milliethekitty27-writing - Tumblr blog

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

The Ladder

In a hole in the ground, there lived a lonely hobbit. It all started when Bilbo grew tired of his empty kitchen.

He hadn’t been fond of eating alone since the dwarves destroyed his pantry, but he hadn’t after Frodo joined him in Bag End. He’d eaten with the elves in Rivendell, which had been full of lovely music and pleasant conversation, and then he’d eaten with the elves, Frodo, and Gandalf when they’d traveled to the Undying Lands.

Now he was here, in Yavanna’s Garden, living in what was basically Bag End. (the actual Bag End was right next door for his parents) He had his beautiful garden back, which only mattered really because he’d been brought back to his youthful self with working hands. The house was always clean (and he’d never really liked cleaning, so that didn’t matter much to him) so he had all the time in the world to work on his maps and his stories. He got the occasional social call from neighbors or family. He ate dinner with his parents on Thursdays and went over to their home on Sundays for family nights with many cousins and aunts and uncles, but he spent the rest of his time alone. He got the same whispers he had in the Shire, but he was satisfied with his cooking and working in the garden. Except… on the days there were no social calls, no family dinners, Bilbo Baggins sat in a very quiet house and talked to nothing.

“You know-” Bilbo said to no one in particular as he weeded a particularly stubborn patch of grass out from underneath his rose bush. There was a basket of tomatoes ready to be made into a sauce, or maybe used the fish tonight, but he’d seen the weeds and wanted to deal with it before it spread. “-I would have expected the garden to take care of itself when I died. Not to be doing the same tasks as before. But here we are, fighting with weeds, aren’t we Tho-” Bilbo stopped, shook his head, and pushed that thought aside.

He made dinner for fourteen but only ate for one. The rest got put away for the multitudes of meals of the next day, but almost five years after he’d died he found himself looking at the empty table with a frown.

The next morning he perused his bookshelf until he found a collection of stories. From there, he found tales of the dwarves. He sat in his armchair until a collection of cousins knocked on the door and pulled him away, but he found what he was looking for when he was waiting for a peach pie to bake.

Dwarves belief that they return to the halls of Mahal upon their deaths. From there, they await the Final Battle. Upon the arrival of that day, they will be sent back to rebuild Arda, but until then the dwarves rest in their creator’s halls.

Bilbo hemmed over that. He wandered down to where most of the Tooks lived, asking if they had any maps or had heard of the Halls before. It was a bit of a long shot, and he wasn’t surprised when they all said no. He returned to his smial and examined his garden.

“Well-” he said to the same problematic patch of clover that refused to leave. “-I know that dwarves do like their underground tunnels and their mines. And if the Green Lady is married to the Smith, then it stands to reason that they might go underground nearby. I don’t think there’s any harm in looking, I’ll just get a bit dirty and ruin my garden, and I do that on the regular. Or I’ll fall into a great underground river and run back into Gollum.” Bilbo sighed, then went to see if he could borrow Hamfast’s good shovel.

There was a patch of yard in the back Bilbo had been planning on planting carrots in, but he had a better idea now. He wiggled his toes in the cool earth, nodded, and stretched out his shoulders. Then Bilbo Baggins put his shovel into the soil and started to dig.

It took quite a bit of time, but he didn’t get as tired as he had in his old age and he didn’t have to take as many breaks. Death might mean you didn’t have to eat, or sleep, but it was routine, and he had dinner with his parents that were tradition. One day, maybe, he’d be able to bring more than just himself and whatever his mother wanted him to bring for dessert, but he pushed the idea of muddy boots and braids out of his mind in favor of helping his mother finish up the roast.

“What are you doing, Bilbo?” his father asked during one dinner. “Gorbadoc says he hasn’t seen you at the Green Dragon in some time.”

“I’m digging a tunnel.” Bilbo said matter of factly. “I’m going to try to find the halls of Mahal.” His parents looked at each other for a minute.

“What for?”

“I… suppose it’s just because I can.”

“Have you considered asking the faunts?” Belladonna suggested as she took a second helping of mashed potatoes. “I’m sure they’d be more than thrilled to be asked to ruin a garden.” Bilbo considered that.

“I think this something I want to do myself.”

Bilbo digged and digged. The hole was big enough for him to stand in rather comfortably, though he had to dig some stair-like notches into the side so he could get in and out. It took almost a week of non-stop digging to reach literal rock bottom, and then he was left with a conundrum. He’d dented Hamfast’s good shovel, so he returned it with an apology and a promise to pay him back, but would Hamfast please lend him a good pickaxe?

Bilbo woke up that next morning with arms that were incredibly sore and demanded he take a day, if not more, off. He agreed. The dwarves had waited this long, they could wait a bit longer. Bilbo went to market, got a drink, avoided questions about what he was up to, dodged a few nosy grandparents, and returned home with arms full of goods. The next day he baked an apology pie for the Gamgees and sent his mother and father cookies, lounging for the rest of the afternoon with a good book. On the third day his arms didn’t yell at him for raising them above his head, so Bilbo hoisted his pickaxe.

“How’s your hole going?” Belladonna asked as she took out a tart to cool. It was nearly time for the harvest festivals. Hobbits loved to work in their fields and grow their goods, and that meant the harvest festivals of the Shire still went on. That meant competitions (his mother was entering a lovely pumpkin she’d been growing all year, while his father was entering in a poetry competition) and baking, canning for the winter, and family time.

“Rather well, I like to think!” Bilbo gave the bread he was kneading one last good push. “I think I’ve nearly reached it, the rocks started to change to the next type of rock underground that I read about in the book that Adamantius lent me last week. It’s supposed to mean you’ve gotten to the next layer or… something. The book was rather complicated. I suppose I’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Maybe you’ll have it fixed in time for the summer planting competitions.” His father brushed his hands off on an apron as he came in from the garden with a basket of potatoes, placing them on the counter and taking a moment to kiss Belladonna’s cheek. For a moment Bilbo wondered if soon he’d be seeing his dwarves, be able to kiss one particular cheek, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was possible he was nowhere near being able to see his dwarves, but that was a thought he’d deal with when he came to it. He was nothing if not practical, as a Baggins (no, Baggins weren’t actually practical, he knew that now, but don’t bother telling the Baggins side that) and he didn’t want to consider that what if.

“Maybe.” he ceded. “But I’m hoping that I’ll be able to make it a permanent feature.”

Bilbo returned to his hole the day after the festivals had finally finished. His larder was filled to bursting, along with all his storage rooms, and he was just planning on doing a little bit of work before settling in with a nice book.

That plan fell a bit short, though. He drove his pickaxe in rather deeply and the earth suddenly crumbled all around him. Bilbo let out a yell as he fell through a suddenly rather large hole, landing with a rather sharp thwack on something… surprisingly soft.

When he looked around, he found that he was surrounded by an incredible amount of short, bearded people wearing multiple colors and gems.

Dwarves.

He looked up and found an incredible amount of sunlight falling on him, along with a decent amount of dirt.

It seemed he’d found the Halls of Mahal. Now the question was how to get back to Yavanna’s Gardens.

...he’d cross that road when he got to it. For now, he had dwarves to find, and, uh, oh dear. The dwarf he was sitting on didn’t look very happy. He jumped off of the poor dwarf’s back.

“I’m so terribly sorry-” Bilbo offered the dwarf a hand. They were covered in braids, with long black hair, and Bilbo tried to dust them off once they were up. “-I had no idea I’d almost broken through like that, I would’ve given some warning.”

“You’re what’s been making all that noise?” a dwarf behind him said. Bilbo turned on his heel. This dwarf was dressed like a miner.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The noise-” the dwarf gestured at the ceiling. “-for the past month, we’ve been getting this awful banging- that’s coming from you? But you’re a halfling!” There was a great deal of yelling at that as the crowd of dwarves surrounding Bilbo all realized what he was. Bilbo felt his cheeks heated up with rage.

“What do you mean a halfling fell through the ceiling?!” someone bellowed after several minutes where Bilbo couldn’t get his voice loud enough. There was a great deal of pushing through the crowd and Bilbo offered another apology to the poor dwarf he’d probably concussed in his fall.

“I’ll have you know I’m not half of anything!” He said loudly into the suddenly silent hall, but there was a further commotion.

“That’s not just a halfling that our halfling!” Bofur, that was Bofur, he knew that voice. A bald dwarf covered in tattoos practically rammed his way through the crowd and there were all his dwarves, looking alive and well and whole, no blood or funeral garb, no sorrowful letters or tearful tales from Frodo about bodies and ancient stone walls. He was hugging them, pinching cheeks and smiling as wide as he had in some time. He did a quick head count - twelve. Where was thirteen, where was-

Oh.

There he was.

Thorin was standing at the other end of the mass of dwarves in the hall, firelight glinting off the silver in his hair and around his neck. There was no sign of gold or bronze, just silver. He practically blended into the cave wall in his nearly black clothes but Bilbo met those beautiful blue eyes and something just clicked. He was covered in dirt, and in his gardening clothes. He looked a mess, he was sure of it, but Thorin was looking at him in a way that made his breath catch in his throat.

“Master Burglar.” Thorin’s voice rumbled across the nearly silent crowd.

A moment later he and Bilbo met in the center of the path, both having run as fast as their feet could carry them. Bilbo’s fingers curled into the thick, wiry hair and he inhaled the smell that was undeniably Thorin.

“I thought I told you to call me Bilbo.” he said in a thick voice after a moment. “Or should I be calling you your majesty?”

“No.” Thorin said instantly. He shook his head and Bilbo felt the gentle thuds as beads connected with his skull. “No. Never you.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Thorin didn’t have the wrinkles around his face anymore, the silver in his hair was less than it had been, but there was still that shadowed look in his eyes. Bilbo took a quick breath, then leaned up and kissed his cheek like his father kissed his mother’s, like he’d been thinking about for ages and ages.

“Hello.” he whispered. “Hello, Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Hello, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.” Thorin’s face was flushed now, but he reached up and brushed his thumb along Bilbo’s jaw.

“That counts as a kiss!” someone bellowed. There was a loud thud and the dwarf, definitely Nori, yelped. “That hurt!”

“Bilbo can we get a boat through your hole?” Fili called. A moment later there was a thud and both Fili and Kili were there, smushing Bilbo into the center of a Durin family hug.

“A bo- what do you need a boat for?”

“I want to find Tauriel.” Kili sounded elated. “If you could get through, then she-”

“Boys, I have to get back up myself, I can’t just pull up a boat-”

“What about cheese?” Bofur piped up. Bilbo realized that the entire company had encircled him. He was surrounded in a mass of dwarves. Stinky, hugging-too-tight, wonderful dwarves that he’d missed. “Bombur’s been talking about that recipe you sent him-”

“He sent me dozens of recipes, you’ll have to be more specific-” Bombur started.

“I told you he could break in, I don’t know why you’re still not giving me money!” that was Nori again, directed at Balin.

“These are the Halls-” Balin began.

“Bullshit, this is Bilbo, he stole from a dragon! This is all in a day’s work for him!”

“Have you seen my Gimli up there?” That was Gloin. “You know, my beautiful laddy, with the curly red hair and the most beautiful eyes, I haven’t been able to find him and we haven’t heard anything about him in a long time for a while, I’m starting to get worried-”

“He just got here, Gloin, don’t start yelling about your kid again-” that was a voice he didn’t totally recognize but he saw Bifur without an axe and grinning widely as he spoke.

Bilbo looked back up at Thorin, who was smiling at him in a way that made him come into focus and drown everything else out.

“I’m glad to see you, Bilbo.”

“I’m glad to see you too.” Bilbo smiled back at him. His dwarf reached up as if to touch his face again, but faltered.

“We’ve… we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“We do.” Bilbo agreed. “Bu-”

“Bilbo?” Someone shouted down the hole. He recognized his mother after a moment. He struggled out of the throng of dwarves much like a whale breaching for air. There was a shadow over the patch of sunlight from above, bits of dirt trickling in.

“I’m fine!” he yelled back. “Be careful, it’s a pretty hard landing at the bottom, I don’t want you to slip!”

“Wait that’s the burglar?” someone in the crowd said. There was a loud shushing noise, a thwap, and an ow.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, Mum, I’m alright!”

“Wait is that your mother?!” Kili and Fili said together.

“Did you find your dwarves?”

“I’m going to regret this-” Bilbo sighed, then he pitched his voice back up high. “I fell but I’m alright, I just didn’t realize how far down I was!” He paused for a moment, then shouted back. “Do we still have the apple picking ladders?”

“I’m sure we can dig one up-” there was his father. Poor Bungo was probably tearing his hair out. “-are you hurt?”

“No, he’s not, he said he’s alright-” his mother’s voice was muffled. “-we’ll go check, darling, stay out of trouble!”

“Can you throw down some cheese?” Bofur shouted.

“Bofur!”

“Oh some apples would be lovely.” Dori sighed.

“And some apples!” Bofur yelled a bit louder.

“Just send down his whole larder!” Kili yelled. “And a boat! I need the hole to be big enough for a boat!”

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. This hole was comfortable, and warm, and cozy. It was also full of Bilbo Baggins’ things. This hobbit had lived a remarkable life and thus his home was quite remarkable in many ways, but the most intriguing bit about this hole was the larger hole in the backyard. It was surrounded by stones, with a lovely set of carved steps going up to the house. It led to a sturdy but worn wooden ladder that had been used for apple picking but now served to connect the Halls of Mahal to Gardens of Yavanna. This ladder fell in the center of a massive stone hall, which was filled with flowers that hobbits would come down to tend to. The two races regularly wandered through Bilbo Baggins’ garden to meet - dwarves would come up for market day bearing gifts and coins, eyeing steaming bread and crisp red apples, while some of the more adventurous hobbits would slide down the ladder to inquire about repairs for their tools.

For Bilbo, though, this hole meant so much more. It meant thirteen dwarves crashing into his house ridiculously early in the morning to nag him into making them breakfast. It meant having his family, blood and not, over for dinner. It meant listening to his mother talk with Dori and Balin about tea, to his father engage Fili and Ori into long tales of age-old tales. It eventually meant Kili tugging a tall, red-haired elf into Bag End no. 2, covered in water while a tired Fili collapsing into a chair complaining that Kili and Tauriel hadn’t stopped making doe-eyes at each other.

It meant that, after a long conversation with tears and laughter and shy touches, Bilbo made dinner with a dwarf that made him laugh as he stole pie filling and got flour on his nose and in his beard. It meant that Bilbo would come back to market to find someone frowning on his porch with little metal bits twisted in his lap as he worked on making ornaments for Bilbo’s garden. It meant that Bilbo Baggins woke up next to Thorin Oakenshield, one hand tangled in that beautiful dark hair. It meant that they sat on the bench under the oak tree and blew smoke rings into the setting sun, holding hands.

When Frodo Baggins finally entered Yavanna’s Gardens, he found his uncle beaming like he hadn’t in years, with a braid in his curls and a ring on his finger. There were thirteen dwarves in the living room, and Frodo was just in time for tea.

---

Thanks for reading!

This is based off of a post made by @wheeloffortune-design about Bilbo digging his way into Halls of Mahal, which has literally been living in my brain since I read it. (and @gallusrostromegalus put down some delightfully funny comments that also made my day) So… here we are. You can find the post here, assuming the link works!

The AO3 link is here!

man i love bagginshield.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #the hobbit #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #my otp honestly #i started shipping this and never stopped

111 notes · View notes

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

My grandmother had died in her apartment a few days ago. I had to get there first to get the things she’d told me I could have before everyone else got there. It helped I was the only one who knew how to get it, or even which apartment hers was. I opened the door with the spare key under the horseshoe ornament she kept in the little bush by the side.

The lightswitch buzzed when I flipped it. The lights clicked on one by one down the narrow hallway until it opened into her living room. No records jingled on the player, no news blared over the TV. Nothing was cooking, no one was singing or talking. It was lonely. I wiped my hands off on my overalls, then looked around the house. Everything had to be boxed and moved out in a week, so the apartment could be leased to someone else.

My dad joined me a few hours later, oil staining his overalls, but he’d brought more boxes.

“Your mother isn’t coming, is she?” he asked around the toothpick in his mouth. I shook my head.

“She didn’t like Nonna, remember?” He grunted, then started asking me what I wanted to keep. Her will had been terribly vague about who got what, basically just saying take what you want. I was here first, I’d always been here first. I got first dibs.

I took small ornaments and a few books, some of her nice dishes and both of our favorite teacups. The photo album of her, her kids, and then all the grandkids. Some of her jewelry too, the ones she’d let me wear when I’d been with her.

I’d lived with her when I was a very small child, actually. I’d lived with her for almost eight years before she finally had a way to contact my dad, and a year longer while the courts figured out custody. Even after I’d lived with him, I’d had weekly visits to see Nonna for dinner and a playdate. As I’d gotten older it was for outings and dinner, a break from home for both me and Dad.

It took maybe four hours to get everything sorted. I had three boxes of her things I wanted. Dad had picked up some books from her shelf and a very nice knife set.

“You know you won’t be able to get anything else out of here the moment the rest of your family land, don’t you?” Dad adjusted one of the boxes in his arms.

“...yeah, give me a minute. I’m… I’m just going to double check I got everything.”

I picked up a few window ornaments I hadn’t noticed, a fancy deck of cards, then checked her bedroom again. I’d already stolen some of her pictures, mostly of the two of us when I was small, but there was a flag over her window I hadn’t noticed before. It was clearly very old; it was a faded pale blue with silver and gold embroidery on the edges. The edges were frayed. Yellow daffodils, pink lotuses, and ivy crisscrossed over each other in the shape of a wreath. I hesitated. I didn’t have much space in my dorm room, and I only had one window that I’d already covered with plants, but I supposed a flag couldn’t hurt. I’d find a space for it.

Dad and I left as it started growing dark. We placed our treasures in the back of his truck, his hunting dog panting in the backseat. He dropped me off at my apartment, staying for dinner, but he had work the next morning and I had classes.

He left me with my loot. I spread it out on the small table I had in the kitchen, putting some of the larger things on the tiny bit of counter space. I put the tea cups in the upper cabinet with my chipped pair of wine glasses, the cards and books went onto the bookshelf covered in dust and textbooks. I put the pictures on my bedside table, next to my alarm clock, and added her jewelry to my collection.

I didn’t touch the flag until after I got back from my English Lit class after lunch the next day. I carefully strung the flag onto a sturdy string and hung it so it dangled from the top of the window. It was a lovely day out, warm and cozy. I left the window cracked.

Lili called me that afternoon and we went out to dinner. We talked about avoiding calls from our mothers and bad grades, my boy problems and her latest girlfriend, but the sky crackled with thunder as we paid the bill.

“Motherfucker I left my window open.” Lili laughed.

“You’ll get a bird inside your house if you’re not careful.” I kicked her, but we split. I took the bus back home. My we sneakers squelched against the carpet as I headed up to the fourth floor. I greeted the freshmen and unlocked my door, fully prepared to find a pool of water on the carpet again. The door clicked behind me and I let out a long, tired sigh that was cut short as my keys clattered against the tile.

There was something sitting in the chair facing the door. Actually, it was sitting on the back of the chair, staring at me. It had long… not quite bleach blond hair and almost black skin. If it was standing on the floor it might have reached my knee. It wore clothing that didn’t seem to be made of any fabric I’d ever seen before; the blue dress seemed to ripple like pond water when it moved even the slightest bit, and the brown vest looked like tree bark.

There was a trail of water staining the carpet from the window to where it was sitting on the chair. I rubbed my eyes very very hard and blinked rapidly, but it was still there. Actually it was standing on the table, peering at me with large eyes. I couldn’t quite explain their color, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“You’re not Brettal.” It had a surprisingly squeaky but low voice. Like a really big rubber duck.

“I…” I rubbed my eyes again, then focused on the space above its head instead of its eyes. “No. I… um… I didn’t have anything to drink with Lili. Did I?” I looked behind myself at the door. “I-”

“It’s impolite not to introduce yourself.” The thing said rather crossly.

“I… sure. What the hell. I’m Giovella. Who are you and why are you in my room?”

“My name is-” it said something I absolutely couldn’t imitate. It sounded like a keyboard smash said aloud. “-and I am a friend of Brettal’s. Why do you have her Welcome?”

“Her what?”

“Above the Entrance you so kindly left cracked.” It pointed.

“I- you mean my grandmother’s flag?”

“Yes, that.”

“I… I took it. From her house.” I slowly peeled off my sweater, dropping it on the hook I’d stuck to the wall as a coat hanger.

“You stole it?” Its hair spiked like a porcupine and its dress turned red, frothing like a coffee being made by the cute boy at the Starbucks. “You stole from Brettal? Oh, death! Death for-”

“It’s not stealing if she’s dead.” I said sharply, “She was my grandmother and I took what I wanted from her house.” Keyboard Smash stopped.

“She… she’s dead?”

“Yeah.” I locked the door behind me with a bit of a sigh. “What are you doing in my house?”

“It’s raining.” Keyboard Smash sounded a little lost. “Brettal leaves the window open so I can get out and stay warm. I thought…”

“Nonna knew you?” Keyboard Smash nodded. “I… how?”

“We were Friends from the Forest.” Keyboard Smash looked around my room, then went over to the bookshelf. It tugged the photo album hard and it fell off the shelf before I could grab it. The little thing grabbed the dark green cover and heaved it open, then flipped to one of the pages. It was a picture of my grandmother as a little girl, her hair in double braids as she beamed at the camera. She was standing in front of a stone cottage, a forest behind her. She’d told me many stories of running about having adventures.

“From the woods near her house?” I asked rather flatly.

“Yes. She made the flag so We could visit.”

“We?”

“Me. And the Others.” Keyboard Smash sat on the edge of the table. It looked lost and I looked away awkwardly, then sighed.

“Can I, uh, get you something to eat?” I asked awkwardly.

“Tea?”

“I’ve only got, like, I dunno. Lipton. And my kettle’s broken, so I’ll have to use the microwave.”

“Do you have sugar?”

Soon enough there were oreos on the table with a pair of steaming kettles. I used my favorite cup and offered my grandmother’s to Keyboard Smash. It kept chattering about the house and Nonna, the flag, and the Others. There were probably four tablespoons of sugar in its cup.

“So… just to be clear…” Keyboard Smash was enthusiastically dunking its oreos into the mug, leaving floating chunks, but it stopped and looked at me. “You came in because the flag was up, because that’s what Nonna did?” Keyboard Smash nodded. “So… me having my window open, when it was raining… made you think I was Nonna.”

“Exactly.”

“And… if I keep the flag up, you’ll keep coming in?”

“That’s correct.”

“Are the others… like you?”

“Oh no, we’re all different.” Keyboard Smash started making odd noises in the back of its throat. It sounded a little like it was choking. “-is very fond of chocolate, Brettal made the best cookies and they would eat all of them if they got there first,” More noises, this time like the garbage disposal at my dad’s. “-shows up on sunny days when its hot out, she like to sit on ice cubes-” Keyboard Smash kept going and I lost track of all the noises and adventures. “-Brettal always let us in.” I thought for a bit, then rubbed my face.

“And if I close my window, or I put the flag down-”

“Then we don’t come in. That’s the Rules.” Keyboard Smash nodded. I looked out at the rain.

“I’ve got a paper I have to do.” I said after a bit. “And the freshmen come into my room when they’ve got problems, which is pretty often. I don’t think you should be seen. But if you want to stay for a bit, I don’t mind.”

“What about the Others?”

“I think that would be acceptable. Just, uh, not today.” Keyboard Smash burped as it shoved the last oreo into its mouth, then it picked up the plate and lifted it up like Simba. More chunks trailed onto the table.

“If you are going to be papering, may I have more Oreos?”

While cleaning, you find an old dusty flag with a colorful pattern of leaves and flowers in a box of your late grandmother’s things. Thinking it festive, you clean and hang it up outside for Spring. You didn’t know that it was an invitation for Fey creatures to shelter in for the night.

#writing #personal #personal writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #this seemed like a nice prompt to get back into things

5K notes · View notes

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

Hi everyone! I have no idea why I’m reblogging things with my writing account but I’ll try to fix it, this is supposed to be for writing only. If you want to see my actual account then look at @milliethekitty27 . Sorry!

#personal #whoops #that wasn’t supposed to happen #and it’s only happening on my phone?

0 notes

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

England and Tea

The very first time Arthur Kirkland had his first cup of tea, he wasn’t very impressed. It was popular elsewhere, especially in Portugal, but he’d just… never really liked it. He actually hadn’t tried it much, but João loved it and kept trying to convince him to drink it. Arthur usually waved a hand and made some other comment, generally teasing João about preferring leaf juice to a much stronger ale. João always rolled his eyes.

“You’ll discover how delicious it is one day.” he’d say.

“I think that we’ll find a black swan before that happens.” Arthur would roll his eyes right back and they’d carry on whatever conversation they’d been having.

João accompanied Catherine of Braganza when she traveled to Britain in 1662 to marry the new King Charles II. It was an awful crossing; even João looked a bit seasick. The princess immediately asked for a cup of tea after stepping off on the dock.

João laughed as Arthur flailed a little. Arthur offered her an ale instead, but the princess looked disappointed.

“I think you’ll have to start looking for a black swan, my friend.” João said at the wedding ceremony. He was holding a cup of tea while Arthur still held onto an ale. “She’s going to take your court by storm.”

“She’s Catholic.” Arthur snorted into his mug. “That alone is enough.”

Arthur liked Catherine, though. She was a bit pious, but she was fashionable. She walked with him fairly often, talking about the past kings and queens. She may not have been popular queen, surrounded by controversy, but for a Roman Catholic she wasn’t too bad. Catherine was a quiet and mild woman that never turned against her ever-sleeping-with-others husband and had grown to seemingly embrace the English court life. She grew on Arthur, for her love of the countryside, for her curiosity, and her personality. She was more interesting than he’d originally thought, even if she was Roman Catholic.

She got him to taste tea in 1671, after years of trying to convince him. She pressed the cup into his unwilling hands and watched as he tasted it.

He almost spat it out all over her and João almost cried laughing, visiting for a short period before he’d return home.

“Ale is far better.” he said. She’d made a face at him and Charles II had laughed from where he was sitting.

She had kept trying, though, and as it grew more popular Arthur had to cave - it wasn’t as bad as he thought. (he would die before he admitted it to João, though, because João was unbearable when he was smug)

Arthur accompanied her to Portugal in 1692, several years after Charles II had died. He was going to wait a few days before returning back, both to settle her in and to speak with João about some issues, but she insisted he stay for tea one morning before he left.

“Tell me, dear Arthur-” his former queen said rather mildly, her cup clicking onto the saucer. “-have you grown more fond of tea, or have all my efforts been in vain?” Arthur made a bit of a face.

“I like it.” he admitted finally. “Just don’t tell João.” João let out a bark of laughter, settling into the empty chair at Catherine’s other side after shucking off his coat. Arthur went red. “I just said it to make her happ-”

“Sure you did, my friend.” João kept grinning. “I suppose you’ll inform me that you’ve found some black swans, then?” Arthur scowled.

Arthur’s interest in tea grew and grew, even after Catherine died. Tea was popular at court, he’d say defensively. The East India Company, originally encouraged by Charles II, grew more and more powerful as it brought the tea he so loved. India and China had tea galore, which he savored on every visit. He declared war over spilled tea (America found out that the hard way) and found strength in the hot porcelain he’d press between his hands in any weather. He and João drank tea together despite the other trends, remembering a mild mannered queen who teased Arthur about his love for ale.

The first nation Arthur invited for afternoon tea was João. It was 1850 and Arthur had attended a few of Duchess Anna of Bedford’s little tea parties. They were enjoyable and he enjoyed the hour or so to just relax a bit. João visited him and found Arthur sitting in the garden, a tray of sandwiches and cakes sitting next to the steaming pot of tea along with two cups. The British Empire raised an eyebrow.

“Are you coming to join me, then?” he asked rather dryly. João had laughed.

“If Catherine saw you now, I don’t think she’d recognize you.”

“I have grown more refined with age.” João had shaken his head, but they’d sat in the garden and drunk their tea, chatting about this and that like the old men they were (much of it was spent complaining about their rowdier neighbors and the struggles of colonies)

Arthur’s love of tea stayed with him to the current day. He recalled Matthew handing him a steaming mug before they set off to discuss the matter of confederation, or sitting with Neeraja under the hot Indian sun to bicker about business. He remembered holding the lukewarm cups in shaking hand as he hid in a foxhole with Francis, the pair of them silently remembering days when the only thing you had to fear from the sky was an arrow or the rain, or gripping a cup as Churchill roared assurances over the radio that the war was not over yet, that they would stay calm and carry on. He drank tea whenever his blood pressure threatened to boil over (which was frequent in those Cold War years) and he only refrained dunking his cup over Francis’ head when he was stupid because he’d much rather drink the cup.

Arthur kept a great china cabinet in his household. Many of the cups were incredibly old and faded with age and use. Some of them were newer and the ones he broke out when João came over to visit and they took tea together. Some of them were gifts, some were ones he’d bought, but he had a few on the top shelf that had belonged to Catherine or the other royals he treasured.

Oh yes, he’d hated tea before, but now he would drink it whenever he needed. He just wouldn’t thank João for introducing it to him. After all, he couldn’t have João getting too big of a head now.

Judging by João’s smug smile, João knew that Arthur appreciated tea too much and was just too proud to thank him for it. Git.

----

Thanks for reading!

Read this on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28014237

This was written after I started wondering about tea in England, while drinking a cup of tea. For something that the English so love, it really hasn’t been around that long; it was popularized by Catherine of Braganza, a Portuguese princess, in the 1660s.

I have midterms/finals coming up so I can’t be quite as thorough as I might have wanted to be, but that’s how life is in December; exams and holidays. Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate!

Source 1: “A Brief history and Types of British Tea” by Elaine Lemm.

Source 2: “Afternoon Tea” by Ben Johnson

Source 3: “The History of Tea”

Source 4: “Catherine of Braganza” from Wikipedia

João Henrique Lisboa-Carriedo is a fan name I found for APH Portugal. Portugal and England have a super long history together, apparently going back to the Treaty of Windsor in 1386 and some events earlier. I like to think they’re friends that bitch about Spain, France, and literally everyone else plus get into passionate discussions about anything and everything. Neeraja is the name I’ve been using for India.

Also, fun fact, there are black swans in Australia. England would explore Australia under James Cook in like 1770, so England actually liked tea before he found black swans. Ha ha.

#writing #fanfiction #hetalia #Axis Powers Hetalia #aph england #arthur kirkland #arthur kirkland x tea #aph portugal #historical hetalia #tea is superior to coffee and you cannot change my mind #i'll take leaf juice over bean juice

29 notes · View notes

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

@milliethekitty27-writing wrote a wonderful fic based on my hogwarts au and as germano god im ORDERING everyone to read it.

i’m crying over it and i already read it twice, it’s so perfect please read it 😭😭😭😭

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823528/chapters/68116990

30 notes · View notes

milliethekitty27-writing · 3 years

Text

Friendly Rivalry

The first time Lovino met Ludwig Beilschmidt, they were twelve years old. Slytherin and Gryffindor had history of magic and potions together, and Ludwig Beilschmidt sat in the row ahead of Lovino. He was tall, and blond, and Lovino hated him. Why? He wasn’t sure. He just… hated him.

Over the years, though, through the Yule Ball and awkward dates (with other people, mind you) Lovino and Ludwig became friends. That fact was blamed on Lovino’s Ravenclaw brother, Feliciano, because he and Ludwig were friends. (Lovino still wasn’t sure how that had happened.) Both Lovino and Ludwig griped about Feliciano’s longtime crush on his fellow Ravenclaw, Kiku Honda, who was in their year and top of his class and apparently oblivious to Feliciano’s fawning. They watched as Feliciano tried (and failed) to flirt with him, a bit like a very sad sitcom that started out funny but now was just a bit depressing. Lovino and Ludwig still kept up their bickering from second year, but it never had quite the same bite.

Ludwig and Lovino were in their fifth year. They’d been supposed to go with Feliciano to Honeydukes, but he’d unfortunately seen Kiku in the windows of one of the other shops of Hogsmeade. Now they were sitting outside on a stone wall, watching Feliciano trail Kiku like a lost puppy. It was starting to snow and cold. Lovino had shoved his hands into his pockets and was wondering if they could just leave his brother here to bemoan his fate. Instead, he let out a long disgruntled sigh while Ludwig kept awkwardly looking down the street.

“He just wants senpai to notice him.” Lovino muttered. Ludwig snorted, then burst out laughing. “It’s not that funny you moron!”

“But it’s true.” Ludwig wheezed. He was still grinning when a dejected Feliciano came out, complaining that Kiku had barely spoken to him.

“He’ll notice you next time.” Lovino pat his shoulder, though he didn’t necessarily believe it. Ludwig muffled a snort behind his hands but Feliciano did brighten.

When they passed one of the glass windows, Lovino pretended the red on his face was from the wind and not from watching his normally stoic classmate loss his chocolate frogs over something really pretty unfunny.

Lovino realized he liked Ludwig in his seventh year. Ludwig, Lovino, Kiku, Feliciano, and a friend of Lovino’s named Natalia were going to the Yule ball as a big group since none of them wanted to go with a date (rather, Feliciano had been too terrified of rejection from Kiku since last year’s catastrophe) They met up outside of the hall. Lovino and Natalia got there first. She was dressed in a chic white dress that went to her knees and was covered in holly that shimmered in the candlelight, plus short white gloves with her hair swept into a ponytail. Lovino had decided to go in a white suit covered in shimmering frost that his grandfather had sent from Italy. He’d promised the absolute best fashion and to not making him and Feliciano match. (last year really had been a disaster)

To no one’s surprise, Ludwig was right on time. Lovino was too busy peering down the hall to search for his brother and Kiku, but Natalia made a noise of appreciation.

“Now that’s a tall class of butterbeer.” She elbowed Lovino and he looked up. Ludwig’s hair was slicked back (like it always was) and he was dressed in a sharp black tailcoat, along with a black vest. Underneath was a deep red dress shirt. He was wearing black shoes and dress pants and he looked highly uncomfortable as he kept tugging on the sleeves. Lovino got another elbow to the side. “Stop staring and close your mouth.” His jaw snapped shut as Ludwig approached, looking rather relieved.

“I’m not the last one?”

“You’re right on time.” Natalia said. She kicked Lovino when he didn’t say anything. “This one’s brother hasn’t arrived yet, but no one’s surprised.”

“Probably busy ogling Kiku.” Ludwig said.

“You’re not very winter-y.” Lovino muttered finally.

“Red’s a Christmas color.” Ludwig frowned.

“Well, it’s not-”

“He means that you look nice.” Natalia linked arms with Ludwig. Lovino scowled at her and she smiled very sweetly, clearly squeezing Ludwig’s arm. The Gryffindor looked between them in confusion.

Kiku and Feliciano had shown up a bit later, maybe five minutes after Ludwig. Kiku was wearing a nearly-black suit with red lining and a white shirt, while Feliciano was wearing dark green with a grey shirt. They eventually melded with the mass heading into the hall. Natalia was still hanging off Ludwig’s arm and Lovino really didn’t like that. She kept smirking at him, which Lovino hated even more.

They looked really good together. It irritated him and he didn’t understand why. He flipped her off when Ludwig wasn’t looking and she laughed.

The ball itself was fun, even if Natalia hung on Ludwig for too long, and he bid the rest of them goodnight as they parted ways. He power walked in front of Natalia and she laughed at him but didn’t pursue.

Lovino barely slept that night. He kept tossing and turning because how could anyone look that good in a suit (besides him) and just… ugh. This was Ludwig, he wasn’t supposed to be pretty. His heart had beat too fast every time he’d looked at him and it felt all weird and-

oh.

oooooooh fuck.

oh fuckity fuck spaghetti on a stick.

He liked Ludwig.

Lovino drew his silencing curtains very tight, buried his face in a pillow, and screamed.

Despite his newfound… emotions, Lovino didn’t make any move on the Gryffindor head boy. It was the end of seven years of school and too much to deal with. Instead he bitched to his grandfather over holiday breaks (Nonno laughed so hard it seemed like he was about to cry. Lovino may have flipped him off) and did his homework. He pressed in for the final tests, his NEWTs, and he regularly met with his head of house. He’d decided, some time ago, that he wanted to be a professor, and he wanted to work in astronomy. The current Professor, Akila Hassan (her Ravenclaw son Gupta had graduated in seventh year and Feliciano had adored him, which had been a mark in Lovino’s favor because everyone loved Feliciano and Akila had looked at his gruff attitude and thought it was charming) had long been Lovino’s favorite professor and he had always enjoyed her class, but she was nearing retirement age. He’d asked if he could apply for her spot and if she could wait until he could take her place.

He passed his NEWTs with decent enough grades that she agreed - he had to take a two year course at a magically university for teaching and astronomy, and then she’d take him on if she liked his style. He bid his friends goodbye (Feliciano was also aiming to be a professor, hopefully for charms, which meant working with his brother but also working with his brother) at the graduation podium. He really did consider kissing Ludwig goodbye, because Ludwig looked so good in his robes and his red tie with the proud flush on his pale face, but both Ludwig’s older brother (Gilbert, a Hufflepuff who’d annoyed the entire group until he graduated their third year) and father were there and Lovino just wasn’t going to do anything in front of them. So he settled with a handshake that ended up being a hug, and he figured that was the last of that. (did he dream about his cheek being pressed to that magnificently hard chest, inhaling the smell that he could never place but was definitely Ludwig and might have been what he smelled when they brewed amortentia? Perhaps, but he’d deny it if you asked)

Except, two years after he started teaching for good, five years after he graduated from Hogwarts, Professor Binns finally kicked the bucket. Three days later, it was announced who the new professor would be. Ludwig Beilschmidt stepped back into Lovino’s life and he was going to scream because somehow Ludwig was prettier and he just wanted to touch the muscles.

Kiku and Feliciano weren’t very sympathetic. One night at Madame Rosmerta’s with almost all of the teaching staff (as a bonding experience, Headmaster Wang had said, but everyone used it as a chance to drink and have fun. This was two years before Ludwig had come back into Lovino’s life) had resulted in several confessions. Feliciano had told the entire staff that he’d had a huge crush on Kiku in their school years but oh yeah I’m definitely over it now! Nothing more than good buddies! That had resulted in an equally drunk Kiku confessing that he had also had a crush, which then resulted in them snogging in the corner while Gilbert, Alfred, and Erzebet hooted and hollered. Lovino had confessed that he’d had a bit of a crush on Ludwig, which only his brother had heard somehow around the kissing noises.

“You could tell him.” he’d suggested, Kiku’s lips at his neck.

“Who knows what he’s doing now?” Lovino had waved a hand. “It’s fine. It was just a crush. Besides, he’s not even here.”

Well, now he was here and Lovino had a very big problem; every time History of Magic Professor Ludwig Beilschmidt walked past him, dressed in black and red or blue or whatever, Lovino’s heart went doki doki.

He wrote his friend Antonio who played quidditch with the Spanish team, he wrote his Nonno, he complained to his friend Manon, the healer, or Natalia who was now the defense against the dark arts professor. He went out and saw Ludwig doing his morning workouts at the buttcrack of dawn because the man looked good in a tank top and athletic shorts. They talked about business and students, about what they’d been up to, and Lovino had never wanted to kiss him more than watching Ludwig complain about students who couldn’t tell the difference between the goblin wars.

It was driving him mad and no one was helpful. They just told him to confess already or laughed at him.

When they got the positions of the heads of house, after some deliberation by headmaster Yao, their friendship threw itself back into the rivalry of their second year. They exchanged quips over breakfast about the points, they threw themselves into the Quidditch Cup (the first year, Gryffindor won and Lovino was still bitter) and into the House Cup. (Ravenclaw won that year, under the Arithmancy professor Francis Bonnefoy. Both Feliciano and Kiku were smug about that. Lovino and Ludwig bonded over complaining about the snide comments)

Lovino pined away for Ludwig Beilschmidt, who was somehow still none the wiser and he had no idea how this idiot was still oblivious to it. He hated how much his heart sang when he saw Ludwig in his Gryffindor sweaters over winter break, hated how much seeing the idiot smile made his heart do the thing, he just- ugh. It was fine. He’d get over it, eventually. Ludwig had never shown any interest in him anyway.

Almost two years after they’d gotten the heads of houses position, Ludwig informed the rest of the staff that he was going on a trip to Brazil with a few other historians to explore one of the regions rumored to be rich with information and relics from the ancient peoples. He would be gone for at least a month, perhaps two, but he’d return for the school year. Lovino waved as he left with a promise to get dinner at the Three Broomsticks.

When Lovino arrived with Feliciano after visiting their Nonno for most of the summer, he went to Ludwig’s room. The professor wasn’t there. Gilbert, the flying instructor, told him that Ludwig hadn’t been heard from since the beginning of the summer, and that Ludwig’s family was starting to get worried.

Gupta, who’d been speaking with Ludwig a lot before he left, shook his head at dinner when the topic came up.

“Mother had a few places she didn’t visit for any trips.” he said when Erzebet pressed. “Brazil had lots of interesting things for her, she’d always liked history, but there were so many unknowns in the forests and so many curses that she feared she’d never return. I tried to tell Ludwig not to go, but… he said it was too good of an opportunity.” The entire table stared at him.

“You mean he might be dead?” Gilbert asked. Gupta sighed.

“Perhaps. Perhaps he’s just trapped. Brazil is a beautiful but unpredictable place. The area he was going to is… not supposed to be very friendly.”

The rest of the summer was melancholic. They prepared for students but were very aware of the empty seat between Gilbert and Lovino, of the empty classroom at the end of the hall. Lovino hated it. They got a substitute, Vasilica Popescu, for history of magic, and Professor Erzebet Hédévary took over as the Gryffindor head of house until they heard from Ludwig again.

Two weeks into the school year, late at night, there was a great commotion in the hall. Lovino was woken up by his brother’s silvery wolf patronus.

“Ludwig’s here.” Feliciano’s voice sounded frantic. Lovino didn’t listen to the rest of the message, instead pulling on his black robe and running down the hall swearing under his breath.

Ludwig was in the hospital wing, which had taken Lovino a minute to realize. All of the staff was already there and he was speaking with Gilbert, who looked ready to cry or strangle him. Ludwig was still dressed in a brown coat and his arm was being tended to by Manon, who didn’t look happy either. There was a wicked looking cut bleeding through his right arm, like he’d been splinched, and he had a bandage on his cheek. His knee looked odd and his right elbow was clearly broken. Lovino slammed the door open and the staff parted like the sea.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he snarled it. Ludwig looked up at him with rather wide eyes.

“If you upset him I’m kicking you out.” Manon warned. Lovino waved an acknowledging hand, but he did lower his voice.

“You were gone for months longer than you said! And then it turns out that Gupta was telling you not to go and you went anyways! We got nothing from you, at all, and now you just show up in the middle of the night?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Lovino kept going for almost five minutes. Ludwig kept blinking at him rather dopily and it eventually led to Lovino trailing off, because dopy Ludwig was a very innocent and sweet looking Ludwig, and it meant Ludwig was gazing at him like he was the night sky.

Lovino stepped back when the headmaster arrived. Ludwig would be resuming his position as head of house, but he’d be taking some time to recover before retaking his position of teacher.

Ludwig was back on his feet the next morning. His knee had been completely fixed but his arm was still bandaged (Manon had done what she could, but splinchings were nasty things and on top of the elbow she wasn’t taking any chances) and he still had a bandage on his cheek. He was too busy catching up and checking in with the students in his house (all of whom were glad to see him back) to really chat but Lovino caught up with him in the library behind one of the bookshelves, looking at something. He turned when Lovino stepped behind the otherwise empty shelves. They looked at each other, then Lovino huffed.

“If you ever do that again, I’ll beat you with my telescope.” The idea of losing this stupid man had been killing Lovino for literal months, and then Ludwig just showed up with his arm falling off and grinned at him like he was… something? It made his head spin. Ludwig stared at him for a moment, then smiled a little.

“You were worried about me?” Lovino was fairly certain he wasn’t imagining the pink flush spreading across those beautiful cheekbones, but he was livid enough to ignore it.

“You almost died!” Lovino spat. “You just disappeared over the summer and then show up two weeks into the school year with-”

“You were worried about me.” Ludwig was still smiling and it made Lovino’s heart do the thing again. He hated it.

“Yes I was!” Lovino threw his hands in the air. “Are you listening to me threaten you!? Or did the potions Manon gave you addle your brain even more?!” Ludwig just smiled at him dopely again and Lovino had to look away. “Just- don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” After a moment, Ludwig leaned forwards and kissed his forehead. Lovino’s heart went from fifty to a hundred and he felt his cheeks burn. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I won’t do it again.” Ludwig stepped back, pink cheeked again. “A-after all, I wouldn’t want to get hit with the telescope.”

“Damn right you wouldn’t.” Lovino managed after a moment. His eyes were focused on Ludwig’s lips because wow they were right there and they’d touched his forehead holy fuck. “I… uh… I’m gonna… go. Back to my classroom. I’ll see you at dinner..” Ludwig looked disappointed and Lovino’s heart protested violently.

“You don’t have to.” Ludwig said tentatively. “I could use a bit of catch up on what’s been happening.”

“I… I think I have to.” If I don’t I’m going to kiss you until you’re seeing stars. “You already got the catch ups from everyone else.”

“I’d rather get it from you.” Lovino took a step back and Ludwig reached for him. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Lovino shook his head. “I… I don’t know. I’m… God…” Ludwig still resembled a confused dog and Lovino finally cracked. He stepped forwards and pulled Ludwig down to proper height, pressing his lips tightly to his. They were warm, a little chapped, and tasted like maple syrup from breakfast. Ludwig froze, Lovino let go, then he bolted out from the shelves. When he risked a glance over his shoulder, Ludwig was staring after him with a completely red face. Lovino turned the corner and left the library. Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

He didn’t go down to breakfast the next few days and he avoided the halls like the plague. Feliciano thought he might be sick but Lovino told him to fuck off when he asked if he needed to see Manon, so Feliciano was less worried.

About a week after, there was a knock on his door. He was expecting one of his fifth years. “Come in.”

Ludwig pushed open the door and Lovino really considered diving under his desk and hiding for the next four years, but he froze instead. Ludwig’s arm was still wrapped up but the cut on his face had healed up. They both stared at each other for a minutes.

“I’ve got a fifth year any time now.” he muttered. “So make this quick.” Ludwig swallowed.

“So… that.” He flailed a little, then pointed at his lips like an idiot. “Was… was that… romantic? I know you and Feli do the kissing thing for greetings, it’s an It-”

“Italians kiss cheeks to say hello, not lips.” Lovino snapped. “And so what, if it was? I’ve liked you since seventh year, and-”

“Hogsmeade.” Ludwig blurted. His face was even more red than his robes.

“...what about it?”

“Uh. I’ve liked you since Hogsmeade. Fifth year.” He buried his face in his hands. “I- Do you want to go at some point, with me? As a… a date?”

Lovino’s Ravenclaw fifth year, Michelle Payet, didn’t end up having her meeting. She peeked inside the open door and found Professor Vargas pinning Professor Beilschmidt to the desk. (This was despite the fact that Professor Vargas was several inches shorter than Professor Beilschmidt.) She very slowly closed the door, then power walked down the hall.

When the pair of professors arrived at dinner that night, all the teachers were grinning. Headmaster Wang glanced up at them as they sat next to each other like they always did.

“I hope that you don’t make a habit of making out during class hours.” he said rather brightly. Ludwig went red, burying his face in his hands, and Lovino just grinned.

“I make no promises.” He loosely took Ludwig’s hand. Ludwig squeezed, and he squeezed back, his heart still making those goddamn doki dokis but at least he knew that Ludwig’s was doing the same thing.

----

Thanks for reading!

This fic is also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823528

This is all Frukmerunning’s fault. They posted about a Harry Potter AU and it lived in my head rent free for a few days. It’s also their fault that I ship Germano as much as I do now. (and Itapan. Damn you. I’m not sure if I’ve got their characterization quiiiiiiite right but I’m happy with it)

Natalia was included in the Yule Ball group because she was the only person in their year I had (for some reason? I kind of just… estimated the ages as I thought they worked) and I like her. Plus if anyone is going to make fun of Lovino about this, it’s her and Manon and I already had a plan for Manon.

I do have a list of sortings and positions that I made for my own amusement (this took a day of my life I will never get back) I’ll post it under the cut. There’s sort of a rhyme and reason for it but I can’t explain it, so…

House sortings

Gryffindor:

Ludwig (Germany) 1st year

Feliks (Poland) 2nd year

Erzebet (Hungary) 4th year

Govert (Netherlands) 4th year

Alistair (Scotland) 4th year

Matthias (Denmark) 5th year

Ivan (Russia) 6th year

Yao (China, much older than everyone else)

Slytherin:

Lovino (Romano) 1st year

Natalia (Belarus) 1st year

Antonio (Spain) 2nd year

Arthur (England) 3rd year

Carlos (Cuba) 3rd year

Brigid (Ireland) 5th year

Tino (Finland) 6th year

Sadiq (Turkey) 7th year

Basch (Switzerland) 7th year

Ravenclaw:

Kiku (Japan) 1st year

Feliciano (N. Italy) 1st year

Soren (Norway) 2nd year

Dylan (Wales) 3rd year

Francis (France) 4th year

Roderich (Austria) 4th year

Vasilica (Romania) 6th year

Gupta (Egypt) 7th year

Hufflepuff:

Alfred (America) 2nd year

Matthew (Canada) 2nd year

Heracles (Greece) 2nd year

Manon (Belgium) 3rd year

Gilbert (Prussia) 4th year

Lin Yi Ling (Taiwan) 5th year

Berwald (Sweden) 7th year

Irunya (Ukraine) 7th year

Staff members:

Ancient Runes - Sadiq Adnan

Arithmancy - Francis Bonnefoy

Astronomy - Lovino Vargas

Care of magical creatures - Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo

Charms - Feliciano Vargas

Defense against the dark arts - Natalia Braginskya

Divination - Arthur Kirkland

Flying - Gilbert Beilschmidt

Headmaster - Yao Wan

Healer - Manon Abelsson

Herbology - Matthew Williams

History of magic - Ludwig Beidschmidt

Librarian - Gupta Hassan

Muggle studies - Alfred Jones

Potions - Kiku Honda

Transfiguration - Erzebet Hédévary

Former Astronomy professor - Akila Hassan (Ancient Egypt)

Heads of houses:

Slytherin - Lovino Vargas

Gryffindor - Ludwig Beilschmidt

Hufflepuff - Matthew Williams

Ravenclaw - Francis Bonnefoy

Students:

Peter (Sealand) - Hufflepuff 2nd year

Wendy (Wy) - Gryffindor 2nd year

Erland (Ladonia) - Hufflepuff 2nd year

Leopold (Kugelmugel) - Ravenclaw 2nd year

Maximus (Molossia) - Gryffindor 3rd year

Dmitri (Moldova) - Slytherin 3rd year

Michael (Hutt River) - Hufflepuff 3rd year

Im Yong Soo (S. Korea) - Hufflepuff 4th year

Michelle (Seychelles) - Ravenclaw 5th year

Louise (Monaco) - Slytherin 5th year

Elise (Liechtenstein) - Hufflepuff 5th year

Emil (Iceland) - Hufflepuff 6th year

Wang Jia Long/Leon (Hong Kong) - Ravenclaw 6th year

Jett (Australia) - Gryffindor 7th year

Lux (Luxembourg) - Slytherin 7th year

Neeraja (India) - Slytherin 7th year

33 notes · View notes