Nine Lives and Bad Luck

Thompson

There were twenty-four hours in the day, that was one thousand four hundred forty seconds, or rather eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds. And Carol Myers made a point to use each and every single one of them to the best of her ability.

It started out small, her family was highly regimented. They followed a set schedule when she was young that she learned to stick to when she got older and no longer had her parents by her side so often. By the time she entered her teens, the young Carol might as well have been living alone. She was a smart young witch and would have flourished in school if she hadn't been quite so burdened by this. You see, her father quickly had exited the picture, and mother was out of country supposedly on business, leaving her and her much younger siblings to fend for themselves with infrequent visits from their aunt.

So Carol learned to do what she must, she rose early, she packed lunches, made breakfast, did laundry, checked homework, and woke her siblings for their classes, she did the housework, shopped for groceries, and ensured the necessary bills were paid, even if she had to take small jobs on the side in order for them to be. There were only twenty-four hours in a day, there was only so much she could do, so she worked through practical magic for her life with focused dedication and let homework fall to the side. After her O.W.L.S. she got a full time job of her own and dropped out from day school.

It was there, at her new job, that  she met the love of her life and, quickly, the two married, Carol Myers became Carol Thompson, one child became two and then three, her siblings graduated school and got jobs of their own, everything was looking up... until it wasn't and Carol found herself alone, with three children, and no idea what had happened in between. He had died in the line of duty and she couldn't know any more than that. There was nothing she could do to change a thing.

That was life though.

And Carol was raised tough, there was nothing she couldn't handle, and her siblings weren't in any position to help, one in the middle of a grueling mastery, another just starting a time consuming business barely having time for sleep, and the other two out working for Gringotts, somewhere, unreachable until they returned.

If they returned.

She tried her very best not to dwell on that. Not to think about getting another grave looking messenger showing up at her door so soon after the first. Her heart ached, getting up in the mornings was an effort made of fiery willpower alone, and most days it was all she could do to care on and try to be there for her children. They were struggling too. They had lost their father.

       So not even a week later she went back to work; with her O.W.L.S., she wasn't qualified for much more than a simple position as a cashier in Honeydukes, and a lesser used inn and bar down on the other end of Diagon Alley.

         The grief was strickening, she had loved him.

         She had no choice though.

         She had children.

        She couldn't stand the thought of leaving them alone to fend for themselves like she had had to. 

         So everyday she went to two jobs that didn't pay enough, and she came home to her three children who were watched by neighborhood kids, as it was summer, for a fee. Even then she often had to leave them alone at night. Everyday she returned knowing she had bills to pay, groceries to buy and not enough saved away to properly do so. She didn't have space for a garden or livestock, nor the experience necessary.

          It was a struggle she slowly found herself doubting that she was prepared for, but she kept up a brave face. She kept a positive outlook. And she kept marching forward as always.

          There were twenty four hours in the day and she made it her duty to make the best of every last second of them.  Because what else could she do?

            It wasn't sustainable though, the summer was fast closing and then she would be left with no one to watch her kids while she was working her shifts without money to pay anybody more than she already was. And then, as if by miracle, she saw the flyer advertising for duelists to join as an official member of the ring and participate in its circuits.  With a prize for every victory.

          She had been the star student of her dueling class, although she doubted that said much, and her casting had not suffered in the meantime as she struggled to use every second to her advantage. That still meant she had to bring her children to the ring, much to her discomfort, but... that turned out to have been a good thing.

          "Carol! How are the little ones?"  She'd met Ambroglio there for one, a Zagan coven vampire. The proper looking vampire bounced up to her under the unintimidating, brightly colored umbrella, giving a quick hug, "I can see you are better from that summer cold."

She smiled, "Yes, thank you for helping out."

It wasn't particularly advertised given the reputation the ministry worked to keep up about them, but they were a family orientated coven, which kept a close eye out for their descendants even after joining the coven. They never hunted children, instead they went after spousal abusers or others who attacked the weak and innocent. Ambroglio had ended up being a surprising source of help for her.

"It's so good to see you again, Carol," She'd also met Filius, a professor at Hogwarts, the school she had missed her opportunity to attend at, "You were sick? You didn't have to go to St. Mungos I hope?"

"No, no, I'm just fine, it was weeks ago anyway, please come in the scones are just coming out of the oven now so they should be nice and warm." She smiled crouching down to hug them as well. "Is Tiamat coming?"

"They should be right along, sh-"

"Mommy! Mommy! Is Asp coming? Please tell me he's coming!" Her youngest, Augustus, clamored for attention at the familiar name.

"Oh, no sweetie, I'm sorry, he's got school."

"What? Mommm." Her eldest, Johnathan, complained, "He was going to show me-"

"Uncle Zagan!" The middle child, Wendy cried out her war cry, as she leapt. After harnessing her accidental magic, nothing kept that girl down- literally.

"Ambroglio is not a pet, honey, stop pulling on his ears." She scolded.

Yes, there was only twenty four hours in the day, never enough time for everything, but she treasured each and every last one.