Ioan Gareth Cadwallader (pl_ioan) wrote in plagued_rpg, @ 2009-08-30 20:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1998 august, anthony goldstein, ioan cadwallader |
Facing all my childish fears.
Who: Ioan Cadwallader and ??? (Open)
What: Ioan arrives at the Leaky Cauldron, complete with several kinds of baggage.
When: August 30th - 31st
Where: The Leaky Cauldron/Diagon Alley
Rating: TBD
Status: Incomplete
Rhys Cadwallader pulled his car alongside the curb in front of the wizarding pub known as the Leaky Cauldron. He looked over at his son, Ioan, who was miles away and staring out at the rain.
"You know you don't have to do this, Ioan," he said.
There was a pause before Ioan turned to him, a strange smile on his lips.
"I know, da. But I want to. I really do, I'm just..." he trailed off.
"Your mother would be happier if you came back home with me. She could finish your education at home and you can go to University, if you like," Rhys offered, his voice hopeful.
"Dad, I can't. Not going back would mean letting them win. You understand that, right?"
"I study the law, 'm ab," Rhys replied softly. "Of course I understand."
Ioan nodded and unbuckled his safety belt. He climbed out of the car and retrieved his school trunk from the back seat. Tucking his wand into his jeans pocket, he moved to shut the car door.
"Bye, da. Tell mum I love her and I'll see her at Christmas," he said, waving.
"Ioan."
"Yeah, dad?"
"I'm really proud of you."
The two smiled at one another quickly before Ioan closed the door and turned to the pub entrance. His smile faded as he heard his father's car pull away. He was on his own. Ten steps away from returning to a world he hadn't been much a part of for a year. He'd barely spoken to anyone since returning in June, and that through the journals. Swallowing around the lump suddenly present in his throat, Ioan realized he couldn't wait any longer. If going back what was he really wanted, the only way was through that dingy black door ahead.
"C'mon, hychydig adwr. No one's going to hex you in broad daylight," he hissed to himself.
A passerby frowned at him talking to himself, which proved to be the motivation he needed to get out of the rain and do what he'd come to do. He kept his head down until he found the proprietor and booked himself a room on the third floor. Once in it, the nerves returned in full force, leaving Ioan sat on the edge of his bed, shaking and contemplating calling his father.
What was I thinking? he wondered, scrubbing his face with his hands to try and calm himself.
There were things he needed to do, owls he needed to send, and people he needed to see. But all of those things - or at least most of them - would have to wait. He could send his letters the next day, though he desperately wanted to send one immediately. Instead, he retrieved his song-writing journal from the top of his trunk and made his way downstairs for a drink.