Post by Galen Francis Ollivander on Nov 4, 2021 12:20:34 GMT -7
n o t h i n g.
spring 2011IT WAS A NIGHT FOR CELEBRATIONS, FRANKIE had decided. For once he appeared almost giddy as he'd sat with his family at dinner, it was always quiet in the Ollivander home in the middle of spring. His eldest sister was off apprenticing with some prestigious wandmaker or another, and Nellie off to Hogwarts for most of the year, the house was almost empty. Frankie didn't mind so much, he was rarely at home most days himself. Between muggle schooling, and his predominantly muggle friends. He was nearly sixteen, for Christsake, he had a life. One that did not involve dodging his baby brother, or listening to his parent's wax poetic about 'magic' this and 'ministry' that. Better yet, it was a Friday, and there was a party being held by a lad down in Somerset.
Frankie had packed his school rucksack with a few choice bottles from his father's store in the basement. Something called 'firewhiskey', which looked to be the most normal of the bottles, and a beer with a foreign language on the label - he thought it might be French. Frankie couldn't be seen carrying a bottle of beetle brandy into a house party full of teenagers from a Somerset grammar school. He'd get burned at the stake. Along with it, he'd managed to wrangle another boy into buying him a big plastic bottle of cider and a packet of JPS superkings from the corner shop, just to show off. His parent's would have had a conniption fit if they gad found out, but that was okay. As far as they knew, he was off to the Prewett's just along the road for a spot of hot chocolate and a very cheerful sleepover.
"That's me off!" He yelled, a belly full of roast as he shouldered his rucksack very carefully and ducked out of the backdoor before they heard it clanging. He took the neighbours fence to get to the Prewett's, earning a squeal from his mother when she'd realised what he was doing. Frankie just had a single moment to evade her reprimanding, and to see his brother Gabriel crying at his bedroom window, before he disappeared behind the wooden fence and ran for it - he could hear all about what a terrible boy he was in the morning.
The Prewett house was only a few fences away from his own, Frankie huffing and puffing with his loaded rucksack as he cut a path to the back of their home. Pulling on the strap as he edged away from their back light and flattened himself to the wall just by the dark kitchen window. He grabbed a handful of stones from the garden and leaned back, tossing one after the other at Luka Prewett's bedroom window. Sticking two fingers into his mouth to whistle when he received no immediate answer. "Hawl!" He hooted in a hushed hiss, throwing another stone and landing it with a dangerous 'plink' against the glass. "Dick'ead!" He tried again, hoping the Prewett's were out, or enjoying the wireless at an unacceptable volume for seven o'clock in the evening.