne in her lap. She spared no detail in what she’d discovered over the past two days.

Professor Fig fiddled with his scarf. “Intriguing. The fact there’s been a consistent Loyalists presence so close is disconcerting... as is the fact that it’s becoming more and more likely they’d repurposed existing ancient magic from somewhere. You did the right thing, to not engage them with Mr. Sallow.”

Artemis sighed as she sipped the warm chai. “Do you think it’s possible they’re… mining for more ancient magic? I can’t imagine the Keepers would leave ancient magic just lying about in the open.”

“Possibly. There is the matter of how they found out in the first place. With their generally reticent demeanour, I can’t imagine the Keepers left their findings in easily accessible places –”

“– Aside from Peeves,” they said in unison.

Artemis briefly smiled before her eyebrows furrowed. “Professor, is there anything we could do for Feldcroft? I just… Anne lives there and, well –”

“Considering Minister Spavin’s response about the dragon, I do not think we should bank on the front-line aurors,” said Professor Fig. “But perhaps I can call in a favour and see if patrols can be brought to the area. How is Miss Sallow?”

“She’s… unwell, but she’s trying. She’s agreed to Leto’s check-up; I’m currently waiting on his response,” answered Artemis.

The older wizard gave a small, comforting smile as he nodded. “And what about your friend? Richard Jackdaw, was it? He is helping clear up a murder case, yes?”

The grip around her cup tightened.

“Yes, but it going at a snail’s pace. It seems the Ministry is… reluctant, to release Ms. Thisbe. Citing her long stay in Azkaban and the danger she possesses to the community,” said Artemis, repeating Ms. Thistlewood’s latest missive. Nocturne’s tail swished.

“More like Azkaban made her dangerous,” sighed Professor Fig. “You’ll unfortunately find that, though there are plenty of good people that work at the Ministry – Leto, Kierston, and George to start – there are those that are not and only care for their self-interests.”

Artemis nodded as she sighed. Richard’s bones remained in the jewellery box inside her legside bag. She never parted with it; it was the safest place to keep ‘him’ until he came back. Nocturne’s and paper tongue licked her fingers.

“By the way, did you manage to meet Lodgok?”

“Not yet, sir. Sirona suggested I meet him on Halloween considering,” trailed off Artemis as she gestured to her hair. “Though, it may be best to go alone. He doesn’t trust wizards, and even with Sirona’s recommendation, he may not meet me. Especially with another person.”

Professor Fig looked at her with those English greys, and she could visualise the mental scales as he contemplated her suggestion.

“I presume this is what you would like to undertake during independent study?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Considering everything that is at stake… you will write to me if it will be longer?”

“Of course, sir,” answered Artemis.

Professor Fig gave a relieved smile. “Right. Now, I think it’s high time for breakfast. Then we can check on the lacewings for the Polyjuice.”

"In the Shadow of Our Ghosts" by @betheckart.

Chapter 13. "The Haven" (English ver.) Audio Excerpt.

Full chapter located here on Wattpad.

Thank you for giving me permission to once again bring this scene to life, and I hope that I did some justice for your beautiful writing of Beth's tale 🩵

*Note: I own absolutely nothing except from the undying love for this tale and the hyperfixation upon HL.*