what's the time mr. wolf? | brigh

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

christmas in galway, 2024

WORD HAD COME JUST AS BRAN HAD EXPECTED a Christmas card from his ma and da. He'd opened the letter with a soft kind of nostalgia, perfectly prepared to consume a reminder of his home village under the blistering Spanish sun. Not at all like a dreary Irish winter, but he had missed it from afar while travelling. And yet, not enough to be pushed back home. Until he'd opened that dreadful letter and seen the oily tear stains on the paper. Dad was sick, he'd better come home.

Apparating across Europe had been something of a blur. Bran couldn't remember much of it, his Master seeing him off with a back slapping embrace, and a farewell with intention of seeing him once again. Bran had not been quite so sure, he'd never received a letter so drenched in misfortune. How it had been dated a whole month before he'd even received it, for all he'd known his father could've been dead already. He hadn't slept a wink, travelling for two days and sickened by portkeys by the time he landed in Galway.

The familiar path down through the village and across the fields towards their white painted cottage. It hadn't changed in the slightest, someone had even slung up the Christmas lights outside. The windows and shingles dripping with pearl drop gold, the tree gleaming from the front window, flashing merrily. He felt something a little mean twist his gut as he manoeuvred his trunk over the fence - if his da was so sick, why had they put the tree up? It seemed a little misleading, though he dare not say such a thing out loud.

A ball of tabby orange fur was tangling around Bran's ankles before he had even made it to the front door. Claddagh's tail thwapping his mud smeared overalls as she squealed at him in greeting. "Aye, aye," He crouched to scoop the orange beast in his arms, trunk clamped under one arm awkwardly as he used an elbow to open the door handle. The arm cradling Claddagh reached up, wrist twisting so that he might rub at her needy head as she butted him in the chin twice. She was Brigh's cat, through and through, but he reckoned the grumpy old beast had a soft spot for him.

"Ma...?" Bran dropped his trunk by the phone table, Claddagh snaking up around his neck, claws digging under his worn brown leather jacket. "It's... Bran." He added, just in case they had forgotten him in his absence. He had changed, after all. His hair long and unkempt, tied at the base of his neck with an old piece of string. Nose sunshine peeling, and very faintly freckled. There were a few silvery burn scars on his fingers, and he smelled like hay and foreign sweat. Whereas, his little home hadn't changed in the slightest, all warm browns and smelling of rosemary and sage. 

BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH]

Brígh had been mutinous at best upon hearing the news that her da was ill. But when she’d learned that mam would be keeping her home from Hogwarts, at least until her father’s condition either improved or deteriorated beyond hope, she was incandescent with rage. Pull her from Hogwarts? In the middle of her sixth year? She’d just been making progress with Albus Potter, and she thought it was a sure thing that he would be asking her out any day now, despite the age gap. Why would Albus even want to talk to her if she was stuck all the way in Galway. Her social life was coming to an abrupt end. And Eli - oh, she would miss Eli and their misadventures with Bean. He’d be gone by the time she got back, unless her da made a miraculous recovery. Somehow, the dire tone of mam’s voice made Brígh believe this was for the long haul.

The entire first hour of Brígh’s homecoming was silent as she stewed. But when her father returned from an appointment with a healer, her ire slipped away. He was immeasurably weak and pale, not the strong, solid man she’d always known. Brígh felt guilty, though she was certain she didn’t have to stay away from Hogwarts for too long. He would recover, and quick. Her ma had to have been mistaken. Claddagh, at least, seemed to be content with the arrangements, spending hours lazing about in the vast O’Dalaigh garden. But as the days slid by, one into another, Brígh’s father did not make the aforementioned recovery, and her certainty slipped away.

They decorated the tree as usual, though da was noticeably absent. Just Brígh and her ma then, surely in an attempt to keep the festive atmosphere. For the youngest O’Dalaigh child had always loved the holidays. Especially since her birthday was just in the days leading up to it. Brígh lounged on the sofa, glaring glumly at the tree that had taken so much effort tocut and decorate, especially since neither Bran nor her father were available to assist. Letting out a loud groan, Brígh flung her head back on the arm of the sofa, and closed her eyes. She felt as if she was waiting for something, but she didn’t know what. Maybe it was just leftover excitement for her seventeenth birthday, which was coming up in just a few days.

There was a click and the front door swung open. Brígh nearly tripped over the tree skirt as she clambered to her feet, drawing her wand and pointing it at the door as if she could actually do magic without getting in trouble with the ministry. But it was no stranger who stepped through the threshold. A second ticked past, then Brígh was a flurry of vibrant red hair and limbs, launching herself at her brother. ”You’re here! You’re actually here! Ma didn’t say!”

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

christmas in galway, 2024

THE SILENCE DID NOT LAST, AS CLADDAGH seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere, edging down his back and landing on the ground with a thump. Bran was just toeing off his dirty old boots when he heard rustling from the front room. He turned, expecting to see his father's hulking form fill the doorway. It was not his da, nor his quiet, little ma. Instead, Brigh stood in the doorway with her wand lifted like a great, vicious warrior. Bran's cheeks wobbled with an impending laugh.

She hadn't grown an inch in Bran's humble opinion. The same skinny little woodland creature, with her just a little too long, face speckled and scowling. That only lasted a moment, as recognition soon replaced her accusation and she was fleeing across the hall towards him. He grunted when she collided with him, a lot denser than she looked as he lifted his arms and patted them over her shoulders.

"You're gonna regret that in about five minutes, I reckon," He laughed, mussing her hair. He wondered how she was fairing, though she looked well. Nobody had mentioned how Brigh had taken the whole ordeal, but she looked just as spirited as always. Then again, when it came to people Bran was a terrible judge of character. "You wee scab." He wrinkled his nose at her teasingly, Claddagh's echoing mewls matching her owners enthusiasm for all the excitement.

Bran hooked his arms under Brigh's armpits and swung her off him at once, turning to walk towards the kitchen comfortably. Everything was as it should be, the cupboards all the same. The dishes being washed by magic, rags dashing about the place irately. His ma kept a tight ship, even when her husband was sick. If Bran didn't know any better, he'd think things weren't half as bad as he expected. And then he saw the line of potions all corked on the counter, and he paused. "How is he?" He asked, turning to look at Brigh as he stopped at the fridge, worrying at the skin inside his bottom lip. "It's all a bit sudden, eh?" 

BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH]

Brígh nearly dropped her wand in shock as she realised who exactly it was who stood framed in the doorway. Her suspicion vanished in an instant as she launched herself at him, tackling him in a hug typical of their relationship. Brígh reminded herself of Bran’s familiarity, the warmth of his well worn jacket, the woody scent of him, the weight of his arms over her shoulders. It was like nothing had changed in the year - even though everything had. ”I regret nothing,” said Brígh cheekily, stepping back to appraise her brother. ”Give us a twirl, you haven’t changed a bit.” She tilted her head slightly, unable to hide the growing smile on her face. Da had forced her home, but at least Bran would be here with her. Claddagh wound around Brígh’s legs, mewling for affection. Brígh scooped up the ball of fur, and scratched behind her ears absently. Brígh only had eyes for her brother, her gaze roving over him hungrily. She wanted to commit him to memory before he undoubtedly disappeared again.

”I’m your scab though,” she replied. Bran’s gaze dropped to the counter, where their da’s line of potions for his malady were lined up neatly. Brígh’s face fell, a storm cloud passing over her expression. ”Bad enough to make us stay here,” she replied grumpily. ”Do you know how much I’m going to miss? I was definitely gonna start dating Albus Potter, and now I’m trapped here,” she added. ”I don’t get to see him much. They don’t want cross contamination. So what’s the point of having us home?”

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

christmas in galway, 2024

ON HIS GAMELY WALK TOWARDS THE KITCHEN, Bran did a walking pirouetted for his little sister by request. Arms knocking the hallway walls and elbows awkwardly bent before he ducked under the kitchen archway. "Do I pass inspection, Big Man?" He asked her with a cheeky grin over his shoulder, dimple winking as he regarded the open space with his own careful survey. As if the presence of the unknown warranted some level of suspicion. Perhaps Bran was just aching for the familiar.

As he cast his eyes across the heavy oak counters, Bran felt Brigh's eyes singeing a whole in his back. He turned to give her a fond look, pulling himself to sit on the outcropping kitchen counter without an overhead cabinet, the Aga beside it warming the whole room in a toasted, homely manner. He watched her speak, the way she swayed restlessly, Claddagh digging her nails into the arm of her jumper in a similar fashion. "That right?" He muttered with a lift of his brows, giving himself a cursory moment to process exactly what she was telling him.

"Alright then," He began, clapping his hands together in a 'get-to' motion. "First of all, Jimmy's wee brother?" He tsked bravely and shook his head, but the laugh died as quickly as it came. "Secondly, take a breath, don't faint." He scoffed at her red faced fury, though he sympathised with her. At least Bran had gotten to graduate from Hogwarts without incident. He drew in a sobering breath, "This fella is still gonna be there when you go back." He tried to reassure her, but it was half-hearted.

"Just think about it," He began, "If something goes wrong, where do you want to be when you find out, hm?" His mouth pressed into a long, worried line. "Do you want to be in a common room with a handful of folk who don't get it, or do you want to be with ma and me?" As he asked, Bran wasn't quite sure what Brigh would say in return. She had a way of hurricane-ing conversations. Most of the time, it was entertaining. Occasionally, it hit a sore spot a person didn't know existed until it was prodded. 

BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH]

"Gorgeous," replied Brígh with a brilliant smile. Her heart swelled at the sight of her brother, no matter how many arguments they'd had, no matter how many times he'd shouted at her to go away, no matter how many times she insisted on being by his side despite knowing she should be doing something better. Bran was her idol, and had been for years. She scooped up Claddagh, the beast crowing at her feet for attention and scratched absently at her ears. But Brígh had eyes for Bran only, soaking up his presence before he was gone again.

It all came out in a jumble, and Brígh was straight to whinging. How could da get so sick that she'd miss out her chance on dating Albus Potter, of all people. They were like yin and yang, but she was so drawn to him. He was different. He was mysterious. He was -- she frowned, her thoughts halting at Bran's succinct, yet accurate description of Al. "Yes, James' wee brother. But he's not that wee anymore! Well he's not as tall as you, bloody beanstalk you are, but he's a grown, adult man..." said Brígh, trailing off dreamily as she considered Al's bottle green eyes, the hidden curve of his lip when he smiled that smile that was reserved just for her.

"Is he though?" asked Brígh dramatically. "I haven't even claimed him as my fella and he's a Potter so someone else is gonna snatch him up," she continued morosely. She narrowed her eyes as Bran deduced that it would be better for her to be home to receive news with ma and himself than in the common room. "I'm just hoping that there will be no more bad news," she replied in a small voice, though she knew it was naive of her. Her hand had paused on Claddagh's back, and the cat yowled. With a jolt, Brígh resumed her stroking. "Don't suppose Claddagh wants to be forgotten," she added with a frown.

Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh

[Bran Fionn O'Dalaigh]

a little closer to grace.

christmas in galway, 2024

IT WAS NOT AN IDEAL CIRCUMSTANCE, BUT IT was bitterly true that Bran had missed his wee sister. Though, he wouldn't tell her just how much, it did show plainly in his fond, creased smile. The familiarity of her sharp, critical eye almost making him laugh. "Good to know," He tutted, ruffling the top of her head as he moved by her in to the kitchen. It still smelled the same, like the mint growing on the windowsill, and a thousand spilled oils and gravy soaking the old oak countertops.

Leaning back from his place on the countertop, Bran settled in for the full story. Brigh had a way of losing herself to the sound of her own voice. Bran used to hate this in his younger, less patient years. Taking to shaking her and slamming doors in her face when she got right into herself. Luckily, he had missed her enough to go for the long haul. It was nice, almost, watching her gesture wildly, a high flush to her freckled cheeks. He waited until she took a much needed breath before he cleared his throat to speak.

"I'll take your word for it on how he's grown..." Bran muttered, unconvinced as he felt a slow grin curl the corners of his mouth. "My opinion," He added, shrugging his shoulders lazily. "Albus Potter wasn't exactly... Hogwarts biggest... lady killer when I graduated." He snorted a laugh, knowing this with absolute certainty. Al had always been a serious kid, very stern and almost repellent in his sourness. "He's the least Potter, Potter I ever know." He stressed, slipping from the counter and tilting his head down to catch Brigh's eye. "No disrespect, he never seemed to mind the distance." He pursed his lips, lest his sense of humour be worth offence in Brigh's moony eyes. Hands landing hard on Brigh's shoulders, he gave her a gentle, grounding shake. "He'll still be there, Brigh, I promise."

Though some might consider Brigh's flippant attitude selfish, Bran knew it for what it really was. His sister had always had a way of focusing on the most trivial problems, as if she couldn't bear to consider the very worst of their circumstance. For example, should their da actually die due to his illness. He doubted she'd even considered it a possibility, thinking instead of her infamous beau and all the classes she might miss. Bran felt a stab of sympathy for her as he let go of her shoulders, turning to inspect the fridge instead.

"We're in the best place for it," He assured her, pulling out a couple of sweet ginger beers and tossing one in Brigh's direction. Claddagh's answering yowl was not to be ignored. Bran turned back to the fridge and retrieved a slice of corned beef, wandering over to feed her it in small, delicate bites. He even took a few for himself, ever hungry. "Once da's over the hill, and ma's not so stressed, I'll talk to her about sending you back." He told Brigh absently, giving Claddagh the last bite of cured meat and cracking open his ginger beer. 

BRÍGH ENNIS O'DALAIGH

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!