Ranrok - Tumblr Posts

A Bouquet of New Beginnings: Chapter 4 "Dandelion"

[AO3]

Artemis and Professor Fig are in for a ride of their lives (literally).

Excerpt below (the rest can be read through the AO3 link above!):

“Professor,” started Artemis. “I wanted to thank you for this summer. I’m… I’m very glad that it was you that brought the letter to me last month.”

“That’s quite alright Miss Loreley, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“Artemis is fine, Professor,” said Artemis with a soft smile.

Professor Fig’s eyes widened briefly before his eyes crinkled, a smile on his lips.

“Artemis, then. I feel I should be the one thanking you. It had been a long while since that flat had seen such life. Not to mention a significant improvement in my diet.”

“Apologies, but your pantry was in a sordid state,” remarked Artemis as Professor Fig chuckled.

With a crack through the air, a slightly rotund English gentlemen with round glasses and moustache appeared. The two men exchanged greetings; it was clear this man was George Osric. She politely stood near the door, absentmindedly feeling the wand in her pocket and her legside bag through the skirt fabric.

“Of course. Why don’t we speak en route to Hogwarts? We have a start-of-term feast and a Sorting Ceremony to get to,” suggested Professor Fig.

“Wonderful idea. As long as your young charge here doesn’t mind me tagging along.”

The address of a ‘young charge’ brought Artemis back to the present. The chipper man wiggled his fingers to mimic legs.

“Not at all, sir,” responded Artemis as she gestured toward the door with a polite smile.

The interior of the carriage was plush and comfortable in the same red and gold décor. The air quality was a vast improvement, though she wondered if they could open the window when they reached the countryside. She undid her blouse’s top button.

“Sir, isn’t this road a dead end?” Artemis asked as Professor Fig sat to her right, and Mr. Osric sat across. Professor Fig lifted an eyebrow amused.

“Artemis, the road isn’t limited to the ground now, is it.”

The cart jolted, then the sensation of wheels on cobblestone lessened until it was no more.

They were flying. In a cart with winged thestrals. Her fingers gripped the windowsill until her knuckles were white.

Artemis decided to not think about the possible plummet as the latest décor of London streets and stared out the window. She casted the Sensory Balancing Charm for sanity and to keep her lunch; the men spoke to each other and opted to leave her to gather herself together.