fight club | giddy

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

summer 2027

THE HALLOWED HOME OF OLLIVANDER WAS NO humble abode. The garden preened to perfection by a team of skilled landscapers, the outer walls repainted before it weathered. Frankie always had the impression that it smelled new, no matter how long and often he stayed within its walls. Like fresh wood polish, mellow paint and the tang of bleach. Mother had always run a tight ship in absence of her wand-forging husband. Even in his retirement, there was ne'er a thread out place. Apart from Frankie, of course.

Cigarette perched behind one ear, Frankie juggled a large mug of black coffee in the expansive family kitchen. The house oddly bustling with activity as Ronnie could be heard rattling around in the workshop below their feet, their mother squawking into the fireplace upstairs, and their father grumbling somewhere in his precious back garden. Frankie had been summoned as he had a monthly family mandated therapy session with a 'squib friendly mind healer'. He hated him, deeply, but it had been a part of his release perimeters and he hadn't quite figured out how to shake him.

"Hey, Rocky!" Frankie called through the kitchen's archway, his keen eye catching the back of his nephew's oil slick head. Gideon was the spawn of Ronnie, which meant he sat at the dining table with a rod rammed up his backside. In Frankie's limited experience, he was a quiet boy, the shifty sort that looked at Frankie with a mixture of confusion and judgement. Much like his mum, logically. However, Frankie had read an owl from Hogwarts just a few weeks prior at the wand shop. It detailed some kind of confrontation where the precious, well behaved Gideon appeared to have gotten into some kind of fight with another student. Frankie had spent the entire afternoon chuckling at the image.

Waltzing into the dining room, Frankie pulled out the chair in Gideon's periphery with his ankle. Simultaneously plucking the cigarette out from behind his ear and balancing it between his dry, chapped lips when he sat. "Heard about your punch up," He said through pinched lips, reaching over the lightly knock his curled fist against Gideon's stiff shoulder. "Maybe there's hope for you after all, kid." Frankie spied the flickering candle perched atop a stack of coasters in the middle of the table. His eyes lit up and he reached for it, the wax wobbling in the bottom as he lifted it and used the flame to light the end of his cigarette with a row of short puffs. 

gideon edward ollivander

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[gideon edward ollivander]

Summer 2027

Gideon was happy to be back home after a year in America attending Ilvermorny. It was an experience he’d never forget, but he truly missed being back home. A few things made the time bearable, like Yvonne, seeing new places, and gaining a newfound independence. Though he missed his mum and family, a lot, much more than he'd admit to anyone out loud. The only thing he was a little indifferent about being home was because he wasn't sure if he'd ever see Yvonne again if she didn't transfer to LIFE. He'd find out soon.

After helping his mum in the workshop downstairs for most of the morning, he finally had a moment to dismiss himself when she got a call from someone important. He decided to take his chance to scurry away before she used him as free labor for the entire weekend. Giddy wanted to laze around upstairs and write to Yvonne, maybe read a new book in the garden. As he started up the stairs, he heard heavy footsteps behind him entering the kitchen. At first he thought it was his mother, until the sound of Frankie's aggravating voice caused him to freeze.

Giddy had no idea who this 'Rocky' fellow was that Frankie was screaming about. His head whipped back with a pair of arched brows, "Who? Are you drunk again?" he asked accusingly with a judgmental look, eyes looking him up and down with utter scrutiny as his uncle lazily kicked out a chair. His eyes darted down at the chair, unsure if that was an invitation. They didn’t have a relationship like that. He’d much rather sit and chat with Nell or Benny, but he’d give Frankie a chance.. A (tiny) part of him felt some sort of sympathy for the drunkard squib of an uncle. So he slowly slid into the wooden chair, giving his uncle a look of slight confusion.

As he mentioned the fight with Nessa, from his fifth year, Gideons expression faltered. ”You're a bit late, mate.” he scoffed, tilting his head to the side with threaded brows. A small part of him flared up with irritation that he would bring it up. He didn't need to remind and upset his mum if she were to overhear. Gideons eyes narrowed, watching him with disgust as he lit the cigarette in the dining room, clouds of smoke billowed toward the vaulted ceilings. "Where did you receive this news from? That happened over a year ago." Gideon stated, the flashback of Nessa giving him the double knuckle sandwich combo with side of broken nose fluttering in his memory. That was a fantastic way to spend his remainder of fifth year in shame and embarrassment by getting a beatdown by a girl.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

summer 2027

IT WAS AN UNCANNY THING TO BEHOLD. Watching the way Ronnie's little sprog seemed to emulate her very worst qualities and mean appearance. They shared the same sharp jaw - though it was much more appropriate on Gideon's masculine little head. Same thin mouth pursed beyond recognition. He even spoke like her, in robotic full sentences that lacked anything close to good humour. He shivered in the face of it, nose scrunched.

"Not yet," He drawled, winking as he pulled out the seat with a kick of his ankle. "But the day is still young." He supposed this was the part where he was meant to weep in the face of such a dig at his poor disposition and meek addictions. Ronnie had taught him well, but alas Frankie was already shredded beyond the pale as he lit his cig and blew a great plume into the vaulted ceiling with a heady sigh. He could use a drink, actually, the thought embedding itself among the worst of him.

"You still get your mail by owl, right?" Frankie answered, flicking ash onto the floor carelessly as he leaned back on the back legs of his chair. Watching Little Ronnie through a tilted, mischievous grin. "Suppose it just got lost, hm?" He lifted his brows and snapped back onto four legs to take a long draw from his cig and roll his stiff neck on his shoulders lazily. "But, that's not the point, is it?"

Frankie drew his line of questioning back where he wanted it, leaning over the table and tilting his head back and forth as he scrutinised Gideon's awful, pointed face. "Break anything?" He asked with a titter. "Isn't worth its salt if nobody bled." This wasn't a motto he typically lived by, but it sounded ridiculous to say, so it was a must. "You look as polished ever, I will say." He kissed his teeth as he leaned back. "Mummy dearest source the finest abracadabra wizards money could buy?" His voice took on a smoky, haughty quality only snobs could bear to use. It sounded especially ectopic coming from Frankie's unshaven mouth. 

gideon edward ollivander

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[gideon edward ollivander]

Gideon knew his mum would have a riot later with all of the ash on the floor. Usually Gideon blamed most things on his deadbeat uncle, it wasn't as fun when it wasn't actually his fault. His eye brows furrowed as his uncle looked at him with a scrutinizing expression. By the way he was looking at him, he just knew his uncle didn't like him. Gideon didn't take a seat but leaned against the table instead.


Frankie asked if he broke anything from the fight and he nodded, shame slowly sinking into his core. "Yes." he answered, eyes rolling to the back of his skull. Giddy huffed, "I got my ass kicked by a girl." he blurted, instantly regretting it. His jaw tensed at the memory of Nessa and the moving staircases on that fateful day, the cacophony of laughter all directed at him. "-A feral savage cow at that, but still a girl who's poor as dirt." he admitted, surprised he was admitting that to his uncle who was an actual sewer rat. After coming to terms with the incident, he learned to make fun of himself and hope no one mentioned it. It was very rare that people did these days. Raising his shoulders upwards into a lazy shrug, "I guess you can't pride yourself in being the only loser of the family anymore." he smiled acidly, half expecting his uncle to slap him upside the head. A part of him hoped he would right as his mum was walking in.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

summer 2027

SLOUCHED LIKE A KING ON AN EMBROIDERED throne, Frankie leaned his head back to stare up at his little nephew. He wasn't short, by any means, but there was something miniscule about him. Be it his narrow frame, or contrasting features. Frankie couldn't put his finger on it, cigarette slack in his callused fingers as he grinned up at him. Maybe he just didn't like him on principle, and that made him look small and meek, for his own ego. Alas, he felt a fizzle of pity for the angry little prat as he ranted and raved.

Snorting aloud, and without any effort to hid it. Frankie took a long drag and held it for a second. Admiring the sour honesty of little Giddy as he confessed. "Happens to the best of his, mate." Frankie drawled without meaning, tilting his head lazily and letting the head fall off his cigarette and dash messily on the armrest of his chair. "Isn't it just a kick in the teeth when you can't pay 'em off." Frankie added with that same snooty little voice, imitating Gideon's aristocratic cadence like a pro. He had, after all, come from the same stock.

He could see it, really. Exactly why someone would want to slap a boy like Gideon around. He had an offensive air. Like he was just itching to say something cruel and biting. Frankie leaned forward suddenly, reaching out to dash the end of his cigarette on the coffee table. Nipping it out and putting the half finished butt behind his ear for later. And then, quick as a flash, he stood and hooked a finger into Gideon's starched collar. It wasn't mean, or to cause injury, but a staying move. His two fingers catching in the fabric and pulling him forward in a hard yank. Their height was stark suddenly, Frankie towering over his nephew.

"Word of advice," Frankie said, slow and sweet and stinking of tobacco. "If you're going to have a smart mouth..." He grinned, slow and steady. His teeth were a bit crooked. The gap never closed by magical means, he hadn't allowed it. "You should have the stones to back it up." And then, before Gideon could scream, or cry, Frankie unhooked his fingers from his collar and smoothed his shirt in a practiced manoeuvre. "I could teach you, you know." He said, still in Gideon's fragile space. Enjoying the intimidation of it. "You ever want to learn how to throw a punch..." He lifted his brow, took a friendly step back. "I could teach you." His brow lifting in expectation, a mean little curl to the corner of his mouth. "One loser to another."

gideon edward ollivander

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!

[gideon edward ollivander]

Gideons body tensed as his uncle yanked his collar gruffly, towering over him as the stench of alcohol on his hot breath hit his face. The smell made his nose scrunch as he attempted to keep a nonchalant expression and failed. Gideon didn’t want to show any fear to his uncle because that would only give them an upper hand. But in a way, he wished Frankie would hit him or do something crazy, simply because he knew his mum would always be on her ‘perfect’ sons side. Veronica loved any opportunity to hate on her brother, especially if her son was involved.

The young mans eyebrows threaded at the center of his head as he listened to his uncle rant, ending with an offer to show him how to take a punch. Gideon had never been the fighting type. He’d typically fight with words but he was learning if you talked shit, you had to learn how to back it up. His uncle finally took a step back, allowing him to contemplate the offer. Hey, that wasn’t a terrible idea…but it also meant he had to spend time with his kook of an uncle. Then again, that would cause his mum to have a hissy fit from hell…maybe that could be interesting.

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Gideon chuckled, but he was truly considering the offer. Narrowing his eyes at his uncle, he straightened his now lopsided collar. ”This feels like a set up to allow you to punch me.” he stated suspiciously, watching his degenerate uncle carefully, half expecting him to slap or punch him.

Galen Francis Ollivander

[Galen Francis Ollivander]

nothing.

summer 2027

PROXIMITY SEEMED TO MAKE GIDEON GO STIFF, his expression sour though he seemed to be trying to flatten it out like his mummy might do. Frankie saw it then, up close. The way he had Ronnie's sharp nose and shrewd, dark eyes. It was the sort of familiarity that made Frankie want to step back, to gain ground and posture for a fight. However, a quick blink and a shake of his head and Frankie was reminded that it was just his skinny little nephew in front of him, and not his snake of a sister.

When Gideon finally grew enough courage to speak, it was with a shrill with suspicion. Frankie stepped back, rocking on his heels and laughing heartily. The kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and dropped his head back. "Nobody told me you were actually funny," Frankie snorted, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he let Gideon posture from his position beside the coffee table. "Look, if I wanted to punch you, I'd punch you." He told Gideon, stooping down to look him right in the eye. "That's the thing about a fight, kid." He slapped him on the shoulder, a little rougher than necessary. "It's less about the trick, and more about mashing your fist into some pricks face." He knuckled him gently under the chin, but drew back before Gideon took it as a threat.

Turning away, Frankie used the heel of his socked foot to push the coffee table toward the fireplace. It creaked in protest and a stack of display books knocked to the floor, but he ignored it. "Look," He told Gideon, turning back and hopping in place as he loosened his stiff limbs animatedly. "I'll let you throw the first practice punch." He gestured to himself, beckoning with both hands before he tilted his head back and crossed his arms behind his back. "No hit backs, just show me what you're working with." He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, though he wasn't expecting much. 

gideon edward ollivander

NEVERLAND at ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0!