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Angelina Johnson
03 August 2010 @ 12:01 am
Angelina surveys the children lined up in front of her, her hands firmly on her hips. There's a lot of looking at the ground and shuffling of feet from them as they avoid her gaze.

"All right, which one of you has it?"

No answer.

"One of you has the Snitch and we're not going anywhere until I get it back. And if I don't get it back you'll all be in detention every evening until the end of the year."

Which, when you thought about it, wasn't much of a punishment since the school year was nearly over now anyway.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, taking over the Hogwarts flying lessons and Quidditch tournaments when Madam Hooch retired. But after only six months of dealing with the first years, Angelina was all but ready to retire herself.

She walks up and down the line of first years - Gryffindors today - looking for any hint of a clue, some give away that will point to the thief, but there is none. Thick as thieves, the bloody lot of them.

No doubt if she doesn't get it back then tonight they'll all be sat around the Gryffindor common room, with the Snitch fluttering around their heads acting like the cats who got the cream. Oh yes, she knows their sort. She WAS their sort not so very long ago. Fred and George would have thought it wonderful fun to steal the Snitch from under Hooch's nose and Merlin help her she would have found it hilarious as well.

Merlin, was I ever that small?
she thinks to herself, tapping her wand against her hand.

How would Hooch have handled it? Well Hooch would have blamed Fred and George and she would have been dead right. That's the key. Know who the likely suspects are.

"Horley," she says rounding on a mop haired 12 year old boy. Gregory Horley, Gryffindor first years resident prankster. "Hand it over."

"I haven't got it, Miss!" he declares looking up from his feet, his face a picture of wide eyed innocence, hiding the smug grin that she knew so well from Fred and George.

"No, you probably haven't," she admits. "So who did you give it to?"

The twins would have given it to Lee Jordan and when the teachers got wise to that they'd have given it to her or Alicia.

Who were Gregory's friends? Oh that's right. Wilfred Jenkins and...

"Hand it over, Janey," she says gently, holding out a hand in front of the girl.

The girl looks up from the ground like a rabbit caught in the headlights. No doubt Horley had promised her no one would suspect her. Another teacher probably wouldn't have but then no other teacher had been friends with the Weasley twins.

"But.. I ... I haven't..." Janey mumbles, her eyes shifting quickly over to Gregory who is very determinedly Not Looking at her.

"If I I get it back right now," she says firmly, "I'll take ten points from Gryffindor and we'll not hear anything more about it."

The girl shuffles her feet for a moment and then very slowly reaches inside her robes to get the snitch. She places it in Angelina's hand, avoiding her teachers gaze.

"Thank you, Janey."

With the Snitch clutched tight in her hand and a warning that they won't get off so lightly if it happens again, Angelina dismisses the class only 20 minutes late for dinner. Angie watches them go, shaking her head and, when they're far enough out of range, laughing just a little.

Kids. The faces and names might changes but the pranks didn't. Oh yes. Angelina was going to enjoy being on the other side of the fence.
Angelina Johnson
25 October 2008 @ 11:24 pm
October 25th. Angelina's 23rd birthday. She didn't really want to make a fuss about it. Since her parents died, she hasn't really felt like celebrating things like birthdays. But the duty of friends is, apparently, to make one celebrate these occasions whether they wish to or not, which is how Angie found herself at her own surprise birthday party, after being told by Alicia and Katie that they where only going for a drink.

After about an hour of smiling, laughing and pretending to have a good time with various colleagues and people she went to school with, she finally manages to slip away from everyone and hides in a blissfully empty bedroom with a half full bottle of Firewhiskey.

The Firewhiskey lasts a little over half an hour, and by that time, fortified by the amount of alcohol in her bloodstream, she feels a bit more ready to face the party. Besides, any longer than that and people would probably start wondering where she hed gotten to.

Slightly unsteady on her feet, thanks to the whiskey, she makes her way to the door and takes a deep breath before turning the handle and opening the door...
Angelina Johnson
26 June 2006 @ 11:50 pm

Outside the confines of  the bar proper, Angelina is flying over the lake. Every now and then she raises a hand and wipes it over her eyes. In the attacks yesterday, her parents were murdered by the Death Eaters. There were no bodies, but the amount of blood that was spilled in their home... there is no doubt in anyones mind that they are dead. 

While Angelina flies, she tries not to think about what happened, but it's not easy to forget, even just for a while.

Angelina Johnson
19 June 2006 @ 10:47 pm
There's nothing particularly remarkable about the door. Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, they're just the ones big enough to have names; there's any number of winding back streets the Muggle inhabitants of London haven't the faintest clue about. The place is probably packed reasonably full, though from the outside you'd never know; just a peeling black door in the middle of a featureless brick wall, and the only indication that anyone has even been here in the last few years is the gentle rise and fall of voices from behind the wood.

The slim robed figure checks the number on the door against a scrap of paper in her hand, then bends and places an ear to the wood, concentrating hard. Silencing spells and shielding spells are too obvious. Spells like that are an instant red flag, they were taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts, an announcement to the world that there's something to look for - and there's always someone stronger or someone specialised to get through or around any protection you manage to get set up. No, this is a bit more complex, a bit more subtle. The initial muffling spell is overlaid with a tangle of enchantments that make it sound, to anyone listening, as though there are two people distantly arguing over the possible healing applications of Bubotuber pus, and someone a little bit closer droning on about, by the sounds of it, the standardisation of equipment used by Ministry Astronomers.

It's pretty cunning, even going by what she remembers from her seventh-year module on stealth and camouflage. She's impressed – enough so that she doesn't notice the doorknob gently turning. The first she knows of it is when the door swings inwards and completely disrupts her balance, sending her staggering forward to land flat on her face in a dingy hallway, a fountain of dust swirling around her and a handsome, red-haired man pointing his wand at her face. Coughing and choking, she frantically waves the piece of paper still clutched in her hand – a few cryptic lines and an address, found unsigned on her desk at the AMRS two mornings ago.

After a moment or two, the red-haired man lowers his wand with a sigh, holding out his hand to help her up.

"Assume you're here for the squad, then," he begins. "Down the corridor to the left, and don't – hey, wait a minute, I know you. Didn't you date my brother for a bit?"

Angelina Johnson rubs half a ton of dust out of her eyes as she climbs to her feet, and blinks as she recognizes Charlie Weasley.


Just about two thirds of the tiered seats in the room down the corridor are filled, perhaps forty people all told. As she takes a seat amongst them, Angelina wonders whether they too received a note, as she had.

Looking up, she sees Charlie walk towards the raised platform at the other end of the room, and turn himself around to face a room that's slowly falling silent. There are others waiting there – two wizards and a short witch with close-cropped hair. There's a small table with a jug and a glass of water waiting, as well, and Charlie, nodding to the others, leans back against the table and folds his arms, scanning the faces turned towards him.

"Right," he says eventually, when it's as close to silent as it's going to get. He gestures to the other people on the platform. "You don't know us, and we don't know you. Most of you are probably wondering why you're here, why you were contacted. Two reasons: one, that you're either part of, or trusted by someone who's involved with, the Order of the Phoenix or the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, and two, that you can fly."

He pauses for a moment, and Angelina watches the slow ripple of nods and murmurs spread across the crowd.

"You're here, ladies and gents, because we're going to ask you to fight. Voldemort -" a few winces from the audience, one or two audible gasps, " – is coming, you all know that. And we've recently found out that he has Inferi, and that there's a fair probability of some sort of aerial strike. What we need, and what we don't have, to deal with these things, is an airborne force of our own – one we can keep quiet, keep a surprise. Hence the charming surroundings."

A few nervous laughs, as Charlie grins wryly.

"You can fly, that much we already know - but we're not talking a five-a-side office Quidditch match at Christmas, alright? We're talking speed, agility, skill, and you lot came recommended. If you don't think you can do this, no one here'll hold it against you. There's tea and biscuits in the next room, so I'm told, and you can go and grab a cuppa, have a sit down, leave when the meeting's done. This is not a game, this is for the defense of the wizarding community, and if you are not willing to put everything you have into this then I am telling you to get up and walk out."

There's a long silence. Angelina swallows deeply – and looking around again, sees others doing the same. None of them move.

"Okay," Charlie says on a long breath, rubbing a large hand over the top of his head. "Okay. Then I guess we can get started. Welcome to the Ministry Civilian Air Corps."
Angelina Johnson
14 February 2006 @ 04:12 am
The door opens into the living room of her small flat. It's dark untill she flicks her wand and a dozen or so candles burst into flame around the room, lighting the room with a soft glow. At the same time a record player in the corner starts playing soft music. Theres even a nice bottle of wine in a bucket of ice charmed not to melt and two glasses on the the coffee table. One might get the feeling she had this planned all along.

She turns to Harry and slips her arms around his waist, smiling softly up at him.

"Happy Valentines day."
Angelina Johnson
23 January 2006 @ 08:09 pm

1: Romance novels. Not the dirty kind like a certain skull she knows, the really sappy kind where someone dies at the end.

2: Strawberries. Her favourite fruit. With cream and sugar, or chocolate coated. Doesn't matter which, she loves em all the same.

3: Going commando. She finds it liberating, both physically and mentaly. (FYI, I have no idea where that came from, it's one of thoses things that my pup sprung on me without warning.)

4: Bubble baths. One of the few places in Hogwarts where you can really be alone, is the prefects bathroom (or at least think you are) so sneaking of to the bathroom for a few hours to do absolutely nothing , except maybe read a book or a magazine while relaxing in the water was like a little piece of heaven after the bustle of the common room. She might not be at school anymore but she stilll likes to relax that way.

5: I have no 5. Make one up.

Angelina Johnson
31 December 2005 @ 10:05 pm
Your LJ Pirate Quest by rachelthedemon
Favorite Color
Your First Matexan_shaped
Your Cabin Boy/Girlaj_crawley
Your Bodyguardedwardishungry
The Bad Guy/Girlstilljustandrew
Your Obligatory Love Interestwizard_dresden
The Fanservicey One_our_king_
Your Coveted TreasureGold...Lots and lots of gold
Number of people you kill to get it3,100
Number of times you get laid afterward361
Quiz created with MemeGen!
Angelina Johnson
05 November 2005 @ 12:48 pm
Angelina is in her room, alone, when the Other is defeated. As the curse ends, and she takes back control of her own mind, it's as if a fog that has been clouding her senses is lifted. Theres a momentary confusion as she puts together the events of the past two weeks. Then comes the awful, sinking feeling as she remembers the horrible things she's said and done during that same time- even the things she only thought about doing make her feel sick inside.

And Harry... Oh Merlin the things she said to Harry... But he knew there was somthing wrong. Once she explains then he'll understand- he has to... right? But what if there was more to the kiss with Shiela? What if she's blown it for good this time and he's moved on?

Her hand automatically reaches for a braid and she starts twisting it around her fingers in a nervous way, and she chews on her bottom lip.

Angie knows she needs to go down to the bar and apologise to everyone and explain what happened, and after that she needs to go home and fix things there as well, but she can't do that just yet. She can't face the people she insulted, the people she hurt, so she spends a sleeples night curled up on her bed, blaming herself for what happened, even though it's not her fault...
Angelina Johnson
12 August 2005 @ 10:45 pm

Angelina stares down at the piece of parchment in front of her while she twirls her quill in her fingers. So far the parchment is blank except for one four letter word at the top: 'Fred.' There are several screwed up attempts covering her desk. Some are angry, some just sound like she's a clingy school girl. Some she even managed to finish before screwing it up and starting again. The truth is she doesn't really know what she wants to say to him. There is somethiong she wants to know though. After staring at the paper for another few minutes she dips her quill into a bottle of blue ink and writes a short sentance.

FredCollapse )
Then she rolls it up and ties it to the leg of her owl before she can change her mind about it. She carries the owl to the window and pushes it open. After she tells the owl were to go, it spreads it's wings and flies out into the dark night.  Angelina watches the owl as it circles above the house once before flying of.

She pushes her hair out of her face, grabs her jacket and leaves the house. When she's a street away, she darts down an empty alley, and with a pop she apperates to Milliways.

Angelina Johnson
18 July 2005 @ 09:35 pm

Angelina is sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by magical photographs from her years at Hogwarts. She doesn't know why she had the urge to sort through her old photographs; it was just something she felt needed to be done.

There are four distinct piles at the moment, and counting. Here's one from her first Quidditch match; and here, one from a tip to Hogsmead when she was about fifteen. And here- she stops and reclaims the photo from the pile she just added it to. This one is from the Yule Ball in her sixth year. She's smiling, not at the camera, but at the person she's with, and he is smiling back at her. He is of course Fred Weasley, and as she looks at the two of them laughing and smiling and dancing, she can't help but think how happy they look together.

She lies back on her bed, looking at the picture in her hand and she can't help thinking about all the men in her life. Her father, her hero for so long. The man who taught her to fly, and shaped her into the woman she had become. Her brother... The less she thinks about him, the happier she is. Fred, the boy- man- she had fantasised about at school, the one she had always pictured herself being with. He was charming, cute, in goofy kind of way, and he could always make her laugh. In some ways he was perfect for her. Then of course, there was John Crichton, the first man to break her heart. They hadn't been together very long, but she'd fallen for him, hard. And now... now there was Harry. Harry. Handsome. Caring. considerate. And also nearly twice her age and living in a completely different world to her, and not just metaphorically. It never bothered her before, and she doesn't know why it does now. Maybe it has something to do with nearly being killed, but she feels a lot younger and more vulnerable than she did before. She tries to push the feeling aside. After all, she's still the same person as she was before, right? But the truth is, she has changed. Her perspective has changed. She's fooling herself if she thinks she can just go on as she was before. Just like she's fooling herself if she thinks she and Harry really have a future. She pinches the bridge of her nose, and she kows that she has to break it of with him. She's knows it's going to be painful because she does care about him, she really does, and the last thing she wants do to is hurt him.

She glances back at the happy couple in the photo. It seems so long ago, almost in a different life, that picture was taken. But she remembers how happy she was that night, and she remembers what she felt about Fred. And what hurts, what really hurts, is that she never really stopped feeling it, even when she was with John. Fred's always been there, in the back of her mind, and everytime she see's him she hates him, just a little, because she knew he liked her that way too, and yet he never did anything about it. Tim told her once that she should stop waiting to be swept off her feet and do the sweeping herself. Maybe if she had, then she and Fred would be together now and... and it's best not to think about what might have been. 

She sighs and with a wave of her wand the photo's spread over her bed sheets fly back into thier box which itself is then levitated onto her dressing table. But the picture from the Yule Ball, she puts on her bedside table. Maybe I should get rid of it, she thinks as she turns out the lights and climbs into bed. Yeah... I'll get rid of it tomorrow.

And of course tomorrow comes, but she doesn't get rid of it. Instead she puts it in the back pocket of her jeans, thinking that maybe she'll show it to Fred before she does, just to see what he thinks...

Angelina Johnson
20 June 2005 @ 07:41 pm
Angelina wakes slowly. In the few minutes between full wakefullness and sleep, everything is fuzzy. Slowly though, memories start to filter through. Smoke. Screaming. The Dark Mark. The Death Eater... The bodies.

No! Can't be. Just a dream! Thats all, just a bad dream,
she tries to convince herself, and for a moment she believes it. So if it's a dream then why do I feel like I was hit with a ten ton freight train?

Realization hits her and she feels physically sick. She leans over the edge of the bed, vomits onto the floor. The acidic taste of bile burns her mouth and throat. There is a glass on the bedside table. It's empty so she picks up the glass and goes to the bathroom, wincing with every step. She ignores the mirror above the sink for now, and runs the the cold tap and pours herself a glass of water to rinse the awful taste out of her mouth. She drinks the rest of the water and puts the glass to the side, and only then does she properly look in the mirror.

Deep down she knows that the state of her face isn't important, not compared to the atrocities of the match. But if she lets herself think about everything else that happened yesterday, then she knows she'll break down.

So for the moment she pushes everything else to the background and concentrates on her face. Fleur did a good job the night before and the wounds are clean and dry and some of the less damaged areas are already starting to heal, leaving a faint pink mark. There'll be scaring once it's completely healed and theres nothing she can do about that.

Welcome to a lifetime of glamour charms and hiding behind your hair, Angelina.

She is still in the clothes she wore to the match yesterday only now they are covered in blood and dirt. Her blood. She slowly removes them, almost every movement hurting.

It's harder to block out the events of yesterday as she stands in front of the mirror in just her underwear. Her back and left side are bruised yellow and purple from where she hit the the ground. No wonder she feels so sore.

She runs a bath hoping it will help ease the pain and steps out of the rest of her clothes. She climbs into the bath, letting the water fill up around her. She washes the grime and dirt and dried blood from her body and hair slowly.

With nothing else to keep her mind busy, her thoughts return to the match, and finally she can't help herself and she cries.
Angelina Johnson
01 January 2005 @ 12:00 am
1. Forget John Crichton.
2. Go home more often.
3. Forget John Crichton.
4. Make more time to fly and play Quidditch.
5. Forget John Crichton.
6. Drink more less.
7. Most impotantly of all: FORGET JOHN CRICHTON!
Angelina Johnson
12 December 2004 @ 10:34 pm
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
Grace shines around her with serenest beams,
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
To sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

Talking to John was hard now. He didn't remember her while she still desperately wished that he could, even if he would only be able to tell her why he broke his promise.

Of course she hadn't anticipated it would be just as hard, if not harder, to talk to a John that did remember her. Now that she was able to get her answers, she was scared of what they might be. And the way he looked at her...

She wished he wouldn't because she was only just starting to get over him.

"Be careful what you wish for" she tells herself. "Because it could come true, and you might not like it when it does..."
Angelina Johnson
15 September 2004 @ 10:42 pm
It's 9:30 AM when Angie apperates to the back door of her parents house. Her mother is in the garden hanging damp laundry out to dry, while 2 cats twine around her feet tripping her up, like playfull kittens despite the fact that both cats are well over 10 years old.

'Hi Mum,' she calls, and Mrs Johnson turns to face her daughter, a smile appearing on her face.

'Well this is a nice surprise. And only two weeks after your last visit. What have I done to deserve this?'

Angie smiles and picks up one of the cats as it pads over toher. It's her own black cat, a present she recieved on her birthday nearly twelve years ago, and which she affectionatly named, Quaffle.

'Come on Mum it's not that unheard of for a daughter to visit her parents is it?'

'Not for most daughters but for you it definately is. Normally it means that you need something.'

'I'm not that bad am I?'

Mrs Johnson chuckles as she hangs a flowery blouse on the line.

'No of course not darling. But am I right in guessing you need something?'

'Unfortunately yes. I was hoping you could kind of do some washing for me?' She hands her mother the duffel bag hanging from her shoulder by one strap. Mrs Johnson takes the bag and puts it at her feet, and crosses her arms over her chest. She smiles fondly at her daughter.

'You never could get the hang of household chores could you; not even with magic. Is there anything else you want me to do?'

'No, but I need to see Dad. Has he gone to work yet?'

'Yes he has. Sorry love he left about 15 minutes ago.' Mrs Johnson puts the duffel bag in the now empty laundry basket which she balnces against her hip. 'Do you want a drink darling?'

'Sorry Mum I can't at the moment. I have things I need to do. I'll have one later though, when I come back to pick up my clothes, promise.' She kisses her mother on the cheek, puts the cat back on the ground and apperates to the ministry.


Angelina knocks on the door of a small office on level seven of the ministry, the Department of Magical Games and Sports. A voice from inside beckns her in and she entyers her fathers office.

'Angie, what are you doing her?'

'I er, came to ask a huge favour Dad. I er, need to borrow some money.'

He looks at her wareily. 'How much exactly?'

'Enough to buy a unicorn horn.'

'A... Angie they cost upwards of twenty galleons! Why in the name of Merlin would you need a unicorn horn?'

'For this potion I'm making. I promise I'll pay you back when I start work Dad, but I really need this potions ingrediant. It's important; I wouldn't ask if it wasn't.'

Her dad taps on the table, thinking. 'Ok you can have the money.'

'Oh thank you Dad you're the best!'

An hour later Angie has the unicorn horn in her hand as well as a dry snake skin and a handfull of humming bird feathers, and she goes back home to pick up her laundry and fullfill a promose to her mother.
Angelina Johnson
11 September 2004 @ 08:22 pm
Angelina Johnson
10 September 2004 @ 10:50 pm
I'm in my room, reading the leter again. I've read it so many times already that I'm surprised the words haven't been worn away. Theres a rip all the way through the middle of the paper where I tore it in half. I fixed it again with spellotape but it's still there. A scar on the paper, like the one on my heart. Niether of us will ever be the same again.

I wonder how long it takes to forget what someone looks like. A week? A month? A year? Or is that something I'll never forget?

I can't keep doing this, I tell myself. I have to put it in the past.

But I can't. There was so much left undone, so much left unsaid. I need closure but I don't think I'll ever get it. Even if I start seeing someone else I'll always be looking for him to come back through the door. And all because he couldn't say goodbye.
Angelina Johnson
09 September 2004 @ 12:36 pm
‘Mum where’d you put my school trunk?’

*Angie is standing at the top of the stairs, calling down to her mother in the kitchen.*

‘I think your father put it in the attic darling. Why do you want it?’


‘Don’t swear Angelina.’

‘Sorry Mum. I just need something out of it.’

*She turns away from the top of the stairs and goes to stand under trap door in the ceiling. She looks up at it and takes her new wand out of her back pocket. She flicks it at the ceiling and the wooden panel lifts up and moves out of the way revealing a dark hole. Another flick and a ladder appears from nowhere and leads directly into the ceiling. She pockets her wand again and climbs up. At the entrance she looks around but it’s too dark to see anything so once again she pulls out her wand.*


*In the pale light of her wand she takes a look around, not wanting to venture any further into the dark attic than she needs to. There are boxes. Piles and piles of boxes in all shapes and sizes but she can’t see her trunk.*

‘You sure it’s up here Mum?’

‘Yes I asked him to put it up there. It was just gathering dust in the hall way where you so conveniently left it before disappearing for nearly two months, and I thought if it was going to gather dust, it might as well do it somewhere that I’m less inclined to trip over it.’

‘Oh. Right. Sorry bout that.’

‘Yes well. Next time you go away at least tell us where you’re going and not just that you’re going. Just poke about a bit. It’s up there somewhere.’

*Holding out her wand Angie proceeds further into the attic. As she moves around the light from the wand creates strange shadows on the walls and ceiling. Her wand illuminates a pile of boxes. Written on them in thick black marker is her name.*

‘Hey Mum. What’s in these boxes?’

‘Which ones dear?’

‘The ones with my name on them.’

‘Toys, clothes, little bits and pieces. Anything that I didn’t want to throw out.’

*Her mothers head appears in the hole, and she looks around before climbing in properly. Angelina doesn’t notice because she’s looking through the top box.*

‘Oh my God-’


‘Sorry Mum. I can’t believe you kept this.’

*Out of the box she takes a faded childish drawing of a little girl on a broomstick, or at least one assumes that’s what it’s supposed to be, and in the corner in the large uneven lettering of the very young, it says ‘Angelina Johnson, Age 5.’*

‘Of course I kept it. I don’t think I ever threw any of your pictures away.’

*Her mother comes up behind her and peers over her shoulder.*

‘Do you remember when you drew that?’

‘At school on my first day. Everyone thought I was weird because the teacher wanted us to draw what we’d done at the weekend and I drew that.’

‘That’s right. I remember that we got a phone call from her by the end of your first week telling us that you had rather a vivid imagination and that you had difficulty making the distinction between what was real and what was make believe.’

‘Well apparently I’m still having the same delusions about flying and magic. Praps you should book me into some kind of therapy.’

*They both laugh and Angie puts the picture back onto the pile and digs further into the box.*

‘My old Gobstones; Chocolate frog cards; My Barbies? I thought I threw these away?’

‘No you left them in the garden after you beheaded them.’

‘I thought I burnt them?’

‘No, the ones you burnt belonged to Sally from up the road.’

‘Oh that’s right. But for the record I didn’t do it on purpose. She wouldn’t let Barbie go flying and I got mad.’

‘Your first bit of accidental magic. Your dad was absolutely delighted.’

‘Delighted? I was grounded for a week. And on top it of I wasn’t allowed to play with Sally ever again.’

‘Yes but once he got over that he was actually very proud. By that time he knew your brother wasn’t magic you see, and while it didn’t bother me one iota whether either of you could do it or not, it was rather a blow to your Dad. And in our defence it was Sally’s mum who said you would never play with her little girl again.’

‘It’s why he doesn’t talk to me isn’t it? Because he’s jealous that Dad spent so much time with me and not him.’

‘I think it’s one of the reasons, yes. Doesn’t help that you don’t like his wife though.’

‘No it’s the reason. She’s just the cover and the excuse. But she’s such a simpering idiot. I swear if she was white then she’d be a blonde. How does he put up with her?’

‘I don’t know and it’s something I question every time I see them.’

‘Not to his face like I did though.’

‘No, not to his face. What else do you have in there?’

‘Erm… Some dolls in various states of disrepair, a teddy missing his head, and this. Which isn’t mine.’

*She pulls out a hard plastic toy with moveable arm’s and legs and hands it to her mother.*

‘This should be in one of your brothers boxes. Wonder how it got in there.’

‘Well what is it?’

‘It’s a cartoon character from a program he used to watch on telly when he came in from school. Something about giant teenage turtles wh-’


*She takes back the toy and sure enough it’s a model of a turtle, wearing a mask.*
Angelina Johnson
08 September 2004 @ 09:44 am
*In her mothers’ spotless kitchen, Angie is cooking the only thing she knows how to make: Burt beans on toast. The kitchen radio is tuned to a muggle channel and playing cheesy pop music, the kind of which Angie has never been fond of. As she's scraping the charred remains of the beans over the toast, the kitchen door opens and her father enters the room looking very harassed. *

'Angie. Have you heard the news?'

'Hey Dad. What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be at work?'

*Her father hasn't been listening to her and he moves to the radio and switches the channel to the WWN. *

'...erday morning, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge sensationally resigned from his post before confessing to being a Death Eater. So far neither the Wizengamot nor the Ministry of Magic has commented on this shock revelation, and the WWN will bring you the latest news as events unravel. In other news-

*He switches of the radio. *

'Fudge is a Death Eater?'

'Was a death eater. Honestly Angie pay attention. He's in custody right now. The whole ministry’s in an uproar. The Aurors are investigating and there’s going to be an enquiry and no one knows where to turn to get orders. It's a nightmare. Most people reckon that Dumbledores going to take over as minister but-'

'Dumbledore won't leave Hogwarts.'

'Precisely! My bets on Amelia Bones taking over but-'

'Hullo love. What are you doing home?'

*They are joined in the kitchen by Angie's mother. She's carrying a large basket of laundry, and she place it on the table giving her husband a quick kiss on the cheek.*

'I was just telling Angie. Fudge is a Death Eater. He's being held in custody by the Wizengammot. The ministry's in such a state that there didn't seem any point in trying to get work done.'

'Dad if the ministries such a mess then shouldn't you be there trying to sort it out?'

'Angie I work in the Department for Magical Games and Sports. There's not a lot I can do to help. They sent us all home for the day.'

'What do reckons going to happen next Dad?'

'Well they'll have to appoint a new minister, or a stand in for the time being at least. With no one giving the orders things are pretty much at a stand still. Then things will just have to go from there.'

'So I guess now wouldn't be a good time to start applying for jobs at the ministry then.'

'Not particularly. Best wait a while until things calm down and get back to normal. But I thought you where going to try out for the Harpies.'

'No. You wanted me to try out for the Harpies Dad. I never said I was going to.'

'And you're not going to apply for St Mungo's either?'

'No Mum I'm not.'

'Oh that is a shame. I thought you wanted to be a Doctor.'

'Healer Mum. And I haven't wanted to be a healer since I was 12.'

'So you're going to apply for a secretarial position at the ministry then. I have to say that’s a waste of your talents Angelina, but if that’s what you want...'

'It's not what I want Dad. It's what Gran wants. But I'm not going to do any of those things.'

'Well what are you going to do then?'

'Daddy if you'd let me finish then I'll tell you. I'm not going to do any of those things. They were your dreams for me. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and everyone wanted me to do something different and I just got confused. It's why I left. But now I've decided I think. I'm going to join the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. Emphasis on transfiguration.'

'And that’s what you want is it?'

'Yes Dad it is.'

'Oh Angelina, why didn't you say something?'

'Because I didn't want to disappoint you Mum.'

'Angie you could never disappoint us by telling us the truth. And if that’s what you want then you know we'll support you. We just want you to be happy.'

'Thanks Dad. That means a lot to me.'
Angelina Johnson
07 September 2004 @ 05:29 pm
*The hot sun beats down on her neck as she walks through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. Her bags are whacking painfully against the side of her leg as she enters Olivanders, the wand makers. Somewhere in the dark recess's of the shop a bell rings.*

'Miss Johnson. Such a suprise. A pleasure to be sure but also a surprise. What brings you here?'

'I need a new wand Mr Olivander. I... lost my old one.'

'You lost it? However did you do that?'

*I left it in a pensieve while I was trying to save the life of my astronaut boyfriend from the future whom I met whilst staying in a bar at the end of the universe she thinks.*

'I really couldn't tell you Mr Olivander. If I knew how I lost it then it wouldn't be lost would it?'

'No I supose not. Dragon Heartstring and ash wasn't it? Very good for transfiguration.'

'Thats right Mr Olivander.'

*While she is talking Mr Olivanders silver tape measure begins to size her up as it did when she first entered the shop seven years ago and Mr Olivander begins looking through the shelves of wands lining the back wall of the shop.*

'Here try this one. Dragon Heartstring and oak, 12". Not dissimilar from your last purchase.'

*She takes the wand and waves it but nothing happens and the wand is quickly whipped out of her fingers by Olivander and replaced with a second.*

'Pheonix tail feather and willow, 10 1/2". Stiffer than most, but excellent for defense spells.'

*Again nothing happens and another wand is thrust upon her. It takes a while but after half an hour of waving wands she leaves the shop with one that fits: 'Ebony and Dragon heartstring 11 1/4". Strange combination Miss Johnson but a very powerfull wand none the less.'*

*She pauses out side Quality Quidditch Suplies and looks at the display of new brooms in the window. She doesn't need one but she goes into the store anyway. She browses the shelfs and looks at all the familiar Quidditch parefenalia. Then something catches her eye and she smiles.*

'It's perfect. Bob'll love it.'

*One gift down, she still needs to find things for Tim, Meg, Andrew, Edward and Paddy, and Raph, so she pays for it at the counter and heads back onto the streets, to search for suitable things for her friends.

A magical pet store provides a gift for Edward and the puppy, and Andrews is found in Flourish and Blotts book store. Meg's gift is slightly harder to find but is eventually discovered in Madam Malkins Robes for all occasions. After thinking for a while on what an ex-turtle might like, he remembers the time when Raph took her wand and replaced it with a fake from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. She goes into the twins' shop and is grateful to see they're not there.*

'Hiya Lee.'

'Angie! Hey where have you been? No one's seen you for months. Alicia was woried that the Death eaters had got you.'

'I er... Went away for a bit.'

'On holiday? Without telling anyone?'

'Well I guess you could call it a holliday. Any way Lee I'm looking for a present for a friend. I want some of everything. Canary creams, those fire works things that the twins set of to piss of Umbridge, things that make a lot of noise and quite a bit of chaos, and anything else that the twins might have invented since i left.'

'Your wish is my command Fair Lady.'

*Lee starts gathering the requested items.*

'So Angie. You fancy going out with me sometime?'

'Not now Lee, please.'

'Oh go on Angie. It'll be fun. Just one date. I'll even pay.'

'Well aren't you a gentleman. But seriously Lee I'm not in the mood right now. I just... I just got out of a relationship. It didn't end well.'

'Oh. Right. If you want I can beat him up for you. Or hex him, whichever you prefer. Wasn't Fred was it? 'cause if he hurt you I can...'

*She laughs.* 'No I don't want you to beat him up or hex him. And it wasn't Fred. You don't know him, he's not from around here.'

'If you're sure...'

'Yes. I'm sure. Really sure.'

*Lee hand over a bag of neatly wrapped parcels.*

'Oh well if you're really sure... Here you go Angie.'

'Thanks Lee. How much do I owe?'

'For you Angie? It's on the house.'

'Don't be stupid Lee this is a business. Now how much do I owe?'

*The last present she needs to buy is for Tim. As she walks down the street she realizes that she knows very little about Tim, Meg and Andrew. What with rescueing John and then his departure they never really had much time to get to know each other. Well that, she decides, is going to change.*
Angelina Johnson
06 September 2004 @ 10:57 pm
*Angelina apperates into a fairly large, neatly kept back garden surrounded by high fences, and walks up the path to the kitchen door. She takes a deep breath and knocks three times. From somewhere inside the house a muffled voice is getting louder untill a figure appears in the smokey glass window set into the door. A key can be heard turning in a lock and the door swings open, revealing a smartly dressed woman in her early to mid fourties. She looks an awfull lot like Angelina, or more correctly, Angelina looks an awfull lot like the woman.*

'Hullo Mum.'

*The woman, Mrs Johnson crosses her arms over her chest.*

'Angelina Maria Johnson where on earth have you been?'

'Er... No where really Mum.'

'You had your father and I worried half to death! You don't phone, you don't owl. For all we knew you could have been dead.'

'I'm sorry Mum. I really am. I just... had to get away for a while.'

*Mrs Johnsons face softens into motherly concern for her only daughter.*

'Well let's not stand here nattering away, let's go inside. Your dad's at work at the moment of course but he'll be home in a few hours. And we're expecting your Gran for tea tonight as well so...'

*Angelina has stopped listening to what her mother is saying. She looks around the house and everything is almost exactly the same as when she had left. It's the same mix of magic and muggle items that she grew up with, the same wallpaper she helped her parent's pick out when she was twelve, the same smell of her mothers home cooked dinners. Photo's of her and her brother at various ages line the walls as well as the odd picture of her parents.*

'...Won't that be nice love?'

'Sorry Mum? I didn't catch all of that.'

'Really Darling you must start paying attention. I'm surprised you got any NEWTs at all if thats how you treated your teachers. I said you'll be able to tell us all where you've been after tea.'

*Angelina winces.* 'I'd rather not Mum if it's all the same to you.'

*Mrs Johnson looks worried.* 'Are you all right Darling? You seem rather out of sorts. It's not like you to be so quiet.'

*Angelina smiles.* 'I'm Fine Mum. I'm just glad to be home. Thats all.'
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