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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED May 30, 2014 17:17:10 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on May 30, 2014 17:17:10 GMT -8

Something tautened in the old face. Ollivander could tell that he was making the younger man uncomfortable. He wondered whether he was undermining the good fellow's faith in love by speaking so blatantly, and bitterly, on the subject. There was no objective truth in such matters, of course. Garrick could only speak to what he knew. He would not lie to placate his young friend; he was of the belief that appeasement was not a form of flattery. All the same, he hoped that the resilient nature of a young heart would not be so easily tainted by that of a withered, old soul.

Oddly, Jenkins' caution about 'compromising situations' brought a fleeting smile to his face. He was momentarily amused by the thought, for it had simply never occurred to him that he might be caught in such a way. It struck him as utterly ridiculous, preposterous, and thus humorous. But countless men before him had been caught in the act; it was not really so implausible, and he realized how inappropriate it was to laugh at the idea. Still, the image of his wife walking into that situation was tragicomic, even if it was not exactly funny. One day, it might come to pass, but before then Ollivander had no intention of disrupting the status quo. He would keep running and hiding, until he got caught. He put the image from his mind, to attend to the seriousness of the issue with appropriate gravity.

"I burnt all my bridges, I fear," he replied to Jenkin's first statement, with a frown. His eyes wandered out the window to follow the flow of passersby. "I'm sure whatever was in my power to keep my children around is long gone. As for being a family man... I imagine if it's something one wants, it is much more rewarding than having it forced upon you."

The old man shook his head, slowly. He had already said too much and been too indiscreet. He was grateful for a small change of subject, even if it was to recount the good in hopes of overlooking the bad. To infer that Garrick regretted having children would be incorrect. They were the gilding on his cage, and the only reason he remained confined. The trouble was that, ultimately, they were still a part of his prison, even if they were what made him stay. He both cherished and resented them. It was a far more complicated relationship than one conversation could summarize.

"My son is dabbling at the Ministry, but I have hopes of him taking up the trade." He looked back at Gavin, already feeling a little more like his usual self from discussing something other than his marital troubles. "He's a good lad, around you age, intelligent, if a little unfocused. I have high expectations for him. My daughter's still in school, but it won't be long before she's released on the world." A small chuckle escaped him. "And released is the word; she can be quite headstrong, my girl. Gets into far more trouble than her brother, but they compliment each other well. Sometimes I think Linden raised her more than I did."

He drained the last of his, now tepid, tea. Letting out a sigh, to expel the dregs of his melancholy, Garrick redressed himself in the confidence that had made him so successful. To speak of his insecurities was unsettling, but he was a resilient old dog. It would take more than that to keep him down. (And after all, a small part of his brain reminded him that his troubles all came from his own choices. He had to own that, if he wanted to live with himself.) His expression resumed something of its former composure. "Well, now Jenkins, you are quite the conversationalist to get all of that out of me," he asserted with a wry smile. "I rather fear that I've stolen your cathartic moment, but I hope it doesn't undermine my character too much to learn all my faults. Then again, perhaps I make a better touchstone than adviser."

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GAVIN CARTER JENKINS

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED May 31, 2014 4:47:56 GMT -8

Post by GAVIN CARTER JENKINS on May 31, 2014 4:47:56 GMT -8

the night was all you had,
you ran into the night with all you had.

Gavin tried his best in life to not be judgemental. He understood that it was human nature to do so, but he always tried to repress those feelings and just take things as they were. He was not Ollivander, he was only himself, and therefore he knew that the only person’s actions that he was responsible for were his own. It was blatantly obvious that he did not approve of the older man’s decisions, but it did not mean that they could not discuss them as adults. Gavin wasn’t necessarily trying to get Ollivander to change his mind or do anything in particular, but he just offered his opinion and suggestions as Ollivander had done himself. Perhaps their situations – although their problems were exactly the opposite of one another – were not things that could be settled in a coffee shop. Perhaps they were things that had to be taken one day at a time, eroded by emotions and actions. Things that took time. Maybe neither of them was in the right, or maybe they were both dealing with their issues the only ways that they knew how. The complexity of the fact that they were generations apart with opposing beliefs and ideas was obvious, but they had a similar calm nature that allowed them to have open discussion.

Gavin nodded. “I’m sorry that your relationship with your children isn’t… perfect.” He was at a loss for words on that one, considering his curiosity bid him to ask more of Ollivander’s history, and since they were already on touchy subjects, he didn’t want to cross the line of helpful and being nosey. He knew that line was sometimes blurry and difficult to see properly, but the last thing he wanted was to come off as another Raven Monroe. “I can see that – I couldn’t imagine being thrust something that I was responsible for the rest of my life unwillingly.” He cringed at the idea. To him, that would be the inability to marry or have kids ever. Or possibly an untrained puppy that stayed a puppy forever. He could only imagine the destruction, and kids were kind of luck untrained puppies, right? Except puppies grew up within a year. A year only made a baby bigger and needier. He tried to imagine Ollivander being the diaper-changing kind of man, the sort of man that would teach his kid to throw a ball – or he supposed the wizarding world equivalent was teaching them Quidditch – but he couldn’t really see it. He had a grandfatherly aura about him, but not a fatherly. There was a definitive difference between the two titles: one implied someone who was constantly in their child’s life and helped them grow and raised them; a grandfather was there in temporary situations and could always hand the child back.

He involuntarily leaned forward, interested. “The Ministry, really? That’s where I work – I mean, you already know that but…” he found himself talking quite fast in an excited tone. He tried to calm himself. He tried not to make this about his work. He was tired of talking about work. “What Department is he in?” that was a polite question, he supposed. “Honestly, I don’t recall an Ollivander wandering around the Ministry, but perhaps it’s because I’ve been promoted quite high up much before my time… a lot of the new workers are just faces to me, if I’m to be honest. They come and go quite frequently before rising up and making names for themselves. Many never get the chance to.” He suddenly wished he had another beverage to distract himself with. He realized what he said could have been interpreted poorly, and that it could have sounded like Ollivander’s son was a nobody, or was destined to stay a nobody. Gavin coughed. “Your daughter must be in Hogwarts, no? What House? Actually, if you don’t mind me asking, which House were you in? I mean, provided you attended Hogwarts.” the question had jumped to the front of his mind quite quickly. He realized he had only been interested in what House his daughter was in because he wanted to know more about Ollivander, and his children would certainly be a small representation. “She sounds a little like a Gryffindor.”

Gavin chuckled and made eye contact with the waitress accidentally. He turned away, but realized that he actually felt happy in that moment here with Ollivander. He felt a little freer, almost as if he was hanging out with an old mate from school and they were catching up. “I have to admit, you’ll be the first to call me a good conversationalist. Usually I’m just the one who gives orders and keeps to myself.” Gavin usually thought of himself as a listener, but knew he could get talking with the right person. Those people seemed hard to come by, especially when Gavin was good-natured and many of the people he ran into nowadays only had their agendas on their mind. “I don’t think there’s much to make me think less of you. Everyone has faults, it doesn’t make them bad people. People who think that someone else is flawless tend to be let down by the slightest thing. I feel more comforted when I acknowledge that everyone has flaws, perhaps many, as it makes everyone just seem more… normal. More human.”

What he said was absolutely true. Unless Ollivander was a secreted Muggle-hater or aligned himself with the wrong people, or did some sort of unspeakable act, Gavin didn’t know what would make him think less of the other man. Just because he had a few personal problems did not mean that the man wasn’t great. The list of his accomplishments was lengthy, and just because he wasn’t faithful to his wife or had a great relationship with his children didn’t change that.

“Don’t worry, I’m still envious of all you’ve accomplished, even if I don’t have all the acts memorized by heart,” Gavin stated, simply. He hadn’t been the best student, he couldn’t memorize things and spew them back out, but he hadn’t been a poor student either. All Gavin knew in his life was mediocrity, whether it was in his education, friendship, or his Quidditch playing dreams. The only thing he had been successful in was his position at work, and sometimes he had a hard time even believing that it was real – how had someone so average risen so highly? Maybe Gavin underestimated his own conversational skills. It still bothered him when people were sceptical of his age along with his position at the Ministry and asked how it happened, as he wasn’t always sure himself.

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED May 31, 2014 13:43:20 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on May 31, 2014 13:43:20 GMT -8

Inconstant father that he might be, Ollivander was still flattered by Jenkins' interest in his children. He did not like to prattle on about them, but he was sure that Gavin would not have asked if he did not legitimately want to know. He smiled in a way that accentuated the wrinkles around his eyes. That expression disclosed a rare sort of pride. For once, it was pride taken in someone other than himself, which explained its scarcity. In truth, it might have made him a better person to talk, and therefore think, about his children more often. But few people raised the subject, Ollivander included. There always seemed to be more intellectual things to discuss than personal inquiries. It made something of a change to be discussing himself and his family so freely with Jenkins. Both the good and the bad.

"Linden and I were both in Ravenclaw. I'm told he was sorted as soon as the Hat touched his head, though it took a moment with me. He lacks none of my cleverness, if he hasn't got my ambition." Ollivander allowed himself an egotistical chuckle. "He's, oh where is it? Accidental Magic and Catastrophes, that's it. But as I said, I intend for him to take over the family business when I'm gone. He'll need to start learning the trade before too long, if he's going to get it right. And he will."

It was clear that the old man's plans for his son were ironclad. He spoke dismissively of the Ministry work, in a tone that might have implied he did not think the job worthy of his name. Ollivander had chosen not to take Gavin's comments as a slight against his boy. He believed that the young man meant no insult by speaking frankly, and he hoped that the reverse would be true, as well. He did not intend to demean all Ministry work, such as Gavin's, by suggesting it was not appropriate for someone of his lineage. No, it was more that Linden had expectations to live up to, a legacy to carry forward. As Garrick did now, as he father's fathers had done before him. There was no room for debate – Ollivanders were wandmakers. That was the end of the discussion for Linden.

"As for my Annabel," he continued, "she was never destined for my alma mater. Far too independent for Ravenclaw. What of yourself, Jenkins? The Sorting Hat is never wrong, or so it tells us." He did not wish to propose a House for the other man. That was a very quick way to offend someone, if you guessed incorrectly. Ollivander prided himself as a judge of character, but the Hogwarts sorting system could surprise. Only two things were certain about it: people became incredibly attached to whichever House they ended up inside, and the four Houses did not often play nice. Out in the real world, such things became trivial, but the basic natures that got people sorted remained. Slytherin alumni still had trouble getting along with former Gryffindors, and so forth. Most people dealt with it by not asking, but Ollivander liked that Jenkins was not afraid to inquire.

"I'm relieved to speak with someone so fair-minded. If others don't appreciate your conversational skill, it's their loss. Most people could do with listening closer to those with an open mind. It might help them to become more tolerant, and tolerance is something the world needs desperately in these dark times. Accomplishments are well and good," he said with some level of false modesty, "but I fear we have far more need of rationality. Then again... the world would be lesser without its darkness." A more sinister expression had passed across his face. He drew himself back to the present, away from deeper contemplations of the virtues wrought by evil. The smile he gave to his companion was not entirely benign, but it was at least a sign that he did not mean to imply that he endorsed the terrible things that were happening.

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NOTES had to be shifty on the daughter's house, since she's an open char lol

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 1, 2014 12:40:09 GMT -8 ? QUINN likes this

Post by GAVIN CARTER JENKINS on Jun 1, 2014 12:40:09 GMT -8

when you are older,
you will understand.

As polite as Gavin was, he wasn’t usually the type to ask questions if he didn’t want to know the answer. Despite his ongoing conversation with Ollivander that was carrying on with ease, Gavin had a knack for just brushing off conversation topics that he wasn’t interested in. It was something that belonged in every polite person’s repertoire, in his opinion, or else he knew how easy it was to be dragged into endless conversations about distant relatives and mundane politics. He watched Ollivander smiled, and it was a smile that was always associated with thinking of those a person cared about. It was a smile that hadn’t been present when discussing his wife, but that was to be expected if he was having affairs. It might not mean that he wasn’t fond of his wife, but it could have been just the nagging guilt of betraying her. Gavin found it admittedly strange how their conversation stated backwards – they had initiated with conversations of intensely personal matters and had moved to more light topics that typical acquaintances would have. Then again, perhaps the two of them weren’t typical, or at least in pairing. Gavin knew for sure that Ollivander as an individual wasn’t typical, and he knew that alone would be enough. He felt closer to Ollivander now that some of the more personal issues had been discussed (albeit briefly).

Gavin grinned appreciatively. “Well, now that I know the answer, I feel silly for asking. ‘Course you were a Ravenclaw. Then again, sometimes the Sorting Hat makes interesting choices…” he trailed off suddenly, thinking of all the very clever people in other Houses or some questionable people in Ravenclaw who used to get locked out of their common room frequently due to not being able to solve the riddle to enter. “I figure sometimes the Hat chooses latent traits over more obvious ones at times, too,” he continued, a little more quietly, thinking of himself. Gavin took a moment to wave the waitress over to indicate he’d like a tea before inquiring if Ollivander would like another himself. “Seems like a good Department to start in. It’d probably be a good start for working with wands… after all, wands can sometimes you know, implode.” The image of a kid holding a wand for the first time and it suddenly exploding in his hand was funny for Gavin. “Has that ever happened? Something actually dangerous while looking for wands?” Gavin’s wand had come to him relatively quickly, but nothing dramatic really happened. It had been an absolutely wonderful experience for him, though, and probably one of the best moments of his life. His Muggle parents stood on either side of him as it was affirmed that he was something special. The first few wands were discouraging due to the fact that they didn’t do anything (although one gave him a mild electric shock), but the feeling of the proper wand in his hand, warming his fingers, was something that had been beyond him. He remembered how his mother initially recoiled at Ollivander’s piercing gaze, but how Gavin had found him welcoming and encouraging.

“Eileen … she had been Sorted into Ravenclaw,” Gavin stated. He was careful not to use present tense and make it sound like she had finished school. “They’re an interesting Sort, I’d have to say. People tend to generalize that they’re all simply clever, but there’s so many layers to them. Like, what they study and what they’re passionate about. Ravenclaws always seem like they’re on their way to greatness. Is that silly to say? I know a lot of them will end up in menial jobs, just like people from any House, but they’re so driven.” Gavin was usually able to say positive things about just about anything and anyone. Even Slytherin, which held many people that he detested, he could probably think of good things if pressed to do so. He knew that a House shouldn’t define someone so absolutely and completely, especially because they took in so many students and only had four places to put them. He liked to believe there was more to people than just four overwhelming traits.

He shook his head, trying to think back to Ollivander’s children. His tea was given to him and he took a sip. Slightly too hot, but he didn’t want it to sit too long. There was nothing better than tea at the perfect temperature, and nothing worse than tea that slightly passed that point. “Would you be training him yourself, or is there some place that does that? It’s a fascinating field of work, I have to admit – does he seem particularly interested or are you doing some subtle nudging along the way?” he knew that family businesses didn’t go exactly the way that people wanted them to. A business could be passed down for generations, but all it takes is for one generation to muck it up or not want to be a part of it, and it would all fall apart. It was a delicate operation, but one that Gavin always found heartwarming. He always thought of owning his own, just like the average person, but he had just as many perks at his current position. For the most part, he was already his own boss, and he had benefits. It was all perfectly packaged, and it would take a lot for him to leave such a place. Well, maybe if he became a Quidditch player, but his youthful years were beginning to flounder away, even though he was only twenty-one. He doubted that he’d be a player any time soon (if at all), and if he was even twenty-five when it occurred, that was already quite late in many people’s careers.

Gavin chuckled at the question. “Believe it or not, I was in Gryffindor.” Because he thought the idea of that humorous, he assumed everyone else would as well. “I think the Hat was in a silly mood that day or something. Most people assume I’m of Hufflepuff quality. Nothing wrong with Hufflepuff, naturally, but I wonder why the Hat would put me in Gryffindor if even everyone could see that Hufflepuff would have been the better choice for me.” He prided himself in his Gryffindor status, but he didn’t want to admit that in fear that others would tease him and ask him why. It was a childish notion, but Gavin didn’t want to have to explain himself. He didn’t even know what Houses were before Hogwarts, but there was something quite defiant about Gryffindors that Gavin always looked up to and had hoped to grow into. Although he didn’t, the Gryffindor spirit still lived strongly in him as if waiting to show itself.

Gavin smiled, proudly. “Well, thank you, sir.” He almost felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he averted his eyes and tried not to blush. What kind of grown man blushed, especially at the words of another man? He wasn’t used to outright compliments. Usually they were more shaded and inconspicuous. Like most people, Gavin wasn’t sure how to accept compliments properly, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them nonetheless.

He wasn’t exactly sure what Ollivander was speaking of in the last part. “Excuse me?” he asked rather quickly. He wished that he had kept the outburst in, but it happened, so he may as well live with it. “Lesser without its darkness? I can’t say I agree with you,” he admitted. He didn’t want to argue by any means, but he felt as if he and Ollivander had already settled in a sort of understanding between them that made any sort of disagreement allowable. Gavin was quite touchy on the subject of Dark magic and the evils in the world. He knew that Ollivander was wiser, and with wisdom sometimes came cynicism, but it didn’t mean that Gavin had to accept it. Gavin abhorred confrontation, and it made him very uncomfortable in that moment with his heart beating off-key, but he forced himself to stay calm. For all he knew, it was a simple misunderstanding or Gavin had just rushed to conclusions. He knew Ollivander has a good man, so he doubted very much that Ollivander was somehow implying that evil had its place within this world.

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 2, 2014 15:39:24 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2014 15:39:24 GMT -8

Ollivander gave a solitary nod. "Yes, the Hat represents very complex magic. Perhaps some of the most incredible magic to have ever been performed. Its choices may sometimes appear arbitrary to the recipient. However, they are informed by not only Legilimency, to read the mind – which, I believe, is a unique thing for an object to be capable of – but it also has the collective intelligence and perception of the Four Founders. I think it's safe to agree with you, that it often places people with an idea of their potential, more than their merits at age eleven." For the sake of being polite, he neglected to add that, in his experience, the potential of the truly great was already manifest by that age. It did not necessarily follow that wisdom, loyalty, courage, or cleverness could not surface powerfully in others, later in their lives.

Ollivander accepted the offer for a second cup, making note that it was now two drinks he owed the young man. "Catastrophes certainly can happen in the wandmaking business, oh yes," he murmured as he steeped his tea. His whole manner changed at the subject of his trade. He leaned forward, his voice became a whisper, and he stared with unblinking attentiveness. There was an air of intensity about him; his silver eyes glinted like daggers. "When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named purchased his wand, it was a difficult pairing. We went through many, many wands, and one – a Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring – reacted... explosively. Even at that age, it was clear that he was no ordinary wizard. The hole he left in my wall was almost two meters wide, and not a single wand he tried failed to produce some sort of result. They all responded to the power in him. In the end, of course, I found the right match." He leaned back and his voice became clearer. "I always do."

It was difficult not to sink into reminiscing. More than anything else in this world, Ollivander loved his art. In fact, placing Tom Riddle with his wand was one of the most extraordinary experiences of his career. It had been blindingly obvious what greatness, and darkness, lay in the boy's future. Each attempt had gotten closer and had shown young wandmaker that he was dealing with an exceptional wizard. The Yew-and-Phoenix wand that had chosen Riddle was a most unusual, complicated wand. It would not have chosen a mediocre master. Ollivander was one of a very few who knew what that wand had gone on to do, that it lay in the hands of Lord Voldemort, but he was wise enough not to connect the dots for anyone else. He did not have a death wish. Besides which, it was somehow enthralling to see the outcome of such a powerful pairing as Riddle and the yew wand.

"Of course I will train my son myself," he replied, drawing himself back to the present. His words were definitive, but his tone was placid, not sharp. He seemed, if anything, rather amused by the idea that there was any alternative. "Who could teach him better than I? He might need some encouraging, but I have every confidence he can appreciate the art as just that. He's more suited for the trade than he believes, and not just because of the name. Wandmaking is an art that requires care, subtlety, perceptiveness. Linden does not lack those traits." What he did not say was that it was a large part of the reason he did not look to his daughter to carry on the trade.

The old man chuckled at Gavin's flattering assessment of his old House, no doubt influenced by being besotted with one of their former number. "It's true of most people, that we are more complicated than we first appear. Gryffindors have been cool and collected; Slytherins have been kind and compassionate; Hufflepuffs have been ambitious; and I know more than one Ravenclaw dumb as a post," he laughed. "But, I suppose, on the whole we Ravenclaw alumni don't lack for vision. But I'm not surprised to learn you're a Gryffindor. A sensitive nature – ah, forgive me if I offend. I should say, a receptive and sympathetic nature does not a Hufflepuff make. Bravery is much more than hubris. The most courageous actions are often the least brazen."

Ollivander reflected that a strong moral compass might have been a more universal Gryffindor trait than boldness. The former did not seem to be something Gavin lacked, for he objected to the older man's off-hand comment on the importance of evil. Truth be told, it was rare to find someone who shared his philosophy on the subject. Most people seemed either to endorse or oppose villainy. The middle ground offered a unique perspective but an often-lonely one. He did not immediately respond to Jenkins' outburst. For several reasons, he did not wish to antagonize the young man. His reply must be tempered, if not pacifying, to avoid provocation.

"No, I think not," he said slowly, taking a nonchalant sip of tea. "It is the obligation of the good to fight evil. I mean to imply only that there are no heroes without villains, the one cannot exist without the other. Perhaps it would be a better world without either, but I dare to suggest that it would be a much less inspiring one. We can sit here and say, 'what if Grindlewald had never risen to power?' But what we are forgetting is that we have him to thank for Dumbledore. Terrible things happen, but to deny that any good can come of them is not the truth."

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 3, 2014 10:49:21 GMT -8

Post by GAVIN CARTER JENKINS on Jun 3, 2014 10:49:21 GMT -8

your past times consisted of the strange,
the twisted and deranged,
and I loved that little game.

Every time Ollivander opened his mouth, Gavin was impressed by the man’s ease with words and the way that he managed to make them flow together so seamlessly. He spoke as if he had decades to consider each word, and although it was clear that he thought before he spoke (as most wise men did), he didn’t require a large gap to do so. Gavin felt outmatched intellectually, and even though that wasn’t a very rare occurrence considering his of-average intelligence, this was to a whole new level. Gavin tapped his fingers on the table with a pensive look upon his face. “But surely the Hat wouldn’t just Sort someone based on their preferences? It wouldn’t Sort a clear Hufflepuff into, say, Slytherin just because that’s what the child desires, or was raised to want to be?” He never really thought deeply into the Hat’s abilities. Of course he questioned its choices, but not so much the why. He wouldn’t have been placed in Gryffindor due to an underlying desire, because Gavin hadn’t even known what they were. Perhaps Dumbledore’s speech had sunk in with the boy at the time, but he couldn’t remember. If it just put people where they subconsciously wanted to go, then what would be the point? Then children could simply wander to the table that they desired.

Ollivander’s voice sunk low, and Gavin was forced to lean forward to hear him over the chatter of the café. His eyes widened in surprise. “You – you were the one who gave him the wand?” he whispered, matching Ollivander’s tone. He shook his head as if trying to get his thoughts to settle. “I mean, naturally you must have but … wow.” He was admittedly in awe. “So… that means you know who He is?” Gavin heard rumours of this evil man, but his identity was cleverly hidden. He heard the stupidity in his questions as he asked them, but he was suddenly covered with a peaked interest that apparently allowed him to talk without thinking properly first. He didn’t know how Ollivander could live with the idea that he had produced the best wand for this evil wizard, this murderer of Gavin’s kind. Was there no guilt, or did Ollivander merely separate himself from his work? They were questions that he desperately wanted to ask, but held inside for politeness’ sake. Gavin tried to ease the conversation out of the dark depths of which it sank. “I think I would have fainted if my wand produced such a result… that would have surprised me more than anything. Producing that kind of magic when just weeks previously I didn’t even know magic was real.” His first time casting a spell naturally hadn’t gone very well considering his Muggleborn status, but it had still been phenomenal for him. What better thing for a young boy than to produce the magic that all children wished was real? Sometimes he thought he was dreaming, because it all seemed too good to be true. Of course, he eventually learned that magic could be used for evil things; doing great yet horrible things that he hadn’t considered when he first began attending Hogwarts. How ignorant children could be… of course if there was a good to something, someone eventually would twist it and turn it into something that it shouldn’t. Nothing good ever stayed good. The thought sobered Gavin a bit, but he tried not to go down that route.

“So where did you get your wand?” he wondered idly. “Everyone I know has gone to you… I don’t really know many other wand-makers in the area… well, not any really good ones.” He chuckled. He thought he heard of one outside of Bristol, but that was hardly an ideal location, and besides her selection was lacking and she wasn’t very good at her job. Gavin had a single friend who had gone to her, and his wand seemed like it had a mind of its own. It was a horrible choice, and eventually he had to go to Ollivander to find a better fit. The worst part was that the lady in Bristol charged twice as much.

“I don’t know why he wouldn’t want the business. It’s so prestigious, already has a huge client base and people recognize the name immediately. It’s the perfect place to take over,” Gavin stated as if it were just that simple, as if everyone would just give up their personal ambitions just to take over a business simply because it was profitable and ready to go. Maybe it was because Gavin’s own ambitions came to such an abrupt end, he just felt that if he had that kind of security behind him that it would be extremely hard to say no to. Gavin had lucked out with his job (he seemed to refuse to believe it had been his skill that landed him the position after his boss died), but he knew most people didn’t have that luxury. What if Ollivander were to pass away and his son refused to take the business? Either his children would close it down, or they would sell it to someone else who could destroy the legacy. That idea made Gavin cringe. He would imagine Ollivander rolling in his grave at someone ruining his name. If Gavin had his own business, he would hope at least one of his children would want to follow in his footsteps. Not only did that potentially keep the business moving well, but also it was the greatest compliment a child could give their parent. “I’m sure – Linden, was it? – will come to his senses. Young people usually chase unicorns until they realize it’s either not realistic, or they catch the unicorn and find out it’s not as beautiful up close.” He laughed. “I’m sorry for the bad imagery. Maybe I sound cynical. Then again, he’s probably my age…” he didn’t know where he was going with it. He always forgot that he was actually extremely young, and therefore struggled to identify with those his age. It suddenly made him question how he was so attracted to Eileen, who was even younger than his peers. Perhaps he was seeing her unrealistically – perhaps she was his metaphorical unicorn. He swallowed uncomfortably, suddenly too aware of his own thoughts. How did a conversation about Ollivander’s son make his mind turn to Eileen? Well, because everything seemed like it did.

Gavin took a moment to take in what Ollivander said. He knew that Ollivander was essentially agreeing with what Gavin had expressed, but when it was turned back on him, the words just didn’t sit right. He couldn’t think of anything that he did that was brave. Sure, he was courteous and usually very conscientious, but opening doors for people with their arms full and helping people in need hardly counted as bravery. He also knew that rash moves made out of emotion did not necessarily constitute bravery but rather idiocy. Suddenly traits seemed quite hard to define. “Would it be strange if I said that I have an identity crisis regarding my House?” he joked. “The House system just seems to make some people – I guess I should just say myself – question themselves. Without that system I wouldn’t focus so much on whether I was brave or loyal to fit in the House. I wouldn’t be brave just because I was in Gryffindor, I’d be brave because I was Gavin. All of my traits always seem to be linked back to my House. How long do I keep the title of Gryffindor? Everyone seems to hold those titles their entire lives, and as much as I am proud to be a Gryffindor, sometimes the label feels a little … suffocating.” He didn’t even know he felt that way until he said so. The more he thought on it, the more true it seemed. If he did something that was smart, people would ask why he wasn’t Ravenclaw (although those comments didn’t come frequently). If he was kind, people wanted to know why he wasn’t Hufflepuff. If he did something outrageous playing Quidditch, people would attribute it merely because of where he was placed.

Gavin bit his lip, realizing that a retort was suddenly difficult to find. Although he wanted desperately to come up with something, his mind went blank. “But the deaths of all those people – are they necessary just so that we can have Dumbledore? We wouldn’t need Dumbledore if it weren’t for Grindelwald. Maybe I’m boring, maybe I’m a pacifist, but I think maybe I prefer a world without heroes or villains. I’m not saying that everyone has to be a true neutral as everyone leans to one side or another but…” his mind suddenly raced to the uprising that was occurring at the moment. “I’ll concede that many evil things have led to the discovery of great things, but… maybe I’m just a coward. Maybe all I can think about is all the people who will die soon because of the greatness of an immensely Dark wizard, and although heroes will be formed, I think I’d rather keep my head and have my friends and family than having to thank someone for saving the world. Or being dead.” The thought that Gavin would be one of the first people who would be sought after if You-Know-Who came to proper power was always in the back of his mind. How could it not? It left him with a pit in his stomach, and it felt like someone had a tight grip over his heart. It was an overwhelming sense of terror, and nothing grand had even happened yet. Perhaps the build-up and suspense would be worse than the event itself, but Gavin didn’t want to find out. He wanted the spark to be stomped out rather than having to face full-force flames.

tag: @ollivander
words: 1,647
notes: damn, does Ollivander ever make Gavin question himself.
He's going to end up with an existential crisis if this keeps up lol

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 3, 2014 19:32:20 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2014 19:32:20 GMT -8

"Don't misunderstand me, I don't believe that the Sorting Hat takes personal preference into account over personality. I mean, rather, it seems capable of sorting by latent traits not only those which are developed at such a young age. It places people as much by potential as nature, I think." He listened as Gavin went on to speak of his insecurity regarding being a former Gryffindor. He smiled sympathetically. "It seems like you hold the title over yourself as much as anyone else. In my experience, the best way to deal with suffocation is to ignore it and be your own man. But, then, perhaps that's bad advice coming from a less-than-dutiful husband." He sipped at his tea, more to hide his faltering smile than from thirst.

The expression was restored in full force at the mention of his business in regards to his son. Gavin's point was the very same one he kept bringing up to Linden. The business was there, waiting for the boy to claim his own legacy. Whatever he was afraid of, he need not be. "Perhaps you could talk some sense into my boy. He's done his best to resist my arguments for the past two years. Though permit me to say that chasing unicorns is a literal part of the trade. I wouldn't want him to give that up," he chuckled. Jenkins' analogy had deeply amused him. "I've come close to being gored more times than I care to recall. Unicorns are fascinating, elegant creatures, but they don't appreciate humans plucking their tails."

There were many sides to the wandmaking business. Most people seemed to assume it was all whittling and shopkeeping. They either forgot or did not realize that Ollivander himself took care to gather his own materials. His goal was, and had always been, to create perfect wands. He did not trust anyone else to supply him. He needed to find each tree, each unicorn or phoenix. Dragons were the only exception, as their heartstrings were difficult to come by wandering around Britain. He got those from dragon reserves around the world, buying up the hearts whenever one of the beasts died. In fact, Ollivander had thirteen large tomes filled with notes about material sources. He had cataloged every specimen and each source from which it came in great detail. Those records were some of his most precious possessions, for they contained the cumulative research of more than five decades. Practically every protective spell in existence had been placed on them, to guard them against theft or destruction.

Staying on the subject, he answered Jenkins' inquiry. If they had not been in the middle of a Muggle cafe he would have produced his wand, for it seemed somehow disrespectful to speak of it without its presence. Every wizard who was correctly paired loved his wand, but in Ollivander's case, it went beyond affection. It was a piece of his soul, of his very being. "My wand was not my first. Originally, I inherited the wand of my great-grandfather. It worked suitably well for me throughout school, though I admit there are few wands that I can't make use of. The want I have carried for the last forty years was made by my own hand. I have been far more selective – and successful – than my forefathers when it comes to materials. I choose only the finest of woods and cores, so my wand is far superior to my great-grandfather's. The moment it was complete, I knew it was never destined for any other hand." Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, a very single-minded combination. He gave a self-satisfied smile, as he placed a hand over the wand which was concealed inside his suit jacket. Even through the fabric, it warmed to his touch.

Naturally, all things had a dark side, as he had pointed out. The art of wandmaking was no exception. An equal number of his creations had gone on to evil as good. "I was the one who made You-Know-Who's wand," Ollivander corrected. The fact that something he made had taken so many lives ought to have disturbed him, but it did almost the reverse. There was an unsavory pride to be taken in knowing he had wrought something which enabled such power. In a way, it was validation of his own genius. It turned out that his obsession with wands far overshadowed any guilt. There was not a whiff of moral responsibility to be found in him on the subject. "At any rate, I knew him briefly as a boy. I would hardly claim to know the terror he has become," he continued evasively. Regardless of how he felt about the yew-and-phoenix wand, he was not comfortable associating himself with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in other ways. Ollivander knew more than he was willing to admit about the boy who had grown up to become Voldemort. For example, that the boy had come alone to get his wand, and clearly from the Muggle world, but he'd keep that to himself. Garrick was not suicidal.

Ollivander shifted uncomfortably at Jenkins' upfront rebuttal to his moral ambivalence. He preferred to think in abstract terms on the subject. It was easier to appreciate the big picture when you weren't considering the sacrifices as individual people. "I don't think the lives that are lost are justifiable, by any means. Nor do I condone the bigotry or narrow-mindedness that is the root of evil in our times. I simply think that wishing for a perfect world is – impractical." He had narrowly avoided using the term 'foolish' for fear of offense. "If we wish to live in the real world, we cannot deny the hard truths. There will always be darkness and tragedy, but I think it's important to see the worth, even in the worst of things. Perhaps because it makes them easier to bear," he said with some kindness. He could see that he was upsetting his young friend. Naturally, it was a sensitive topic. So many people were caught up in the storm that was brewing, and Ollivander supposed not everyone had access to his neutral high ground.

TAG GAVIN CARTER JENKINS_

GAVIN CARTER JENKINS

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Ministry of Magic

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 4, 2014 8:33:53 GMT -8

Post by GAVIN CARTER JENKINS on Jun 4, 2014 8:33:53 GMT -8

I have a secret I need to tell you,
exquisite visions fill up my mind.

“Hmm.” Gavin didn’t know what more to add. He still questioned a lot about the Hat, but he took Ollivander’s suggestion as the truth. After all, if anyone would know, wouldn’t he? Ollivander knew how magic worked, essentially. That was the whole point behind wands, so he figured that the elder man had a better grasp about how things were enchanted and their intentions. Gavin grinned. “Oh, trust me; I don’t think myself arrogant enough to believe that I don’t hold the title close to me. Despite my belly-aching over it, I actually take pride in being a Gryffindor. I think it’s a rather noble House.” Gavin couldn’t help but notice that Ollivander seemed to dwell on the fact that he was a poor husband. He wondered if the man had ever expressed his feelings about his role as a husband before to anyone, and although the idea that he hadn’t seemed quite sad, it also gave Gavin a sense of trustworthiness. Ollivander was bound to know nearly everyone, and if he had chosen Gavin over everyone… well, that was something to take pride in. He hid that piece of information in the back of his mind and mentally locked it away, determined not to say a word to anyone. It seemed like a bigger deal to hear the secrets of someone who didn’t divulge much about themselves often than those who were an open book. “I think I always try to be my own man. Just those thoughts… they tend to hang over my head like a grey cloud sometimes.” He gestured above his head, not different than what an ape would do while playing, to indicate the metaphorical cloud. It was difficult to explain, he guessed. He supposed it was how he was always aware that he was Muggle born in a world of people familiar with a magical upbringing. He always traced his ignorance to his blood, and he always traced his personality to his House. “I guess we all just need scapegoats for flaws or greatness in our personality,” he mused gently, watching his tea go from black to a creamier colour when he slowly added some milk that had been provided at his request. He always liked this part of making tea, and if he wasn’t in a rush he preferred to do it himself. The one thing the man was rather obsessed about was the quality of his tea. No one ever seemed to make it just right except for him, and even sometimes he struggled. The milk swirled through the dark water like a mist before consuming the previous blackness. “It’s easier than accepting your faults or a way to dismiss a compliment so that you don’t seem cocky.” It was true, too. How much easier was it to say that your father was a good Quidditch player, and that’s why you were good? Why didn’t people just simply say that they practised their asses off and never gave up? Why couldn’t they just say that they, too, were proud of their success? Instead, they tried to played off their Quidditch skills as a heritable genetic.

Gavin laughed genuinely. “I never actually thought about how you came about owning the objects that went into your wands,” he admitted. “But sure, the moment I’ll meet your son I’ll start lecturing him about how his father told me to tell him this and that. I’m all over the Ministry. He’ll be so put-off by me and my persistent nagging, but he won’t be able to avoid me. Soon he’ll just concede and go back to you with his tail between his legs.” Gavin wasn’t sarcastic by nature, but he thought the scene amusing nonetheless. If he ever met Linden… he hadn’t before, but he knew just because he was having an enjoyable conversation with his father that he’d probably end up running into Linden everywhere. That’s just the way the world worked. He wondered if his son carried the same aura of knowledge and impressiveness that his father did. He wondered if they looked alike or spoke alike. “To be honest, I probably wouldn’t appreciate people coming up to me and pulling my hair out for wands. Then again, I suppose I don’t have much to worry about.” He ran his hand over his closely shaven head, only small hairs grazing his palm.

He struggled to imagine Ollivander out in the woods or wherever, gathering things from all sorts of magical and mostly dangerous creatures. The image to him of this older man crouched down and waiting for something with a wand in hand seemed almost comical. Perhaps at a younger age… but there was a lot more to wandmaking than Gavin had anticipated, and it seemed like more than a full time job. Maybe that’s why his son avoided taking over the business. Some people just weren’t prepared to make their life revolve around their job, and many preferred it reversed. Gavin couldn’t blame them. As a man who wanted nothing more than a family he knew that he couldn’t let his work be his main priority. Raising children didn’t mean just bringing them into this world and allowing one parent to do all the work. It was a team, in his mind, and even though Ollivander clearly didn’t share that sentiment, it was something that Gavin held close to his heart.

“Wow,” Gavin breathed, almost jealously. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love his own wand, but to create one’s own must create a bond that couldn’t simply exist from buying one from a shop. His mind wandered to all the things that Ollivander could achieve with a wand that was so perfect for him. Power wasn’t something that a good wand could give someone, but it certainly helped. Gavin wanted something clever to say, but Ollivander was so precise with what he said that he left little room for further inquisition. He sat back in his chair casually, his fingers itching to reach for his own wand. He sometimes wished that there were no two worlds, and that Muggles and wizards could co-exist. He knew that it would never work out, but it sometimes split Gavin in two. His mind occasionally thought like a Muggle, and sometimes the other way. Wherever he was, he wasn’t completely comfortable.

“I mean, you can’t control what people do with your creations. To stew over it and be bothered… well, it’s pointless. I suppose half my class could grow up and join the Dark Arts, and I would have never assumed. People are so much bigger on the inside,” he said, simply. As much as he was enjoying his time with Ollivander, Gavin himself was starting to feel a little inferior. For the first time since their conversation started, Gavin felt like they were on completely different playing grounds. He fell into a temporary silence that hung on him uncomfortably. How much bigger was Gavin really on the inside anyway? He wanted to believe that he was this deep soul who was patient and had a lot to offer, but he felt constantly let down about himself. He didn’t have the job he wanted, he didn’t have the girl he wanted… Hell, nothing was turning out how it was supposed to. He supposed he shouldn’t complain considering he was relatively successful, and he knew he should count his blessings for all he did have, but some days were harder than others to do so. Gavin was a young man with a lot of dreams, but he was also too sensible for his own good. He would rather play it safe with a good job than constantly be on the edge and just praying that he would get what he wanted. He figured that he had already tried for his dreams, and he failed. Being almost on a Quidditch team was just the same as not even getting close.

“I know wishing for a perfect world is senseless. Sometimes it’s just easier, though,” Gavin said, beginning to grow quite unsure of his words and more conscious of himself. The bubble that he allowed Ollivander into suddenly began to shrink, and he could feel the anxiety of having opened up to someone else. He felt like everything the two of them had said was laying out in front of them on the table, bare and visible to anyone walking by. He stirred his tea even though it didn’t require it just for something to look at. He didn’t regret his conversation with Ollivander by any means, but he was a much harsher person than Gavin. Gavin was more on the tender side, and his outburst only proved that. He was being illogical for the sake of wishing for goodness, and although he didn’t want to agree with Ollivander about evil things having a purpose, he couldn’t think of a proper response and therefore felt as if he should say nothing more on the matter. He suddenly felt quite silly. How could he ever think he could be on the same level as a man like Ollivander? Gavin was young, inexperienced, and knew essentially nothing of worth. It wasn’t to say that someday he wouldn’t amount to something, but at the moment his ignorance was being revealed as if it were an ugly scar.

“I, erm… I’m beginning to feel unwell,” Gavin said truthfully as he stood up. He reached for his jacket and extended a hand to Ollivander. “It was a pleasure sitting and talking to you… I feel…” how did he feel? Enlightened certainly wasn’t the term. He felt exposed. “Well, I’m glad I met you. I’m going to have to take you up on your offer for another drink. I would hate for someone to think they’re in my debt,” he added with a good humoured smile. “I hope to talk again soon. I had a good time and it was nice to have a man-to-man conversation. Hell, I don’t think I spoke of work once. That has to be a record, so I think you for that reprieve. I really should be off, however.”

He stood there, wondering if shaking hands was even the proper thing to do. He wished he wasn’t so glaringly aware of his hand stuck out in midair, too late to contract it and just give Ollivander a nod. He didn’t know why his flight instincts kicked in, but he suddenly wished for nothing more than to be alone. Gavin still admired Ollivander, but he was beginning to feel drained. He supposed it was normal for an introvert, as they tended to recharge on their own. He hoped that Ollivander would take no offense to his abrupt decision to leave. After all, they agreed to go for tea, and they managed to have two.

tag: @ollivander
words: 1,802

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 4, 2014 18:05:12 GMT -8

Post by Deleted on Jun 4, 2014 18:05:12 GMT -8

Ollivander had never been afraid to appear cocksure. He would go so far as to admit that humility was a commendable trait, but it was not a virtue he chose to – or perhaps even could – utilize himself. The fortune of his birth, into a family already venerated for his life's obsession, had not equipped him with any sense of modesty. Furthermore, he was great; why deny something the whole world knew to be true? It was far more sincere to thank someone graciously for their compliment, than to deny the merit of their praise, insofar as he was concerned, at least. Not all men were so ruled by ego, nor should they be. Jenkins, for example, had shown himself an intelligent, compassionate soul. Modesty was much better suited to him than the older man. For one, it was not disingenuous. Indeed, Ollivander doubted there was much, if anything, about Gavin that could be disingenuous at all. It was that sincerity which made him such a refreshing person to speak with. Their conversation had flowed between subjects personal, intellectual and moral with relative ease. It felt natural to speak frankly with the young man, as though their afternoon had been years of friendship. That alone made Gavin someone rather extraordinary, much though he was sure the younger man would deny a statement to that effect.

Yet, even as Ollivander thought such things, the younger man seemed to withdraw. He no longer seemed comfortable meeting the wandmaker's piercing gaze. It wasn't long before Jenkins got to his feet. Along with his hand, he extended a wavering, though warm, farewell. Garrick followed suit, rising from his seat. Something cracked in his hip as he stood; a bitter reminder that he was much older than he fancied himself. He took Gavin's hand with a smile. "Indeed, Mr Jenkins! I will hold you to that promise. It's been quite the afternoon. Ah, but Gavin," he said more familiarly, still grasping the other man's hand, "I hope you will keep our little discussion just between us? I would rather not have a reason to regret being so forthright."

He released Jenkins' hand, but his eyes stared intensely. He believed in Gavin, he had obviously trusted him already, but the point needed to be stated in no uncertain terms. What he had said of his wife, of his marital troubles and regrets, had been said in the strictest confidence. He did not want word getting back to Barbara or the kids. One day, he probably would have to come clean to them all, but not now and not like this. It would be much worse for rumors to tell them what he could not.

His expression lightened as they headed outside the shop. He donned his hat once more, and turned for one last goodbye. "I hope you feel better, Jenkins. And above all else, don't let the world get you down. Good day." With a final nod, he turned to resume his stroll. A part of him felt like retracing his steps, but he decided against it. Best not to salt the wounds.

TAG GAVIN CARTER JENKINS
NOTES thank you for such a lovely thread :]

GAVIN CARTER JENKINS

?JP?

Ministry of Magic

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watch me stumble over and over ``CLOSED Jun 5, 2014 11:51:14 GMT -8

Post by GAVIN CARTER JENKINS on Jun 5, 2014 11:51:14 GMT -8

there's really no way to reach me,
cause I'm already gone.

Gavin was admittedly very pleased that Ollivander had taken his hand. He feared looking silly with his hand extended with no proper response. Gavin was raised with values that nowadays almost seemed comically polite. Where most people used to shake hands, they now gave a wave or a hug or a nod. It was almost impossible to tell which direction someone would go until they went in for it. A handshake always seemed like the safest route before, but now it didn’t seem quite as common. Gavin smiled. “Of course, as long as you do the same.” He added the last bit as more of a jest than anything. He doubted he really said much that would cause public outcry, whereas Ollivander’s statements would. Besides, Ollivander had given off such a trusting aura that the idea of Ollivander gossiping to others about Gavin’s feelings and insecurities seemed almost impossible.

Ollivander’s parting words actually struck Gavin as immensely kind and thoughtful. “Thank you. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He waited until Ollivander turned and resumed his walk. Gavin himself disappeared into a nearby and deserted alleyway, and when he was sure that no one would spot him, he turned on his heel and Disapparated and reappeared at the door of his home. He replayed the words exchanged in his head as he entered his home. He decided for certain that Ollivander was someone that he enjoyed the company of, and his anxieties toward the end had been silly thoughts of an introvert. He felt fatigued quite suddenly. It was his day off, after all, and who was to blame him if he took a nap? Even adults needed rest. He collapsed onto his couch and before he knew it, the world went black and soft snores escaped him.

tag: @ollivander
words: 297
notes: ahh, it was so much fun!