Caution Children Playing

[Graeme Fergusson]

While it was only October, and in theory he was in very much the wrong place, young Graeme Fergusson found himself almost 10, 000 miles from where he called home, and he didn't like much. It was too odd, too different from home. For him, he was used to small towns resembling nothing more than hamlets but being called towns all the same. He was used to rolling hills, dark clouds and an almost constant wind. He was used to odd languages and tourists in both rented and non rented cars going past his house. He was used to being awoken by sheep outside his house wanting to get in. But he was miles away from the home he knew and loved, and staying in a place he barely knew with people who weren't the most able bodied. He'd begged his ma to change her mind, and not do this, but unfortunately for Graeme, she'd been saving up and thought this was the thing to do. Something for his birthday. It was the school break, the October week for him, and while he had wanted to be at home spending time with his ma, he'd been flown out to New Zealand to be with his grandparents, so that they could get used to having him around. Which had seemed like a nice thought, but he wasn't so keen. It had taken a seven hour bus journey to get to Glasgow, which had lead to a second seven hour bus journey to London, where he had then gotten on a flight which had hurtled him through the air to Dubai first, and then finally a second flight to New Zealand. In total it had taken over a day, and Graeme was no more keen to redo this for the way back. It also hadn't helped that his ma had only accompanied him to Glasgow. From there he'd been with a family friend heading in a similar direction. Which he hadn't minded, well, he'd said he hadn't minded but this was his first time properly away from home, and he wanted his ma by his side. Graeme being just eleven was expected to be feeling thus. So, now, he found himself in New Zealand, in a house with his aging grandparents who insisted on calling him Fergie, rather than Graeme, and his grandmother had the habit of calling him hen a lot of the time. While he was used to his grandparents sort of odd behaviour, the more Scottish phrases they used were ones he was not used to. Not recently mostly. He had been sleeping horribly too, despite this being his first full day in New Zealand he'd not been able to sleep, and found he was just wandering about the old house with nothing much to do. The only thing he knew was that, not too far from where his grandparents lived was the magical town of Brightstone. He sort of hoped he'd be able to find it.

The young boy readied himself for the day, taking his usual backpack, which had his school's logo on it, as well as adding on his thick jumper which was also something from his school. The football jumper he wore before and after the games. It had his name squeezed into the back of it. Fergusson as it turned out, was not a sort surname. He wasn't sure how the weather was going to be, and being from Skye, and also Scotland, the boy had maybe over prepared for the day. Taking with him a second jumper, and an umbrella, just in case it either rained, or got colder. Once completely sure he was ready, Graeme said brief goodbyes to his grandparents, telling them to call him if they had any issues. Though he hoped they wouldn't. He ended up having to pour his granddad another Islay whisky before leaving the house. At a slightly later time than intended the young boy, grabbed his bike and started cycling. The bike had been a surprise from his grandparents. A congratulations for being magical. Though he felt that it was his mother who'd persuaded them to buy it, because he didn't think his grandparents really understood what his ma meant by magical. Graeme was intrigued by this new place, his eyes scanned everywhere as he passed. The accents were odd. Polite, almost english sounding. His Scottish accent was fairly strong, but understandable, he wondered if it would be for these people. Graeme had heard of the village due to a letter he'd recently received from his ever distant father. Who'd just told him about the different places. In New Zealand. Keen to learn more about magic, the boy had headed off. He cycled hard and fast, only skidding a few times, and more than once using his hands and feet to help with sharp turns. His hands were pretty rough, and understandably so. Finally after cycling in what he assumed was the right direction for over an hour, Graeme felt he was getting no where, and was getting sore. He'd have to cycle back, and he needed his energy. He found that he had stumbled upon a park, that sat just outside a small town, which resembled the town he knew back home. The one closest to him. For Graeme lived in a small house out in the middle of nowhere, stuck between two hills, pretty near the atlantic ocean. He got down from his bike, and after removing the helmet, he brushed a hand through the completely unruly brown hair. It had a life of it's own. He was a small boy in most senses. He wasn't particularly tall, but not tiny. He wasn't round, but nor too thin. He was an average looking boy, and he didn't mind. He was glad to be out of the house where his grandparents were still. Which brought them to mind, as he placed the bike down on one of the empty benches. Before he went over to the swings. He pulled out his old phone from his pocket, and noticed it wasn't working. Which was odd, because he remembered charging it the night before. "Work!" He exclaimed, hitting the side of the phone. He was completely unaware that he sat in the magical park, beside the magical town, meaning that his muggle machine would not actually work. How was he to know that. While being a half blood, Graeme knew close to nothing about magic.
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[Bridget Riley]

Another day was beginning in the rather small household of the Riley's. After her encounter with her older sibling, Orland, Bridget had confined herself to her secluded bedroom. It wasn't really her bedroom, as she lived in a small two bedroom house on a busy street in Wellington, New Zealand. However, her Mother had felt it appropriate to bring Bridget into the magical world sooner than necessary, as to familiarize herself with it. Her Mother had high hopes for her daughter, though she had good reason to be concerned, too. After all, her eldest son Orland had turned out to be just like the rest of the family, despite her extreme care in bringing them up to be polite, hard working children. It had been a complete disaster, but at least she did not know of his recent arrival to Brightstone Village. For all Bridget's Mother knew, he was still away at Durmstrang, keeping a low profile. Bridget, however, knew better. He had admitted to her his plans to join the Scitorari once finishing Durmstrang. It was there that he would continue on the 'family tradition' by becoming a dark wizard. Unfortunately, Orland could not see that his plans were not going to be successful. The reason his entire family had landed themselves in Azkaban or dead was because none of them really had any ability whatsoever to be powerful. Bridget wished she could reassure her Mother that she could see this, and that there would be no way she would join the Scitorari, but according to her, Bridget knew nothing of the family. If she admitted she did, it would be clear Orland had returned and told her. He was the only close relative who knew such information, and it was highly unlikely anyone else from the family would have turned up out of the blue to inform Bridget of this. They knew better, slowly realising that they were not as powerful as they had hoped.

A tapping brought Bridget out of her dream like state. Her reaction to this was to worry. In fact, every sign that could possibly indicate she was mentally unstable caused her to panic, and that lead to even more worrying. Luckily, she did not have much time to dwell on this, as her Mother had poked her head around the corner. Sometimes, Bridget wished her Mother was less concerned. It was true, she only wanted what was best for her daughter, but she was growing up now. She could make her own decisions. After sternly telling Bridget she needed some fresh air and that it was a 'lovely day', her Mother retreated from her room and went back downstairs to finish cooking breakfast. The smells of bacon and eggs were enticing, and Bridget had not eaten much in the past few days. A grumbling in her stomach told her to get her act together. She jumped into a warm, refreshing shower, pulled on some casual but warm clothes and headed down the creaky corridor to the kitchen. Thanking her Mother and tucking into a slice of toast with eggs, she was inwardly glad to finally be going out. Being cooped up in the suite was more tiring than it sounded, especially with such a fussing Mother looking over her shoulder every few minutes.

Bridget pulled herself out of the chair, her muscles heavy and stiff from a lack of movement. Planting a quick kiss on her Mother's cheek to keep her happy, she slid out of the front door and door and down the stairs. Immediately she knew her decision to dress warmly had paid off. It wasn't particularly cold, but without her coat it may have been. With no idea where to go, or even what there was to go and see, Bridget headed in the opposite direction to the alley she had found herself in not long ago. Anywhere away from there had to be good. It was not long before she stumbled across a decently sized park. There were not many of these in the areas she had lived before, but that did not mean she didn't know how relaxing it was to while away some time on the swings. She diverted her path, hands dug deeply in her pockets as she headed over, perching on a swing and rocking gently. It was wonderful, finally doing something that wasn't worrying over her mad family in a dusty room. A young boy, who seemed around Bridget's age, was having trouble with his phone. Bridget had taken a keen interest in magic since she had found out she was a witch, and had certainly done her research. It was a well known fact that his muggle phone would not work in such a place as this. Biting her cheek, she tried hard to resist saying anything, but it soon became apparent he was frustrated with the object. "Those things don't work here," She commented quietly in her strong Scottish accent, gripping the chains of the swings for balance. Hopefully, the boy would not assume she had been rude, as this was not her intention. Bridget simply did not like to see others struggling, rather like her Mother. It was a trait they both shared, and she was glad to have it.

 

[Graeme Fergusson]

As a boy, of a young age he knew he had much ahead of him, in terms of almost everything. He had yet to even do any magical classes. Yet to experience anything other than what he had already. He was a small boy from an equally small town, in an equally small island, of a not so large country. He wasn't too good around many, many people. The flights, and the airport had been pretty damn hard for him. Suddenly so surrounded. The noise that came from it was just so much. More than he was used to, even if the guy who lived next the school he attended in Skye had a fairly large and loud lawnmower. The park itself, that he now sat in was not overly loud, though he had no idea where exactly it was and was therefore confused as to most other things. His bike lay discarded on the empty bench, and though he was a little distracted by his phone, he watched it from the corner of his eye. Not wanting it to get stolen, after all, with the way his day was going, if he were to lose it, or if it were to get stolen without his phone working he'd be pretty damn stuck. Graeme Fergusson was in New Zealand less than a week. He didn't want such a thought to be something that was. The young boy had a small thought as to why it didn't work, but he didn't think it possible. After all, he didn't really know. He couldn't really know for certain. Despite being a half blood, Graeme knew barely anything about the magical world he would enter during the winter(in New Zealand)/Summer(in Scotland) break. He would be able to leave primary with his head held high and the beginning of a very new and interesting chapter in his life. One he looked forward to with as much anticipation as any young child who had just discovered he could do magic would. With large bright eyes, and a sense of interest being peaked as more information was unearthed relating to the topic. It was in this new country he found himself finding it less pleasing than his home. After all, on the days when it didn't rain as much, when the clouds hung low against the hills, but the rain didn't fall, or when the clouds cleared as night fell, and in the late hours of summer, the sky would turn red as the sun set far in the western distance. He hadn't been hear long, but his heart held much love for the home he knew and not enough yet for the home he'd get to know.

As it became incredibly aparent that his phone was simply not working, a voice spoke in front of him. He was quick to move his gaze from the phone to his bike, and then to the girl in front of him. The silvery eyes of the young boy meeting the girls before glancing back down at the phone in his hands and giving a small shrug in agreement. It was then, in this short moment that it occurred to him, that this girl in front of him, had an accent not too dissimilar from his own. He looked up from his phone, and gave her a small smile. "You're Scottish." he said incredibly matter-of-factly. As if it were the most obvious thing about her. He then glanced once more at the phone and then pushed it in his pocket. "I" his I always sounded more like he was say 'ah' "Figured that, when it wouldnae work." He gave a shrug. Since his mother had a rather broad weegie accent, he had for the most part inherited it. Though when necessary the boy spoke clearly. As clearly as he could really manage. "I just don't understand why" he added, though he was pretty certain he knew. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say it or not, "I've obviously fallen into the magical area, haven't I?" Prehaps it was the knowledge that he was a lot like him in the way of where they were from but he felt comfortable around her. Which was saying a lot considering he hadn't even introduced himself. "I'm Graeme, and I'm fae Skye" he added extending his hand to her, while running the other briefly through his hair. He wasn't sure what else to say, so he waited, giving her the opportunity to carry the conversation
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I'm sorry this took so long, and that it's so awful.