SEQUEL OF GYMNOPÉDIE
The war is inevitable. Wizards, witches, pick a side, pick your ruins. Because in the eye of war, brothers shared no blood though came from the same marrow, families strayed and abandoned, heart ostracized from mind, and you mi...
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EOSTRE, 1976 — the Celtic Goddess of Spring, who is thought to be the namesake of what now commonly celebrated as Easter.
Leviathan Goodwin was no fiend to loneliness. As a boy, contentment was as simple as the wind between his hair, in the brief silence of dawn, giggles etching in the dark alcoves, or the fading footsteps, echoing in the hallways. Every solitary adventure was a newfound delight, each one exclusive from the other.
In the hush of his breath, he had made a sanctuary, away from the sneers of emerald-badged wizards, slithering from one secret passage and into the shadows as he eared the witches' whispers from a broken lavatory stall.
"Did you see what happened?" a shrilling voice echoed right outside the stall, followed by the fresh splashes of water. "Just before the supper."
The look on Levy's face was stoical, apathetic almost, as he retained his stillness behind the stall. Although, it was a hard task when a chubby brown toad was shifting between the spikes of his hair. He spared the familiar a glance, pleading in a whisper. "Be still, Oscar."
Before long a denial was heard, "No." said the second witch as the squeak of a rusty faucet pierced his ears. Her voice was familiar, he was certain that the second witch was Gammaliel of Merlin. "I was in the library, tutoring. What happened?"
"Potter." There wasvenom in her voice. It was not difficult to guess who she was when Levy caught the glimpse of her hair through the door gap, flashes of amber silk, glistening beneath the pool of lights.
"What did he do this time?"
There was a beat, a puff of frustrated breath. "That toe-rag! He tossed Severus's satchel to the Whomping Willow!" exclaimed the first witch, the vexation in her voice was profound, reverberating throughout the walls. "Sev broke an arm to get it back, while Potter struts the corridor like a peacock in heat."
"Surely James did not mean it to go that far." Gemma rebutted, her voice silver as river streams, a contrast to Lily's fiery speech. "Did he apologize?"
Lily scoffed dryly. "An apology? From James? I'd like to wish for a golden-bridled abraxan instead," she quipped bitterly. "He never apologizes."
