<![CDATA[Knockturn Bound - Butterwand & Co.]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/ Wed, 07 Oct 2026 01:18:03 +0000 MyBB <![CDATA[perfectly fine || gideon]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1063 Sun, 17 May 2026 20:49:33 +0000 Roisin Blackwood]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1063 21 October 1922
First Hogsmeade Weekend
Mid-morning
Fiona had been talking about this trip since the date was announced, and Rose had heard about little else for the better part of a week from essentially every child she crossed paths with at Hogwarts. She didn’t mind. Watching Fiona press her nose to the shop window before they even reached the door was worth every repeated mention of it. She smiled.

The door opened.

The smell hit her first.

Rose stepped just inside the entrance, her hand finding the doorframe. Sugar and chocolate and something warm and spiced; ordinarily it was the kind of thing she loved. Today it hit differently. She swallowed and let Gideon move ahead of her while she got her bearings.

Fine, she told herself. Perfectly fine.

The shop was absolutely packed and Rose felt the same anxiety she’d felt over the holidays in the brief second she thought her daughter was lost. But when she finally saw the girl’s blonde hair, she relaxed a bit. The girl had woven herself through the crowd with the confidence of someone much older and larger.

Rose had been hesitant to come to Hogsmeade when she’d begun suspecting something was happening. The woman who notoriously always had sweets around her in her office was finding them less bearable as of late. That was the thing that had pulled her to St. Mungo’s eight days ago.

And that was a thought she had every morning when she woke up – promising herself she’d tell her husband the news he so desperately wanted to hear – but always finding herself remembering as she climbed into bed at night. If they were able to live together at the castle, then he’d already know. But they had to be separated at night, ready to jump in case of any sort of emergency that might happen with their students.

Rose could smell peppermint, something that she found settled her unsettled stomach. Still, the crowded heat of the candy shop was almost too much for her to handle. They’d have to stop by the tea shop next and perhaps they could head back to the castle sooner than their daughter wanted. That fight wasn’t going to be fun, but Rose wasn’t sure if being out right now was a good idea.

“Fiona, you wait for your father to order for you,” Rose managed, her voice perhaps a bit tight but mostly normal. Or she tried anyway. She remained near the door.]]> 21 October 1922
First Hogsmeade Weekend
Mid-morning
Fiona had been talking about this trip since the date was announced, and Rose had heard about little else for the better part of a week from essentially every child she crossed paths with at Hogwarts. She didn’t mind. Watching Fiona press her nose to the shop window before they even reached the door was worth every repeated mention of it. She smiled.

The door opened.

The smell hit her first.

Rose stepped just inside the entrance, her hand finding the doorframe. Sugar and chocolate and something warm and spiced; ordinarily it was the kind of thing she loved. Today it hit differently. She swallowed and let Gideon move ahead of her while she got her bearings.

Fine, she told herself. Perfectly fine.

The shop was absolutely packed and Rose felt the same anxiety she’d felt over the holidays in the brief second she thought her daughter was lost. But when she finally saw the girl’s blonde hair, she relaxed a bit. The girl had woven herself through the crowd with the confidence of someone much older and larger.

Rose had been hesitant to come to Hogsmeade when she’d begun suspecting something was happening. The woman who notoriously always had sweets around her in her office was finding them less bearable as of late. That was the thing that had pulled her to St. Mungo’s eight days ago.

And that was a thought she had every morning when she woke up – promising herself she’d tell her husband the news he so desperately wanted to hear – but always finding herself remembering as she climbed into bed at night. If they were able to live together at the castle, then he’d already know. But they had to be separated at night, ready to jump in case of any sort of emergency that might happen with their students.

Rose could smell peppermint, something that she found settled her unsettled stomach. Still, the crowded heat of the candy shop was almost too much for her to handle. They’d have to stop by the tea shop next and perhaps they could head back to the castle sooner than their daughter wanted. That fight wasn’t going to be fun, but Rose wasn’t sure if being out right now was a good idea.

“Fiona, you wait for your father to order for you,” Rose managed, her voice perhaps a bit tight but mostly normal. Or she tried anyway. She remained near the door.]]> <![CDATA[PLOT : SUGAR RUSH :: OPEN]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1062 Sun, 17 May 2026 17:05:31 +0000 The Narrator]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=1062
21 October 1922
First Hogsmeade Weekend
10:00am



Butterwand & Co. was overflowing.

The little confectionary shop sat glowing warmly beneath the fall-gray skies of Hogsmeade, its windows fogged from the sheer number of bodies crammed inside. Gold-painted lettering shimmered above the entrance, while enchanted garlands of sugared pumpkins and fall leaves twinkled softly along the awning. Every few moments the door would swing open with a cheerful jingle, releasing bursts of warmth, laughter, and the overwhelming scent of melted chocolate, spun sugar, citrus zest, and caramelized honey into the cold street beyond.

Inside, it was chaos.

Not unpleasant chaos, excited chaos.

Students packed shoulder-to-shoulder between polished wooden shelves overflowing with familiar favorites and newer creations that had been out of stock since summer. First years stood on tiptoe trying to peer over crowds while older students leaned dramatically across counters, waving sickles impatiently in the air in hopes of being served first.

Above it all hung the centerpiece display.

A towering arrangement of glittering glass jars, golden trays, and enchanted ribbon banners announced Butterwand & Co.’s newest creations in swirling script:

BACK IN STOCK

VELVET CLOUD TRUFFLES
FIZZING STARSHARDS
CLOUDBERRY CHEWS
GOLDEN HONEY SUNSET
ZING ZEST LIGHTNING BOLTS
RAINBOW POP LOLLIES
MIDNIGHT COCOA CUBES

Each sweet seemed almost impossibly appealing.

Students crowded around the display in fascination.

“Are those actually SPARKLING!?”

“The chocolate are SO GOOD!”

“Ohhhh, those are glittery.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely buying them all.”

At the register, little branded boxes tied with velvet ribbon disappeared almost as quickly as the employees could package them. Samples were passed around freely, and already wrappers littered tabletops while animated conversations filled every corner of the shop.

Something about the sweets was undeniably alluring.

Not suspicious. Not dangerous.

Just… wonderful.

Perhaps a little too wonderful.

And though nobody noticed it yet, by the time students returned to Hogwarts that evening, the castle would feel just a little louder. A little brighter. A little more emotional.

As though someone had turned the volume knob on the entire student body ever so slightly higher.


(OOC: WELCOME TO THE SUGAR RUSH! Please see the Sugar Rush forum for all the pertinent information. There are prompts to help earn house points, so read through those to help get inspiration. Once you have a completed thread, please fill out the tracker to help keep track of everything. To help highlight the plot threads, please start your subject with PLOT.
You can respond to this post, with your students buying/trying the treats, or you can make your own. Completely up to you!

PLOT INFORMATION:
Near the end of summer, Butterwand & Co. in Hogsmeade debuted a new line of sweets. They were meant to be nothing more than a novelty, a new product to draw in customers, nothing unusual about them at all. They sold out almost immediately, leaving the shop scrambling to source enough ingredients for a second batch.

They managed it. On the students' first Hogsmeade visit of term, the 21st of October, the shop was ready with fresh samples and a full display. The effect was instantaneous. Students who tried them felt absolutely wonderful, bright, bold, brimming with something they couldn't quite name, and bought up as much as they could carry. Butterwand & Co. was puzzled but delighted.

What nobody knew, including the shop, was that a new shipment of ingredients had come in that season, different from their usual stock. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing smelled wrong. But something in that batch, when folded into the new line, had produced an effect nobody had intended or anticipated.

As the sweets made their way through common rooms and corridors and were consumed in increasing quantities, something began to shift. Students grew bolder than usual, more impulsive, more emotionally intense. Feelings that might ordinarily stay tucked away had a way of making themselves known. Spellwork became unpredictable, not dangerous, but erratic in ways that were difficult to explain. Everything was just a little more heightened than it should have been. A little more chaotic.

Butterwand & Co. had no idea. As far as the shop was concerned, business had never been better. ]]>
21 October 1922
First Hogsmeade Weekend
10:00am



Butterwand & Co. was overflowing.

The little confectionary shop sat glowing warmly beneath the fall-gray skies of Hogsmeade, its windows fogged from the sheer number of bodies crammed inside. Gold-painted lettering shimmered above the entrance, while enchanted garlands of sugared pumpkins and fall leaves twinkled softly along the awning. Every few moments the door would swing open with a cheerful jingle, releasing bursts of warmth, laughter, and the overwhelming scent of melted chocolate, spun sugar, citrus zest, and caramelized honey into the cold street beyond.

Inside, it was chaos.

Not unpleasant chaos, excited chaos.

Students packed shoulder-to-shoulder between polished wooden shelves overflowing with familiar favorites and newer creations that had been out of stock since summer. First years stood on tiptoe trying to peer over crowds while older students leaned dramatically across counters, waving sickles impatiently in the air in hopes of being served first.

Above it all hung the centerpiece display.

A towering arrangement of glittering glass jars, golden trays, and enchanted ribbon banners announced Butterwand & Co.’s newest creations in swirling script:

BACK IN STOCK

VELVET CLOUD TRUFFLES
FIZZING STARSHARDS
CLOUDBERRY CHEWS
GOLDEN HONEY SUNSET
ZING ZEST LIGHTNING BOLTS
RAINBOW POP LOLLIES
MIDNIGHT COCOA CUBES

Each sweet seemed almost impossibly appealing.

Students crowded around the display in fascination.

“Are those actually SPARKLING!?”

“The chocolate are SO GOOD!”

“Ohhhh, those are glittery.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely buying them all.”

At the register, little branded boxes tied with velvet ribbon disappeared almost as quickly as the employees could package them. Samples were passed around freely, and already wrappers littered tabletops while animated conversations filled every corner of the shop.

Something about the sweets was undeniably alluring.

Not suspicious. Not dangerous.

Just… wonderful.

Perhaps a little too wonderful.

And though nobody noticed it yet, by the time students returned to Hogwarts that evening, the castle would feel just a little louder. A little brighter. A little more emotional.

As though someone had turned the volume knob on the entire student body ever so slightly higher.


(OOC: WELCOME TO THE SUGAR RUSH! Please see the Sugar Rush forum for all the pertinent information. There are prompts to help earn house points, so read through those to help get inspiration. Once you have a completed thread, please fill out the tracker to help keep track of everything. To help highlight the plot threads, please start your subject with PLOT.
You can respond to this post, with your students buying/trying the treats, or you can make your own. Completely up to you!

PLOT INFORMATION:
Near the end of summer, Butterwand & Co. in Hogsmeade debuted a new line of sweets. They were meant to be nothing more than a novelty, a new product to draw in customers, nothing unusual about them at all. They sold out almost immediately, leaving the shop scrambling to source enough ingredients for a second batch.

They managed it. On the students' first Hogsmeade visit of term, the 21st of October, the shop was ready with fresh samples and a full display. The effect was instantaneous. Students who tried them felt absolutely wonderful, bright, bold, brimming with something they couldn't quite name, and bought up as much as they could carry. Butterwand & Co. was puzzled but delighted.

What nobody knew, including the shop, was that a new shipment of ingredients had come in that season, different from their usual stock. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing smelled wrong. But something in that batch, when folded into the new line, had produced an effect nobody had intended or anticipated.

As the sweets made their way through common rooms and corridors and were consumed in increasing quantities, something began to shift. Students grew bolder than usual, more impulsive, more emotionally intense. Feelings that might ordinarily stay tucked away had a way of making themselves known. Spellwork became unpredictable, not dangerous, but erratic in ways that were difficult to explain. Everything was just a little more heightened than it should have been. A little more chaotic.

Butterwand & Co. had no idea. As far as the shop was concerned, business had never been better. ]]> <![CDATA[Bittersweet Scoops :: Alice]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=894 Mon, 16 Feb 2026 05:59:35 +0000 Bertram Nordstrom]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=894 18 February 1922
Hogsmeade Weekend
11:30 am



It was a strange turn of events. Bram had received a letter from Tilly about cancelling their normal Hogsmeade date, something to do with plants. This was no shock. But then, the next day he got an owl requesting a date with Alice. He was happy to oblige. Anytime he could spend with his girls was a blessing.

She hadn’t specified the nature of their meeting. He had a suspicion that Everleigh would be discussed. He knew things were going downhill with her recovery, but he wasn’t privy to the specifics. It was fantastic seeing all three girls for Christmas, but Ever was so withdrawn, sad, anxious. It was heartbreaking.

The conversation with his daughter and imbecile son-in-law went the same way. He was a broken record. She needed help, but they refused to hear reason. She was getting worse and they didn’t care.

Bertram decided to forgo the Tea shop this time, since the last time he met with Alice, Allegra had shown up and ruined the day. So, instead, he planned to meet her at the candy shop for some ice cream sunday.

Finding a seat was difficult on Hogsmeade weekends, but he arrived early and found a spot in the corner with two seats, his back against the wall. He had a good view, so he watched as Alice came into the shop looking tired and disheveled. His worry increased tenfold. His forehead scrunched up in concern.

“Darling, it’s so good to see you.” He said, giving her a strong hug, one only the arms of a grandfather could deliver, and kissing her on the temple. “I’ve missed you. Is everything ok?”
]]> 18 February 1922
Hogsmeade Weekend
11:30 am



It was a strange turn of events. Bram had received a letter from Tilly about cancelling their normal Hogsmeade date, something to do with plants. This was no shock. But then, the next day he got an owl requesting a date with Alice. He was happy to oblige. Anytime he could spend with his girls was a blessing.

She hadn’t specified the nature of their meeting. He had a suspicion that Everleigh would be discussed. He knew things were going downhill with her recovery, but he wasn’t privy to the specifics. It was fantastic seeing all three girls for Christmas, but Ever was so withdrawn, sad, anxious. It was heartbreaking.

The conversation with his daughter and imbecile son-in-law went the same way. He was a broken record. She needed help, but they refused to hear reason. She was getting worse and they didn’t care.

Bertram decided to forgo the Tea shop this time, since the last time he met with Alice, Allegra had shown up and ruined the day. So, instead, he planned to meet her at the candy shop for some ice cream sunday.

Finding a seat was difficult on Hogsmeade weekends, but he arrived early and found a spot in the corner with two seats, his back against the wall. He had a good view, so he watched as Alice came into the shop looking tired and disheveled. His worry increased tenfold. His forehead scrunched up in concern.

“Darling, it’s so good to see you.” He said, giving her a strong hug, one only the arms of a grandfather could deliver, and kissing her on the temple. “I’ve missed you. Is everything ok?”
]]> <![CDATA[But It's Not Sunday || Mummy Dearest]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=683 Sat, 29 Nov 2025 00:47:37 +0000 Kathryn Barlowe]]> https://staging.knockturnbound.net/showthread.php?tid=683 Tuesday, March 15, 1921
Outdoor seating of the shop
1:45 PM
It wasn't Sunday.

Kathryn was dressed in a pastel blue drop-waist dress that fell by her knees, her stark white stockings pristine, and her Mary Janes without a scuff of dirt from how carefully the girl had had them walk all the way to Butterwand's. She didn't know why they were having ice cream on a Tuesday, fearing her mother might not have realised it was Tuesday at all, but that was never an excuse not to look her best. At some point, the woman would walk by a shop window or hear something floating through their doors, and learn the date. Then, they could put this little outing behind them. It was nearly 2. She had dance at 3, so she supposed it wasn't a wasted trip, but she hadn't gotten through her English Language work yet.

The little girl kept a tight hold on her mother's hand, firm and vice-like. She'd spent the night before awake and terrified. No matter how long the day was--and even with the woman sometimes refusing to adhere to the 10 o'clock bedtime--she'd never...not been there.

But the night before, Rosie brushed her hair and tucked Evander in next to her. She tried reading to them, singing, and offering reassurances. It hadn't taken much for the baby, but Kathryn had been unwilling to budge. All night, she kept her eyes glued to the door, expecting it would open at any moment and her mother would walk in, kicking off her heels, hands already at her ears, removing her earrings while she apologised for whatever had kept her that long.

She never did. Ten became eleven...then one...then four. Before she knew it, the sun's light once again flooded the room, Rosie was curled up with Evander and the door remained firmly shut. Undisturbed throughout the night.

The day started. With gloved, practiced fingers, she carefully wound her hair into the neat bun that it always was. She brushed her teeth. There was breakfast, but no mother. Two hours of study--her mother never checked her numbers. A break. She sat by the door and waited. More studies. Encouragement to play with Rosie and the baby.

A firm refusal.

More door watching.

Disappointment.

Kathryn had convinced herself that her mother wasn't coming back, that she'd been left again, this time without a goodbye. The relief at seeing Julia walk through the door still had her shaking and certainly refusing to loosen her grip, lest the woman find a way to disappear again.

When they picked a table in the outdoor seating area, Kathryn kept her hand stretched across the table so it could continue holding onto her mother's. She should've worn a dress with longer sleeves. The little girl grimaced at the thought of the grime from the table getting onto her elbows, but it wasn't enough to make her let go.

The ice cream went entirely ignored. Those big blue eyes were only for the woman across from her.]]> Tuesday, March 15, 1921
Outdoor seating of the shop
1:45 PM
It wasn't Sunday.

Kathryn was dressed in a pastel blue drop-waist dress that fell by her knees, her stark white stockings pristine, and her Mary Janes without a scuff of dirt from how carefully the girl had had them walk all the way to Butterwand's. She didn't know why they were having ice cream on a Tuesday, fearing her mother might not have realised it was Tuesday at all, but that was never an excuse not to look her best. At some point, the woman would walk by a shop window or hear something floating through their doors, and learn the date. Then, they could put this little outing behind them. It was nearly 2. She had dance at 3, so she supposed it wasn't a wasted trip, but she hadn't gotten through her English Language work yet.

The little girl kept a tight hold on her mother's hand, firm and vice-like. She'd spent the night before awake and terrified. No matter how long the day was--and even with the woman sometimes refusing to adhere to the 10 o'clock bedtime--she'd never...not been there.

But the night before, Rosie brushed her hair and tucked Evander in next to her. She tried reading to them, singing, and offering reassurances. It hadn't taken much for the baby, but Kathryn had been unwilling to budge. All night, she kept her eyes glued to the door, expecting it would open at any moment and her mother would walk in, kicking off her heels, hands already at her ears, removing her earrings while she apologised for whatever had kept her that long.

She never did. Ten became eleven...then one...then four. Before she knew it, the sun's light once again flooded the room, Rosie was curled up with Evander and the door remained firmly shut. Undisturbed throughout the night.

The day started. With gloved, practiced fingers, she carefully wound her hair into the neat bun that it always was. She brushed her teeth. There was breakfast, but no mother. Two hours of study--her mother never checked her numbers. A break. She sat by the door and waited. More studies. Encouragement to play with Rosie and the baby.

A firm refusal.

More door watching.

Disappointment.

Kathryn had convinced herself that her mother wasn't coming back, that she'd been left again, this time without a goodbye. The relief at seeing Julia walk through the door still had her shaking and certainly refusing to loosen her grip, lest the woman find a way to disappear again.

When they picked a table in the outdoor seating area, Kathryn kept her hand stretched across the table so it could continue holding onto her mother's. She should've worn a dress with longer sleeves. The little girl grimaced at the thought of the grime from the table getting onto her elbows, but it wasn't enough to make her let go.

The ice cream went entirely ignored. Those big blue eyes were only for the woman across from her.]]>