#augusta withers
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Fuschias by English natural history illustrator, Augusta Withers, published in Illustrated Bouquet, 1857 ♀️
#women artists#women's art#english artist#english natural history illustrator#female illustrator#augusta withers#illustrated bouquet#1857
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#web weaving#boom! comics power rangers#theme: protector; caretaker; lover; fighter; brave and true#@lamptheentertainer#Fuschias by Augusta Withers#Bright Star (2009)#the power of the dog (2021)#in the cut (2003)#sweetie (1989)#the color of pomegranates (1969)#belladonna of sadness#@stonedpiece#@r-si#@eggshellfriend#@zorosdimples#@kalichnikov#suzume no tojimari#studio ghibli | anime food#@jordanstrophe#Farkas Bulkmeier#Coinless Bulk#Kimberly Hart#Ranger Slayer Kim
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n838_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library
Via Flickr:
The gardener's assistant :. London ;Blackie & Son,1859.. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/57724435
#Gardening#Horticulture#U.S. Department of Agriculture#National Agricultural Library#bhl:page=57724435#dc:identifier=https://biodiversitylibrary.org/page/57724435#Augusta Innes Withers#HerNaturalHistory#WomenInScience#flickr#phalaenopsis grandiflora#Correa cardinalis#Moth orchid#moon orchid#mariposa orchid#anggrek bulan#orchid#orchids#eastern correa#Correa reflexa#common correa#correa#native fuchsia#botanical illustration#scientific illustration
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The Black Death: Part 6
On the fifth night of Wilhelm's confinement within the dungeon, he had become extremely ill. Boils covered his pale, sickly body as he sat feebly in the corner of the cold stone room. In his final moments, he looked up and couldn't believe his eyes. Before him stood three spirits—the ghost of his late wife Fiona, her severed head floating in front of her body, clearly enraged. She looked to Wilhelm and said, "You thought death would spare you from the consequences of your malevolence, Wilhelm. Your cruelty did not die with me; it festered and grew in the heart of our daughter, whom you callously mistreated after my passing. You dared to execute me when our child was but a tender three years old, denying her a mother's love and subjecting her to the darkness you embody. Your reign was built on the foundation of my demise, but now, in death, I return to witness your kingdom crumble and your soul wither in eternal torment. The suffering you've sown will be your only legacy."
Wilhelm looked blankly at the spirits, unable to fathom what he saw before his eyes. Before he could respond, the spirit of his father, King Wilhelm IV, interrupted, "Wilhelm, my son, you may have taken my crown 29 years ago, lifting the burden that weighed heavily upon me. Yet, as I gaze upon the path you've chosen, my heart is heavy with disappointment. The legacy you've crafted is one of cruelty and callousness, and in your pursuit of power, you've lost the essence of true kingship. May you find redemption in the afterlife, for your deeds have left a stain on the very realm you were meant to protect."
Finally, the sad spirit of King Wilhelm's dear uncle Arthur stood before him, bearing a somber expression. Arthur extended his hand to his nephew, and Wilhelm reached up to him.
The following morning, as the guards were doing their rounds, they saw that Wilhelm had met his demise, lying lifeless on the cold stone floor, covered in markings of the plague. The plague doctors were called to collect the King's body and deliver it to Westsimster Abbey. They wrapped him in a thick blanket and sealed it with wax to prevent further infection. Meanwhile, upstairs in the castle, Cordelia, Augusta, and Prince Wilhelm sat in their chamber reminiscing. Suddenly, the doors flung open, and guards poured in, accompanied by Sir Oliver Coles, the King's advisor. He was holding a note which he immediately read out to the family.
"It is with deep sorrow that we announce the passing of our sovereign, King Wilhelm V, who reigned over Windenburg from the year 1320 until his demise today, on the 4th day of winter, 1349. In mourning his loss, we reflect on the challenges faced during his rule. With the final toll of the bell, we bid farewell to a dark chapter in our history."
Oliver and the guards looked to the young Prince Wilhelm and bowed before him, stating, "The king is dead, long live the king." Wilhelm was blown away by this news; he couldn't believe his ears. Now at only 11 years old, he would have to rule a kingdom. Cordelia was shocked upon hearing the news, and sadness overcame her, more so for the lost potential in her late husband, now consumed by death's final grasp. Yet, Augusta was clearly overjoyed by this. The young King looked down to his guards in disbelief, knowing the weight that has been thrust upon him and the struggles he was bound to face.
On the morning of the 6th day of winter, crowds gathered around Westsimster Abbey for the funeral of King Wilhelm V. Many couldn't believe he was really dead. Wilhelm's body was placed on the altar that held many of his ancestors before him, guarded by two men. The young King, his mother Dowager Queen Cordelia, and his half-sister Augusta stood off to the side, staring in disbelief at the body. The King walked up to the altar and stood before the mass of citizens.
"Good people of Windenburg, Today, we gather not just to mourn the passing of a king but to acknowledge the pain caused by a chapter in our history. My father, King Wilhelm, ruled with a heavy hand, and the consequences of his actions weigh heavily on our hearts. I stand before you, not only as the heir to the throne but as a son who witnessed the suffering of our people.
In the wake of my father's tyranny, I extend a heartfelt apology to each one of you. The darkness that shrouded Windenburg under his rule will not define our future. It is my solemn promise to rebuild this kingdom, to mend the wounds inflicted upon it, and to restore the prosperity that once graced our land. To guide us in this journey, I advocate for the regency of my mother, Queen Cordelia. Her wisdom, compassion, and unwavering love for Windenburg make her the beacon of hope we desperately need. Under her leadership, I believe we can forge a new era—a chapter marked not by oppression but by unity, justice, and prosperity. Henceforth, I choose to be known as King Edward, taking my second name as a regnal name—a symbol of breaking free from the shadows of the past. No longer shall our kings be shackled by the mistakes of their predecessors. I aspire to rebuild Windenburg, not as an echo of the past, but as a beacon of hope for a brighter future."
With those words, King Edward concluded his address, his voice echoing through the abbey. The crowd remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words, before erupting into applause. They knew that they had a king who would lead them with compassion and determination, a king who would guide them through the challenges ahead. In the back of the crowd stood a group of religious figures, members of the Jacoban clergy, stood with anger etched upon their faces. Back at the Parish of St. Jacob, Paul Leudemond, the high priest of the Jacoban church, was particularly vocal in his opposition. He argued that Cordelia's regency would lead to a weakening of the kingdom, as it would undermine the authority of the king. He proposed that Richard, the late King Wilhelm's cousin and a staunch supporter of the Jacoban faith, be appointed as lord protector of King Edward. This move, he believed, would ensure the continued dominance of the Jacoban church and restore order to Windenburg.
"The appointment of a woman as regent is a grave mistake," Leudemond declared, his voice echoing with conviction. "It threatens to unravel the very fabric of our society. We cannot allow a woman, especially one of Bagley blood, to wield such power. It goes against the natural order of things."
Leudemond's words were met with murmurs of agreement from the clergy gathered around him. They nodded in unison, their expressions reflecting a shared sense of urgency and determination.
"We must act swiftly to rectify this situation," Leudemond continued, his tone growing more impassioned. "We cannot allow Cordelia to undermine the authority of the king. We must appoint Richard as lord protector of King Edward. He is a man of strong Jacoban faith, and he will ensure that our traditions and values are upheld."
The clergy listened intently, their eyes fixed on Leudemond as he spoke. They knew that their plan was bold, but they were willing to take the risk. They were prepared to challenge the authority of the crown in order to safeguard the future of Windenburg and the Jacoban church.
#simsmedieval#royalsims#windenburg#sims4#royal#sims#gameofthrones#royalty#thesimsmedieval#simsstory#simmer#simblr#historical sims#royalty sims#sim legacy#sims 4#sims 4 gameplay#sims 4 cc#sims 4 screenshots#the sims#my sims#sims screenshots#the sims 4#historicalsims#history#histoire#historical#ts4#the sims medieval#medieval
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who: royal animals
The animals owned by the main characters in the story will be listed here. (MILD SPOILERS)
KAROLINA AUGUSTA’S DOGS
NIKOLETA
Breed: German Spaniel
Sex: Female
Colour: Brown
Height: 50cm at withers
Born: July 2006
ASTRIDA
Breed: Tervuren
Sex: Female
Colour: Grey
Height: 60cm at withers
Born: July 2006
WILHELMINA
Breed: Kooikerhondje
Sex: Female
Colour: Red and white
Height: 39cm at withers
Born: July 2008
PAVLOVNA
Breed: Stabyhoun
Sex: Female
Colour: Black and white
Height: 50cm at withers
Born: June 2010
ACADIA
Breed: Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever
Sex: Female
Colour: Red and white
Height: 47cm at withers
Born: July 2012
KAROLINA AUGUSTA’S HORSES
VERONA
Breed: Welsh Pony of the Riding Type (Section B)
Sex: Female
Colour: Chestnut
Height: 13 hands
Born: July 1994
CARRARA
Breed: Andalusian
Sex: Female
Colour: Grey
Height: 16 hands
Born: May 1998
BASALT
Breed: Mecklenburger
Sex: Female
Colour: Brown
Height: 17 hands
Born: September 2002
OBSIDIAN
Breed: Friesian
Sex: Female
Colour: Black
Height: 16 hands
Born: August 2008
KLAUS WILHELM’S HORSES
ODIN
Breed: Welsh Pony of the Riding Type (Section B)
Sex: Female
Colour: Brown
Height: 13 hands
Born: September 1997
HUGINN
Breed: Mecklenburger
Sex: Female
Colour: Grey
Height: 17 hands
Born: August 2005
MUNINN
Breed: Lipizzan
Sex: Female
Colour: Grey
Height: 16 hands
Born: September 2010
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The Butcher Of Plainfield
DON’T READ IF THE MENTION OF DEATH, GORE AND MURDER MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE
Ed Gein inspired the creation of Norman Bates from Psycho, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s Leatherface, and The Silence of The Lamb’s Buffalo Bill.
Early life to his first murder
Born Edward Theodore Gein on 27th August 1906, in La Crosse, Wisconsin to parents George Phillip Gein (1873-1940) and Augusta Wilhelmine (née Lehrke) Gein (1878-1945). He also had an older brother, Henry George Gein (1901-1044) He grew up under the influence of his religious and overbearing mother. Augusta raised her two sons to see the world as evil, and that women were sinful.
Augusta wanted to protect her family from this “evil” so she insisted they move away from La Crosse, to Plainfield. They lived in a farmhouse outside of the town since she believed that living in a town would corrupt her sons.
This caused Ed only to leave their farmhouse to go to school, but he wasn’t able to hold any meaningful relationships with any of his classmates. They saw him as socially awkward and he was prone to random fits of laughter. Ed also had a speech impediment and a lazy eye which made him an easy victim to bullies.
Despite his mother's attitude, he still adored her. His father was an alcoholic and died in 1940, he was a much smaller part of Ed’s life. He absorbed his mother’s lessons about the world and he seemed to share her harsh view of the world. His older brother Henry stood up to Augusta, but Ed never did. So it’s not surprising that Henry seemed to be Ed’s first victim.
In 1944, Ed and Henry were sent out to clear the fields of unwanted vegetation by burning it away. As they worked, the fire suddenly got out of control and the fire brigade had to go and put it out. When they finally did, Henry was nowhere to be seen. Ed claimed he has just vanished and they filed a missing person report. Ed helped the police find him, and he lead them directly to the body of his brother, face down in the marsh. Dead. They said it was an accident, asphyxiation was the written cause of death.
Henry’s death left Gein and his mother to live alone in isolation, until 1945 when Augusta passed away.
After she died, Ed began his decade-long spree of crime.
Crimes of Ed Gein, The Butcher of Plainfield
After his mother’s death, Ed transformed the home into some sort of shrine in memory of her. He boarded up rooms she had used to keep them in pristine condition and he moved into a small room off the kitchen.
After living alone, in isolation, he began to sink deeper and deeper into his obsessions. He learned about Nazi medical experiments, studied human anatomy, consumed porn, even though he had never attempted to date anyone, and read horror novels. And unbeknownst to the town, he began to indulge in his sick fantasies. For a full decade, he was left alone, no one thought anything of the Gein farmhouse outside of town.
That was until 1957 when Bernice Worden disappeared from her hardware store, leaving only bloodstains. Bernice was a 58-year-old widow who had last been seen at her store wither her last customer. Ed Gein, who was there to purchase a gallon of antifreeze. The police went to investigate Gein’s house which turned out to be something pulled out of a nightmare.
What was found in the farmhouse
As soon as the authorities entered Ed’s house, they found Worden in the kitchen decapitated and hung from the rafters by her ankles. They also found various bones, both whole and fragmented, skulls on the bedposts, and bowls and other kitchen utensils crafted from skulls. However, they found things much worse than bones. There were chairs upholstered with skin, a wastebasket made with skin, masks crafted with human faces, leggings from human leg skin, a pair of lips being used as a drawstring to a window shade, a corset from a female torso, a belt made with nipples and a lampshade made from multiple human faces.
They also found many dismembered body parts. Fingernails, noses and genitals to nine different women. They also found the remains of the body of Mary Hogan, a tavern keeper who went missing in 1954.
Gein admitted that he had collected most of the remains from local graveyards that he had begun to visit two years after Augusta’s death. He said he’d gone in a daze, searching for bodies resembling his mother. He also explained to them why. He said he wanted to create a “woman suit” so he could become his mother and crawl into her skin.
How many did he kill
Gein was arrested after the visit, but he was found not guilty by reasons of insanity in 1957 and he was sent to the Central State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. There he was diagnosed with schizophrenia.
Ten years went by and Ed was deemed fit to stand trial. He was convicted of the murder of Bernice Worden, but not of Mary Hogan since the state allegedly saw it as a waste of money. They reasoned that Ed was insane, he would be in hospitals for the rest of his life either way.
No one knows how many women he killed. He only admitted to Bernice and Mary, but as many as 40 bodies were found in his home - he claimed he had robbed them from graves.
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Augusta Innes Withers (English, 1793 - 1877): A parrot eating from a bowl of grapes, plums, peaches and strawberries with a river landscape beyond (via Sotheby's)
#Augusta Innes Withers#women artists#women painters#art#painting#english painters#birds#still life#watercolour#nineteenth century
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1) Stove Plants ( Allamanda schottii, Stephanotis floribundia )
2) Vanda tricolor var; Vanda insignis Helveola, Vanda tricolor formosa, Miltonia spectabilis
3) Thrysacanthus Schomburgkianus, Dendrobium nobile
4) Phalaenopsis grandiflora, Correa cardinalis
5) Roses, Souvenir de la Malmaison (Bourbon), General Jacqueminot (Hybrid perpetual)
6) Pompons Chrysanthemums, La Gitana, Trophée; François I, Florette
7) Weigela rosea, Lapageria rosea (or Chilean bell-flower)
8) Lilies, Lilium lancifolium album and Lilium lancifolium roseum
9) Compholobium splendens, Hemiandra pungens, Grevillia elegans
10) Camellias, Augustina superba and Caryophylloides
Illustrations (after Augusta Innes Baker Withers) to Thompson's 'The Gardener's Assistant’. Published 1859 by Blackie & Son.
Hand-coloured etchings.
Images and text information courtesy British Museum.
© 2017 Trustees of the British Museum
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Night Blooming Flowers
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
Chocolate Daisy
The chocolate flower, Berlandiera lyrata, blooms at night, releasing its heavenly chocolate scent until early in the morning.
Cape Jasmine
While this shrub's pretty white flowers give off their signature smell during the day, they're even more fragrant at night. Plant these along your walkway or in your yard, and their sweet and strong scent will begin wafting around your home at dusk.
Queen Of The Night
Queen of the night only blooms once every one or two years. But once it does, prepare for a show. The nocturnal cactus can open several large flowers at once on summer nights.
Japanese Wisteria
A woody vine, Wisteria floribunda is hardy to zone 5. This finicky plant can take several years before the white or lilac clusters emerge, so be sure to buy one that's already in bloom.
Datura
Datura wrightii is known by many names—datura, moonflower, jimsonweed, angel's trumpet— and has quite an interesting history. But what we like best about the moonflower are its silky white night-opening blooms that attract sphinx moths and other pollinators.
Night Phlox
Zaluzianskya capensis appeared in garden books as early as 1935. With small purple buds that open to white, the plant grows to about a foot, making it ideal for the front of a border.
'Red Flare' Water Lily
Nymphea 'Red Flare' is a tropical water lily with bold red blooms that float high over ponds and bogs through the night.
Night-Blooming Jasmine
Cestrum nocturnum's tubular flowers are tiny, but at night their perfume spreads 20 feet. The plant blooms from spring through fall, flourishes in containers, and is hardy to zone 8.
Dragonfuit Cactus
Beautiful, exotic dragonfruit comes from a night-blooming cactus. But be on the lookout: its flower only opens up for a single night before withering the next morning.
Evening Primrose
Pink evening primrose opens up showy pink and white blooms in late afternoon. Pinkladies are hardy, vigorous spreaders that also attract bees.
'Casa Blanca' Lily
This oriental hybrid is known for its intense fragrance and night-blooming flowers. Its large white flowers are a favorite for weddings and will brighten up a summer garden.
Gardenia Augusta
This Southern charmer releases its sweet scent on late summer evenings.
Four O'Clocks
As its name would suggest, four o'clocks (Mirabilis jalapa) open their bright blooms in the afternoon.
Easter Lily Cactus
Echinopsis, also known as the Easter lily cactus or night-blooming hedgehogs, produces striking white flowers on tall tubes. The fragrant blossoms open up for a night, then begin to whither the second day.
Rain Lilies
Known primarily for opening up its fragrant blooms after a summer rain, a particular rain lily variety—Zephyranthes drummondii—is also nocturnal.
Tuberose
This fragrant summer bulb is said to hail from Mexico. Polianthes tuberosa shows tall spikes of white flowers that open at night, increasing its sweet fragrance.
Angel's Trumpets
The highly fragrant Angel's Trumpet blooms in white, yellow, peach and pink and can be limbed to grow in a tree form.
Nicotiana
Commonly called "flowering tobacco" because of their high concentration of nicotine, these slender plants have trumpet-shaped florets in a wide variety of colors.
Yucca
Extremely drought tolerant, yuccas have creamy-white sweetly scented flower stalks that last much of the summer.
Lilacs
These old-fashioned Lilacs are deciduous shrubs and perennial favorites. One of the more fragrant cultivars, 'Miss Ellen Willmott,' has white blossoms that attract bees and butterflies.
Dianthus
Commonly known as Cottage Pinks, Dianthus is a ground cover that features pale pink flowers that offer a cloves-like scent.
Moon Flower Vine
No evening garden should be without this annual vine. Its hand-size bright white flowers are highly scented, and the vine is a prolific grower.
☽⦁──────── ⦁⧊⦁ ────────⦁☾
Sources :
http://aminoapps.com/p/tbe4am
#Flower#Flowers#Nature#Night flowers#Wicca#Wiccan#Witchcraft#Witch#Witchy#Witchblr#Pagan#Paganism#Magick#Plants#witchy plants#Green witch#Green Wicca
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GENERAL
name: cooper mawell roberts.
alias(es): coop,
gender: nonbinary, he/they.
age: 25 years.
date of birth: september 17th, 1995.
place of birth: augusta, maine.
hometown: stonington, maine.
spoken languages: english.
sexual preference: bisexual.
occupation: musician.
APPEARANCE
eye color: bright blue.
hair color: dirty blond.
height: 6′5.5″
scars: a tiny one on his right cheek from falling when he was younger.
burns: none.
over weight: no.
under weight: no.
FAVOURITE
color: baby blue.
hair color: doesn’t care.
eye color: doesn’t care.
song: just the two of us, bill withers.
movie: nightmare on elm street.
tv show: suvivor.
food: any sort of chicken sandwich.
drink: he’s boring, give him water any day of the week.
book: the vampire chronicles.
HAVE THEY
passed university: yes.
had sex: yes.
had sex in public: yes.
gotten pregnant: no.
kissed a boy: yes.
kissed a girl: yes.
gotten tattoos: no.
gotten piercings: no.
been in love: yes.
stayed up for more than 24 hours: yes.
ARE THEY
a virgin: no.
a cuddler: one hundred percent.
a kisser: yes.
scared easily: no.
jealous easily: no.
trustworthy: yes, completely.
dominant: yes.
submissive: rarely.
in love: depends.
single: depends.
RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)
have they harmed themselves: not on person.
thought of suicide: no.
attempted suicide: no.
wanted to kill someone: yes.
have/had a job: yes.
have any fears: the ocean.
FAMILY
sibling(s): six siblings; two older brothers, one older sister, two younger sisters. (in order rory, hunter, evelyn, himself, olive, maddie)
parent(s): bradley and claire roberts.
children: no.
pets: a small (ugly) dog named yoda.
tagged by: i stole it.
tagging: steal it.
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Snape’s Snakes #2
Snape’s demeanour isn’t always the most pleasant but when it come to the well being of his snakes he really goes above and beyond. In a way when each Slytherin is sorted into his house they gain a father in Snape, regardless of whether they had one before.
Augusta Rookwood is the daughter of Augustus Rookwood the now imprisoned Death Eater. She’s found that there are those willing to hold that against her especially those who’s families were victim to her father’s crimes.
(Trigger Warnings: Bullying, Swearing)
"Finite incatatum." The spell around Augusta's legs finally faded. She tried to move, relieved when she was able to bend her legs once more even if they were a little stiff. She sighed bringing her knees to her chest. That leg locker jinx had been unexpected and she was sure she was already late for Potions. She wiped her damp eyes deciding Snape would likely be just as angry at her for being five minutes late as he would for twenty minutes. There was no point in rushing down to the dungeons.
Her head hurt a little and when she touched the source of the pain her fingers came away red. She winced, she’d hit her head against the wall when she’d fallen. She hadn’t been ready for the attack and when she drew her wand to cancel the jinx a disarming spell had sent it flying down the stairs. No one had helped her, no one ever did. Not that she expected them to.
The laughs from her attacker had echoed in her ears as she eased her way down the staircase, dragging her bound legs along like dead weight. As she moved she’d cursed herself for allowing this to happen, it had only been a momentary lapse in concentration and her attackers had got the best of her.
She’d finally reached her wand and thankfully it was unbroken. She didn’t know what she’d do without her wand. Without it she was defenceless and that was a feeling Augusta wanted to avoid at all costs.
Augusta stood slowly, using the wall to support her. She slipped her wand back into her pocket and made her way on unsteady legs towards the girl’s toilets. The toilets were empty, not that Augusta expected there to be many people there. Most students had class now and those with free periods wouldn’t spend it on the first floor of all places. She stumbled over to a sink, turning the water on and carefully rinsing her face. It took her a long moment before she was able to look up at herself in the mirror.
Her lip curled back over her teeth as she touched the small graze on her forehead gingerly. It bled steadily but luckily the wound was minor. She just hoped she didn’t have another concussion she was getting fed up of explaining to Madame Pomfrey where all these injuries were coming from. Lucky for her the Matron seemed content to believe her lies about accidental falls and would only chide her for being so clumsy.
Augusta retreated into a stall, grabbing some toilet paper and holding it to her head. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she waited for the bleeding to stop. The words of her attackers were burned into her mind, they repeated over and over leaving her stomach churning with things she didn’t want to think about right now. Evil, vile, dirty and worst of all, Death Eater.
She returned to the mirror, checking on the bleeding, glad to find that it had slowed to a stop. She drew her wand and banished the wad of toilet paper before pointing it towards her head.
“Dissimulato.” She said clearly, waving the her wand over the graze. Her skin blurred before her eyes and looking at her reflection she could see a blurry shape almost the same colour as her skin concealing the injury. She sighed hoping it would work for now. At least it was less obvious than the red mark that had been there before, only Dowson and her gang would know to look for it. It still hurt of course but there was little she could do about that unless she could get her hands on some salve for it.
It was about time she made her way to Potions. She gulped not looking forward to facing Snape’s wrath. He wasn’t going to be pleased but skipping wasn’t an option, he’d be angrier if she skipped entirely, he might even throw her out of his N.E.W.T level Potions class entirely and she couldn’t have that, she needed to pass that class.
As she made her way down to the dungeons she imagined Dowson giggling to her friend at her entrance. How their eyes would skip over the glamoured mark on her forehead. She wondered how many students would have heard what happened. Dowson wasn’t exactly the best at keeping her mouth shut.
She took a deep breath as she stared at the door leading into the classroom, brushing her hair over her forehead just in case Snape were to notice that a patch of her forehead wasn’t quite the same colour as the rest. Waiting wouldn’t make anything better, if Snape found her skulking out here he wouldn’t be pleased. With this in mind she opened the door, ducking her head as she entered.
Snape was giving a lecture at the front of the class, a huge cauldron in front of him. The room smelt strangely of woodsmoke and something else extremely distinctive that felt so familiar yet she couldn’t quite place. She heard sniggering from across the room and noticed Dowson grinning at her.
“Silence!” Snape snapped, sending a glare her way before turning his attention to Augusta. Augusta shrunk back under the black look he fixed her with. “Nice of you to join us Miss Rookwood.” He hissed, his voice dripping with venom. Augusta cringed back but gave him what she hoped was an apologetic look “If it isn’t too much trouble then perhaps you could take your seat and cease this disruption of my class.”
“Yes sir, sorry.” She said clearly as she ducked her head and made her way towards her seat next to Gemma Farley. The girl looked at her questioningly but quickly turned her attention back to Snape.
She sat down quietly and looked over at Snape. She could feel his dark eyes scrutinising her and she wished she could shrink back in her seat. He quickly recovered continuing his lecture as if she’d never entered. Augusta tried to follow along but it was tough having missed the first part. The potion she gathered was Amortentia. A powerful love potion that smelled different to each person according to what attracted them. That explained the wonderful scent coming from the cauldron.
“As such this potion is extremely dangerous. Today you will be brewing an antidote for Amortentia I expect your potions to be finished within the hour and on my desk.” Snape drawled. “I’d advise you to put great effort into your antidote for I’ll be grading it to Newt standard.” He paused looking over the class with a look of distaste. “Well. Why haven’t you started?” The classroom erupted into activity, people making their way to collect their cauldrons and start brewing.
Augusta took a deep breath savouring the scent of the Amortentia before Snape banished it with a flick of his wand. She quickly pulled out her potions textbook finding the recipe for the antidote and moving to gather the ingredients she needed.
Most of the class were already returning to their cauldrons when she entered the storeroom. Only a Ravenclaw boy she couldn’t remember the name of remained. His eyes widened when she entered and he flinched back as if she’d hurt him. Augusta fixed him with withering look trying to ignore the way her heart ached to see him afraid of her. He had nothing to fear. Not from her. The boy sidestepped around her a darted out of the room as if he’d been stung.
She went to take a sprig of peppermint from the container in the storeroom only for the bowl shoot up in the air and tip its contents over her head. A cruel laugh sounded behind her.
“Oops.” Dowson sneered, her wand in her hand. She supposed she should be glad it was only peppermint this time, last time it was sloth brain mucus and it had taken hours to wash that stuff out of her hair. “Careful Rookwood you’re causing a mess as usual.”
Augusta glared at her, pulling her wand out in one smooth motion. Dowson took a step back, pointing her own wand at her threateningly. “You going to curse me?” She asked harshly. Augusta flinched but met her gaze evenly, even as her brow furrowed at her words. “Go on do your best.” Dowson hissed. “I’m sure Snape would love to see what sort of dark magic you come out with.”
Augusta looked away, her stomach churning. She lowered her wand, she wouldn’t fight Dowson. Especially not here, there was little she could do anyway. Any spell she could throw at the other girl would only confirm what they all thought of her. That she was nothing but the daughter of a Death Eater, someone who would join the Dark Lord as soon as he returned, if he ever returned.
Dowson scoffed looking at her with an expression of contempt. “What’s wrong? Can’t remember anything your pathetic excuse of a daddy taught you?” She sneered, Augusta tensed, a shock-wave running through her as if she’d been cursed. “Or was he too busy to teach you? Huh? Too busy murdering muggles. Tell me did he not want anything to do with you after torturing my sister?” Augusta inhaled sharply, her words like a knife between her ribs. Her lips curling over her teeth as she raised her wand, aiming the tip directly between Dowson’s eyes.
“Shut up.” She snarled, she could feel her eyes burning with tears, she willed them not to fall. If she cried now she wouldn’t be able to live down the humiliation. Dowson only laughed, raising her own wand hesitantly.
“Oh hit a nerve have I?” Dowson jeered, Augusta held her ground, staring her dead in the eyes her wand at the ready. Dowson wouldn’t get a free curse in this time. She noticed the way the other girls hands shook slightly and smirked.
“What’s wrong Dowson? Scared? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Or do you prefer targets that aren’t ready to fight back?”
“How dare you!” Dowson snarled. “You’re one to talk about courage. With your coward of a father, not even brave enough to go kill defenceless muggles on his own. How many families did your scumbag father murder? How many children?” Augusta’s lip curled back over her teeth, she took a step forwards her eyes blazing ready to wipe that smug look of Dowson’s face one and for all.
“What is going on in here?” Snape barked, appearing in the doorway. Augusta shrunk back, the fire inside her dying immediately leaving only an empty numbness accompanied by guilt. She had forgotten herself, she had intended to really hurt Dowson. She would have proved to everyone they were right. She hung her head, her hands shaking very slightly.
Snape looked between the two girls with a look of utter rage. Augusta quickly shoved her wand back into her pocket. Looking away from him. The colour was draining from Dowson’s face as she looked up at Snape, Augusta supposed she should be pleased to see the girl knocked down a peg or two but instead she just felt vaguely sick.
“As I would hope you’ve noticed though perhaps not considering your dunderheaded actions, this is a potions storeroom not a duelling ground.” Snape hissed, Augusta glanced at him, his words were directed towards Dowson not her. “Put your wand away you foolish girl. Thirty points from Gryffindor for starting fights. Another ten for choosing such a senseless location, an errant spell in here could be disastrous, I shouldn’t have to explain why to sixth year students.” Dowson flushed, putting her wand away quickly sending a glare Augusta’s way as she did so.
“You have your ingredients Miss Dowson now get to your potion.” The girl turned picking up the ingredients she had already gathered that she’d dropped on the floor when Snape entered and rushed out of the room. Augusta wiped her eyes quickly hoping Dowson hadn’t noticed the few tears that had nearly escaped her.
Peppermint still littered the floor and sat tangled in Augusta’s hair so she worked on plucking it out. She kneeled down to clean up the mess on the floor. Snape was silent for a long moment as he turned his dark glare to her. “Make haste Miss Rookwood, I will not be making allowances for partially brewed potions.” He snarled. “Get your ingredients and start brewing now.”
“But sir.” Augusta looked at the mess. Snape waved his wand and the loose peppermint vanished. Augusta tried to ignore the instinct that screamed at her to draw her own wand at the sight of his.
“Your potion Rookwood.”
“Yes sir.” Augusta said quickly grabbing the rest of what she needed almost knocking a jar of flobberworms over as she did so, she grabbed it in shaking hands just in time pushing it back onto the shelf unharmed.
“Miss Rookwood if you damage any more of my ingredients I assure you you’ll be helping me harvest bubotuber pus for the rest of the month.” Snape warned as she stood aside to let her out of the cupboard.
“Sorry sir.” She could feel Snape glaring at her as she rushed past him with her ingredients in her hands.
“Dirty Death Eater.” She heard Dowson hiss as she passed her. Augusta ground her teeth together but made her way towards her cauldron. Snape returned to patrolling the classroom, occasionally stopping near someone’s cauldron and disparagingly commenting on their potion.
Augusta began chopping her ingredients while waiting for the base, which for this potion was purified water, to boil. She felt something hit her back and flinched, itching to hold her wand and send a defensive spell over he back. She could hear snickering behind her. Something hit the back of her head and she ran her fingers through her hair pulling out a billywig wing and placing it in her pile of the useless parts of the ingredients to be thrown away later. She sighed as more pieces of random ingredients landed over her work space getting mixed up with the neat piles of ingredients she was preparing. She picked out the contamination as best she could but knew her potion wouldn’t be her best work today.
Augusta worked quickly, adding the ingredients at the correct intervals and stirring carefully. The potion bubbled quietly turning a dark blue. She frowned knowing it was supposed to be light blue at this stage. Something flew past her ear and if it hadn’t been for her reflexes, swinging her arm out and knocking it away it would have landed in her mixture. She could hear Dowson giggling loudly behind her.
“Miss Dowson! Concentrate on your potion or leave my class.” Snape yelled suddenly. “And five points from Gryffindor for the disruption.” The giggling stopped abruptly and luckily so did the flying ingredients. Augusta sighed, looking down at her potion and trying her best to focus on it despite the twisting in her stomach.
Snape finally came to her cauldron. He leaned over it, wrinkling his nose as he peered into the dark coloured liquid. Augusta kept her head down as she cut up her billywigs. Hyper aware of Snape who stood silently by her cauldron. She waited for him to scold her brew, she knew it was far from perfect not that it was entirely her fault. She doubted it would even have its intended effect. As much as she hated to admit it Dowson’s words in the storeroom had rattled her which had made concentrating on her potion difficult even if it hadn’t been for the girl’s constant attempts to sabotage her.
When Augusta looked up Snape noticed him looking at her oddly. “See me after class Miss Rookwood.” She frowned, wondering if her potion was really that bad, she slouched in defeat. It looked like she wouldn’t be catching a break today.
“Yes sir.” She mumbled, staring into her potion. She could hear Dowson sniggering behind her, she wished she’d stop.
“Death Eater’s in trouble.” She hissed loudly to her friend as soon as Snape had moved on. Augusta scowled into her potion, adding her billywigs a little more roughly than she intended and splashing the desk in boiling fluid. She jumped back just in time to avoid any coming in contact with her skin.
The rest of the lesson passed uneventfully. Mostly, Dowson seemed keen on mocking her behind Snape’s back even after he snapped at her and deducted even more points from Gryffindor. It took him threatening to throw her out of the class for her to stop.
With Dowson’s distractions and the lump that was forming in her throat Augusta had barely managed to complete the potion in time. She knew the substance she placed on Snape’s desk was substandard. She just hoped she’d get an acceptable grade at least. She couldn’t afford to fail Potions. She couldn’t afford to fail any of her subjects.
She sat at her desk fiddling with her bag while the other students filed out, waiting until they’d all left before approaching Snape. She’d rather the other students didn’t hear her Head of House chew her out. Especially Dowson, she was sure Dowson would have a field day listening to that.
Snape didn’t look up at first, instead writing something on a piece of parchment whilst half hunched over the table. He rarely sat in the worn chair behind his desk, Augusta often wondered why it was there at all. When he finally acknowledged her it was to give her a scrutinising look. “You do realise the importance of attending your classes on time Miss Rookwood?” He asked icily.
“Yes sir.” Augusta nodded, hoping her tardiness was the only issue he had with her today. Perhaps he’d decided that she wasn’t at fault at all for what happened in the storeroom or the dire condition of her potion. “It won’t happen again sir.”
“Indeed.” Snape sneered, straightening to his full height. “And yet, you have been late to three of my classes this term. Not to mention the reports I’ve been hearing from your other professors.” He picked up the vial of her potion squinting at it distastefully. “Substandard work is being turned in, not only to me but to Professors Quirrel and Flitwick.”
Augusta gulped, she hadn’t thought her work was bad enough for them to mention it to her Head of House. The lessons she shared with Dowson were always the hardest, the girl seemed intent on distracting her no matter how hard Augusta tried to ignore her taunts. What had her professors been saying about her behind her back? She knew she wasn’t exactly the most popular student. Most teachers seemed more likely to side with the outgoing and friendly Dowson rather than the quiet, surly girl with an imprisoned Death Eater for a father.
Only Snape stood up for her, but Snape stood up for all the Slytherins. She was surprised Dowson had started her usual routine of tormenting her during Potions class. Gryffindors weren’t renowned for their intelligence but she would have thought even Dowson would be wary of evoking Snape’s wrath.
She stood rigidly waiting for Snape to continue. Waiting for him to tell her just what her professors had been saying to him. He may be her Head of House but that didn’t mean he was above turning his deriding tone to his Slytherins if he felt they deserved it.
“Well?” Snape asked, gesturing to her with one hand. “Is there a reason for your lacklustre performance?”
“I’m sorry sir, I’ll try harder.” She promised through gritted teeth, her stomach churned as she said those words. She had to try harder, she was set on getting O’s. She wouldn’t let Dowson of all people prevent her success. No number of hexes, jinxes and words could stop her from achieving her ambition.
“Do you still wish to become an Auror?” Snape asked suddenly, not taking his eyes off her for a second.
“Yes sir.”
“Then you understand you will need at least five O’s at Newt level.” Snape stated, folding his arms across his chest. “And yet you are achieving A’s at best. It seems strange to me that a student as diligent as you should suddenly experience such a drop in performance.” Augusta forced herself to meet Snape’s gaze, his eyes glittered dangerously as he fixed her with another one of his scrutinising glares.
Augusta wanted very much to scream and possibly throw something. She inhaled slowly trying to gain control over her emotions even as he gut twisted into knots. She’d be getting those O’s if Dowson and the other Gryffindors would just leave her alone. She remembered the Ravenclaw boy from ealrier, the way he’d looked at her with terror and her anger dissipated slightly only to be replaced with guilt.
They feared her, they all did. Except the Slytherins of course, at least with them they just saw her as just Augusta not some Death Eater to be. Not as the daughter of Augustus Rookwood. Augusta swallows her heart aching as she remembered her father’s name. Even if she dropped her family name she was still connected to him. Even if she changed her name entirely his eyes would still look back at her whenever she saw her reflection. Her stomach churned, she felt sick again.
“What happened to your head?” The quiet question caught her by surprise almost as much as the sudden change in tone. Her first instinct was to duck her head and cover the glamoured area with her hair but that would only draw more attention to it.
“What do you mean sir?” She asked quickly, feigning confusion. Snape rolled his eyes, drawing his wand. Augusta’s hand instinctively went to draw her own, her heart skipping a beat as she prepared to fight her way out. Snape gave her an odd look as she gripped her wand without pulling it from her pocket. Her skin prickled with adrenaline as she fixed Snape with a challenging glare. He raised an eyebrow, lowering his wand slowly and holding his other hand up in a gesture of peace.
This was Snape, she reminded herself. He was about as far from Dowson and her friends as you could get, there would be no curses from him. Even if he wasn’t a teacher and forbidden to harm his students he wouldn’t dare. Slowly she released her wand and let her hands fall to her sides.
“I can see you have cast a glamour over your forehead Miss Rookwood.” Snape said smoothly. “A glamour I might add that is wearing off and by the looks of it, you haven't merely hidden a spot underneath.”
“It’s nothing sir.” Augusta told him, her brow furrowing as she looked away.
“Then you won’t mind me taking a look.” Snape raised his wand deliberately, not quite pointing towards her. Augusta sighed, slouching in defeat, she shrugged, throwing her hands up in the air to tell him to go ahead. She knew he wouldn’t let this be.
“Finite incatatum.” Snape waved his wand lazily and Augusta felt a tingling of magic as her glamour charm faded. Now Augusta ducked her head, not that it mattered now that he’d seen the graze. She tried to ignore the wave of shame that washed over her that Snape was seeing this. That now he’d think she couldn’t defend herself. Snape was silent for a long moment, Augusta wished he’d break the silence. He watched her with an unreadable look in his eyes.
“I fell sir, that’s all.” She answered his unasked question, it was technically the truth after all even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
“Hm.” Snape grunted, raising his wand casually. “May I?” He asked, it wasn’t really a question. Augusta knew she only had two choices here. Snape or Pomfrey. It was a choice many an injured Slytherin was presented with in their time at Hogwarts. Minor injuries could be healed by Snape with his potions while he’d send students to Madame Pomfrey for anything more serious.
Augusta preferred hiding minor injuries if she could and only went to Madame Pomfrey if she had to. It was better to go to the Infirmary yourself if you had something to hide. The Matron was much easier to deceive than Snape with his searching looks and seemingly endless questions. But Snape had already seen, and there would be questions regardless of whether she went to see Pomfrey or not. With this in mind she nodded, raising her head and brushing her hair away from the injury so Snape could see it properly.
Snape muttered a diagnostic spell and a light appeared around her head. Moments later it was gone. “You’re lucky. There’s no sign of concussion. I will give you a salve for the wound but it’s shallow, it should heal quickly.”
Augusta didn’t respond instead watching him as he rifled through the drawer in his desk. She caught the sight of a few potions within, a box of pale blue vials that looked like calming draughts, pots of burn salve next to them and what looked like an antidote to uncommon poisons. He pulled out a round tub and handed it to her.
“I expect you’ll want to use that now.” He said brusquely, Augusta nodded, twisting the lid and squinting at the pale green paste within. “Apply generously twice a day until the graze has healed. I suggest mornings and evenings.” Snape advised as she scooped some out with her fingers and smeared it over her head. The pain faded instantly and she sighed in relief.
“Thanks” She grunted in an extremely unladylike way, if her mother could hear her she’d have a fit. She sighed looking anywhere but at Snape. She half hoped he’d let her go now but knew he’d have questions. He always had questions.
“You say you fell. How did that happen?” Augusta nearly laughed but managed to keep it in. Here they were the questions she didn’t want to answer.
“I just fell sir.” She told him, shrugging nonchalantly. She replaced the lid of the salve and shoved it into her robe pocket. “It happens sometimes.”
“I see.” A glance at Snape revealed a displeased expression on his face. “Am I correct to assume you fell on you way to my class?”
“Yes sir.”
“Were you alone?”
“No sir.” Augusta resolved to keep her answers a short as possible. She didn’t want to talk about what had happened. She was sure Snape could guess if he wanted but she wouldn’t talk about it.
“Who were you with?”
“I don’t know sir.” Augusta sighed irritably, she wondered what it mattered if she was alone or not, she tried to ignore the churning in her gut. “A bunch of people in the corridor.
“Which corridor?”
“The second floor sir.”
“And no one helped you up after falling and hitting your head?” Snape asked his voice carrying an edge to it.
“Why would they?” Augusta snapped, finally turning her fiery gaze to him. Surely Snape of all people would know that no one helped a Slytherin. Let alone the daughter of a Death Eater. She supposed if there had been other Slytherins in the corridor they may have stopped but there hadn’t, not that Augusta had seen anyway. “No one helps a disgusting Death Eater! No one helps someone who’s father’s a murderer!” She screamed, why didn’t he understand that? He was supposed to be the Head of Slytherin he should know this.
“I wasn’t fast enough. I should’ve known Dowson would be heading the same way. But I wasn’t and she fucking got a leg locker off on me.”
“Language Miss Rookwood.” Snape warned, bringing himself to his full height.
“No fuck you!” Augusta roared, now she’d started it felt extremely good to shout and just let out her frustrations. “You don’t know what it’s like! Every single fucking day I have to on high alert in case those Gryffindors try anything. All because my father is a piece of shit murderer. He’s rotting in Azkaban and I’m here being tortured because of him.” She could feel her eyes burning but she didn’t care, she let the tears fall freely now. “As soon as I let my guard down this happens!” She waved her hand over her forehead before throwing her hands in the air.
“I’m good at curses. I could beat any one of them in a duel but I don’t. You know why? Because it’s what they’re waiting for. Waiting for Death Eater Rookwood the second to hex one of them into oblivion so they can say they always knew I was a no good Death Eater. So I just sit there and take it. I’m always late because they get me in the corridors, they mess up my work when I finally get to class. Everyone is just waiting for me to snap, to prove to them I’m like my father. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs look at me like I’m going to do something awful to them. I’ve done nothing to them, I’ve done nothing to warrant them looking at me like that but they know of my father. They think I’m him.”
She should stop now, but Snape hadn’t moved, instead just watching he with an unreadable expression. “I’m not a Death Eater.” She said firmly, her voice quieter now. Snape raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to become an Auror and I’m going to round up scum like them and put them where they belong.” She continued savagely.
Snape’s lips twitched. He opened his mouth to speak but Augusta deflated looking away in thought. “I’m not going to be like my dad.” She mumbled, slumping in defeat, she wiped her eyes turning away from Snape sure that her outburst wouldn’t go down well.
She heard a long sigh coming from Snape. “Are you quite done?” He drawled, pressing his lips together as he stared at her with the same unreadable expression. Augusta didn’t respond, instead looking down. “Five points will be taken from Slytherin for foul language and speaking disrespectfully to a professor.” Augusta resisted the urge to roll her eyes, after all she’d said did he really think she cared about points?
“As for what you’ve said.” He summoned a piece of paper and a quill. “I’ll need the names of all involved in harassing you along with the specifics of as many situations you can recall.”
“Sir?” Augusta frowned in confusion.
“You don’t think I will stand by and allow such behaviour. Especially not directed towards one from my own house.” Snape hissed. Augusta shook her head. If he stepped in it would only make things worse.
“It’s fine sir.” Augusta shook her head, she did not want Snape involved. “I deserve it anyway.”
“Why do you say that?” Snape’s voice had an edge to it that made Augusta cringe. She wasn’t so angry any more now only filled with feelings of guilt and shame.
“My dad sir…. He tortured Dowson’s sister.” She muttered, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know. He would have seen the Daily Prophet article that told the world what kind of man her father really was.
“I want you to listen to me very carefully Miss Rookwood.” Snape took a step towards her. She raised her head meeting his eyes cautiously. He had a very serious expression as he unfolded his arms slowly. “Your father’s actions are not your own. You do not owe penance to those your father harmed.” Augusta swallowed, her lips shaking slightly, she lowered her gaze unable to continue looking into Snape’s dark eyes. She felt a solid pressure on her shoulder and looked up to find Snape squeezing her shoulder gently. “You are not your father.”
Augusta nodded slowly as Snape released her. To her shame she felt a few tears escape her eyes. She shook her head wiping them away with her sleeve, how she wished she could stop crying. The brief pressure of her teacher’s hand had been comforting, a thought that only seemed to add to the hollow ache in her chest.
She was momentarily reminded of her childhood. When she had been very small her father would return from work and take her in his arms. Laughing as he called her his little princess and holding her tight while she giggled and hugged him. She forced those memories away, she hated them. Hated how she now knew her father had been returning to her after doing unspeakable things.But the day before her father’s arrest had been the last time she’d experienced such casual comfort, her mother wasn’t exactly the maternal type and was much more interested in raising her to be a proper young lady.
Snape sighed, turning away from her very slightly. “You are capable of making your own choices. Independent of those your father made.” He told her firmly. “You told me you wish to become an Auror, I know you are more than capable of achieving the required grades, if you put in the effort. I expect you’ll go far in the Auror Office.”
Augusta stared at him, amazed and confused that he believed in her. Her own mother had scoffed when she’d told her of her intentions to join the Aurors. Telling her she’d be better off finding a rich, pure blooded man to marry. But Augusta was determined to succeed. She felt a warmth flooding through her chest that she couldn’t quite explain, she supposed it was nice to know her Head of House, if no one else, believed in her.
“I’ll put in the effort.” She assured him firmly, standing up straighter.
“Then I expect to hear only of your improvement from your professors.” He fixed her with a scrutinising glare. “And if you are assaulted any further I expect you to inform me. I will not allow such actions to go unpunished. Do I make myself clear?”
“I… Yes sir.” Augusta wasn’t sure if she would tell him. She didn’t want him getting involved if she could help it. He scowled at her as if he knew what she was thinking and slid the parchment towards her.
“The names and specifics Miss Rookwood. I’ll need them on my desk by this evening.” He told her firmly. “And if you should ever feel the need to talk about this further my door is open. Perhaps this will prevent any further outbursts.” Augusta flushed, grabbing the parchment from the desk.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry.” She mumbled, feeling incredibly foolish for blowing up like that.
“Good, then I suggest you make your way to lunch.” Snape told her nodding to the door. Augusta nodded turning to leave, before exiting through the door she paused turning back towards her Head of House.
“Thank you sir.” She called after him, darting out of the room without giving him a chance to respond. This time she meant it.
((A//N: Thank you to my amazing partner for giving me the idea for this character))
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Thorn Apple Flower From Ecuador Datura Rosei by Augusta Innes Withers
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Celebrating Black History In 2020!
Willie Simms (1870-1927) - Only African-American Jockey to win the Triple Crown
Born (January 16, 1870, near Augusta, Georgia, U.S.—died February 26, 1927, Asbury, New Jersey), American jockey who is the only African American to have won all three of the races that compose the Triple Crown of American horse racing: the Kentucky Derby, the Belmont Stakes, and the Preakness Stakes.
Simms began racing in the North in 1887 and became the most-successful rider to adopt the short stirrup since the antebellum slave and rider Abe Hawkins. The short stirrup, which is now ubiquitous, lifts the rider over the horse’s withers (the ridge between the horse’s shoulder bones) and thereby allows the animal better balance. In 1895 Simms became the first American jockey to win in England. The short stirrup, however, earned more esteem after the white American jockey Tod Sloan used it to win English races in 1897, and it soon came to be known as the “American seat.”
Simms competed at a time when horse racing was dominated by black jockeys, who were the leading riders and often the highest-paid athletes of their day. African American jockeys won 15 of the first 28 runnings of the Kentucky Derby, the most-prestigious event in American horse racing, but they also faced much racial discrimination. Simms himself won the Derby in 1896 and 1898; he also won the Belmont Stakes in 1893 and 1894. When he won the Preakness Stakes in 1898, he became the only African American to win all the Triple Crown classics. Simms was the leading American jockey (on the basis of number of wins) in 1893 and 1894. When he retired in 1901, he had one of the best lifetime-winning percentages in the sport. By the 1920s, however, African Americans had been pushed out of prominent roles in horse racing, and the accomplishments of Simms and other African American jockeys had been all but forgotten. Simms was inducted into the hall of fame at the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in 1977.
#black history month#Willie Simms#African American Jockey#Triple Crown#Kentucky Derby#Belmont Stakes#Preakness Stakes
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"My sweet child!" Parthenos Higgs lamented. His beloved daughter and son-in-law would reside in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies for the remainder of their lives. "The barbarism!" he cried out.
Augusta Longbottom shook with rage, as her brother-in-law Algie held on to her. Enid Longbottom craddled her great-nephew Neville in her arms and sobbed.
Gloxinia Higgs remained silent. It was as if she was in a trance, "My Alice loves sunflowers, she likes to watch them grow" she finally murmured. All would be in attendance as Wizengamot sentenced Barty Crouch Jr, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange to life imprisonment for the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
Udolf Lestrange father of the Lestrange brothers looked unnerved and held his head high in what seemed as approval. "My sons and daughter did the Dark Lord's work. It is quite unforgivable when the pure learn such traitorous behavior." Gloxinia never took her eyes off of the man who was one of Voldemort's first Death Eaters. "My Alice loves sunflowers, she likes to watch them grow." Parthenos took her by the hand and guided her out of the courtroom "we know darling, we know."
A few years later, the sunflower garden that Gloxinia and her daughter cultivated slowly began to wilt and wither. The garden became barren.
In 1985 it was plastered on the front page of the Daily Prophet that the infamous patriarch of the Lestrange family was found dead. Rumors abound was that he met a grotesque demise.
Seven years later in 1992 at the age of fifty-four Cygnus Black III, father of Bellatrix Lestrange died. The manner of his death frightening his wife Druella so, that she died ten days later.
Gloxinia's husband tried to coax her out the house. "A bit of fresh air will do you good Xinia, We can visit your nephew at the Winogrand Conservatory." Neville will come to visit soon, I hear he has a knack for herbology."
"Perhaps you two can start the sunflower garden again." It would be lovely to see them flourish once more."
"Oh but they did Parthenos they did! So tall and vibrant!" his wife exclaimed. "You must be patient to ensure a successful rooting." "Didn't I tell you?" "Sometimes you need blood to help plants grow."
(painting by Gail Potocki, “Botanica No. 23)
@essayofthoughts dark herbology?
#first wizarding war#after the first wizarding war#longbottom family#higgs family#winogrand family#magical curses#dark herbology#gloxinia higgs#scary magic
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NPM: April 14, Donal Og
(Translated from an 8th-century Irish poem)
Augusta, Lady Gregory: The Grief of a Girl's Heart, 1901
O Donall óg, if you go across the sea,
bring myself with you and do not forget it;
and you will have a sweetheart for fair days and market days,
and the daughter of the King of Greece beside you at night.
It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.
You promised me, and you said a lie to me,
that you would be before me where the sheep are flocked;
I gave a whistle and three hundred cries to you,
and I found nothing there but a bleating lamb.
You promised me a thing that was hard for you,
a ship of gold under a silver mast;
twelve towns with a market in all of them,
and a fine white court by the side of the sea.
You promised me a thing that is not possible,
that you would give me gloves of the skin of a fish;
that you would give me shoes of the skin of a bird,
and a suit of the dearest silk in Ireland.
O Donall óg, it is I would be better to you
than a high, proud, spendthrift lady:
I would milk the cow; I would bring help to you;
and if you were hard pressed, I would strike a blow for you.
O, ochone, and it's not with hunger
or with wanting food, or drink, or sleep,
that I am growing thin, and my life is shortened;
but it is the love of a young man has withered me away.
It is early in the morning that I saw him coming,
going along the road on the back of a horse;
he did not come to me; he made nothing of me;
and it is on my way home that I cried my fill.
When I go by myself to the Well of Loneliness,
I sit down and I go through my trouble;
when I see the world and do not see my boy,
he that has an amber shade in his hair.
It was on that Sunday I gave my love to you;
the Sunday that is last before Easter Sunday.
And myself on my knees reading the Passion;
and my two eyes giving love to you for ever.
O, aya! my mother, give myself to him;
and give him all that you have in the world;
get out yourself to ask for alms,
and do not come back and forward looking for me.
My mother said to me not to be talking with you to-day,
or to-morrow, or on the Sunday;
it was a bad time she took for telling me that;
it was shutting the door after the house was robbed.
My heart is as black as the blackness of the sloe,
or as the black coal that is on the smith's forge;
or as the sole of a shoe left in white halls;
it was you put that darkness over my life.
You have taken the east from me; you have taken the west from me;
you have taken what is before me and what is behind me;
you have taken the moon, you have taken the sun from me;
and my fear is great that you have taken God from me!
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