Gamon Looked At The Whole Exchange With An Amused Smile In His Eyes, As He Followed Ted To The Exam Room.

“Champagne and fur slow dancing at French parties. Money and affairs at cocktail dinners. Smoking cigarettes and laughing in vain cause kings and queens never hurt, they say. Pretty eyes and mouths full of regrets, drinking red wine since the age of 14, cause wine is thicker than blood, and gold coins are running through their veins. Parents travel to Monaco for the honeymoon, only to get a divorce. Poor friends with nothing but money and dope. Call your hot wealthy boyfriend; tell him that you’ve fallen in love with someone too vulgar for your demons to drink a glass of liquor with. Work, bitches work, you shout as if you’ve chew your own gold by yourself. Red dresses and black suits dancing with depression and dying for attention. Oh my baby, with all your money, you couldn’t even buy yourself a soul. And now you pay all the artists in the world to write you a soul. Here you go darling; this poem is your soul.”

— We Call Them The Elite by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

"Mrs. Parkinson, it's great to meet you. The festival looks much better now that you're here." Morcant smiled courteously to Bryony, as if they didn't grow up in the same social circles their whole lives.

There was a playful undertone underneath all the politeness, of course. It was interesting to see his childhood friend as a married woman. But, then, that was probably his fault for not having settled down yet.

"I don't believe I'm the best person to have an opinion on tapestries, since the only tapestry I truly remember is the Nott's family tree tapestry. But I do enjoy the Yuletide spirit, it's my favorite." Morcant said, settling comfortably beside her.

Who: Bryony & Open Where: Samhain Festival, Market Stalls

Bryony had thought long and hard how her re-entrance back into society post-wedding would go, and it hadn't been this damned festival. They were supposed to attend a gala last weekend for one of the many charities she helped out with, but of course, she had been sick and they couldn't attend. And now her husband goes and tells her at the last minute that he would join her later, that something had come up. She was not pleased but she was unwilling to sit at home for another weekend. So here she was, hoping he would come and find her before it was too late.

"The holiday may be over tomorrow, but the season will go on for a while. It wouldn't be particularly tacky to keep this up, would it?" Bryony mused to the person beside her, showing them the tapestry that she had been looking at.

tag dump !!

MORCANT NOTT

(general tag) #morcant nott.

(threads) #morcant nott. threads.

(musing) #morcant nott. musing.

(visage) #morcant nott. visage.

(wanted plots) #morcant nott. wanted plots.

(nott family) #morcant nott. nott family.

(intro) #morcant nott. intro.

(moodboard) #morcant nott. moodboard.

(aesthetic) #morcant nott. aesthetic.

(open starter) #morcant nott. open starter.

(closed starter) #morcant nott. closed starter.

(threads with people) #morcant & muse.

GAMON OLLIVANDER -- DROPPED

(general tag) #gamon ollivander.

(threads) #gamon ollivander. threads.

(musing) #gamon ollivander. musing.

(visage) #gamon ollivander. visage.

(wanted plots) #gamon ollivander. wanted plots.

(ollivander family) #gamon ollivander. ollivander family.

(intro) #gamon ollivander. intro.

(moodboard) #gamon ollivander. moodboard.

(aesthetic) #gamon ollivander. aesthetic.

(open starter) #gamon ollivander. open starter.

(closed starter) #gamon ollivander. closed starter.

(threads with people) #gamon & muse.

THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF NOTT

"The Notts? They're a reserved bunch, that's for sure. Don't know what they're hiding, being recluse like that. Maybe being antisocial runs in the family. The current Lord Nott, Geraint, he's a hothead just like his father. The son, Morcant, ain't half-bad, but he's just not that important yet, you know?"

click the read more to read the family's lore!

Head of the Family: Geraint Nott

Family Crest/Emblem: the Gordian Knott made out of moving snakes.

Motto: "Strength lies in legacy."

Other Symbols: the Unbreakable Vow, since the most used version was created initially by the Nott family. It also symbolizes loyalty and the binding nature of their magical practices. Ancient runes used in warding and protection, reflecting their deep understanding of arcane magic.

Location (Wizarding Community or Region) and Headquarters: The Nott family resides primarily in Nott Manor, a sprawling estate located in the remote hills of England. The manor is known for its labyrinthine architecture and its countless magical protections, warding the family’s magical knowledge and treasures.

Notable Members:

Aldric Nott: The first known member of the Nott family, Aldric wrote the Nott Code, a foundational text that established many of the family’s core principles regarding secrecy, purity, and mastery of magic. His contributions to early magical theory laid the groundwork for the family’s legacy.

Fenrir Nott: The visionary who constructed Nott Manor, Fenrir was instrumental in the establishment of the family’s headquarters, embedding powerful wards into its very foundations. His craftsmanship in both magic and architecture ensured the family’s protection for generations.

Amaryllis Nott: Through her marriage, Amaryllis played a crucial role in rebuilding the Nott Library after a devastating fire in the 1800s destroyed much of the family’s written history. She meticulously restored not only the physical structure of the library but also its vast collection of rare texts, preserving the family’s knowledge for future generations.

Vivienne Nott: Vivienne consolidated the magical practices and rituals of the Nott family, compiling them into the Grimoire of Nott. This tome remains a sacred and carefully guarded family heirloom, ensuring that their magical heritage is passed down in an organized and accessible manner.

Augustus Nott: A highly influential figure, Augustus Nott briefly held the position of Minister of Magic. His tenure was marked by his strong political influence, though his tenure was overshadowed by the Nott family’s association with more controversial pureblood ideals.

Alaric Nott: Alaric helped popularize the Unbreakable Vow throughout wizarding society, making it a standard tool for securing loyalty and obedience among magical families and factions. His contributions solidified the family’s reputation as master practitioners of binding magic.

Isolde Nott: A noted scholar, Isolde was part of the research team that developed the binding magic within the Statute of Secrecy. Her work is considered one of the cornerstones of modern magical law, ensuring that magical society remains hidden from Muggles.

Cantakerous Nott: In 1930, Cantakerous wrote the controversial Pureblood Directory, a compendium of all known pureblood families, their genealogies, and magical allegiances. His work fueled the rise of pureblood supremacist ideology within the wizarding world.

Years of Existence (or traceable history): The Nott family is believed to trace its origins back to Celtic times, although much of their early documentation was lost in a devastating fire at the Nott Library in the 1800s. Current records confirm their lineage back to the medieval period, spanning over 800 years of existence. Their magical practices are rooted in ancient, often forgotten arts, passed down and guarded through generations.

Level of Tradition and Heritage: The Nott family is deeply committed to the preservation of their magical heritage, viewing their traditions not only as a source of power but as a sacred responsibility. The fire in the 1800s that destroyed much of their early history only strengthened this resolve, making them even more protective of their legacy. Their commitment to maintaining magical purity and lineage ensures that each generation upholds the family’s rich intellectual pursuits and dangerous magical practices.

Reputation in the Wizarding World: The Nott family is seen as an enigmatic and aloof entity within the broader wizarding world. While they are acknowledged for their exceptional magical power and influence, their preference for secrecy, and their occasional alliances with darker forces, leave them viewed with suspicion. Some in the wizarding community see them as an intellectual powerhouse, while others accuse them of being insular and dangerously obsessed with maintaining control over arcane knowledge. In recent decades, following Cantakerous and Geraint's allegiance to Voldemort’s ideology, their association with pureblood supremacy has intensified, shifting their reputation toward one of more overt radicalism.

Core Beliefs and Ideology: The Nott family firmly believes that the purity of their bloodline is the key to preserving their magical power and heritage, a belief that was solidified after the Witch Hunts of the Middle Ages. They uphold that magical knowledge should be guarded above all else, and that mastery over the darkest magics is the ultimate path to power. The family views the preservation of their ancient magical practices as paramount, ensuring that no outsider—Muggle or magical—can challenge their place in history. This ideology stems from a deep-seated fear of persecution and a desire to protect their kind from ever being hunted again.

Family Rules and Codes:

Loyalty to the family comes before all other allegiances.

Secrecy is paramount—family matters and magical practices are kept hidden from outsiders.

The family must never lose their magical heritage. Marriage is seen as a means of strengthening the family line, not for political or financial gain.

The Unbreakable Vow is used to ensure loyalty and obedience, particularly within family disputes.

Traditions and Rituals:

The Oath of Nott, a magical ritual where new family members swear an oath of loyalty, often involving the Unbreakable Vow.

Regular private study of ancient magical texts, particularly those concerning rune magic, warding, and dark arts.

A highly secretive rite of passage for heirs of the family, in which they must demonstrate their mastery of an ancient magical artifact or curse in order to solidify their claim to leadership within the family.

Distinctive Traits: Members of the Nott family tend to have pale skin, dark hair, and piercing eyes. There is often a coldness to their demeanor, and they carry themselves with a certain air of superiority and mystery, reflective of their powerful magical lineage.

Recent History: check Morcant's intro!

𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭-𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑨 𝑰. the aftermath is secondary (but it always comes)

All you do is scream inside, boy. Where's your goddamn courage?

"You are nothing more than a senile old man, dragging the family name through the mud." You sneer, handsome features become scarlet, because that vein in your neck pumps blood that is trying to escape and stain your hands, and you're desperate to be anything but your father.

"Our lineage? It's cursed, almost as bad as the Black family." You judge, like entitlement isn't also a curse or a language that you speak fluently, like your high horse couldn't topple you and all your little machineries.

"We are the byproduct of centuries of inbreeding, father. If you think we cannot get much worse than that, you have another thing coming." You rage, self-hatred running rampant in your veins like your hounds from hell race through the Nott Grounds at night, desperate to rip off arms of intruders.

Nobody but your mother and sister know about the screaming matches you have with your father. Acting like two savages, vocal chords echoing through corridors silenced by Perpetual Vows for thousands of years. It's not about what he's doing, it's the fact that you could do better.

You could do better, and that kills you inside. Because you just can't wait, can you? You cannot wait for your time to shine and get your grubby little hands on the family crown. Your thirst for power seeping from each pore, glinting in your green eyes and hiding in the shadows of your boyish face. You're too young to be the leader, and you're too old to be dismissed as unthreatening, so now you're left to your own resources.

And your argument is based on a fragile foundation, made of cracked stone that is being kept together by hardened gold. It's not a lie, no. But that's not entirely the truth either. You've never been too good at those anyway.

Well, you're made of mead, boy.

The drink of the gods: a result of fermented honey, and fermenting is just another word for rotting. You're rotten honey. Sweet, but acid. You get drunk on your own hubris.

If you need to tell yourself that your father is supporting an outsider, forgetting about your traditions... So, be it. Tell yourself that.

You can be a drunk, yes, not stupid. There's a thought snaking through the crevices of your brain, balancing doubt in the tiny point of a sharp knife.

Should you support? Or should you not?

It's a growing obsession that's been corrupting your fragile ego for years. Should you support the opposite side just to antagonize? Or should you join and prove yourself to be a much better follower than your own old man?

It's not about what's right, of course not. Why would it be? The thought doesn't even cross your mind, yet.

But you don't want to be made of a fool either, so you ask yourself who is even this Voldemort fellow. After all, if he were from a pureblood family, you would have heard about his folks sooner.

Every pureblood can trace their lineage, registered on family trees and parchments with Dark Magic older than most houses. You would have seen him in any of the dusty tapestries, would have seen portraits of his grandparents painted and showcased on oppulent walls of your friend's manors.

You ask yourself who are his parents, his ancestors. They are so worried about pureblood supremacy, but are they even making the right questions? Or any question at all?

Are you the fool? Are you the only one who can't see it? Are you making the right choice? You couldn't be. For that, you would have to make a choice, and your choice was not even choosing at all.

The aftermath of the festival prodded the knife into your skin, balancing a fragile position. You know you will have to make a decision soon. Avoiding can only be done to a certain point, and the aftermath can be secondary, but it always comes. It's a snake blackening your skin or a stain blackening your face in the tapestry.

Voldemort is just means to an end for the pureblood society. A leader and a scapegoat. He is merely saying what other people have thought for years, making waves and decisions for those who are too coward.

People like you. Who are greedy, and ambitious, and too comfortable in their thrones like a god licks drops of ambrosia running between their fingers.

All you do is scream inside, boy. What is your choice?

"Oh boy, if you think you're the crazy one, you're not hanging out with the right people." Gamon joked, as he glanced the book in question, and returned his look to Daisy. He hummed in interest as he picked up the nearest copy next to him, and nodded approvingly. "Sounds interesting, I'm gonna give it a shot."

Gamon was a lover of all things muggle. As far as he knew, his own biological father was a squib and his mother a halfblood. He didn't have memories of them, but the Gryffindor guessed that it should somehow explain why he felt compelled to keep up with technology and comic books. Muggle music, in particular, was very interesting.

"My pet crow is named Bruce Wayne. You know, Batman. He likes to steal shiny things, I think I'm very funny." He shrugged, rolling his eyes at himself, and back at her with a smile. "After I buy right now, can you sign the copy?"

Who: Daisy & Open Location: Diagon Alley Coffee Shop When: Early Morning

Daisy was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping well, her brain was too focused on everything that had been going on in her world.

This had been her and Jasper's favorite coffee shop to frequent in Diagon Alley. It had been difficult, returning, but everything couldn't stop because he was gone. It was cozy with a few bookcases towards the back and a small sitting area. She wished she could get comfortable, but she had a meeting soon. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw it on the bookshelf closest to her. My Year as a Muggle. It was here. It was almost like a sign.

"It never gets less weird seeing my book on bookshelves out and about. It's so cool but still so weird. Sorry, I'm rambling, mostly talking to myself. You must think I'm crazy--" Daisy felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed.

WHO: morcant nott & narcissa black @impcrios WHERE: st. mungo's hospital, blishwick wing WHEN: new wing at st. mungo's

━ So, have you seen my sister? I suppose you see her more than I do these days. ━ Morcant approached Narcissa, sipping on a glass of a sparkly beverage that smelled amazing. He had no idea what was going on with them. Elowen and Narcissa. One thing he knew for sure was his sister, and her whole face lit up whenever they entered the room. He knew the feeling very well, so an idea came to mind... Maybe he could provoke Narcissa a bit, see her reaction. ━ Are you drinking anything?

OOC MESSAGE —

tiny hiatus from today (jan 30) to saturday (feb 1) hi folks! in the specific dates, im doing a course that is gonna take the entire day. it’s about finances, so it’s gonna be very demanding. hence, i won’t be as active and won’t be able to do my replies or reply on my dms. i’ll be back to my normal shenanigans on monday (since i’ll probably sleep the entire day on sunday). that said, you’re getting rid of me for the weekend 😝 but i’ll miss u all!!

where: ancestor's lanterns release, samhain festival, hogsmeade when: evening with: open

Morcant really hoped the departed people didn't have access to it beyond the veil. If they did, he was fucked. His heartfelt message to his grandfather, Cantakerous Nott, was along the lines of: "Dear grandfather, thank you for being an even worse paternal figure than my father. No wonder he is a raving lunatic, having you as his father. You are the one who sullies the noble and ancient name of the Nott family. I hope you rot in hell for the entire eternity. Fuck you. A big middle finger, your grandson."

He sighed in relief when the lantern was flying too high to be caugh, and hoped no one saw it. He was about to leave, when he stumbled on someone.

"Oh, pardon me. Sorry, are you okay? I hope I didn't damage your lantern." He asked politely, knowing the ceremony could be a hard time for some people.