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[attr="class","alice"]

[attr="class","hatter"]

[attr="class","redqueen"]All you have to do is believe

[attr="class","tweedles"]Sara Humphrey was as much like her mother in personality as she was unlike her in appearance. That is to say, a near duplicate in personality. Ben loved that her daughter was such an intelligent soul, loved how readily she absorbed information like a sponge and turned that knowledge into wisdom. The only problem with that love of knowledge? The constant need for new books. Not that Ben was really complaining, because she'd been an avid reader herself, but they were running out of options suitable for a young girl. However, Ben was well aware that Sara's 11th birthday was fast approaching. Sara was not a witch, that much Ben knew, since she never showed even the faintest sign of accidental magic. Ben wasn't surprised, and honestly? She was actually relieved that she wouldn't have to send her daughter off to a boarding school for most of the year, especially when that school was being run by such people as the Death Eaters. Since Sara was technically a muggle whether one considered Ben her mother or not, Ben was supposed to keep her as sheltered from the magical world as possible. That wasn't an issue for the most part, since most of their life was spent in the muggle world--even if Ben's job was part of the magical one--but Ben was itching to pull out the old copies of text books from her childhood and present them to Sara for her birthday. Ben was sure the purists wouldn't approve of a muggle reading about magic--even theoretical topics.

So Ben picked up a lot of fantasy books about witches and wizards, dragons and knights, all the things that went bump in the night. Anything that kept her mind open to the unexplained, just in case things became less stringent and Ben might be allowed to introduce her daughter to the wonders of theoretical magic. She was browsing the shelves and plucking books with interesting titles; she slotted most of them back into their spots, but there was a slowly growing collection in her arms. Every so often the store got a few books of wizarding origin and Ben snatched them up when she saw them, eager to being them home to Sara, but it appeared they were out of any such books this day. Shame.

Ben had just pulled another Magic Treehouse book to add to their collection when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

[attr="class","rabbit"]403 - Open - Outfit

♕fai

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[attr="class","reasonwendy"]

[attr="class","reasonbgwendy"]

[attr="class","reasonbigwendy"]

there's magic

[attr="class","reasonsmallwendy"]in the pages of any book, all you have to do is believe

[attr="class","reasonbodwendy"]A part of Wendy had always hoped that her own daughter would inherit the genes that she never had.

Wendy had been born a Squib to pureblood parents. She was non-magical in every way shape and form. She couldn’t cast, couldn’t apparate…couldn’t make plates explode with a simple will of thought. None of it. And, while it must have been easy to live in a world in which you never knew about such things, Wendy knew.

Her family had always been overly keen on magic. Her father – a notable Death Eater in society – and her mother – a wizarding brewer – had always expressed to their children the importance of magic. It was a rite of passage and a time-honored tradition. It was what they were born to inherit.

Only, Wendy hadn’t. Unlike all of her other siblings, she hadn’t exhibited any sign of magic throughout her childhood. Of course, they’d all believed it to be some sort of fluke. There was no way a Buchanan daughter wouldn’t carry magic. So, they thought she was a late bloomer – sure to receive her Hogwarts letter on her eleventh’s birthday. Wendy convinced herself that if she loved her family enough; if she studied hard and learned as much as she could about magic, that one day she would be able to enter that sacred world and take her rightful place as a Buchanan. But, it never came.

The day that her twin brother Art’s letter came was a dark one in the Buchanan Manor. Wendy’s father was livid – disappointed and vile towards her. She could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her: hatred.

Of course, he never said it out loud. Pierce Buchanan was much too proud a man for that. It was a story told in glances laced with poison.

Wendy’s mother shipped her off to boarding school shortly after that, but the seed had already been sown. A festering plant that grew and grew to new heights. Until it reached its precipice. The Epidemic…their Epidemic. She and Art had made their decision: rid the world of what had been stolen from her. Make them all feel as she had felt. And so far, it was working. So far, the world was crumbling because they had no idea how to handle a world without magic.

And Wendy was living for it.

Walking into the bookstore, she felt happy for the first time in years. Yes, her daughter and her husband made her happy, but this was another feeling altogether. This was success…this was triumph. Wendy reached out and touched the leather-bound backs of a few books as she meandered between the shelves. At least until she saw a woman’s identification card on the ground. “Magic Treehouses were always my daughter’s favorites,” she said as she glanced at the book in the woman’s hand, before remembering herself. “I think you may have dropped this,” she extended the ID card to her with a smile.

[attr="class","reasontagwendy"]@ fellow magic treehouse lover | 494 | OUTFIT

[attr="class","credwendy"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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[googlefont="Dancing Script"]

[attr="class","alice"]

[attr="class","hatter"]

[attr="class","redqueen"]There's Magic In Any Book

[attr="class","tweedles"]For all that Ben had a memory like a steel trap, she was notorious for dropping and losing things all over the place. Usually they weren't anything worth making a fuss over, she just doubled her efforts to avoid it happening again and got on with her life, but every so often she dropped or lost something actually important. Like her name-badge that let her into the secure areas of her office--the one that got her into the room with all her confidential client files that she needed for each appointment. Without access to those files she could mistakenly do or say something that set her client back. It was a miracle she hadn't lost it before now.

Ben turned at the tap on her shoulder. "My daughter adores anything fantastical, honestly. She was a dragon last Halloween, and I mean Smaug, not a generic store bought piece because God forbid she make anything easy for me." It was the one part of Sara's near obsession--that Ben admittedly started and fed--that Ben wasn't too fond of. On the other hand, Ben wouldn't ever worry that her daughter wasn't imaginative. Her last birthday had been fantasy themed, but contrary to what most of the other parents had been expecting from an eleven year old girl to dress as, Sara had stepped out in full cardboard and aluminum foil armor with a plastic sword and shield. She'd been so proud of the fact that she'd made it all herself. "Oh, goodness! Thank you!" she gushed as she reached to take the name badge with her free hand. "My daughter says I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached." Which was true, because Ben actually thought she lost her reading glasses on a regular basis when they were actually around her neck, and she once spent nearly an hour searching for her cell phone while talking to her brother on it. Sara never lets her live that down.

[attr="class","rabbit"]324 - @wendy - so late but I'm back now

♕fai

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