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Moving Forward
28th July, 1889 — halfway up a Scottish hill
@Tyr Fraser / @Elsie Beauregard
“Now, my old friend Bumbleby Biggleswade told me he dug up an ear in a bog near here recently,” Ewart told his son cheerfully. “But it’s the barrows we’re after. And the hacksilver’s a good sign.”

He’d been talking about nothing but Picts for months, since that bunch of muggles started digging up around Hogsmeade. The explosion had not put Ewart off in the slightest. Rather, that was what had caught his attention. A good sign, undoubtedly! So, on a day off and a bright summer’s morning, what better activity was there than hiking up a few hills and poking around for some archaeological curiosities? Answer: that, but with one’s strapping young son to do the heavy work!

He didn’t know that Tyr had wanted to spend his day meandering up into the mountains above Irvingly, necessarily, but Ewart had brightly offered him a choice between this and the option of modelling for his mother, and Tyr had obliged him in the end. Good to have a young’un to set the pace, too, Ewart supposed as they trudged up the steep incline. Kept him fit. (One could not apparate, of course. They would miss things.)

Nor was Ewart sure that Tyr had been listening to his Pictish theories with both his own ears. Boys would be boys, of course; Ewart was sure he had plenty else on his mind. To gauge this notion - and better get his attention - Ewart nudged his son with his elbow and said: “But I almost forgot! Not long ‘til you get your OWLs back, eh? What is it, in a week or two?”

Ewart, frankly, had no sense of time.

Tyr loved his family, he really did, all their oddities and peculiarities aside, he loved them dearly; but they were weird.

The six year hadn't any clue what his dad was going on about half the time, but when faced with modeling a design of his mother's or helping his father with some crazy hike of sorts, Tyr had easily and very quickly chosen the latter. Certainly his father had been joking about the former, but then again, one could never quite be certain in the Fraser household. Never.

The skill of smiling and nodding while only paying half of the attention he should have was something Tyr had mastered a long while ago. He wasn't exactly disinterested in what his father had to say, more like he had absolutely no idea what the topics were even covering half the time.

A question about OWL results however, was something he could actually answer. "A couple of days actually, I believe." End of July right? That sounded right. Tyr was trekking up the hill, only a little breathless at the incline, keeping up with his father, though the heavy pack on his back was slowing the natural athlete down just a bit. "Not too worried about anything other than Potions." At least he was done with that. Not something he planned to pursue at the NEWT level.

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