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booksmarts and broomsticks
act i , a lovelorn lockaby
chapter seven , burnt turkey

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➖ MULBERRY COTTAGE ➖
december 1991

       "CAN YOU SMELL SMOKE?"

       Michael's question alerted his two sisters from where they sat within the small dining room of their dad's cottage, as they awaited their Christmas dinner — which according to their dad would be worth the wait, even though that wait had now been a good thirty minutes.

       The rest of term had flown by, following Gryffindor's win of the Quidditch match against Slytherin. The next match in the season had been two weeks later between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, in which the former triumphed, leading to a weeklong hostile silence between Penny and Jackie.

      Dria had also taken Hermione Granger on as one of the students that she tutored, and she had quickly learned that her siblings hadn't been joking when they'd said she was the smartest witch in their year — in fact, Dria was certain that the girl was brighter than a good deal of students in OWL year. She was a Muggleborn and had an unrivalled thirst for knowledge when it came to learning about the Wizarding World, something that Dria was happy to accommodate.

       As for Wood, little progress had been made. While Dria's understanding of Quidditch had, of course, been aided after spectating one, she still felt cautious of the subject and had waited to hear what Penny had to report from her prefect duties with Percy Weasley.

       However, it had seemed that their alternative plan had also achieved very little as Penny had told the blonde that Percy wasn't particularly cooperative when the question was asked and was more interested in why the Ravenclaw wanted to know, than actually answering her question. At this news, Dria called him a name which earned her a smack around the head from Penny.

       So, it was easy to say that when she left with her siblings for the Christmas holidays, she was very dissatisfied.

        A feeling that was only exacerbated when she discovered that their mother wouldn't be able to host them for the holidays as she had been invited to go to Cancun with Shaun. While the very notion made her blood boil, altogether Dria decided that she wasn't surprised and was far more glad to be spending the holidays with her father.

       Although, the smell of smoke that encompassed the inside of his cottage did worry her slightly.

       Dria inhaled sharply and instead of smelling the usual pine scent she associated with her dad's cottage, she found herself coughing due to caught off guard by the unmistakable smell of smoke.

       "Dad?" The eldest of the siblings called from the table to the kitchen which sat adjacent to the dining room through a closed door, where the shuffling of pots and pans could be heard. "Is everything alright?"

       There was no response for a few moments as the Lockaby children listened out expectantly, but only heard the rattling of metal still echoing from the other room. But eventually the sound of the door opening did alert them, and they turned to face their father.

       "Yeah, all under control!" He replied in a tone that sounded calm and collected but his frantic eyes convinced his children otherwise — that, and the thin sheen of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. "Don't worry!"

       And with that Allan Lockaby disappeared back into the kitchen and the clanging of pots and pans resumed, while the three children looked between one another with incredulity before Maisie voiced the thought they'd all been thinking.

       "He's burnt the turkey, hasn't he?"

       "Oh, for sure."

       "Without a doubt."

With an amused shake of her head, Dria pushed out chair and rose to her feet to make her way over to the kitchen door. The closer she got the stronger the smell of smoke became and the clearer the sound of her dad's voice swearing became.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!"

As Dria pushed the door open, she immediately winced as her eyes stung a little in the foggy air of the kitchen, and as she looked around she saw her dad hunched over the kitchen counter, oven gloves on hand and a meat probe sticking out of the black, smoky remains of their Christmas turkey.

"Dad?" She asked with a cough, catching his attention and causing him to drop his irritated manner in an instant and replace it with one of faux cheer instead.

"Turkey's meant to be crispy, right?" Allan Lockaby asked, as he straightened up, using his oven gloves to assist him in waving out the smoke.

"It can be." Dria replied, tentatively, nervously bitting her lip, as she moved over the windowsill and cracked open the largest window, allowing most of the smoke to disappear into the cold night air.

"I'm sorry, Dria."

The sound of her dad's forlorn voice instantly made something snap inside of her — at least, he had wanted to spend Christmas with his children, she didn't care if he burnt the turkey or accidentally knocked over the tree; he was there.

"No, I like it crispy, I do." Dria began, as she lifted a baking tray from the sink and began wagging out what remained of the smoke, in a slight frenzy of frustration. "And the taste of charcoal, you know, you can't beat it!"

"Your mum was always the better cook."

Dria felt her jaw clenched, as she turned from the window and pulled up a stool that stood by the kitchen counter, her brows furrowing as she sat.

"Well, Mum's having a lovely time in Barbados or wherever she's gone." The blonde scoffed, looking earnestly on her dad.

"It's Cancun, Dria." Her father corrected tentatively, assuring the girl that it wasn't quite Barbados — but her point still rang true, no matter where her mother had gone with ... Shaun.

"Whatever, at least you're here." Dria sighed in exasperation, her hand smacking down upon the kitchen counter. "I'll take you with burnt turkey any day."

Dria calmed slightly as she saw a smile begin to creep its way into her father's tired face. With a small nod of agreement, he reached his hand forward and lay it atop of hers.

"What did I do to deserve you, eh?" He asked with a light chuckle, as he stroked her hand gratefully.

"Me? I don't know." The blonde girl at her father, squeezing his hand right back. "But Maisie and Michael? You must have done something terrible in a past life."

Her dad merely rolled his eye before giving her hand a finally affectionate pat, and rising to his feet with a burnt turkey in hand.

"Come on, then. Let's go poison ourselves!"

"See, that's the Christmas spirit, Dad."

***

THE NEXT FEW DAYS spent in their father's cottage in Ottery St Catchpole had been a blissful and festive escape from the workload put upon all three children at Hogwarts. They revelled in the fact that they could spend time as a family without wanting to claw their faces off in frustration, as they saw often felt when in their mother's company.

The cottage was aptly named Mulberry Cottage due to the front garden that overflowed with the sweet black berries in the summer months. But now the brambly bushes lay bare as they sat in a thin coating of snow, that had swept across the Wizarding village over the Christmas period. The cottage lay just on the outskirts of the village but was merely a five minute walk away from the thriving community.

The days had passed in snowball fights in the back garden, the smell of fresh mince pies coming out of the oven — having been baked by Maisie, thankfully and not their father — and long nights by the open fire playing games of Exploding Snap or Wizard Chess, while Figaro purred contently on Dria's lap; she'd never been more pleased that her mother had decided to spend Christmas in Cancun with Shaun.

But most of the festivities now were coming to an end as their father's holidays had ended and — much to his children's dismay — he was expected back at work, after five days off.

"I think I've still got turkey in my teeth." Maisie remarked, as she pulled a distasteful-looking over breakfast, that morning.

"Mais, it's been three days." Dria chided her, despite the statement ringing true for all members of the household; what Allan Lockaby had done to that turkey was quite an impressive feat.

"Well, all I can taste is charcoal." Maisie muttered, before turning her attention back to her cornflakes.

"Next time we'll do something a little easier." Their father suggested, as Michael helped him in with his coat, before passing his his briefcase.

"Can we have sausage rolls?"

"Yes, we'll have sausage rolls." The dark haired man chuckled in response to his youngest daughter's idea. "Brilliant suggestion, Mais."

Dria couldn't help but chuckle at her sister as she reached forward and began buttering herself a piece of toast.

"Are you sure you'll be alright while I'm at work?" Their father asked, placing his hands on Dria's shoulders before quickly giving her a kiss on the head.

"Don't worry, Dad," The blonde chuckled, as he moved on to do the same to Michael who continued to grimace, "We've got plenty to be on with."

"Actually—" Michael began, as he slid into the chair beside his older sister, with a mischievous grin in his lips.

"Don't even bother pretending you haven't got homework, Michael."

"Bugger."

"And don't swear!" Dria told him, slapping him around his head amid him reaching for a piece of toast.

"You swear!" He retorted, with a wince of pain as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I'm allowed to swear!"

The older blonde girl and the young brown-haired boy stared at one another challengingly with clenched jaws for a moment, before their gases turned their father, who stood by chuckling as he pressed a kiss to Maisie's head.

"She's sixteen, she can swear." He stated, nodding calmly at Dria, who raised her eyebrows successfully at her little brother.

"Dad, that's not fair!"

"Right, I have to leave." He cut his son off with a chuckle, ruffling his hair before standing in the doorway. "Be busy and don't burn down the house, please."

"No promises." The young boy countered with a smirk as he bit into his toast, earning a light-hearted eye roll from their father.

"Love you all." He said, sincerely before checking his watch and quickly making for the door. "I'll see you later!"

"Bye, Dad!" A chorus of farewells broke out from the three of his children still sat at the dining room table, munching their way through their breakfast.

At the sound of the door closing, a cheeky grin spread its way across Michael's face as he turned to his twin who sat opposite him.

"You want to have a snowball fight?"

Dria let out a light scoff, as she set down the crust of her toast on her plate and pushing it in Maisie's direction.

"And have you break a windowpane?" She retorted, looking incredulously at her troublesome brother. "No, thanks."

"I promise I'll be careful."

Although his tone sounded sincere, the same mischievous glint that lingered in his eyes told his older sister differently.

"Michael, last time you said that, you cracked Ollivander's ceiling." She countered, earning a chuckle from Maisie who was taking a bite of her discarded crusts.

"It's part of my charm?" The boy tried with a bashful smile, as he sank into his seat, knowing that the chances of the snowball fight had fallen slim to none.

       Before Dria could so much as roll her eyes at her brother's desperate response, the sound of glass shattering from the kitchen caught their attention and caused all three Lockabys to look in its direction.

       "What have you done now?" Dria groaned, rising to her feet as she addressed Michael.

       "I've literally been sat next to you this whole time, how could that have been me?" The boy argued, breathlessly, while his sister only let out a suspicious chuckle.

        "I've learnt not to underestimate you." She retorted, narrowing her eyes in suspicion before stepping through the doorway into the kitchen to investigate further.

        However, when she entered, she soon realised that the chaotic noise actually had nothing to do with her brother and all to do with two owls in the kitchen, scrapping noisily over a letter caught between their two beaks.

        One was great screech owl that she recognised as being one of the birds used exclusively by Hogwarts, while the other was a scruffy barn owl with its feathers flying out in all sorts of direction as it tried to cling onto the letter, his talons scratching the counter beneath him as he tried; their family owl, Gizmo.

        "Ahem."

       At the sound of Dria clearing her throat, the squabble ceased and the two owls looked at her disapproving gaze for a moment, before the larger screech owl tugged the letter from the barn owl's beak — knocking him over in the process — and flew over to present the letter to Dria.

       The blonde took the letter from the screech owl's beak much to the dismay of the barn owl sitting atop of the counter, squawking in disapproval.

       "Oh, Giz!" Dria quickly shushed the bird with a harsh look, leaving him bashfully cooing while he leaned forward to see what the letter was about.

       After a moment of picking at the wax seal, Dria opened the letter and her eyes widened when she recognised the writing to be that of the Hogwarts Potions Master;

       Dear Miss Lockaby,
      
       I hope this letter proves no inconvenience
       during the season's festivities, but I have a
       request of you when you return to school
       in the New Year.

       I have a student who's falling behind in
       Potions and requires some assistance,
       and due to your impressive aptitude
       with the subject, I felt you were the proper
       person to ask.

       If you could let me by return owl as soon
       as possible, it would be greatly
       appreciated.
      
       Sincerely
       Prof. S Snape

       With a small sigh, Dria looked over at the screech owl and gave him a small nod. She was used to teachers approaching her now and then to help out various students with subjects, but none had yet remotely written to her; she supposed it must have been an urgent matter.

        After looking through the kitchen drawers in a blur of chaotic rummaging, Dria found herself the equipment with which to respond to the Potions Master and quickly scribbled out a reply.

       Gizmo sounded another disapproving hoot as Dria reached across to attach the reply to the screech owl's leg but was silenced when she looked at him with an incredulous expression.

       No sooner was the message attached did the screech owl fly off into the wintery morning, setting off on the long journey for Hogwarts Castle.

       Dria gave a small sigh as she watched him leave, stroking Gizmo's head as she did. She was slightly disgruntled by the fact that she would be starting the year in the same way as she finished the last, and if she couldn't even alter the minor consistencies in her life, there would be no chance of her changing her demeanour towards Oliver Wood.

       Still, she shook her head at the thought, and critiqued herself for being so quick to dismiss the possibilities that lay in the wake of the next year. There was still a good six months left off the school year, that was plenty of time for her friends' plan to come to fruition — at least, she hoped it was.

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
wholesome lockaby
content, allan is dad of
the year and i will hear
no objections — also
check out the new
graphics gallery chapter
featuring somegorgeous
new graphics courtesy of
sixty6ix and celineebabee

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