This is part of Aly's Cast the Bronze storyline. You can find other portions here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

I can't show you how, I don't know enough

The train ride back to King's Cross from the Hogsmeade station had been as long as ever, and by the time she was picked up by her grandparents and whisked 'home' to the Livingston Manor in the countryside, Aly's eyelids were drooping. Luckily, she didn't have to carry her things, and the house-elves' snaps of fingers had enough magic to levitate her hefty trunk all on their own.

Aly had brought enough clothes for two weeks. Why, one might ask, would she have done that, knowing that not only was there an expansive closet in her room at Livingston Manor but that she would also likely be expected to wear clothes from it instead of from her own wardrobe? The answer was altogether far too simple: Aly had something to say, and she had a feeling that she wouldn't be spending the rest of the Easter holiday - a fortnight in total - here after all, in the towering spires and Victorian architecture of the jewel dynasty's mansion, once she said it.

It was past suppertime already, but as they climbed the steps to the front door, Aly's grandfather snapped his fingers at the house-elves who had accompanied them, directing them where to go; the creatures scattered about like scared little things, only strengthening Aly's resolve even further. Then the patriarch turned to his granddaughter, golden lantern-light from the nearby bay windows reflecting off his round glasses. "The evening meal was rather light in expectation of finishing our night with a nightcap upon your arrival," the elder man informed her, slicking a hand back over his short salt-and-pepper hair. "We have much to discuss concerning your semester thus far, and your upcoming graduation. I expect there shall be party details which must be sorted."

"And your birthday next week," added his wife from nearby as she picked her way up the stairs and through the open iron door that one of the house-elves had charmed open. Darcy's look today was the most... casual that her granddaughter had ever seen her wear, which wasn't saying much considering that it was still a frilly white top and olive green skirt laden with brooches, jewels, and ruffles on all sides. "Were you aware that your grandfather's seventieth birthday is this upcoming Friday, Alyssa? There shall be a grand celebration, and there is still so much to do in regards to the planning. Perhaps you can assist me in choosing the napkin colours tomorrow."

Aly had known that her grandfather would be turning seventy soon, but considering that she didn't exactly intend to be around on Friday, she let the napkin comment slide and simply responded with a polite smile and a nod. "May I freshen up before the refreshment?" she asked, more in the direction of her mother, who had been standing in the manor's entrance foyer upon their arrival. "And hello, Mother."

Darcy tut-tutted from where she had moved further into the hall. "We are all family here, Alyssa."

"What Mother means to say is that you look fine," Hesper Livingston-Salinger said, coming forward to wrap an arm around her daughter's slender shoulders. The sensation of her mother hugging her had never felt normal, not when it had so rarely happened upon Aly's growing up - her father had always been the more physically affectionate one, the opposite side of the coin to her mother's reserved demeanour. Still, Aly put an arm around her mum's back, enjoying it anyway, despite the ominous feeling that had just settled over her: this could be the last time I hug her.

She tried not to let it get to her.

"Let's just go to the sitting room, shall we?" Hesper encouraged, breaking free after far too short a time and waving her hand in the direction of the closest sitting room (for yes, there were several located situationally and purposefully at different spots throughout the manor). "Cass and Grandfather are already there. I've had the elves set up a light spread, and I opened the 2015 Romanée-Conti."

And so Aly found herself ushered to the front sitting room, settled down with a small glass of wine and an array of differently-flavoured tartlets. The Ravenclaw did have to admit that she would miss the Livingston kitchens, their house-elves' skilled hands and complex recipe booklets; but when the best thing about a family was the food they served, that didn't really constitute a reason to stay. She hungrily popped one of the tartlets into her mouth, the nutty taste of gruyère and sharp tang of swiss chard exploding on her tongue, before picking up another one and examining it for any clues as to the flavour. Did the pink mean it was strawberry, or raspberry, or something else altogether?

"...amount of guests necessitates a catering purchase, so we shall want to discuss who to hire," Caelum, the patriarch, was saying when Aly tuned back in from the food to the conversation. "Perhaps Alistair Henley would be open to a trade of sorts."

"Lord Henley is already catering your birthday party on Friday, and we should not show favouritism amongst the culinary masters lest the others turn down our offers in the future," Darcy interrupted, tinking one of her long nails along the side of her wineglass. "What about that young fellow who just opened the steakhouse in Knockturn Alley? Seems a bit dark for our usual tastes, but I have heard from the ladies' club that he has invented a Nundu steak that is positively divine."

As per usual, Aly's aunt Cassiopeia had been quiet through most of the time she had been there; now, though, she offered something to the conversation. "His name is Torquil Balfour," she said, softly, as though she was afraid of being wrong. Aly knew all too well the reaction when things were wrong. "I read it in the Prophet last week."

Darcy pointed at one of the elves who had been standing in the corner nearby, head bowed, simply... waiting its life away, biding its time until its assistance was needed. There were so many elves at Livingston Manor that, even after nine months of mostly coming here for every vacation and holiday and time off from school, Aly had only learned barely a third of their names, and this one looked unfamiliar to her still. "You. Elf. Go and leave a reminder in my study for tomorrow morning to contact this young Mr. Balfour." Her hands folded in her lap then, and the grandmother looked to Aly with a pursed smile. "Having the best of possible cuisines at your graduation celebration should aid you in being the talk of the country, and modelling shoots will be much easier to acquire after that, as we have previously discussed."

Finally - a chance to actually speak, and to speak her mind, no less, rather than discuss the frivolities of what food she would have at a matriculation party that would, Aly knew, not be happening. She cleared her throat, bracing and steeling herself for the conversation for which she had spent the entire train ride (and last two weeks) preparing. "Actually, Grandmother, I've been meaning to talk to you all about that."

"The idea of modelling after you graduate from Hogwarts?" Hesper's lips pursed, but she nodded in what seemed to be something like approval; she turned to her mother, the blonde with the beehive. "I told you that she has striven too hard throughout her education to waste it on her looks, Mother. Perhaps a career as a professional athlete, or assisting Father and Cass in the financial side of the corporation..."

It was the first time Aly had ever seen Darcy look truly disappointed - honestly, one of the first emotions she'd really seen from her grandmother at all. The Ravenclaw took a sip of her wine for strength, then downed the rest of it as the matriarch turned to her, almost in a pout. "I should have thought that the member of my family who looked most like me might want to follow in my footsteps. I suppose that is my trouble for having assumed, but your education can come into play later. Beauty is fleeting, and will only stay for so long."

The compliment nearly passed over Aly's head, but she couldn't help but feel a slight smile come to her lips; after all, commendations from Darcy were few and far between, and Aly knew that her grandmother considered her own beauty to be beyond compare, so comparing Aly to herself was... new. The teenager had noticed that more often lately - the kinder treatment from her grandmother, almost as if Darcy knew that something was coming. A storm on the horizon. But no amount of spoken compliments or Weather-Modifying Charms could stop this now. She shook her head, a stray curl falling from her high bun, which she had haphazardly pinned up in her compartment on the Express so as not to get a comment from the Livingstons as soon as she stepped off the scarlet locomotive. "No, that's not it - well, it's not only it. I'll admit I'm not quite sure what I want to do, but I don't think modelling is for me. But there's more to it than that, and I've been struggling for a long time with trying to figure out how to approach this." She twisted at the silver buckle of her belt around her waist, the silence falling heavy for a moment as, for the first time, her family truly gave her the floor. Aly knew she could not flat-out insult them, not if she wanted to not be blacklisted from various careers in which the Livingstons had influence; so this would have to be done in a... gentler... manner. "I want to preface this by saying I have really appreciated all that you have given me, all the balls and pearls and the care you put into everything." (Of course, she neglected to mention how much she hated the strict expectations, the horrible treatment of creatures and people deemed to be 'lesser', the glorious wastes of money that could have been going to better causes... but, again, it was not the time.) Aly heaved a deep breath, and then the words finally came out of her mouth almost as if on their own, as if she hadn't spoken them but they had simply burst into existence in the air: "But I don't think this life is for me."

For a moment, silence.

Then, detonation.

Cassiopeia shrank back into her chair as Darcy was on her feet in an instant; Hesper and Keithen, Aly's great-grandfather who had also been focusing more on the snacks than on the conversation, leapt to standing positions to try to calm her, but the damage was done. No amount of "Darcy, honey, take a moment"s or "Mother, she doesn't mean any harm"s would solve this as the blonde matriarch of the Livingston family flew into a fit unrivalled by any frustrated toddler or diva actress. Aly found herself following her aunt's lead, becoming smaller in her seat, as she was approached by the trio, one very angry queen bee in the middle with her two workers failing to placate her on either side.

Darcy pointed her finger at Aly's face, her long nails only inches from the girl's green eyes. "I know you are not saying what I think you are saying," she hissed, completely unfazed by her daughter and father's attempts to stop her. "That you are an ungrateful little brat, and after all that we have done for you, you reject this family and all of its privileges. And for what? Why would you dare, when this life could give you everything?"

The Ravenclaw tried her best to sit up straight, to not seem like a scolded child, even though she certainly felt like one. "It might be everything, but it's not what I want. The path I want to follow," she managed, her voice quivering; after everything, she couldn't pretend that her grandmother wasn't terrifying when she wanted to be. "I want to work for my way, not have everything handed to me just because of my blood. That's not fair."

Nearby, Caelum coughed into his elbow. "What do you believe your aunt and I to do all the day long, Alyssa? That we lounge about tasting wine and ordering about the servants?"

That was exactly what Aly thought, but she wouldn't dare to say it, nor did she have the time, because Darcy was talking again in that low, furious voice. "We house you. We feed you the finest delicacies, clothe you in the most expensive of couture, and decorate you in our best of jewels. We celebrate your homecoming as if it is something to be proud of, rather than a simple condolence prize all because your mother-" A sharp finger jabbed towards Hesper, who looked suddenly shocked, her dark eyes widening as tears began to prick at them- "decided to run off with a horrible little blood traitor against our wishes. Nay, our express commands." Hesper was full-on fighting tears now, and for the first time, Aly saw it on her mother's face - that she missed Benjamin Salinger just as much as Aly did. For years, Aly had been suffering with losing her father, but now she truly realised, too, that her mother had lost a husband and the love of her life. And, for a while, her daughter. What a lonely life that must have been - Aly could relate, that was for sure. "And now, after we welcome you back like the prodigal son, you turn around and hex us from behind, putting months of money and work to nothing but an absolute waste."

Darcy turned for a moment, then said over her shoulder, "You are certainly your mother's daughter. I shall give you that."

No matter how hurt Aly was, it paled in comparison to the betrayal, sorrow, and disgust that washed over Hesper's face like a wave. The tears were running full force down her mother's tanned skin now, though she stayed almost completely silent; only a single, quiet sob escaped her as she turned and fled the room, with her twin pursuing right behind her whispering what were probably words of affirmation and encouragement. After a moment, Keithen turned and followed, leaving Aly alone in the sitting room with just her house-elves and grandparents. No, they weren't hers anymore, were they? Darcy, on the other hand, flounced back to her chair and sat down with an angry thump, snapping her fingers at the nearest house-elf without looking at it, prompting it to pour her a larger glass of wine. "If you so wish to go, we will not stop you," her former grandmother snapped at her across the room. "In fact, you should be gone tonight. If you no longer wish to be a Livingston, you will no longer be welcome in my house. Leave tonight, and you shall never return."

Aly stood, dumbfounded at how quickly things had gone downhill; just five minutes before, she had been politely smiling and eating canapés, and now, here she was: a Salinger once more. She couldn't say that she didn't feel relief, but it was certainly bittersweet, knowing that she was now truly on her own. She forced a civil nod of her head to Darcy, then tried to smile nicely to Caelum, who admittedly despite his flaws and solemn demeanor had never treated her as unkindly as her grandmother. "I really do mean it when I say thank you for everything. This was an experience unlike any other, and-"

"Out," Darcy repeated, drawing out the word and pointing with her non-wine hand to the door.

And with that, Aly bowed her head and exited out the indicated entrance. She climbed the marble stairs one last time, passed by the bronze bust of her head that was already being removed by a pair of thin elves, and wandered to the room that had once been hers, whereupon she discovered her trunk, unopened, waiting at the foot of a perfectly made canopy bed. With a quick cast from her wand, the trunk floated behind her as she exited the room again, moving just a few spaces over to the in-home library, where a fireplace burned bright along the outer wall; the tiny silver dish on the mantle, she knew, contained a certain green powder, one she could use as an escape. Finally, an escape.

She floated, as if in a dream, with her trunk over to the fireplace and took a pinch of Floo powder between her fingers. Emerald green and reflective, it so perfectly matched the aesthetic into which she had been immersed over the past term, and Aly could not wait to leave it. The Ravenclaw was about to throw it into the fire, to flee to her real family, when a frail voice behind her sounded softly.

"She doesn't mean it, you know. You do not have to go."

Aly recognised the voice immediately, and so was not surprised when she turned to reflect upon the visage of her great-grandfather, Keithen - her only fellow Ravenclaw in this giant house and perhaps the only member of her newly acquired family that she had truly loved here. Her lips turned, an expression of sorrow crossing her face for the first time all evening. "I do, though, Great-Grandfather," she whispered, tears welling. "You know that I do."

"Oh, Aly." The older man hobbled over to her, and Aly took a few steps forward, too, as he cast his cane aside and took her in his arms. Despite being nearly one hundred years old and needing assistance walking, the former librarian was still taller than her and probably stronger, too, and he held her in a tight hug for all the moments she needed before pulling out to hold her at arm's length. "My dear girl. You will always have a home with me, no matter what my daughter says. She takes too dearly and too close to heart the life into which she has married, and forgets that she grew up among wisdom and words. Those that wish to pursue that path should not be looked down upon, but celebrated." His trembling finger wiped one of the falling tears from Aly's freckled cheeks, as she gazed up at him, soaking in his every word. "No matter what you choose to do, you will be utterly successful. I am sure of it. And should you ever need something, you will write to me, and I will ensure that you have it. Even if it is simply a hug."

Aly's whole face was trembling now. "I may just take you up on that."

"You had better," he said as his great-granddaughter stooped to grab his eagle-carved cane, placing it back in his free hand. "And you have somewhere to go?"

The teenager nodded, wiping away the rest of her tears. "One of my best mates just got an apartment in Scotland. He offered that I could stay there for the rest of break, once I had this conversation." A voice crack on the last word made her laugh, even if it was somewhat wryly. "I dunno that he expected it would be so soon, but... I'll be safe there. And happy. I promise."

"And happy," Keithen repeated, stepping away from her and leaning his weight on his cane once more. His free hand squeezed hers once, and then let go. "Good, my darling. That is all I ask of you. That, and a letter every once in a while."

Aly nodded, suddenly choked up; she had to go, before she lost her ability to speak and therefore to travel. As such, she could only manage one last "Thank you, Great-Grandfather," before she tossed the Floo into the fire and stepped in, croaking out the address @Pericles Dralt had forced her to memorise before they'd gotten off the train. "The Nexus, Marunweem, Scotland!" And as flames rose up in shades of shamrock and chartreuse around her, Aly's last view of the Livingston Manor was not of her screaming grandmother or sobbing mother, but of her beloved great-grandfather, standing with a proud smile on his face, waving good-bye for now, but not forever.

and I'll just let you down...

Somewhere Unplottable in England | March 28^th, 2026 | outfit in banner | #C47DDB