Closed Prologue

[Carine Vale]

It went without saying that literature brought people together. Whether it be through simple story telling of myths and legends or in record keeping and religious texts, it was nothing less than a complete truth that the written word had played an important role in maintaining and shaping human culture for centuries, and furthermore millennia. That through writing irregardless of whether it was fact or fiction, people could connect and express themselves. Such a realization was no more apparent to Carine than it had been in the last few weeks, as she sought after like minded women in her circle of acquaintances to form a book club. It had been a feat of meticulous organization and comparison of schedules, paired with the difficult decision of which book they should choose to read first and by the following few weeks of time they all needed to finish the book, but finally that Saturday afternoon Carine was preparing her house for her guests, to finally meet with her fellow book club members.

The house was immaculate in its cleanliness for the meeting, Carine naturally enlisting the aid of spells and charms to clear dust from furniture and cobwebs from corners in the ceiling. All that was left was the wine, an expensive bottle of red purchased just for the occasion with accompanying glasses placed on the coffee table, the final piece of the puzzle to leave her formal sitting room a picturesque background for their meeting. Carine couldn't imagine sparing a single detail for her afternoon creating an analysis of literature, couldn't wait as she sat on her chaise lounge in anticipation for her acquaintances to arrive. ​

 

[Aleena Thorne]

Aleena had felt lost for a long time. If she was truly honest with herself, she had felt this way before they had even left London. But she had put on a brave face and tried to keep her worries to herself. Not that Thomas had been around much for her to talk to if she had tried. Regardless, being in a new country and making friends was challenging and it was a shame it had taken several years and a tragedy for her to realize she couldn't wait around expecting companions to fall in her lap. So when she had seen the advertisement for book club she figured this would be a great place to start. She had plenty of time on her hands still, as she waited to hear back from the ministry. Aleena was a bit nervous about socializing. She had been a pro back in London but that life felt like a century ago and she did her best to arrive right on schedule. As she arrived she took in the house with uncertainty. It was a bit eccentric for her taste but she was determined to give this whole thing a fair shot. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

 

[Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe]

Any excuse to get out of the confines of Hogwarts, Gabrielle was glad to take. She enjoyed teaching, she loved the subject matter, and all things considered, the castle was a great place to be. But it was awfully lonely at times, especially with professors mostly being busy with their own things. The students were great, and she had a few she liked chatting with, but they were students, not friends. Gabrielle had never been much of a social creature, preferring the company of research to social engagements. Which wasn't to say she'd always avoided them, just hadn't necessarily gone out of her way to jump into them. Never having married, nor having children, had also precluded her from building connections in that way.

So a book club sounded perfect. There was a specific aim to it, something that she was actually interested in, and it had the benefit of being social with people much closer in age to her than her fourteen year old students. Gabrielle loved fiction and literature, more than one might expect a history teacher to, and had gleefully enjoyed sinking onto her office sofa after dinner and spending an hour or two reading each night. She had had to put in some effort in her appearance for a change, and still felt a little out of place when she approached the house, nodding and smiling at the woman who'd gotten there before her.