<![CDATA[Knockturn Bound - Perchance A Page]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/ Thu, 08 Oct 2026 01:55:12 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[The Last Days of Summer :: Drago/Alice/Tilly]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1016 Wed, 22 Apr 2026 01:14:59 +0000 Matilda Nordstrom]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1016
26 August 1922
11:00am




“Do you think we really need all these books for our sixth year? I swear they just keep piling on more crap.”

Tilly said to her cousin while looking over the list for the millionth time. It didn’t seem to matter what year they were going into, there would always be a list a mile long. She skipped the section for Herbology, she had everything she would need for that class… and then some.

Alice and Tilly had been shopping for about an hour, having already replenished their parchment, quills, and being measured for their new uniforms. Next was the bookstore to find the library worth of books needed for the new term.

“While we’re here, we should stop at that little boutique. Maybe we can get Ever a new robe and slippers. Last time I was there, hers were looking a little worn. I want to look at the boots as well.” Tilly could never have enough boots. Thankful for a large trunk, Tilly brought many to school with her. Every conceivable shade of leather. Ankle length, knee length and every height in between. If you then factored in heel height, well… the girl had a problem.

Today Tilly was in a cute outfit, but not the norm for most girls in the early 20’s. She wasn’t a huge fan of the modern flapper style, instead opting for a brown and rust red plaid skirt, leather corset style belt, white long sleeve shirt rolled to her elbows with a brown vest completing the look. Her leather satchel was resting on her hip, the strap hanging across her body. Her hair was down long and wavy, with multiple braids weaving through, creating an intricate style.

Her faithful canvas bag had finally bit the dust last term, snagging on the corner of the greenhouse workbench, ripping at the seam. It wasn’t worth fixing at that point, the damage was done.

“Ready for this?” She asked Alice, looking at the entrance to the bookstore. It was BUSY. It was the last weekend before school started so all the families who procrastinated were out shopping. In just a few short days she would be back home, roaming the halls of Hogwarts, with her future husband far away in his own school.]]>
26 August 1922
11:00am




“Do you think we really need all these books for our sixth year? I swear they just keep piling on more crap.”

Tilly said to her cousin while looking over the list for the millionth time. It didn’t seem to matter what year they were going into, there would always be a list a mile long. She skipped the section for Herbology, she had everything she would need for that class… and then some.

Alice and Tilly had been shopping for about an hour, having already replenished their parchment, quills, and being measured for their new uniforms. Next was the bookstore to find the library worth of books needed for the new term.

“While we’re here, we should stop at that little boutique. Maybe we can get Ever a new robe and slippers. Last time I was there, hers were looking a little worn. I want to look at the boots as well.” Tilly could never have enough boots. Thankful for a large trunk, Tilly brought many to school with her. Every conceivable shade of leather. Ankle length, knee length and every height in between. If you then factored in heel height, well… the girl had a problem.

Today Tilly was in a cute outfit, but not the norm for most girls in the early 20’s. She wasn’t a huge fan of the modern flapper style, instead opting for a brown and rust red plaid skirt, leather corset style belt, white long sleeve shirt rolled to her elbows with a brown vest completing the look. Her leather satchel was resting on her hip, the strap hanging across her body. Her hair was down long and wavy, with multiple braids weaving through, creating an intricate style.

Her faithful canvas bag had finally bit the dust last term, snagging on the corner of the greenhouse workbench, ripping at the seam. It wasn’t worth fixing at that point, the damage was done.

“Ready for this?” She asked Alice, looking at the entrance to the bookstore. It was BUSY. It was the last weekend before school started so all the families who procrastinated were out shopping. In just a few short days she would be back home, roaming the halls of Hogwarts, with her future husband far away in his own school.]]> <![CDATA[Finding Peace in a Quiet Corner :: Mo & Rook]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=945 Mon, 16 Mar 2026 01:44:14 +0000 Brooks Garren]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=945 5 July 1922
Early Afternoon


The air in London was different from Ireland. Where Ireland was fresh, crisp and somehow green. London was thick, smelled like people and dirt. And while Ireland was encased in everything green, London was the definition of grey.

And Brooks loved every damn bit of it.

His mother had finally seen sense. The O’Cleary castle had been traded for a modest two bedroom apartment in a magical section of London. It wasn't Boston, but at least there wasn't so much f’eckin’ green.

It became clear soon after the birth of Kinley Nylah Garren, his baby sister, on 01 June 1922, that living with his Gran and Pa wasn’t an option. They were the hovering sort. Commenting on things that didn’t need comments. It was clear why his mother left in the first place.

They moved only a couple weeks ago, just two weeks after Kinley was born. Being a big brother was his new favorite title. He felt a sense of duty. The need to protect and love burned inside. It was going to be impossible to leave in September.

Rook shouldered his way through the Diagon Alley crowds, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wasn't here for the sights, the food or the people. He’d burned through three books on Runes in the last week, and his brain was starting to itch like a scab that needed picking.

He ducked into Perchance A Page, the bell above the door giving a sharp ring. The shop was a labyrinth of towering shelves and narrow aisles, somewhere he could get lost for hours. Which was exactly his mission.

Rook navigated to the back of the shop, planning on working his way to the front over the summer. He was looking for something, anything, that would hold his attention. With this ability to ready fast and remember most, if the first two pages didn’t catch his interest he’d shelve the book and move on. He reached for a heavy, leather bound volume titled The Geometry of Kinetic Casting, but as he pulled it from the shelf he realized he wasn't alone in the cramped corner.

Through the gap in the books, he caught a glimpse of another student. She looked about his age, but unlike the focused, high-energy bustle of the shoppers outside, she had an air of someone who had been dragged into the shop against her will.

Rook didn't move. He adjusted his grip on the book, watching the girl for a beat. Her back was to him, so he wasn't sure what she was doing exactly. He wasn't looking for a conversation, but there was something about her that made the words come out of his mouth without thought.

"I can’t tell if you're hiding or finally found what you were looking for," he said, his voice scratchy with lack of use. His accent a mix of Boston and Irish. He didn't look up from the spine of the book he was inspecting. "Or you're lookin' for the section on sleeping potions and took a wrong turn at the history shelf."]]> 5 July 1922
Early Afternoon


The air in London was different from Ireland. Where Ireland was fresh, crisp and somehow green. London was thick, smelled like people and dirt. And while Ireland was encased in everything green, London was the definition of grey.

And Brooks loved every damn bit of it.

His mother had finally seen sense. The O’Cleary castle had been traded for a modest two bedroom apartment in a magical section of London. It wasn't Boston, but at least there wasn't so much f’eckin’ green.

It became clear soon after the birth of Kinley Nylah Garren, his baby sister, on 01 June 1922, that living with his Gran and Pa wasn’t an option. They were the hovering sort. Commenting on things that didn’t need comments. It was clear why his mother left in the first place.

They moved only a couple weeks ago, just two weeks after Kinley was born. Being a big brother was his new favorite title. He felt a sense of duty. The need to protect and love burned inside. It was going to be impossible to leave in September.

Rook shouldered his way through the Diagon Alley crowds, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wasn't here for the sights, the food or the people. He’d burned through three books on Runes in the last week, and his brain was starting to itch like a scab that needed picking.

He ducked into Perchance A Page, the bell above the door giving a sharp ring. The shop was a labyrinth of towering shelves and narrow aisles, somewhere he could get lost for hours. Which was exactly his mission.

Rook navigated to the back of the shop, planning on working his way to the front over the summer. He was looking for something, anything, that would hold his attention. With this ability to ready fast and remember most, if the first two pages didn’t catch his interest he’d shelve the book and move on. He reached for a heavy, leather bound volume titled The Geometry of Kinetic Casting, but as he pulled it from the shelf he realized he wasn't alone in the cramped corner.

Through the gap in the books, he caught a glimpse of another student. She looked about his age, but unlike the focused, high-energy bustle of the shoppers outside, she had an air of someone who had been dragged into the shop against her will.

Rook didn't move. He adjusted his grip on the book, watching the girl for a beat. Her back was to him, so he wasn't sure what she was doing exactly. He wasn't looking for a conversation, but there was something about her that made the words come out of his mouth without thought.

"I can’t tell if you're hiding or finally found what you were looking for," he said, his voice scratchy with lack of use. His accent a mix of Boston and Irish. He didn't look up from the spine of the book he was inspecting. "Or you're lookin' for the section on sleeping potions and took a wrong turn at the history shelf."]]>