Gamon Ollivander. Threads. - Blog Posts

Gamon looked at the whole exchange with an amused smile in his eyes, as he followed Ted to the exam room.

"I don't know, Healer Ted. Maybe I'm gonna have a sudden case of uncontrollable giggling if you keep being that funny, and that's gonna be your fault." He grinned cheekily, settling comfortably in his usual place.

Most healers in St. Mungus knew his case. The big shot quidditch player who ended his career way too early after he fell from a broom, and it never healed properly. Some medical gibberish about magical injuries, all he knew was that they couldn't heal his broken bones like every other time he fell from a broom. It was the end of the line for him.

It had been a few months since that whole drama happened. He was on the way to recovery, steadily receiving treatments from capable healers, all so that he could dream of getting on a broom again. Not to play, that he knew would never happen again. But he missed having full control of his limbs, thank you very much.

"I'm here for the treatment. I think there was something about checking the progress, if the bones healed in the right places without magic interference." Gamon explained, trying his best to not show how hurt he still was, inside.

setting: st mungo's, third floor: ward for potion and plant poisoning featuring: ted tonks & open !

"You're late.”

That was the monotonous greeting Ted received as he crossed onto the third floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies & Injuries, swapping out his signature brown leather jacket for the bright green robes healers wore as their uniform. Pulling out the lollipop he'd had in his mouth, Ted stuck out his tongue, which was tinted an electric blue from the sucker. "C'mon, Healer Boyle — you know, I'm actually fifty minutes early as far as time in Cabo Verde is concerned," he replied cheekily, earning an eye roll as a chart was shoved at his chest.

"Relative to where you are now, Healer Tonks, you're late, and on the day we’re dealing with an overflow of patients from other wards. Room five," the Chief Healer motioned with a flourish of his hand, setting Ted onto his first patient of the day. “And lose the lolli, will you.”

With a sigh, Ted twisted in the direction of the exam room in question, leaving Healer Boyle with a, "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're no fun, Boyle," in a tone that was as friendly as it was sarcastic. Tapping a jaunty tune with his knuckles against the door before pushing it open, lollipop still in his mouth, Ted Tonks gave his patient a large smile. Plopping down onto a stool beside them, he caught glimpse of the Daily Prophet on the bedside table and had to bite down on the lollipop stick hard to keep from grimacing at the sight. That was hardly appropriate for sick people, or so he thought. Especially given what it was reporting on. "Wotcher!” Came a quirky greeting from the healer. “Someone’s having an eventful morning, hm?” Brows rose, clearly not referencing the newspaper and the distress it was causing everyone but instead the fact they were here, in an exam room in St. Mungo’s. “Now then, how about you tell Healer Ted what's going on and I'll see about getting you right and on your way," he spoke with an even and low voice, warm and open so as to break any tension his patient may feel. “Doesn’t look like a case of uncontrollable giggling, so we have that going for us.”

"Oh boy, if you think you're the crazy one, you're not hanging out with the right people." Gamon joked, as he glanced the book in question, and returned his look to Daisy. He hummed in interest as he picked up the nearest copy next to him, and nodded approvingly. "Sounds interesting, I'm gonna give it a shot."

Gamon was a lover of all things muggle. As far as he knew, his own biological father was a squib and his mother a halfblood. He didn't have memories of them, but the Gryffindor guessed that it should somehow explain why he felt compelled to keep up with technology and comic books. Muggle music, in particular, was very interesting.

"My pet crow is named Bruce Wayne. You know, Batman. He likes to steal shiny things, I think I'm very funny." He shrugged, rolling his eyes at himself, and back at her with a smile. "After I buy right now, can you sign the copy?"

Who: Daisy & Open Location: Diagon Alley Coffee Shop When: Early Morning

Daisy was exhausted. She hadn't been sleeping well, her brain was too focused on everything that had been going on in her world.

This had been her and Jasper's favorite coffee shop to frequent in Diagon Alley. It had been difficult, returning, but everything couldn't stop because he was gone. It was cozy with a few bookcases towards the back and a small sitting area. She wished she could get comfortable, but she had a meeting soon. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she saw it on the bookshelf closest to her. My Year as a Muggle. It was here. It was almost like a sign.

"It never gets less weird seeing my book on bookshelves out and about. It's so cool but still so weird. Sorry, I'm rambling, mostly talking to myself. You must think I'm crazy--" Daisy felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed.

Listen, it wasn't his fault that he got adopted by a crow who was a kleptomaniac. Gamon didn't adopt Bruce, not really, it was more like the other way around. He brought the crow home after he was a tiny, weak orphan in the harsh winter, and the goddamn bird never left. Now, whenever Bruce (Bruce, as in Bruce Wayne) was out for deliveries, he tried to steal shiny things to put in his nest. That said, when he heard the comment about nifflers, he couldn't resist and let out a loud snort.

"They are fantastic at something, for sure. Robbing the hell out of everyone with a shiny object. Might even beat that one." He commented, pointing at his own crow, who was trying to steal a lady's wedding ring. As unsuspecting as a crow could be, at least. Any resemblance with his owner (zero subtlety), was not mere coincidence. "That's both a fortune and a headache waiting to happen."

𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 | 𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏: 𝑴𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆 | 𝑹𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏

he was well aware that most people when they heard unsavoury news would find their frustrations at the bottom of a pint, he found himself in front of the window display, wondering if now was a better time than any to get a companion of some sort. "that one isn't too bad, right?" eying the baby niffler, "he's something and useful, i think those are redeeming qualities. you can be cute and good at something"

Did Gamon know what he was doing? Absolutely not. Was that a common occurrency? Maybe. Was it wrong to lurk on his ex-boyfriend's doorstep because you didn't want to face him again and your father asked you to buy potions supplies? Hell no, he was not a fucking coward.

The Gryffindor sighed, watching as the other man flipped the "OPEN" sign and marked the store as available to receive customers. Now he had no excuse to procrastinate. Great.

He walked to the door, pushing it open with a sigh and closing it behind him.

"Er... Hello. Morning. I'm here as a client... I mean, I have a list of ingredients." He said, fumbling while trying to take a crumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket. By Godric's polkadotted pants, could he be more awkward? Please, someone take him down with an entire Hit Wizard team. "Can you help me?"

Open for business

Setting: Hexes and Jinxs Characters: Severus Snape & open

Severus Snape was not what many people would consider normal. He was far too skinny, too pale, too everything. No one was there to see the closed doors, to see the options close before your eyes. Yet he still lived; he kept going. He kept moving, growing, learning. He never could satisfy his hunger for knowledge, even now, as he returned to his shop on a lazy Sunday afternoon. His luggage was in one hand as he unlocked the door, happy to return.

Severus opened this shop two years ago and named it “Hexes and Jinxs.” It was his pride and joy that was the place he had had saved up for. This was his sanctuary, his home. In more ways than one, it had an apartment attached to the upper floor and a potion lab in the back. It was perfect. He used a simple spell to turn on the lights, humming a soft melody as he began to clean up. It had been a month since he had been in the shop now, and the dust annoyed him greatly. After spending a few minutes cleaning until he was satisfied, he put his luggage in the lab. He had planned to put it away later, but he instead started cleaning the lab. It didn’t take him too long to clean, mainly dusting off his supplies and checking his ingredients. Smiling once it was finished, he moved back to the front. Flipping the open sign, he started to check his stock, making sure everything was still okay. 

The best thing about not playing professional quidditch anymore was not having a diet. If he wanted to drink three crunchy chocolate milkshakes in a row, he could. Well, the stomach ache later wasn't anything pleasant, but that's a problem for future Gamon!

"Oh, Rosie. You're the best fucking astrologist ever. Maybe this muggle lady has a good intuition or something." He shrugged, always keeping the smile in his face. He loved his friend so much, Gamon would always be grateful for her place in his life. "Capricorns are the bitchy ones right? The ones who love money. Fuck rich people, they all suck ass." He rolled his eyes, putting his boots on the spare chair near them.

where: florean fortescue's ice cream parlour, diagon alley when: early afternoon with: open!

Since it's the off-season, Mister Fortescue has kindly allowed Primrose the use of his outdoor tables, over which she's spread no less than ten muggle periodicals, with the morning's Prophet laid out in the centre. It's become a ritual of hers, to consult the magazines she grew up with now and then, to see how often there's overlap between her astrological predictions as a bona fide witch, and theirs, when they're ostensibly just guessing.

Tracing a lilac fingernail over the horoscope she'd drawn up for Capricorn today, she hums thoughtfully to herself as she ascertains similarities between it and the one written by Olivia Blake of Woman's Weekly. "Would ye look at that," she says, her tone full of admiration, "I think some muggles must be sensitive to ambient magic, like - this lady's matched predictions wi mine three times in the last two months, and it's always Capricorn. Must be somebody important to her..."

WHO: gamon ollivander & barty crouch jr. @bcrtiesjr WHERE: ollivanders, diagon alley WHEN: midnight

It was a disquieting night for Gamon at Ollivanders. Rosie, one of his closest friends, had warned him in the morning about a danger appearing in his workplace. He thought about a robbery, maybe. He heard about some stores getting looted at night, with the crisis starting to show its face, some people were losing their marbles.

The little bell on the door warned him about a new presence entering the store. The man lifted his head from the wand catalogue he was updating—boring service, really, but unfortunately he had to do it— and lifted his brow when he saw who it was.

"Hello, welcome to Ollivanders. How can I help you?" Gamon asked, politely. Talk about awkward, your ex-boyfriend's friend showing up in your workplace. Of course, the chance of him actually being there to talk about Sev—Severus, he corrected himself— was small, considering Ollivanders was almost the only wand shop in Britain...