June 02nd, 1888 — Bartonburg, Hogsmeade

Bella had literally zero desire to be in Hogsmeade at that moment, and she had even littler desire to be visiting the home of Arthur-fucking-Pettigrew to retrieve her detached... finger. It was definitely an odd situation, and one she knew she'd be explaining to someone now or later — probably after she accepted that her finger would never be reattached. The address was 7 Wandmaker's Way, South Bartonburg, which was a less impressive one than she'd imagine the captain of a professional quidditch player might have, but it was better off than her own at the moment.

She just... knocked, hoping that either Petty would show up rather than some servant that she'd have to offer some odd explanation to. She didn't really want to have to inform them that their employer was keeping her severed finger in a jar inside their home; they might be inclined to call the asylum on her without hesitation.

As the door swung open, her mouth did, too, ready to offer an explanation.

Arthur Pettigrew / Desdemona Pettigrew

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Housekeeper, cook, and maid all in one—if Dezzie had had any domestic leanings, she would have taken some of the weight off the poor woman’s shoulders! The least the witch could do, she reassured the woman after delivering the menu for their dinner with Bella and her family on the coming Wendesday, was answer the door!

To the witch’s knowledge, neither she nor Arthur were expecting someone. Prewett—ugh—would have simply flooed into their sitting room, and Mama always wrote ahead. Still, Desdemona expected someone she knew to be on the other side of her front door, and so her face formed a clear expression of surprise when it was not a quidditch colleague, relation, or neighbor on her doorstep but a young lady.

“Yes?” she asked by way of greeting, her tone as puzzled as her expression. Subconsciously, her body had moved itself to fill the gap between door and frame, a dam stemming the tide of whatever…this was.

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The woman who came to the door was... decidedly not a servant, but she certainly wasn't Arthur Pettigrew, either. Bella closed her open mouth and tried to offer a smile. but it was far from genuine and the woman's timid appearance did nothing to soothe her own nerves.

"I hope- This is the Pettigrew residence, is it not?" she asked, rocking awkwardly on her feet. "I'm looking for- well, a... finger?" After a pause, she clarified: "Arthur Pettigrew has my finger and I need it." Bella sheepishly raised her left hand to show that one her fingers — the middle one, in fact — was gone.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Mad. The woman was mad. Arthur had her finger?! While on the one hand it seemed—oh. Dezzie’s eyes widened as the stranger held up a hand for illustration purposes and, lo and behold, it was minus one digit.

“Arthur!” she called over her shoulder rather more shrilly than she might have liked before taking a breath to compose herself. Merlin’s goddamn beard.

After a moment, Dezzie stepped back, allowing a small gap in the doorway.

“Will you come in?” she asked, not for the sake of the woman herself but because this was hardly an event suited to the prying eyes of the neighbours. Besides, letting her into the entry hall was hardly a risky maneuver.

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She'd managed to get inside, she thought as she silently passed through the Pettigrews' doorway. She shot the woman (Mrs. Pettigrew?) a smile, though her head immediately turned the other way as she waited for Mr. Pettigrew to make his grand entrance (and hopefully, she thought, with full intention of returning her finger).

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

"Deeeesdemona!" Arthur called back in a sing song voice as he plodded from the 'office' to the entrance hallway. Perhaps her mother, or more happily one of her siblings, had popped by for a visit. Arthur reflected on her tone. Maybe it was Ben or Fitz, then, the two people he knew who were most likely to get Dezzie to be shrill.

He popped his head around the corner. "Aw cripes," he said at the sight of Irish, "So, Dez, there was this thing." He was not sure how to explain the thing, now that he'd introduced the concept of it. Arthur had rather been hoping that Dez and Irish would never meet, and more importantly that Irish would never show up. But - well, she'd taken the bait. Unfortunate.

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   Bella Scrimgeour, Desdemona Pettigrew

“Mr. Pettigrew,” Desdemona began stiffly, shooting her husband a warning glance, “this young lady says she is looking for her finger.”

Words she never thought would leave her lips. At least with Arthur present, she could focus on him and not the strange woman in their entryway.

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Bella raised both brows at Petty, an expression that distinctly said, "tell her, you twit".

But like, not everything. She didn't need to know that.

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Well he was in trouble. Art shifted his weight from foot to foot. "She left it on a bar in the Three Broomsticks," Art said, fixing Miss Scrimgeour with a fuck-you stare. "It's in a jar in the office." He wasn't sure that it could even be reattached now; after spending time on the bar in the Broomsticks and then in a jar Art had lying around for Merlin knows how long, well... Probably wasn't in the best, cleanest condition.

It wasn't his problem, though.

"That's Miss Scrimgeour, you see," Art said, with a handwave and eyeroll meant to encompass the girl's entire disastrous personality.

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"You had best go fetch it then, hadn't you," Desdemona suggested primly. She was not about to leave her husband alone with a woman who went about losing fingers willy-nilly—after all, what else was she so wanton with?

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Bella's cheeks flushed, both from embarrassment and anger. If his wife hadn't been there and presumably willing to protect him, she would have conjured a stick and beat him over the head with it!

"Yes, please do," she grumpily agreed.

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The following 1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post:1 user Likes Bella Scrimgeour's post
   Desdemona Pettigrew

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Aw, Dezzie was pissed. Arthur stifled a grimace and scurried off to retrieve the finger from the office. Some clattering noise accompanied him, and a minute or two later, he scurried back, capped mason jar in hand.

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She looked at the jar and then immediately regretted it, her stomach somersaulting at the sight. She was now decidedly looking away from both involved parties as she tried to rein it in. Mentally, Dezzie made a note to see to it the jar never found its way back into the Pettigrew pantry.

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Bella was, admittedly, made uneasy at the sight of the finger, if only because it looks so different—and much more dead—than it had while attached to her hand. Fortunately, it was not enough to make her ill in the stomach.

Hand outstretched, she raised her brows as if to say "give it here".

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— MJ is MAGICAL —

Arthur did not look at the jar as he deposited it in Miss Scrimgeour's outstretched hand. He was also decidedly not looking at his wife, instead studying the space somewhere above Miss Scrimgeour's head as if the wall would suddenly become more interesting. "Uh," he said, awkwardly, "Good luck?"

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Dezzie offered Miss Scrimgeour a terse, get the fuck out of my house now please smile. It was not the most generous thing she might have done, but surely paled in comparison to the earful her husband was soon to get.

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