Getting Rid of This Snow! [OPEN! GROUP THREAD!]

[Declan Arryn]

Once the Daily Prophet had contacted him, Declan knew that there was no choice but to agree to host the meeting of those who had not been affected by the mixed up magic the pixies had caused for those employed at the Ministry. Clearly, the Ministry's temporary buildings would not be a suitable place to invite people for the purpose of casting a spell all together. People with wonky and potentially dangerous magic would not be helpful for such things. So he had opened his pub's doors early that morning, expecting that people would come and converse, make sure they had the pronunciation right and things like that, and then head outside as a group to take care of the snow.

Declan was glad to know that Ellie was living at the Leaky and would be there with him; otherwise, he wasn't entirely sure who he was supposed to be with, according to the spell's rules. The people he cared about most? He didn't have a whole lot of those. But he did care about Ellie, at least in the sense that she was a good friend to him, and he felt he was one in return. So perhaps he would just have to convince her to join him.

He also knew of a couple of folks that he could have asked to join him, but most of them worked at the Ministry, so that was no help. The first people to arrive that morning, however, were students. Well, one student and her older brothers. Katherine walked in between the twin boys, greeting Declan quietly while Mesut and Lucas did so more openly. As he poured up coffee for the three of them, Declan looked up to see the door open once more, and the next people walked in.

[Livia McCallum]

There was one certainty in the mind of Eleanor Williams. Well, two actually. The first was that she abhorred being called ‘Eleanor’ for a precise reason she wasn’t entirely certain of and the second was that she absolutely, positively, completely and utterly hated snow. That was a complete 360 turn from her childhood and, indeed, her early adulthood. However, with some decisive venom she’d cut herself off from any association with snow apart from that which was thrust upon her and was still laying siege to her room despite the magic she had spent hours weaving in order for a chance to dry out her bed linen. Thus, she wasn’t as frequently in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron as she had been in the past, since the snow. But, really, it was all down to extenuating circumstances.

It was monstrously depressing to have to concede to wearing a skirt in the dead of winter. What had happened was that the snow had decided to eat through and soak to the very fibres that kept them together every pair of warm or even not so warm trousers that she owned. It had even destroyed a number of pairs of boots which she was more readily replacing than the trousers as there were things that were more fundamental. However, as she stood in her pyjamas that morning look through her fairly dry wardrobe she felt a bubbling sense of resentment to the snow froth up within her. She didn’t like wearing skirts at the best of times but putting on tights beat out any aversion she had to skirts. It was a painful irony to be doing both things that morning.

Bad temper and magic fixed the problem of the tights quite quickly and once the skirt was donned, a cute, floaty black thing that brushed just above her knees and was covered in white Scotty dogs, she found a thick, cream jumper and donned her boots, pulling on her coat for good measure before finding some gloves and her hat. Then she added a heating charm because she didn’t think she could ever be warm enough once she got out into the slush. Once dressed she started to move her things to high places, putting levitating charms on a lot of what was in the room, such as her bed which she’d preciously been looking after, and thereafter she had nothing left to do but brave the snow.

She fell. Twice. Oh no, with a bump there was the third and Ellie felt ready to turn back and hide for the rest of the day. She had things to do, though, even if the Ministry was trying to dissuade people from going out for the sake of a load of irate Cornish pixies. With the mood she was in, she was sure she could deal with all of them in a heartbeat by frying them with a fire spell she’d noticed in a passing while perusing a spell book that had been returned to the desk a few days before. It was a particularly nasty one too so between them and the snow she would feel a little bit of redemption. As it was, there was no chance of any of that so after hauling herself to her feet again she more carefully picked her way down into the Leaky where, already, people were beginning to gather.

“Morning,” she called distractedly to Declan as she made her way over to the bar, poking her wand at her clothes in a vain effort to dry them. She really, truly did not want a chilly bum today. If she had to contend with that on top of all the work she knew was waiting for her because Old Mrs Titchfield was ill – or couldn’t be bothered to come in or something, Ellie had no idea – then she didn’t know what she was going to do: scream or cry. The skirt dried, thankfully, and so did her coat and the back of her thighs and with another warming charm she began to regain a little bit of heat. She sorely regretted getting out of bed that morning.

“Y’alright, love?” She inquired, putting her wand back in her pocket as she looked at him properly, trying to discern whether anything was amiss in her friend’s countenance. In a characteristically nonchalant Declan way he managed to combine not looking alright with appearing okay, at the same time, so she came to the conclusion that apart from the daily battles and the snow, he was feeling fine that morning. They were in the same boat, in that respect, only Ellie found herself on a much shorter fuse than he appeared to be. She half wished she could have been that zen and considered briefly taking up yoga before perishing the thought. It was January for heaven’s sake. It was a bit early in the year for doing something mental.