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Hogwarts: Year Seven - A New Age [IC/OPEN]

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Miekzhemy
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Hogwarts: Year Seven - A New Age [IC/OPEN]

Postby Miekzhemy » Wed Apr 01, 2020 9:58 am



5th of June, 2023
Gloucestershire, England



10:48 PM

Overlooking the Bristol Channel at the mouth of the River Severn, an old mansion of Georgian design stood silent upon one of Britain's many wide and grassy cliffsides. It was no Malfoy Manor, per se, but it was beautiful in its own right, and far enough away from civilization for its owners to worry about pesky muggle activity. From within, its two floors were connected by an ornate and carpeted staircase in the main lobby, and featured enough furnishings for an entire extended family to live lavishly and comfortably within its walls.

The only active chamber within this expansive manor was its meeting room, connected to the lobby via a pair of oaken doors carved elegantly in the form of great serpents, and was lit by a gorgeous chandelier easily a metre in diameter. The walls, towering seemingly sky high before meeting the paneled ceiling, were extravagently decorated with portraits, trinkets, and the mounted heads of dangerous magical beasts. An enormous clock hung as a centerpiece on one of the walls, its signature deep ticks and tocks echoing throughout the entire room.

A long table ran perpendicular to the doors, lined with eight elegantly crafted wooden chairs on each side. It was set with various bottles, glasses and fine china, all filled to the brim with expensive wines. At the far end of this table, facing the double door entrance, stood a padded throne-like seat. Upon it was a man. Not any ordinary man, but a man part of what was once the most powerful and dangerous group of people in Wizarding Britain.

Corban Yaxley was his name. He sat rigid in his chair, his haughty and domineering demeanor evident by even his posture, complimented further by his hard features and perpetual glare of disdain upon his face. His long hair was a pale blonde, the scruff tied into a single neat braid that hung down his back.
It was long past the aging Death Eater's prime. His idle thoughts drifted back to his memories of serving the Dark Lord. He silently recalled his days of grandeur, when it was he that infiltrated the Ministry and put the Minister Pius Thicknesse under the Imperius Curse. Reminiscing his part in the Muggle-Born Registration Commission - at the thought of holding the power of so many muggle-born lives within the palm of his hand - he almost smiled. Almost...
And to come so close to delivering even the great Harry Potter to his late master. He was so close to having it all...

Yaxley was not alone in this meeting room, however. In fact, all sixteen of the chairs before him were filled.

To his immediate right sat Antonin Dolohov, a man easily responsible for more atrocities than the rest of his peers combined. His curly black hair drooped over his pale, twisted face as he stared ceaselessly at the surface of the meeting table, idly scratching at his unkempt beard. Like each and every one of them, one look was enough to tell that the years in Azkaban took its tolls upon even the Dark Lord's most fanatic of killers.
Next to Dolohov was an enormous hulk of a man, with fair complexion and platinum blonde hair - Thorfinn Rowle. As cruel and bloodthirsty as the Death Eater at his side, Rowle glared at the wall ahead of him, his entire body expressing impatience.

Yaxley's gaze drifted to those on his left. Walden Macnair, the long-dissolved old Ministry's executioner, sat closest to him. Once a muscular man of towering stature, he now sat with a hunch in his back. One of his bony, callous hands constantly clutched at a spot where his ribs never healed quite right. And though he seemed haggard and weak, a resentful, maniacal expression hung upon his face.
Further down were the Carrow siblings. Amycus, much like his sister Alecto, were of stocky stature with stubby fingers and a pallid, pig-like face. And while Alecto held a disposition of power and authority, her brother sat hunched over, his face conveying that of fear and despair.

But these were only the most prominent of the few remaining Death Eaters that still survived to see freedom yet again. The eleven remaining chairs were occupied by black-robed, hooded figures. Some wore masks, hiding their scars and brutalized facial features after decades of battle and torment within Azkaban, passively fighting the weakness that both age and history had brought upon then. All of them said nothing, and waited patiently, and some impatiently, for their meeting to begin.

Minutes passed in utter silence, with naught a peep from the chamber save for the ticking of the clock...

...Tick...

...Tick...


Eventually, Yaxley looked up, his steel gaze scanning the table up and down. With an inward sigh, he finally spoke.

"Here we are yet again."

They all turned to look at him. Yaxley's tone was almost dismissive, as if they had been here before...

"You all...are likely aware as to why we've come together once more. Azkaban lies in ruins. What none of us could have come close to accomplishing over decades...a single boy managed in mere weeks. Perhaps the rumours were true all along. They've only become stronger over the generations..."

"But even this was not enough," he went on. "From the ashes and ruin of the mudblood uprising, a new regime has emerged. Even with the ceaseless diversions and panic caused by Darkenstone's carefully-executed schemes...he failed. And now? Grey's power and strength over Britain is nothing short of absolute--"

"And now he caters to the mudbloods!" Alecto butted in. "Even after all they've done!"

"R-rather than purge them from society..." Amycus followed her point. "...'e has the audacity to l-let it all go unpunished? T-th' half-bloods too--!"

Yaxley, meanwhile, hadn't budged an inch. He only brought a hand up. Amycus went silent.

"Which is PRECISELY why we are here, Carrow," Yaxley interrupted. He leaned back in his chair.

"Permit me to state the obvious. This new government... This...HIGHLORD, cares not for the purity of wizardkind. To cleanse the filth outright would leave him weak - and weariness of another war would leave his followers lacking in both the will and manpower to enforce his rule. And even if it was his end goal, It would take years...decades-- perhaps centuries even...to finally see the pure magical regime that our beloved master so desired. And with so many flocking to Grey's cause, be it for their loyalty or fear, a single great battle cannot hope to turn the tides in our favor. The mudbloods tried and failed. Darkenstone tried and failed."

Yaxley, ever so slightly, hung his head. "Dare I say this, brothers and sisters, but we are now but a mere obstacle in the way of Albion's rise. And like the mudblood rebellions, he seeks to purge us like chaff..."

...Tick...


In the outer courtyard of the manor, laden by the darkness of night, a figure sat hunched forward upon a wooden bench. A hooded cloak covered his form, and a cloth mask concealed his face from the nose down. In one hand was a pocketwatch, and the other, a small photograph.

A photograph of the manor's empty meeting room.

The man on the bench had been staring intently at this photograph for what seemed like hours, studying each and every tiny detail of that chamber.

And listening to the time go by...

...Tick...


As the realization of their predicament set in, the room was silent once more. The echo of grandfather clock thumping ever closer to the eleventh hour was almost deafening. With the Dark Lord's last exchanging both worried and defeated looks, Yaxley finally stood, and stepped up to the end of their table.

"But I, for one, am not about to throw down my arms. Even to this day, the cowardly mudbloods continue to shudder at the very mention of our master's name! And the Highlord's attempts to denounce and dismiss our cause as archaic, and our sacred bloodlines of a bygone age, only serves as evidence of the mudbloods' poisonous influence over them!"

...Tick...


The man upon the bench, after being still and motionless for so long, finally looked up from the photograph. Furrowing his brow, he folded it up, and stuffed it and the pocketwatch into a pouch on his belt. He stood up straight, and shed his cloak upon the bench.

The dark grey military uniform he wore seemed almost Victorian in design, with black leather padding stitched onto the fabric for the protection of its wearer.

Strapped to his chest was a half cuirass, bearing Albion's coat of arms.

...Tick...


"Where once we dwelled in shadows licking our wounds, we held greatness within our grasp! And even as they snatch victory from the Dark Lord's grip - and seek to imprison us like cattle - it will not destroy our resolve. For so long as one of us survives, our cause shall live on forevermore!"

As the Death Eaters looked about the room yet again, their previously worrysome murmurs turned to nods of approval. Some clapped their hands. Others openly cheered.

"For the Dark Lord!" they yelled aloud.

...Tick...


Standing rigid within the courtyard, the masked figure stared blankly into the horizon in front of him for a long time. His eyes fluttered shut and, as he drew a wand, a seemingly tranquil expression came over him.

He took a deep breath, and disapparated.

...Tick...


With the speech and clamour of his comrades echoing around him, Dolohov sat still and silent within his chair. His twitchy gaze was frozen in a mile-long stare across the table, over Macnair's shoulder, and into the wall ahead. An ominous chill shook down his spine.

Yaxley took up a glass, and many others followed suit. Dolohov craned his neck to look to the head of the table.

"Brothers and sisters," Yaxley announced, holding the glass high.

...Tick...


"To a new age!"

Dolohov blinked. A masked man was suddenly stood behind him.

"CORBAN--"

But Dolohov's warning came too late. With a single deft swipe of the auror's wand, the glass shattered in a flash of light, and the entire room was dashed with wine and blood. One moment the congregation was up in celebration. And in but a blink of an eye, they now watched in horror as Yaxley's headless corpse fell upon the table...

The room suddenly fell to silence as the celebration ceased. Immediately, many of them shot up from their chairs. Yelling and screaming in a mix of shock and anger at the man now standing where their comrade once stood, several more drew wands. But amidst this danger, the masked man stood tall.

Dolohov was first to send a curse his way, causing the entire room to light up in a flash of green light. But in an instant, the auror was gone, and the curse tore a chunk off of the wall. With the room still in a panic, Dolohov gritted his teeth and looked frantically about the room.

But by the time he saw the figure now standing at the other end of the table, it was far too late.

A wave of the man's wand prompted a blast of wind to explode outward. It came with such force that everything - from the contents of the meeting table to the entire congregation of Death Eaters - were swept into the air and hurled at breakneck speed into the back wall of ornate, chiseled stone. As bodies slammed against it with the sickening cracks of broken bones and screams of pain, glasses and chairs snapped to shards and pieces, raining upon them like shrapnel and debris. Many that hit the ground did not get up again.

The few that did rose to find their wands, most stolen from their captors to begin with, being pulled from these piles of debris away from them. They came to a halt floating just above the man's head, and a single flick of his wrist snapped each one in two.

A sense of panic was instilled in the remaining Death Eaters at the other end of the room, prompting several of the weaker ones to make for any semblance of cover they could find. Dolohov, riddled with scrapes and cuts, practically seethed with fury.

"You..." his growl quickly turned to a raving scream. "YOU DOG!"

He took off running across the room, but the auror simply pointed his wand towards him, instead using his free hand to hold the broken wands aloft. Dolohov was immediately swept off his feet and lifted into the air, before being hurled kicking and screaming behind his assailant. He violently crashed through both the meeting room's doors and those of the room at the far end of the lobby before finally going out of sight.

The man turned and, before his remaining foes even had time to process the carnage around them, flicked his wrist again.

The several broken wands shot across the meeting room like a volley of deadly arrows. In but another second, more of the Death Eaters fell lifelessly to the floor. Rowle stumbled to a knee as one embedded itself in his shoulder. He reached to grab Macnair by the shoulder, only for he too to hit the ground. For a time, Rowle could only stare blankly at his own wand jutting from Macnair's eye, and the resulting pool of blood forming below him.

Rowle twitched, before turning his hateful gaze to the man responsible. Rising to his feet, he recklessly tore the broken wand from his shoulder and, bellowing a beastly roar that befitted his barbarous nature, charged. He brandished the snapped wand like a crude dagger.

The figure, however, lowered his wand, and as Rowle lunged to run him through, he disapparated yet again. The brutish Death Eater then fell face-first to the ground. But as Rowle pushed himself back up and looked over his shoulder, he found the same figure standing over him.

Amycus, on all fours, struggled to even scramble to his knees. The only thing that finally tore his eyes off his sister's impaled corpse was the second flash of green light that illuminated the entire room. His fearful eyes drifted to its source, where Rowle now lay still upon the ground.

A single outward gasp escaped Amycus' lips before the masked man's wand was trained on him now. And in another instant, a conjured rope was shot across the room, wrapping itself around his neck.

He choked on his initial words as the auror began to slowly step ever closer, his wand trained on the Death Eater's bound neck. Amycus attempted to splutter out any semblance of words to plea for mercy, but the rope only tightened. Before long, the man was close enough to look him in the eye. As his pallid face turned a bright shade of red, the auror's icy gaze bore daggers into Amycus' watering eyes.

The auror slowly rotated his wrist, and Amycus felt the rope press ever tightly into his throat. He clawed frantically at it to no avail, even going so far as to meekly reach out for the man's outstretched wand. For several seconds he choked and coughed up spit onto the floor, tears streaming down Amycus' face as his terrified eyes practically bulged from their sockets. But the man before him only continued to tighten his rope.

Until Amycus was finally silenced with the chilling snap of his neck...

When he hit the floor, the chamber was finally silent. The auror slowly lowered his wand and, taking a deep breath, scanned the room - now a mess of bodies, debris, blood and wine. He looked at the clock that somehow survived the mayhem.

The eleventh hour...

It was then that a thought occurred to him. Without missing a beat, he ran to the broken-down doors of the meeting room, and peered into the lobby. A thin trail of blood lead from the opposite room out the front door. He disapparated, reappearing in the doorway outside.

Across the courtyard stood Dolohov, shambling sluggishly down the central path towards the outer gate. Clutching a bleeding wound on his stomach, he turned, seemingly unsurprised by the auror's sudden reappearance.

"You think this is over, don't you?" Dolohov spat. "Rid Grey of a few loose ends, and that's that? Hah!?"

The man said nothing, beginning to walk towards him. Dolohov, however, came to a stop.

"Or maybe you believe you do this for the...greater good? To bring peace!? Once you outlive your usefulness, Grey will throw you to the WOLVES! You only replace one tyrant with another..."

Dolohov outstretched both arms, a maniacal grin forming on his haggard face.

"You change nothing..."

The auror's gloved hand snatched him by the jaw.

"NOTHING--!"

His words were cut short as a wand was driven into his neck. Dolohov blinked twice, his wide eyes boring into those of the man before him. The masked auror, however, didn't even dignify the Death Eater with another word. Instead, he violently tore his wand from Dolohov's neck, and disapparated.

Suddenly, Dolohov was now all alone in the beautiful courtyard, surrounded by naught but the tranquil sounds of nature. He dropped to his knees, and finally craned his neck to look at the full moon above.

And as the warm sensation of his blood flowing down his chest sent a final chill down his spine, he fell into the grass.



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I'm just a guy that likes playing video games, drawing, acting/musical theatre, piano, rp, and impersonating people with a spunky disposition.

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Skylus
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I pre wrote this yo

Postby Skylus » Wed Apr 01, 2020 10:17 am

Derek Forester
Hogwarts (Sometime in April)


Derek took one last look at the ancient weathered castle before him before he turned and started walking towards the main gates, his battered armor rusted in some places and burnt away in others. Once he passed the gates, the Gryffindor stopped and looked back at Madi, who waved at him.

“I’ve got to stay here and help clean up and heal people if possible. You already said goodbye, so I guess I’ll see you whenever.” The resident werewolf took a step back, looked behind her as someone called her name, waved again, then ran off and out of sight.

A bird cry caused Derek to look up and he held out an arm as Grace landed, claws clutching something as she held out a foot to him. “Hello, Grace.” Derek took the paper from his bird and Grace moved from his arm to his shoulder, then another bird appeared, Feras, who landed on his right shoulder. A muted meow caught Derek’s attention, and a moment later, the Kneazle kitten, Ferndal, appeared behind Feras. It seemed the three had hidden somewhere safe during the battle and had only just now come out of hiding.

The kitten leapt from Feras’ back into Derek’s waiting arms and, after looking in the direction of Hogwarts for several seconds, he cradled the small creature and hugged him before he lowered his arms a bit and held his gaze on the castle in the near distance. Derek then moved the Kneazle kitten to one arm as he read the paper Grace had given him.

”Derek. This is Fredric. Thomas told me that the cottage was ours, however, since I’m in hiding, it belongs to you. You remember where the spare key is, don’t you? Under the rock by the front door. I don’t know the condition of the cottage, but it should be able to be lived in, though you might have to clean things up and whatnot. I’ll try to visit soon.”

Derek read the letter a second time, folded it in half, then half again, then set it alight with Incendio, then watched the ashes scatter from the wind. “Let’s go home.”

The Gryffindor lifted the visor of the helmet, then half turned away from the castle, walked down the road a bit, looked back at the castle, reached up, lowered the visor, then spun quickly and with a flash of light and a muted pop, Derek was gone.

Forester Cottage, Glacies Estate

With a muted crack and a flash of light, Derek appeared before his grandparent’s cottage. He noticed right away that something felt off, whether it was the broken windows or the barely standing front door, or just how quiet it was. No birds were singing or any signs or wildlife.

’Be careful. It… it smells of death and decay, that is why no one sings.’ Grace bobbed her head and waved a wing towards the house as Derek walked up to a broken window and tried to look inside the cottage.

He couldn’t see much as is, so he turned around and started looking for the spare key, eventually finding it under a rock, just like Fredric had written in the letter. Derek then inserted the key into the lock and turned it, the door unlocked and he slowly pushed it open, then stepped inside and closed the door.

It was dark and deathly silent, save for the wind hitting the sides of the cottage, the creaks of the wooden floor as Derek stepped forwards and the sound of his own breathing behind the helmet.

’Can't really see much. Time to make some light.’
“Lumos.” A ball of light appeared in the air before Derek and the darkness gave way to what looked like a murder scene. And in a way it was.

Dried blood stained the wooden floor and wall, while furniture and other things were scattered across the main room. Derek spotted something lying on the blood stain and he knelt down next to it, realizing it was a wand. He picked it up and looked at it before he got up and placed it on a nearby table, then noticed a piece of paper on the said table. Derek picked it up and read it, his eyes widening behind the visor as he realized that this letter was the one his grandfather had written, the one he had ruined the family with. The paper was stained with blood, but yet there was something on the back…

“If anyone is to read this, I believe that what I am doing is right. The Ministry has been under false rulership for quite some time. I may die, but others shall take my place. If any of my family is reading this, I am truly sorry if this affects you.”

Derek was about to burn the paper with Incendio but noticed something at the bottom, written in a different script.

“There is a key hidden in the upstairs room. It is hidden in your own hiding spot. This key unlocks a vault, down in the cellar. If anyone else is reading this, don’t bother trying to get into the vault, it is sealed with ancient magic that can only be unbroken with said key.”

Derek looked down at the paper, then laid it on the table and looked up at the wooden beamed ceiling overhead. ’My hiding spot? What does the letter…Does it mean that hidden passage I found when I was seven?’

The Gryffindor reached up and took off the helmet, then set it down on the table, let the two birds and the kitten climb down from his shoulders and go find somewhere to sleep, then proceeded to (eventually) get the rest of the armor off and he set all of it on the table as well. His clothes were in tatters and covered in burns and soot, but they were still wearable for the time being. Derek then walked over to an unbroken window and looked out at the forest a few yards away, remembering the time he had gotten lost amongst the trees long ago at the age of five.

’If that Centaur hadn’t found me, I don’t think I’d still be alive. I wonder if he’s alright.’

Derek held his gaze on the old towering trees for a few more seconds and then turned away, towards the kitchens. Something was moving around in the next room, and he decided to investigate.

The cottage had been built long ago, during the 1800’s. The floor plan was simple - parlor, main room, kitchens off to the right, servant rooms to the left. Upstairs was the study and bedrooms, the study was just off the stairs to the left, connected to the main bedroom via a bathroom (which had been converted from storage some fifty years ago). The study hopefully still held books and various artifacts. Past the study and bedroom were two more bedrooms, on the opposite side of the hallway. Further down was another stairwell, learning down to the cellar, and kitchens. Past the stairwell was a balcony/widow’s walk.

The kitchens could have staffed ten to fifteen people at any point, but only two had been staffed there before the incident. Now the once roaring ovens were silent and dark. But one wasn’t. Derek cautiously stepped closer to it, before he heard footfalls behind him. He spun around, wand at the ready, only to see a House Elf looking up at him, smiling.

“Master Derek, I apologize for the state of the cottage, I only just arrived myself.”

Derek lowered his wand and somehow smiled back. “Dorris.”

Dorris walked up to Derek and hugged him, then motioned for him to step back and the elder House Elf began inspecting the lit oven. “I’d go exploring if I were you, see just how much damage those Aurors caused.”

But Derek didn’t wander off, instead, he magically made a chair fly over to him and he sat down on it the opposite way. (Back is front instead of...well, the back)
“You know there’s bloodstains, right? And I found the letter, or a copy of it.”

Dorris gazed at Derek curiously. “Bloodstains? How dreadful. I tried to repair and fix up the main room but there’s so much to fix…”

A minute of silence passed, save for the roaring of the lit oven.
“Gladus is here as well. There’s also something in the shed near the forest that belongs to you.”

Derek got up from the chair, pushed it aside a bit, walked over to the back door, opened it, then stepped outside. He heard something barking as he stepped out onto the deck and a moment later, an elderly Boarhound appeared from the left, tail wagging furiously. The dog slammed into Derek and caused him to fall to the deck, but he didn’t care.
“I’m happy to see you too, Gladus.”

Several minutes of dog bonding later, Derek got up from the deck and walked over to the side of the deck and jumped off, Gladus following him as he walked across the grass over to the shed that was at the edge of the forest. Once he reached the shed, Derek unlocked the door and threw the doors open.
The thing inside the shed was his bike.

’Do you think things will ever be remotely normal again?’

’I would hope so, but you are young and have your whole life ahead of you. This setback will hurt you, that is true, but you have somewhere to live, to sleep, and the land here will provide for you.’

The transformed Animagus was watching the sun set with Gladus, and the two stayed close to each other until the sun died and the moon began to rise in the sky. The wolf shot upwards and Derek walked back to the cottage, the elderly Boarhound following.

Derek stepped inside the cottage and let Gladus inside, then shut the door and locked it.
“I’d better go see what this hidden passage is. I’ll be back.”

Dorris nodded as Derek left the kitchen, attempted to clean up the main room a bit, then walked over to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor. He then stepped into the study, walked over to the black armchair behind a desk and sat down, looking at the ten filled bookshelves lining the walls in silence.
’At least nothing up here was touched at least. I guess I could organize it all, catalogue everything. It’d take a few days at least.’

Derek looked around him at the books before getting up and left the study, only checking the other rooms to see if they had been damaged, and they hadn’t. He eventually reached the back bedroom and walked into said room, only to see the ghost of Geruas standing there besides a wall. The long dead knight-mage gave Derek a warm smile as he approached and waved a hand at the wall. “Seems hollow, don’t you think?”

“Why are you here?”

Geruas stepped back and let Derek inspect the wall before the Gryffindor found a false panel and opened the wall up, revealing a hidden passage. “Down this passageway is what you could consider to be some of your inheritance... Well, what’s left of it anyway.”

Derek eyed Geruas for a second and the ghost made a shooing motion. “Go on.”

He stepped up to the passageway, looked back at the ghost, then stepped over the threshold and started walking.

Two minutes later, the hallway opened up and Derek was standing in a small open room, with nothing but an old wooden crate in the middle of it. He summoned a ball of light with Lumos in order to see and walked up to the crate, then wondered how to pry it open. He then saw carved words in the crate. - To open this crate which within lies part of the vault of ancient blood, one must be worthy, proven so by the blade that sealthe away darkeness. If thou hath this blade, strike, and the crate shall parthe for thee.

...Okay. More prophecies. Great.
Derek looked down at the crate for a moment, then reached to his side and drew the family sword, placed it against the lid of the crate, then attempted to pry it open. To his surprise, the crate lid slid off and fell to the floor, revealing gold.

Galleons. The crate was filled with Galleons, easily hundreds of years old. Derek stared for a moment, then reached into the crate with his free hand and ran it through the coins, then picked some up. ’1848, 1732… 1610… How many are here?’

“My gift to you, Derek.” Geruas had followed Derek into the room and was by the entrance. “And to the ones that came after me. We promised to not use these until the time was right, until disaster struck us. Which is now. Only take what you need, and save the rest.”

“... I’ll take twenty for now.” Derek picked out twenty gold coins, returned the lid to the crate, then left the room and walked back down the passage, then stopped in the middle of the bedroom. “Do you think my parents will ever return to normal?” He half turned to face the ghost, then looked down at the Galleons gleaming in his hand, seeing any sort of light for the first time in possibly centuries.

The ghost shook his head. “It is most unlikely, the Imperious Curse is not to be trifled with, even if they did break it, Aurors would come after them, and possibly you.”

“If there’s a chance to have them back to normal, even for a day, I’d risk it.” Derek set the Galleons on a nearby table and sat down on the bed, before placing the sword and shield on the same table as the coins and fell back onto the cold blankets, staring up at the ceiling. “At least I’m here and not somewhere else…”

He felt something jump on the bed and he saw Ferndal and Gladus lay down next to him (Ferndal on his chest). Derek suddenly felt tired and he drifted off a few seconds later without another word.
Last edited by Skylus on Wed Apr 01, 2020 10:25 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Britanania
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Postby Britanania » Wed Apr 01, 2020 12:34 pm

Caitie Glacies: After the Battle

After Caitie and Henry reached the auror line they quickly explained that they made it out of the castle during the height of the battle and taken into protective custody for a few hours. Once the situation stabilised and the aurors defeated the last of the inferi, the aurors escorted the pair back into the castle to retrieve their belongings. Even though Womky already took her things back to the Manor, Caitie wanted one last look at the castle before she returned home

The castle itself looked about as overrun as it had before, with the bodies of the monsters still littering the stone floors and blood still plastered to the walls. Frankly, Caitie seemed little bothered by all the carnage as she made her way down into the Dungeons. After she reached the Common Room, Caitie felt that she saw all that she needed to and asked to be taken to the station.




Waiting for her at the station was not her aunt Cordellia but rather one of her retinue, the Steward of Castle Glacies and the chauffeur. After helping his young mistress into the carriage they made their way out of the city for the other two-hour journey to her ancestral home.

When the carriage arrived, Cordellia was again not waiting for her niece, but instead, the rest of the household were present. The Butler, Cook, and Housekeeper stood together, and a little way next stood obediently Caitie's own maid, the chambermaids, and the house, kitchen, and laundry maids. The head Gardener, Stable Master, Gamekeeper and their assistants rounded out the household, while the Houseleves stood a little ways back.

The staff all bowed to their young mistress when she set foot on the grounds. After dismissing them, Caitie was shown to her room where she unpacked.

And all the while her aunt and uncle were nowhere to be seen.
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Arlye Austros
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Arlye Austros » Wed Apr 01, 2020 3:27 pm

Anton walked away as Isolde struggled to follow his with her eyes. The bloodied figure stumbled through the rubble, the mere shape then vanished behind a veil of dust. The fires were mostly gone, and luckily the smoke in the hallway leading to the Slytherin common was dissipated. But now dust was falling from the ceiling. She feared the place would collapse.
One breath in… and out.

Isolde gasped as she crawled. Her heart pumped for both. She rested laying down on the cobblestone and loose bricks. In… and out. The Hufflepuff’s eyes opened and she looked about. She had to get out. Isolde once more struggled with her own weight and the broken arm. In… Out.

The Slytherin laid on the ground, still clutching the wand. Just inches beyond Ricardo’s head the floor was cooling off the massive wave of blazing heat that he nearly managed to kill her with. Isolde’s fingers touched his skin under the ear. There was blood flowing from the right ear down the neck, but the weak palpitation told of his survival. It also reminded her to breath. In… and out.
“Come on… We have to get out of here.” She muttered. But Ricardo was knocked off for good.

It was then, when she managed to pass his arm around her shoulder and push up the bulk of the Chilean’s weight, that her heart gave her an ingrate surprise. She felt oppressed at the chest. Isolde nearly collapsed with Ricardo over herself, but managed to keep her footing and look about. She couldn’t see Anton. But she heard him. He was in excruciating pain, and his heart worked along with hers. If he fainted…
“We have to get out.” She flung her wand and Ricardo’s wand floated up to her to catch it, then Isolde made it out of the ruins, towards the corridor. It was going to collapse. She could fee it.

Voices… the Aurors had come. Her heart gave up, Isolde collapsed herself at the sight of salvation.


Amelia Grenwald

It was done. She would keep telling herself that. But it wasn’t enough. Amelia realized she wasn’t in the place she should have. Instead making sure the Imperius Curse worked perfectly on Judge Reginald Mior. The old man took a while, as some parts of his will resisted hers. But by the end of night she was certain her control of him would last. The question remained as to when to use him.
She should have been at Hogwarts, looking for her daughter. She knew before time what was about to happen, but to get so bad? Some of the students had died, and she was told Isolde was found in the rubble, taken to St. Mungo.

She rushed into the waiting room, crowded with equally concearned parents. A group argued with a witch sitting behind a counter, who seemed overwhelmed and about to burst into tears. That until an Auror, with his cuirass tainted with some blood, stepped in to defuse the situation, pushing a bearded wizard and his wife back and holding his wand just in sight with the other hand.
“Please, gentlemen, the staff are dealing with a sudden income of patients. If you don’t calm down I will deem you a threat to the Hospital’s course and expel you from the premises.”

The bearded wizard replied. “I saw my daughter taken in. Don’t tell me to calm down like some over-priced security guard.” He said with anger, prompting the group of parents to agree and continue their protest, Amelia had walked nearby, and heard him turn to the lady behind the counter. “Gweniver Reaver. I just want to know if she is out of danger.” The woman raised her hands, demanding space.
“Glefford…” Amelia called above the crowd at the Auror. “Glefford.”
“ Lady Minister...” He didn’t seem surprised to see her here. “I believe your daughter was taken in too, but you will have to…”

She replied cutting the man mid-sentence. “Where is Ermens?” She called him by the last name. The man seemed confused.
“Ermens… I think… he was here, yes.”
“Go get him, I will help here.”
“I am not sure you have such an authority, ma’am…”

But Amelia wasn’t having it. She drew her wand, keeping it low. “Go now!”
Amelia Grenwald spent the next few minutes calming down the concerned parents of St. Mungo. Luckily she didn’t have to raise her wand, and was able to somewhat connect with them. She also had a daughter in there, and was just as worried.
“You better get in there and bring the Lord Minister, Grenwald.” Mr. Reaver, the bearded man, urged her. Amelia replied coldly without looking at him. “High Lord… Remember that.”

She heard steps behind her. Joseph Ermens looked at her, but nodded. He wasn’t alone. Three more Aurors and a Healer followed with no other than Madame Pomfrey. Amelia stood her ground as the six people stood before the crowd. One of the Aurors cleared her throat before addressing the crowd.

“Thank you for waiting. I know the situation looks very bad. It is. BUT!” She rose her voice slightly as some parents signaled a new wave of protests. “I assure you the children who have been brought in from Hogwarts are at this point out of life-endangerment. Mr. Spleen here will inform you all better.”
The Healer placed on some glasses before looking at the crowd with a soft smile. “Our staff has been working through the night as the first injured children started to arrive, those where the ones evacuated from the Great Hall, I understand. Most of them are ready to be discharged at this precise moment. My staff will issue a list of the patients who should be picked up in the Bellane Pomfrey Hall in a few minutes. Of those, five are in a bad condition and will have to remain.” His narration was, Amelia recognized, soothing. The parents seemed to give a sigh of relief.

“Madame Pomfrey, here, has provided first-hand help with these five, and continued her efforts through the night as more continued to arrive. A second group arrived at about four in the morning. These thirteen students were badly wounded, and one in life-threatening condition. They are, as of now, all out of danger and will continue under observation. Again, this list will be provided by Miss Helene in a few minutes.” The man motioned to the lady behind the counter. “I urge you all to be as patient as you can with her, as she has, along with the rest of the staff, overstayed her working hours, and is as concerned as you are.”
Now Amelia could note a vague taint of shame in the parents’ faces. She, however, didn’t smile.

“A last group arrived between four-thirty and seven in the morning, the last was brought in just a few minutes ago. These correspond to those who were trapped in the dungeon of the castle, mostly of House Slytherin. Most of them without any life-threatening harm, and ready to be discharged in a few hours at most. Some of them, however, have sustained more serious damage, mostly due to burns or bites of varying nature. Once more, I have to ask the parents of these students to be as understanding as you can, and to rest assure that your children are out of danger. Some, I am afraid, will require to remain in St. Mungo for some days. Once more, Miss Helene will provide a list in some hours.”

“What about the dead!” A voice claimed over the crowd. Once more the protests ensued. Amelia had listened enough, and nodded at Joseph. An Auror stepped forward and began giving information on the dead students. Joseph turned and signaled her to follow him into a room at the side of the waiting room, the voices now muffled.
“Isolde is fine. She has some fractures and burns like most. She did seem affected by a blood-transfusion charm that nearly killed her, but she is fine.”

She didn’t reply to his American accent. His cuirass too showed some blood. It was his. She looked at it and followed the trace, but his hand laid on her shoulder before she could find the source.
“It was actually a kid. Hiding in a broomstick cabinet. He thought I was with Darkenstone and attacked me with a pencil. I am fine, although it was bloody messy, as you Brits say.”

“I got the Judge…” She muttered. Amelia listened to the muffled voice of the Auror, as if she feared he had listened and would stop talking.
“Amelia… God…” He didn’t seem clear on how to react. “It is really not the moment to bring any of that dirt out. We all got too much work on our hands. That bastard, Darkenstone, escaped, and some things are happening in the Department of Mysteries I am too worried about.” He too stopped, listening to the chattering in the waiting room. “Besides, right now Grey has a hold. This attack only sets him more in his position, so Avery. You really should wait.”
She nodded without saying anything. Amelia, however, thought about what was already done. The orders were made, Judge Mioir would tomorrow have direct control over the Foresters.

“We need to get them out of the country. Do you think you can settle them in America?”
He sighed, as if he really didn’t want to think beyond that room.

“Wait… please wait. Don’t do anything harsh, and be as the other parents, take care of your daughter who nearly died tonight. Do me that favor, please.” He muttered and didn’t wait for a reply, just turned to join the group at the room, and Amelia followed.
“Lady Minister… Sorry. I am just heading to check on a student.” A man passed by her side, nearly stumbling on Amelia.

“Evan… I didn’t know you had kids.”
But McDelrig vaguely smiled. “Not now, not in the foreseeable future. It’s just a guy I care about.”
The man turned and continued towards the rooms.

Evan had vaguely searched for Salgado’s face amongst the first evacuates. But all he got was a red wand. A wand he was familiar with. Hours before he had destroyed a duplicate. When the received it from a relieved student he wondered if Ricardo was still inside. Then the order to move in and reinforce the push into the Great Hall was given, there wasn’t time to chase faces.

“Salgado…” He said. The Healer nodded, not questioning his right to go in. He held the red wand in his hand. The Healer returned and gestured him, so McDelrig followed him.
“Badly burned several times. It seems he tried to heal himself.” He commented before pushing a door open. It was a small room with four beds. All used by still figures. Evan stood a moment, looking around at those children, of varying ages and wounds, but all knocked off for a time. He then headed to the one Ricardo occupied.

“He will pull through it, but his unconsciousness was caused by some unknown spell. He was also subjected to the Imperius Curse.”
“How can you tell?” He asked. Indeed, knowing this was strange.
“Just because of the nature of his state. Whatever curse struck him, it interacted with the Imperius Curse almost perfectly. This rarely happens. For instance if the Memory-Cleaning spell was used on someone under the Imperius Curse it would lead a similar trace in their mind. Mind-altering charms, one could say, dance with the Curse.” The man moved his fingers to quote-on-quote the word. McDelrig didn’t really want to listen to magical theory right then.
“How long until he recovers?”
“Hard to tell… First he has to wake up. But he will remain here for a while, for sure.”

Evan looked at Ricardo’s face and thought about the chase of the last days. He then focused on the weight the redwood wand pushed at his hand. Should he destroy it, like its duplicate?
“When he wakes up send word.”




Ricardo toyed with the wand between his fingers. Had he wanted to use it he would have found it impossible. The use of magic was not only strictly forbidden in the Janus Thickey Ward, but altogether impossible. According to Miss Strout, a charm to avoid the use of magic entirely was set in place after some guy called Lockhart stole a Healer’s wand and accidentally changed his jaw for a duck bill. Although funny, it didn’t motivate Ricardo to try and break that barrier. That wand was just a souvenir he was granted by the Auror… McDelrig, he was reminded. Constantly visited him every other day, and although he never made questions other than how he was feeling and if he was being well-treated, Ricardo could tell he wanted to ask something else.

“Took the medicine?” She asked. Strout passed behind his chair and grabbed the plate with an empty glass.
“Yes. I really hate it. Can I have more?” He asked jokingly while turning on his chair, just on his bedside. She giggled.
“At least your mood is improving. Recall anything else?”
“Just images, nothing that makes a lot of sense.” He replied. The events of the battle were in his head, just scrambled and twisted. He could mostly recall everything since he left the Hospital Wing with Madi to his rush into the Potions Classroom. Then it was all just fractured, a guy in armour making an entrance, a flying cauldron, and fire, lots of fire. Sometimes of different tones and colours.

Ricardo had awakened only four days before, and a day after the attack on the castle. His burns were now healed, time and magic doing the job. But as soon as he woke up he assessed whatever happened to his mind before William decided to burn the school down was not improving. He explained the potion and the charm, but the Healers told him his condition wasn’t too bad and nothing too different to a Muggle sickness, just made worse with his own experimentation. They, however, were experimenting with him, and had tried several medicines to try and control the hallucinations and mood swings. Thus, his stay in St. Mungo was indefinite until they could find a way to cope with sudden attacks and erratic behaviour.
The last medicine one in particular made him brood a lot. That and Ginny.

The girl shared the wing with him and others. Mostly adults in terrible condition. Ginny Reaver and himself where the only ones in the Janus Thickey War under the majority of age. Except she wasn’t really there.
They told him she had gone to fight one of William’s goons, but a spell misfired. He realized what happened as soon as he tried to talk to her. She barely seemed to reply. Her eyes were foggy and milky. Blind. And after the blindness came the unrelenting use of the Cruciatus Curse.

“Can’t you at least restore her sight?” He asked once more. His smile erased as he looked at the Healer, replaced with a pleading expression. Misses Strout looked back at him, sorrowfully.
“I told you. It’s a kind of magic we just don’t understand. Even with everything you told us. It would take years of study…” Ricardo turned back on his char and looked at Ginny, who slumbered in her bed. “I know it makes you feel guilty. But it wasn’t your call, Ricardo. A lot of bad things happened that night, none yours to be blamed.”
But he didn’t listen, or rather, didn’t want to. Ricardo just toyed with the wand.


Cardiff, Wales.
Two weeks later.


Sometimes she would clutch her hand and remember the pain at her arm. But now it was all gone. She didn’t want it gone. Isolde wished the scars and burns remained, that they opened back, and that physical pain resumed. Maybe then she would be pulled back to the corridor, and stop William.

Her mother took care of her after she woke up later the day after. When she entered the room she was all smiles and cuddles. Yet Isolde noticed something was off. When she finally asked, her mother simply replied she was with a lot of work over the attack. And work she had. She appeared on the Prophet at least eight times, talking to authorities overseas assuring them that Britain was back to normalcy, and that the Lord of Albion would ensure the life of foreigners within the borders could resume as if nothing had happened. She travelled to India, the Falklands, Northern Ireland and Italy in a matter of three days. But Amelia Grenwald was not an absent mother, and returned home to take care of her daughter at every turn she could. Isolde was released from St. Mungo after one day. That Auror, Ermens, questioned her and took her declaration on the events that night, but didn’t push her version too far before she was off from the Hospital.

But soon after, her mother became more and more occupied with whatever she was doing, most of the times not returning to their home before sunset, and more often not coming at all. One day Isolde decided to take off.

She packed for Cardiff and took a job. East Castle Lane was the Diagon Alley of Cardiff, not nearly as large as the Magical boulevard in London, but its own thing with Welsh herbs and books in Cambrian. A local shopkeeper made up contact with her for a small local newspaper called Rhedwr Clynog, a small publication with some presence in Southern Wales which seemed to be displacing The Prophet from the Cardiff countryside. It was a small print office in a second floor of the Lane.
The man who hired her, Cynodon Emerick, was unable to take the taint off his fingertips. But was jolly and often joked about it. He also was sympathetic to Isolde.
“I remember Hogwarts. Me and my brother were Gryffindors. It’s really sad what happened.” He said when reading Isolde’s papers. She had pulled together a vita with little help, and only asked her mother to check it once. She approved of it and only suggested minor changes on her introduction. However she was really unconfident of this whole job thing. She had no experience at all in anything, and school was no longer a thing for her. There were no scores, only the shit William made her go through.
At least Cynodon seemed to understand it. “I suppose I could use a helping hand. This is a small paper, but I want to expand… Do you think you can run the afternoon to the countryside?”

It was a simple enough job, and she agreed. At least that kept her occupied and with some spare time for herself. Isolde soon got used to magical transport means, getting to know the floo Network in the area and how to best get access to it and move to the countryside. She also charmed a bike to move faster, so she could cover distances better. Emerick set her for a small bedroom near the Castle, which she would pay with a small fraction of her salary. A good deal.
After her fourth day she returned to bed later than usual. The road was damp due to the rain the afternoon before, and going uphill was not easy, especially with several Muggles around dragging the flood, making the use of the Traction and Momentum Charms impossible. Exhausted, she laid on her bed. The world seemed to come to a halt.

“What the hell happened?” She asked aloud to the ceiling.
As a response, a tapping came through the window. She looked, surprised, and distinguished brown feathers pushing against the glass. Isolde opened the window and an owl flapped into the bedroom, dripping some water over the bed.

”Damnit!” She cursed after closing it. The bird acted as if nothing, and stood over one of the poles of the bed, pecking the scroll tied to its leg. Isolde knelt and unbind the animal from the burden. Then it moved against the window and pecked it for her to open. Soon the bird vanished under the cover of another rain.
Her mother wrote. She wanted to visit. Seemed she would have time. But, Isolde wished to see someone else. She grabbed pen and paper and wrote her own letter.
Hi, David… She started… It was dreadful. Isolde took another one.

David.
Been thinking a lot of you. How have you been? I am currently at Cardiff. Took a job in a small newspaper and find myself running errands through the day and spreading the evening edition… well, on the evenings. I just needed to get away from mom. You should write. I really miss you.
Is.


She went to bed thinking of going back to Hogwarts. Would they repair it? Better to think of the tomorrow, not two months ahead. Tomorrow she would burrow Emerick’s owl and send that letter.
Arlye Austros, the New South. In the Nibaru Expense. -Future Tech-
Patagonia and its regional neighbours are dominated by the Frankish Kingdom of Argentina and use Modern tech for their affairs. -Modern/Post Modern Tech-

Chilean-Argentine, Pro Union of the Americas (all three). Anti Chavism, anti other stuff. Conservative, but not in extremis (hope so).
Pro Stark, Impeach Tommen

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United Democratic Christian States
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Father Knows Best State

Postby United Democratic Christian States » Wed Apr 01, 2020 8:49 pm

David, a few weeks after the battle

"Good Morning Luv" David told the beautiful Welsh Girl before planting a kiss on her lips.

"I made breakfast" he concluded as the duo in their young 20's made their way to the kitchen before a knock on the front door was heard.

David broke off from Isolde to go fetch the door.

"Morning Mate, how can I-" David started before being picked up and thrown into the wall with a loud thud.

"David?" a soft voice fearfully stated before turning the corner and freezing at the sight of the cloaked figure. Fear begun to rush through Davids body as he yelled inaudibly for Isolde to run. However it was to late a bright green light flashed the entire entrance way. The Welsh body collapsed onto the floor lifeless.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" David screamed before jumping up in a cold sweat.

Fuck, another bloody nightmare. he thought to himself. Somewhat defeated that they hadn't gone away.

He tried to lay back down and get some more sleep but it was no use. Eventually he got up. Staring at Stamford Bridge in the distance from his room, trying to decipher his latest nightmare. Wondering if he should ask for help, or should he continue to keep them to himself? After all surely they would go away eventually...right?

However his thoughts were interrupted by an owl flying up to his window. Quickly he helped the owl loose and sent it on its way. Reading the letter from his girlfriend and immediately begun to reply.

Morning Luv,
Sorry I missed you at St. Mungo's, healers wanted me to stay in bed rest for a couple days to regather my strength. Really wish I could of at least checked up on you since we got separated in the battle. I've been doing as well as I can I guess. Dad has been busy with the Prophet while they still look for William, but Mum has kept me company. Went to a football match this weekend actually, she seems to be really excited about this American Winger, whatever that is. Hope your summer is going well too. I can imagine your new independence must be great. Speaking of I would like to come see your new place whenever you have the time. Maybe we could fool around or something.
David.


Once he finished he called his family's owl over and handed him the letter.
Call me Greg (my IRL name) or UDCS. Whichever works best for you XD

"[28] He said to them: 'You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.' "
-Acts 10:28

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Miekzhemy
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Miekzhemy » Thu Apr 02, 2020 1:37 pm

Andrew Bishop
St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Dai Llewellyn Ward, First Floor


"Quickly lad - essence of Dittany!" shouted the healer as he put pressure on the boy's upper thigh, which bled profusely after a chunk of flesh had been torn from his leg on account of Darkenstone's God-forsaken undead.

Reaching into a cabinet, Andrew swiftly did as he was told, and took the small bottle and quickly took the cork out. He dropped only a few drops as he'd been taught and, almost as soon as he blinked, the horrifying wound seemed days old with only a puff of green smoke.

In mere moments, the boy's agony died down to only a slight whimper of pain at any sudden movement - almost like some form of burn. Andrew and the healer took a quick breath.

"Good work, Bishop," he said. "Go get some rest. We'll handle the rest for tonight."

He didn't need telling twice, and was quick to exit the room after washing his hands clean of blood. Though he wasn't going home to rest as of yet. Despite the hours of ceaseless carnage and death wearing his energy away, adrenaline and sheer force of will seemed to be the only things keeping him physically functional. He thought not of his own well-being, nor did he even stop to imagine what time it was. His thoughts remained fixed upon one thing.

Andrew rushed across the long corridor that was the Dai Llewellyn Ward with just as much urgency as the other healers running to the care of the wounded students and aurors that only continued to arrive with each passing minute. He himself had arrived just after the aurors stormed the dungeons, only to find that Darkenstone had escaped capture by the skin of his teeth. He barely had the time to don his volunteer uniform: elegant but comfortable trousers and a collared, buttoned jacket, both of solid white. Draped over it all was the all too familiar lime green cloak worn by all of the hospital staff.

And with his dirty blonde hair disheveled and the blood of his earlier ordeals barely washed clean off of him, Andrew entered yet another section of the Dai Llewellyn Ward. Though originally intended for creature-induced injuries, the ward had since been repurposed, along with much of the entire hospital, to accommodate the sudden influx of patients. Being closest to the entrance, the ward was lined with beds used for the most urgent and dangerously coded of patients - those practically knocking at death's door.

And when he reached the far end of that section, amidst the cries of the wounded and instructions of the healers at their care, Andrew burst through the curtain separating one of the beds from the rest of the room.

Upon the bed was a girl, covered up to her abdomen by a sheet. And from her stomach and chest to her arm and entire right side of her face were bandages, soaked in antiseptic before being tightly wrapped over what he remembered as horrible burns. The remains of her leg, severed above the knee, was also left uncovered by the sheet, but wrapped up just like the majority of her body. All the while, she lay silent - thankfully breathing, but clearly under a deep sleep. In times of emergency, some critical patients would often be administered the Draught of Living Death for the duration of the healing process, often to spare them days and weeks of ceaseless pain. For a time, Andrew could only look over the broken body with despair.

An auror sat in a chair feet away from the bedside, his armour gone and his uniform practically in tatters. With his face mostly mended of cuts and bruises and his arm remaining in a sling, he stared forward with a distant look in his eyes. It wasn't until several seconds after his arrival that he looked Andrew's way. He formed a faint smile.

"I was wondering where you were," Lucas said in a soft voice. "You had me worried..."

Andrew relaxed, but said nothing in response. Though Lucas seemed to understand, simply looking back to the bed.

"They'll be moving her to the Janus Thickey Ward eventually," he told Andrew, leaning back in the chair. "Said she'd be under until most of the damage is healed..."

Andrew swallowed heavily. "And her leg?"

"Strout said regrowing could take upwards of weeks. A month, perhaps..."

He hung his head at those words, his mind drifting to the dungeons. "I'm sorry..." Andrew muttered. Lucas looked his way again.

"For what? You saved her life..."

"I couldn't even stop her bleeding--!"

"Andrew," Lucas interrupted, a hint of sharpness behind his still soft tone. There was a long pause. "You treated her to the best of your ability. She wouldn't still be breathing if it weren't for you..."

Andrew could only shake his head. "But... But I..."

"Whereas most healers wouldn't dare get in harm's way themselves, you save lives with so little regard for your own. You and Rachel both. Your father would be proud of you."

The boy finally went silent.

"I...know we aren't your real family," Lucas continued. "But I couldn't be more proud of you if you were my own son..."

Andrew's head dropped once again, his eyes slamming shut as a single tear streamed down his cheek. Lucas looked to the floor.

"Go on," he said. "She'll be okay. I'm not going anywhere."

Slowly rubbing his eyes with a shaky hand, Andrew eventually bid him a solemn nod. He turned and, pushing past the curtain, briefly looked back.

"Thank you..."

Several minutes passed as he almost mindlessly shuffled down the corridors and hallways of the hospital, desperately trying to tear his mind away from...anything. He wanted it to stop thinking. Perhaps only then could he find some peace of mind...

In time, however, Andrew found himself stepping into the Janus Thickey Ward. Had he gone up that many floors? He briefly considered the notion of simply collapsing onto one of the beds - and let fate take him from there.

The existential dread was thankfully cut short when he noticed some of the familiar faces within the Ward. Ricardo was awake already? How long had he been up and about at the hospital? What time was it...?

It was about four seconds before he lost the ability to give a damn about that. Andrew simply sauntered over to the table, and silently plunked himself down into the chair. He hadn't even sat down in what felt like days. He rested his sore, callousing hands upon the table, and briefly watched Ricardo twirl the wand in his hand. It suddenly felt physically taxing to speak words.

"How're you holding up?"
I'm just a guy that likes playing video games, drawing, acting/musical theatre, piano, rp, and impersonating people with a spunky disposition.

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Arlye Austros
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Arlye Austros » Thu Apr 02, 2020 2:25 pm

Ricardo. The day after the attack on Hogwarts.
St. Mungo.


Ricardo had just received a visit from an Auror. The man called Evan was vaguely in his memory. He could trace back to him being the one who took Christian back home. Maybe they would take him back too? Perhaps that’s what he needed to do? It was as if the wand in his hand urged him to do it.

A voice. Some whimpering in the grey gloom. He lifted his head to watch, but was unable to pierce the veil. Where was he? It was all still too confusing. The woman had ensured his burns were on route t healing, although the pain would come and go. They allowed him to sit out of his bed and walk a bit. Sitting there, in the darkness, served to assess the void in his head. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. Again, more voices. When would they shut up?

“I…” He responded robotically, then looked across the hallway he was sitting in. Ricardo had taken a seat on the floor against the wall, wearing the patients’ garment but somewhat free to do as he liked until the emergency died down. Andrew seemed to watch at him from a chair, and he seemed exhausted. “Andrew? I should have imagined you would be around. Glad to see you are alive…” A slight smile cracked, but then he remembered the question, and imagined he himself looked worse than the face before him. “Not sure, to be honest. Nobody seems to say a lot. And there is somebody wailing in the main wardroom. I needed to get out.” He said. Looking in the direction of the darkened long room with aligned beds. He made a slight silence, then looked back at Andrew.

“Rachel? I don’t quite remember what happened, but I am under the impression she needed help…” He said looking at him with some care. "Is she...?"


Isolde. Two weeks after the attack on Hogwarts.
Cardiff.


Mother would have to wait. She received a response from David almost immediately. It was somewhat refreshing, she acknowledged, like an odd link to a world that was burnt away, a good memory that maybe, just maybe, could be brought back. She ran to the paper the last few metres, wanting to be done with her shift early.

The bald man was surprised to see her. “Is… It’s early. Did you deliver the whole batch?” He was leaning over an old-looking printer, which seemed to rearrange and reposition the pads as the pages progressed. She turned to take off her jacket and hang it. It was raining, again.
“On record time, too. The flood in the Tooth-Trampled Hill is controlled.” She carried a long bag, which she laid on the table near the door. “Lord Glanusk wasn’t home. It was the only failed-to-deliver.”
“Great. I Suppose you could take the rest of the day off.”

She nodded and headed to leave the rest of her things in a small cabinet before heading to her flat. But then she stopped once more by the door, then walked towards him. “What’s with the printer?”
The bald man issued an angry throat-clearer. “This damn thing’s been with us since the Crimean War. It’s the first time it fails. I will repair it. I already called for Flint to help me.”

“Cynodon…” She said, hesitating. The man looked at her and cleaned some excess black taint from his fingers before turning to her.
“What’s it, lass?”
Should she? “I know you will probably say no. I would fully understand it. But, If it isn’t too much, I would like to do something else than going around delivering newspapers… I was wondering if you don’t need a writer…” She quickly noticed his brows going up. “I understand if you don’t.”
“Well… No, not really. Our paper is small and while we are expanding…” He started, but something in Isolde’s face seemed to make him reconsider. Cynodon looked out of the window and sighed. “I suppose we could try something out. Let me think of it in the next few days. Maybe we could use a an assistant editor. It’s mostly grammar checking and such, so I will expect your Welsh and Gaellic to be in perfect fit.”
She smiled and nodded enthusiastically. The man seemed weary. “Again, this is not a <<yes>>, so don’t get your expectations to that point.” He turned to the printer, signaling that conversation was over. Isolde headed to the door.

“Oh, and next time, please use the Castle’s owl… I needed Percy the other day and he was in Stanford Bridge. Not a useful bird there, sending letters to that boy of yours.”
She flushed at this and turned back. He didn’t want to hear. “You didn’t know. Now you do. Besides, it wasn’t urgent. But neither was your letter.”
“Won’t happen again.”
She left to her flat and quickly replied to David.

Dave.
I suppose it should have been me who checked out for you. But mom insisted on going back home. She’s been under some intense workload, it seems. Something with the Aurors and some Judges. I suppose they are still after Will and she is coordinating with the other countries.
Glad to hear that you are going fine. Please tell your dad to take it easy on the Rhedwyr Clynog, the paper I work at, it’s a small establishment and won’t survive a full-blown Daily Prophet business takeover.
You should come, yes. Although I advise you to wait a week or two. The weather here is terrible right now and I never know how it will affect my deliveries. Mid-summer should bring more sunshine, so that would be perfect.
Is.


This time she sent the owl right away, renting one from the Castle. Isolde lingered in the library, old and rich from Norman times. The caretakers were actually wizards who acted-up to the Muggle World, holding yours and banquets, but also keeping the castle’s rich history as the once-headquarters of the Welsh magical government-equivalent.
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Skylus
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Postby Skylus » Thu Apr 02, 2020 4:47 pm

Derek; Forester Cottage, Glacies Estate

Derek awoke to the sound of his Boarhound growling, the old dog standing before the door leading out into the hallway. “What is it, Gladus?”

The Boarhound’s growls only grew louder and Derek got up, grabbed his wand, and headed downstairs, where he caught movement just outside the door. Upon opening it, a man waved at him.

“Greetings, I am Maxwell Dominic. Do you mind if I step in for a second?”

“No.” Derek stepped aside as the older wizard made his way into the cottage and looked around.

“Quite a nice place you have here. Though I understand some things have happened...Anyway, Miss Cordellia wants to see you.”

Derek looked outside before closing the cottage door and leaned up against it, eying Maxwell.“About what?”

“Well, long story short, she wants you to work for her and various other people on the estate, being that you live on it now, after all.”

“...Excuse me?”

Maxwell ignored Derek. “I am the assistant to the stable master, while my sister, Natasha, is assistant to the game warden...She wanted to talk to you but she is currently busy. We would take you to Gildon and Hendal but they’re busy right now and I really don’t want to keep Miss Cordellia waiting.”

Derek stopped leaning against the door and moved away from it, allowing Maxwell to open it and step out. The man then turned to face him.

“I’d rather not get into trouble myself, so please come with me. She simply wants to talk to you about what you’ll be doing.”

The Gryffindor eyed the man for a second, before stepping outside, locked the door, hid the key under a nearby rock, then gestured for Maxwell to start walking up the road.
Last edited by Skylus on Thu Apr 02, 2020 4:52 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Father Knows Best State

Postby United Democratic Christian States » Thu Apr 02, 2020 11:10 pm

David

David was thrilled when another owl arrived with a reply from Isolde after dinner. Chuckling slightly that the Prophet may even be aware of the local newspapers existence. While his mother gave a look of slight disapproval to his own gleefulness, David did not look up to notice. He quickly begun to work on a reply.

Evening Luv,
It's alright my family tried to get me home as soon as possible too, think the battle gave them quite the scare. They haven't even brought up the 'event' that happened this school year.
As for my father trust me for him to attack it he's got to learn how to spell it first. Don't think he will be able to handle the mess of symbols Welsh is.
Also two weeks sounds perfect, see you then beautiful.
David


He then handed the letter to his owl who looked some what irritated to have to fly all the way to Wales again.
Call me Greg (my IRL name) or UDCS. Whichever works best for you XD

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-Acts 10:28

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Miekzhemy
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Postby Miekzhemy » Fri Apr 03, 2020 12:06 pm

Andrew

"Of course I'm around...I fucking work here..."

Well, that's what he WOULD have said, but that probably would've been pretty rude. The thoughts were likely just another byproduct of his exhaustion which, even if he wanted to, he couldn't possibly hope to hide it. He hadn't even noticed that wailing patient just a room or so down the hall until Ricardo mentioned it. Spending every bloody tragedy at this damned place had a habit of desensitizing even the softest of healers.

His mention of Rachel got his mind back onto the very thing he was trying to get away from. Andrew eventually sighed, resting the entire weight of his head in the palm of his hand.

"Alive, yeah," he said immediately. "Okay? No. Strout said she'll be moving up here until...I-- I don't even know."

With that, he buried his face in his hands, rubbing the bags forming under his eyes. "God fucking damn it, man..."
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Arlye Austros
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Arlye Austros » Fri Apr 03, 2020 1:21 pm

Ricardo. The day after the attack on Hogwarts.
St. Mungo.


He didn’t say anything right away. For an awkward moment Ricardo was actually looking forward to having company in that place. Other than the wailing, the noises. But then Andrew seemed overwhelmed. He put the wand aside.

“We tried to get to her in time… It was my fault. We even planned and all. But I was just too slow.” His mind drifted back to the trench and the fallen bricks. Ricardo sighed, trying to ignore the inhuman squeal coming from the darkness and his own imagination. “She is alive. She´ll live. That’s what counts.”

Ricardo’s gaze hovered over Andrew for a while as he rubbed his eyes, then it wandered off again.

“So what now? Will they find him? Do we go back to school once its time? I don’t even know if I should go back or stay here…Maybe I should go back and chase after my brother, before he gets to me. I don’t know.” As soon as he said it he realized he didn’t really want to bring that up right now. “Forget I said that. I suppose we all need to rest a bit.”


Isolde. Three weeks after the attack on Hogwarts.
Cardiff.


At least her mother showed up before David would go to Cardiff. Amelia seemed exhausted. Her smile as she showed her small flat over the East Castle Lane, which she imagined hid a slight disapproval, denoted that exhaustion.
“It’s lovely.”
“It’s small. But enough. I just wanted sp…”
She didn’t finish it. Too honest with her. “We should head down and have something to drink.”

The two descended into the Lane and walked under the shade of the castle-wall. It was a hot day that was working into evaporating the remnants of a shower three days before. Mother and daughter sat at a table at the edge of the cover the wall provided and asked for some tea.
“Been busy?”
“Yeah. It’s been a mess.” Amelia replied. She somewhat lied. Isolde knew her. “That reminds me!” She searched inside her bag by the table, and after a few seconds produced a smaller plastic bag. Isolde could see twigs coming out of it. “I got this in the Falklands, thought about bringing it to you. I may have broken a few regulations; I frankly don’t know.” The bag, now laying on the table, was just that, a bag with twigs. Isolde moved about some of the twigs inside and revealed the white shell. An egg.
“You brought me a chicken?”
“A wizard there breeds owls. Of course they are not native to the Falklands, but they are great for winds and storms. Thought you could use your own owl, all things considered.

Isolde knew what she meant. “Mom… About David…”
But she placed a finger on her lips. “Don’t want to hear about it. It’s time you take over your own matters and things. What takes place between David and you is just for you both. I don’t mind being informed here and there, but know it’s your own flight, not mine.”
That choice of words somewhat reminded her of Quidditch. Would she ever fly for Hufflepuff again?
“I thought it infuriated you.”
“It did…” She replied, but soon seemed to regret it. “Not with you, though. It is no secret I have been, at odds with Headmaster Avery over this. And I don’t think I can ever reconcile.”

Isolde thought about it as problematic. If her mother moved against Avery it would put her in a really bad situation. Was she still tied to him?

“So… I am to raise an owl?”
“The twigs will keep it warm until hatching. The man told me it would be in a few weeks, so be ready.”

They spent the rest of the day at the Castle, talking and chatting about the surroundings. Eventually, Amelia announced she had to go. “I have to visit a friend of mine tomorrow morning, can’t delay. I am proud of you, regardless of anything that may tell otherwise.” She said hugging her daughter.

Amelia Grenwald

She apparated on her cottage by the mountains later that night. Amelia had to pass by the ministry. The Judge had done it. The control that once the Aurors had on the Forresters was now on him. However, Reginald Mior had to keep appearances. The Foresters were still working with the ministry and under full effect of the Imperius Charm, and unsure if the link was watched, Amelia decided not to affect any order. They would continue doing what they were doing for the time being, just answering to Reginald, who gave the order under the excuse Aurors were needed to find and capture William Darkenstone at all cost.
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Britanania
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Britanania » Fri Apr 03, 2020 7:04 pm

Glacies Estate

Maxwell Dominic took Derek outside of the humble cottage and led him, by foot, back towards the large and imposing manor house at the centre of the estate. The walk took about two hours in total, a winding trip through various parts of the estate until they reach the Manor house.

Maxwell stopped there and let one of the butlers handle the rest, as the stablehand explained he wasn't permitted to enter through the Great Hall. Instead, the butler led Derek first through the Great Hall and then to the drawing-room where Cordelia Avery awaited.

The blonde woman, who looked like she could be an older sister of Caitie, greeted Derek first by standing and offered a polite bow.

"How do you do?" she asked Derek before she offered the young man a seat. She sat down herself as a servant brought the pair some tea.

"Your grandparents lived on this estate for many generations," Cordelia said. "And they always paid their rent, but I am told most of your personal belongings and wealth were confiscated. In order to pay your rent, I am sending you to work in the stables."
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Skylus
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Fri Apr 03, 2020 7:22 pm

Britanania wrote:Glacies Estate

Maxwell Dominic took Derek outside of the humble cottage and led him, by foot, back towards the large and imposing manor house at the centre of the estate. The walk took about two hours in total, a winding trip through various parts of the estate until they reach the Manor house.

Maxwell stopped there and let one of the butlers handle the rest, as the stablehand explained he wasn't permitted to enter through the Great Hall. Instead, the butler led Derek first through the Great Hall and then to the drawing-room where Cordelia Avery awaited.

The blonde woman, who looked like she could be an older sister of Caitie, greeted Derek first by standing and offered a polite bow.

"How do you do?" she asked Derek before she offered the young man a seat. She sat down herself as a servant brought the pair some tea.

"Your grandparents lived on this estate for many generations," Cordelia said. "And they always paid their rent, but I am told most of your personal belongings and wealth were confiscated. In order to pay your rent, I am sending you to work in the stables."


Derek, Glacies Estate

The walk had been nice. Unfortunately he hadn't had time to change clothing, and Derek silently thought he was being judged by Caitie's aunt as he took a seat on the upholstered chair wearing the somewhat burnt and tattered clothes he had worn while fighting Will. He silently accepted the cup of tea from the servant and downed it slowly while listening to the woman talk.

Working to pay "rent" sounded interesting and he thought of simply giving her some of his Galleon stash, then decided against it. "Say I agree to this, at what time would I need to be at the stables, and what time would I go back to the cottage?"
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Britanania
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Postby Britanania » Sat Apr 04, 2020 12:15 pm

Glacies Estate

Cordelia calmly took a sip of her tea as Derek asked about the time for his duties. The blonde aristocratic witch did not say anything for a little bit of time and seemed content to make Derek wait, for as ever long as she deemed necessary. Finally, after a few minutes, Cordelia placed her teacup back on the saucer.

"You will report to the stables at 5 A.M and work throughout the day until you are dismissed," she told him. " We have many horses on the estate of various purposes and they require much work, especially as we have recently acquired newer horses."

Cordelia again picked up her teacup.

"I understand you have some love of animals?"
Christus vincit; Christus regnat; Christus imperat
"Great Britain is a republic, with a hereditary president, while the United States is a monarchy with an elective king."
"The whole modern world has divided itself into Conservatives and Progressives. The business of Progressives is to go on making mistakes. The business of the Conservatives is to prevent the mistakes from being corrected"--G. K. Chesterton
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Skylus » Sat Apr 04, 2020 12:34 pm

Britanania wrote:Glacies Estate

Cordelia calmly took a sip of her tea as Derek asked about the time for his duties. The blonde aristocratic witch did not say anything for a little bit of time and seemed content to make Derek wait, for as ever long as she deemed necessary. Finally, after a few minutes, Cordelia placed her teacup back on the saucer.

"You will report to the stables at 5 A.M and work throughout the day until you are dismissed," she told him. " We have many horses on the estate of various purposes and they require much work, especially as we have recently acquired newer horses."

Cordelia again picked up her teacup.

"I understand you have some love of animals?"


Derek

The Gryffindor nodded. "I suppose I'll have to get used to my new schedule then. Yeah. I remember my grandparents raising Boarhound pups for a while, I hunted game with my dad in the summers, I helped rear horses and cattle..." He paused for a second. "When you say newer horses, what do you mean by that?"
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Miekzhemy
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Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Miekzhemy » Sat Apr 04, 2020 4:51 pm

Andrew

The boy sulking in the chair listened quietly, if not absent-mindedly, to Ricardo's words. Noticing that he'd probably pass out from exhaustion in such a position, his head sprang back upright.

"Would going after your brother even be safe?" he muttered with about as much curiosity you could get from someone who hadn't slept in so long. "I thought your home country was all...you know..."

Ricardo had promptly dismissed that notion by the time he even finished his reply. Andrew didn't bother pressing the matter further. When he simply mentioned the need for everyone to rest, Andrew's gaze drifted down the ward.

Madam Strout passed by, her wand carefully holding up the small cot that floated ahead of her, with Rachel laid upon it. She was thankfully cleaned up of most of her blood, but the wound dressing over much of her body only reminded him of the horrible burns. His stomach turned as he thought - would they ever heal? But as Strout laid her upon one of the many beds in the Janus Thickey Ward, sleeping soundly under the effects of the Draught, Andrew let out a sigh.

"Yeah..."

Lucas Ackerley
Ministry Headquarters, London - A few weeks later


After years of civil war and long nights of ceaseless activity, HQ was uncharacteristically cheery this afternoon. After having spent so many weeks in search of Azkaban's countless escapees with little to no good news whatsoever, a report was finally made public by the Department of Mysteries:

The Death Eaters had been eliminated.

Though some were understandably curious as to how this came to pass, or in what matter they were "taken care of," the government found itself nonetheless ecstatic to be rid of something that had caused Wizarding Britain so much suffering. Many Ministry employees found themselves openly celebrating this news. Some were given time off, while others took the time to attend a sizable dinner in the Atrium. And some noticed that, in a rare turn of events, even the Highlord seemed very pleased.

A few levels below, amidst the offices of the Ministry's administrative staff, Lucas walked with a certain softness in his step that contrasted much of the celebratory mood shared by his colleagues. Since the battle at Hogwarts he had been reassigned from his more soldiering duties, and despite overwhelming respect from his fellow aurors and rising influence as one of the Highlord's right hand men, he actually found himself being returned to detective work once again. And although the old Department of Investigation had since been largely integrated with the newly-reformed Auror Corps, he nonetheless delved back into what he always felt was his calling. Perhaps a return to normalcy was in sight...

But, whether he followed it or vice versa, Lucas always seemed to find himself walking hand-in-hand with trouble at every turn. Intentional or not, he had a tendency to overhear things he probably was not meant to hear, or come across documents he was not intended to see. In his line of work, it was simply force of habit. And it was for this reason that he was down in the lower offices. He finally came to a stop at one of the doors: 'Grenwald.'

He softly knocked upon the door, and waited.
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Arlye Austros
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Arlye Austros » Sun Apr 05, 2020 1:26 pm

Amelia Grenwald.
The Ministry of Magic


She hovered on some documents, mostly reports on Iceland. The Muggle Prime Minister of the island had done some declarations on what Muggles called <<Social Media>> that signaled to a breach in the Statute of Secrecy, and the option to intervene her, wipe her memory and even have her replaced altogether was consulted on the governments of Europe. She was asked to draft a report to present Grey within the week.

Of course, that sucked up some time from her less-known project, but she needed to keep appearances.

The door knocked. What could it be? She understood there was a celebration across the Ministry. After all, the Deatheaters had been dealt with. To her it was indeed a reason to celebrate. Except it meant her time was running out. Amelia got up and headed to the door, and opened it to see Lucas Ackerley before her.

“Ackerley… What a surprise. I expected you to be down on the celebrations…” She allowed him to pass by stepping aside, her mind quickly checking a list of things that needed to be hidden and had already, to her satisfaction. “Come in. I was just checking on the Iceland issue, I suppose it’s business as usual even with this nightmare dying out.” She mentioned half referring to the recent news, half to the castle. Amelia headed back to her desk, waving her wand to move a chair that was ready for Lucas to claim before her. “How is Rachel?”



Ricardo.
St. Mungo.


The conversation he held with Andrew was quickly buried in his mind, almost as fast as he followed the procession and ended up in his bed. But it resurged some days later, when his ghosts allowed him to think. Ricardo’s condition would come and go as new medicines were tried. Finally it seemed, after two weeks, that a mixture of Kraken’s Weed oil and a salty Giant’s secretion -which he really hoped was sweat- toned down the intensity and frequency of the hallucinations, and an additional set of dried Sri Lankan Erythroxylum leaves boiled in a diluted form of the Alihotsy Draught prevented counter-effects to an acceptable level.

As the Healers managed to work on a way to counter what they deemed a Muggle sickness just made worse by his own actions, Ricardo was able to see what happened around him. To his own despair, Ginny’s condition was irreversible, at least for the foreseeable future. Rachel was in a worse shape. The amount of blood she lost and the damage the body had endured made it better to just leave her asleep most of the time. He complemented Andrew on the work they were doing, as her survival, even he could see, was nothing short of a miracle.

“It’s really amazing. Imagine if Muggle medicine could be benefitted with what they are doing here.” He told him in one of his visits to the Janus Thickley Ward, or as he started calling it, Myrtle’s London Vacation House. “Although one has to wonder what would become of them next.” He was staring at a Hogwarts textbook on potions. Ricardo decided to not let himself idle in the meantime. If he ever returned to Hogwarts it would be one of the Potions and Alchemy Outstandings. Admittedly, he was in the right mood, despite Ginny’s condition being beyond a sooner than later reversal. “Maybe we all need a sickness and disease we can’t deal with. Otherwise we just forget about death, right?”
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Britanania
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Postby Britanania » Sun Apr 05, 2020 4:23 pm

Glacies Estate

As Derek talked about his experiences with animals, Cordelia gave him a look that suggested, "I only wanted a yes or no, thank you very much; I did not ask for your entire resume." Like before, the beautiful blonde woman merely took several sips of her tea before a reply came. With careful deliberation, the kind reserved for members of the aristocracy, Cordelia placed her cup and saucer to the side as one of the House Elves came along and removed the objects from the table.

"We have over 150 horses on the grounds, of various purposes, as well many winged horses. It is important that they are all well maintained, especially our magical horses such as the aethonans and granians. If you have any particular questions, you should speak to the Stable Master and Grooms before you return to your lodgings," Cordelia told him.
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Skylus
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Tim Dirk Sucks Dragon Eggs

Postby Skylus » Sun Apr 05, 2020 5:30 pm

Britanania wrote:Glacies Estate

As Derek talked about his experiences with animals, Cordelia gave him a look that suggested, "I only wanted a yes or no, thank you very much; I did not ask for your entire resume." Like before, the beautiful blonde woman merely took several sips of her tea before a reply came. With careful deliberation, the kind reserved for members of the aristocracy, Cordelia placed her cup and saucer to the side as one of the House Elves came along and removed the objects from the table.

"We have over 150 horses on the grounds, of various purposes, as well many winged horses. It is important that they are all well maintained, especially our magical horses such as the aethonans and granians. If you have any particular questions, you should speak to the Stable Master and Grooms before you return to your lodgings," Cordelia told him.


Derek nodded and got up from the chair he was sitting in, then waited to be escorted out of the room. "I have one last question though...Just how much rent would I owe you? Do I have to pay it all at once if possible or in various amounts?"


Derek ended up receiving the answer around twenty minutes later, when his escort from earlier walked him from the manor house to the stables, where he was left alone for a few minutes until a brute of a man walked up, a black and bloodied riding crop in hand and merely introduced himself as "Tim Dirk, but under no circumstances are you to call me Tim. Address me only as Mr. Dirk or Sir, do I make myself clear?"

The Gryffindor was put off immediately and he didn't respond, but only nodded. Which seemed to be the right answer as the man turned and walked into the stables, then walked back out leading - or rather trying to lead - a white stallion. "Here. You take this one." Tim threw the reins at Derek and he caught them one handed, then found himself looking at the ear brand of the horse as Dirk went back inside the stables.

'That brand...It seems familiar.' The longer he stared at the brand, he got the sense that he knew this horse somehow. Derek reached up and lifted some of the stallion's mane away from his face, then he saw it: the brand of the family seal. The horse laid his head on Derek's shoulder and he checked the brand again, just to be sure, then hugged the beast's neck. "Litacus..." he pulled back and looked at the horse as he nodded and blinked slowly.

"I waited for you. The man is mean, be wary."

"What do you think you're doing?" Derek stepped back from Litacus as Dirk returned from the stables holding a branding iron.

"This is my horse."

Tim laughed as Derek checked the reins and then held onto them. "Your horse? He's mine now. The first thing you're going to do for me is replace that traitor branding."

"What you call traitor is my family seal."

The man shook his head and examined the branding iron. "Hah! I know exactly what happened, Forester, I personally think everyone should have been punished, even you, but no, you got off scot free it seems. Well that ends today, right now. I bet you've never worked a day in your life, have you?"

"Yeah. I have. You want me to tell you?"

Slash. Derek's vision went white as he felt something strike him in the face and the next thing he knew, he was kneeling before Dirk, who was holding the riding crop in one hand and the now lit branding iron in the other. Before Derek could move or say anything, Tim grabbed Litacus by the reins and branded the horse in the inner ear, directly over the old brand. As the horse shied away and screamed in pain, Derek slowly raised a hand to the right side of his face and he realized that Tim Dirk had cut him with the riding crop.

He could only watch as the man walked over to him and then grabbed him by his shirt and leaned close. "Oh yes, your days of having everything brought to you on a golden platter are over, traitor." Tim then swung the metal object at Derek and his vision went sideways, then unfocused and he knew no more.



The next two days passed in a blur for Derek. The only thing he was really sure of was that, for once in his life, he felt absolutely terrified about doing something, anything wrong that would cause Tim Dirk to take out his anger on him. Eventually he figured out his schedule - he would be forced awake at five in the morning, put to work for the entire day, no breaks whatsoever until after sundown, which was only for ten minutes, then he was to sleep in the stables until morning. The Gryffindor soon learned that talking wasn't in his best interest and so, Derek merely did as he was told. No more, no less. he received two Galleons an hour, which, compared to the chest in the cottage, was literally nothing, but he accepted the coins anyway.

His third day, he was forced to turn wolf and herd horses for hours upon end, Tim taking delight in hurting Derek whenever he could.

His fourth day, he was kicked in the chest by his own horse and received two broken ribs in the process. Tim, surprisingly, healed him, but with no warning and no sympathy afterwards.

His job with the Game Warden fared little better, but at least he was allowed to hunt game on his horse, Litacus. Every other day was spent with Spartacus and the man seemed to go out of his way to try to kill or injure Derek whenever possible.

Derek finally returned to the cottage three days later and passed out in the front garden, covered in fresh scars and open wounds, what remaining clothing he wore, which wasn't much at all, was stained with blood, hay, plant matter, and animal gore and waste. If anyone found him, they would most likely think he happened to come across an angry Centaur. Unfortunately, what had happened to him was much worse.
Last edited by Skylus on Sun Apr 05, 2020 10:58 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Miekzhemy
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Founded: Sep 24, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Miekzhemy » Sun Apr 05, 2020 7:52 pm

Lucas Ackerley

The veteran auror bid Amelia a respectful nod of his head as he stepped through the door. "Business as usual," he repeated as he came in. "Maybe some normalcy will return for once." His tired gaze briefly scanned the room - though it lingered primarily on one of the walls.

"Rachel is...somewhat better," Lucas replied with a hint of uncertainty. "Still hasn't woken up. Ellen is worried sick, but Andrew says the hospital hopes to discharge her before the next school term."

He stepped up to the chair Amelia had so graciously brought up for him, and shed his cloak upon it. Then, in a disturbingly casual manner, he drew his wand from the buttoned jacket of his uniform.

But Lucas simply waltzed over to one of the walls of Amelia's office, and briefly tapped his wand against it. He brought his free hand up, seemingly gesturing her to keep quiet. With one ear lightly pressed against the wall, he led his wand carefully across the edge of the office, almost like a safecracker listening for the click of a lock. It took only a few moments for him to stop, flick his wrist, promptly tearing loose a small chunk of the wooden paneling. He reached into the wall and pulled out a minuscule crystal ball. But before she could even question the nature of the object, Lucas tapped it with his wand, causing it to disintegrate into little more than dust in his hand.

"Now we can talk," he said, briefly replacing the piece of the wall before stowing his wand away. He went over to the chair and sat down.

"I presume you know why I'm here, yes?"
Last edited by Miekzhemy on Sun Apr 05, 2020 8:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I'm just a guy that likes playing video games, drawing, acting/musical theatre, piano, rp, and impersonating people with a spunky disposition.

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Arlye Austros
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Posts: 2528
Founded: Feb 12, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Arlye Austros » Sun Apr 05, 2020 8:13 pm

Amelia Grenwald.
The Ministry of Magic


The Lady Minister for Foreign Affairs was startled once Lucas began actin odd. Indeed, she had imagined her office was intervened beyond what she could find in her first days of… conspiracy. Outside of the talking with Joseph that first night, the night Hogwarts was attacked, she said not a word of it aloud in there, and had, so far, believed that nobody was listening, otherwise she wouldn’t be keeping her position.
But Lucas produced a crystal ball which she vaguely identified. It was basically the same object used to record Prophecies, except this one was designed to keep track of other kind of things. So Lucas knew, at least something. Would the High Lord know?

“I can imagine… But given the nature of… well, several of them, I would expect you to open up on what your business is.”
While Amelia had one hand on her mouth, biting one nail in an obvious gesture of controlled distress, her left hand was somewhat off sight behind the desk, and toyed with her wand. Would she have a chance to make an escape? She sighed.
Arlye Austros, the New South. In the Nibaru Expense. -Future Tech-
Patagonia and its regional neighbours are dominated by the Frankish Kingdom of Argentina and use Modern tech for their affairs. -Modern/Post Modern Tech-

Chilean-Argentine, Pro Union of the Americas (all three). Anti Chavism, anti other stuff. Conservative, but not in extremis (hope so).
Pro Stark, Impeach Tommen

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Segral
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Founded: Sep 06, 2017
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Segral » Sun Apr 05, 2020 9:05 pm

Ed Wilson

Gringotts was an odd place.

On the outside, it was a palace of ornate wealth and cold, firm bureaucracy. The entrance hallway was breathtaking, a vast hall of marble with golden scales weighing precious jewels, gold, silver, bronze, and eggs of every shape, size, and color. The vaults were a twisting labyrinth of towering rock, massive dragons, and fantastic riches hidden behind lock and key. The offices were...regular offices. Certainly, they were very nice offices, lots of polished wood and very stylish lighting choices, but...offices. It was in those offices where Ed was currently dealing with a potential case of massive financial loss for the bank.

"Your numbers are wrong." Ed said bluntly as he strode up to his coworker Celia's desk, plunking a thick ledger down beside her. "You bungled the exchange for every customer today, and god knows how many you've fucked up before today."

"What do you mean, my numbers are wrong?" Celia asked, her blonde ponytail swinging back as she turned to face him. Celia was one of those people who had lots of intelligence but zero brains. Or so they thought, when in actuality they had very little intelligence and zero brains. Ed would never trust her running a bath, let alone a complicated financial exchange between Muggle and Wizarding currencies. Yet, she somehow kept her job day after day, probably by screwing half the goblins on their bloody counters.

"I mean, they're wrong. Somehow, you gave away a few hundred more galleons than you were supposed to across a couple dozen British, American, and Indian nationals." he said mockingly, placing his hands on his hips and glaring down at Celia, who responded with a glare of her own.

"My calculations were correct. If we take into account this week's value of the Galleon, combined with the Muggle exchange rates, my numbers are right. If you think you're so brilliant, show me where my math is wrong." Celia said angrily, thrusting the ledger book back at Ed's chest.

"My pleasure." he said icily, grabbing a quill and dipping it into Celia's well of ink. "Well, judging by your scribbled calculations in the margins, I see you used last week's value of the Galleon, which stood at $6.67 in American dollars."

"It changed?"

"It did." Ed said matter-of-factly, beginning to scribble much neater calculations into the free space of the margins. It's at $6.64 this week. Didn't you see the memo Flornuk sent yesterday?"

"You know I don't read the goddamn memos, Ed." Celia sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Anyways, even if it is three cents lower, that still doesn't explain the 'hundreds of galleons' I overpaid. That's just a few dozen at most."

"Right, which is what I was confused about when I first looked over your ledger, because Flornuk has just as little faith in you as I do." Ed continued, waving his quill across the surface. "I couldn't figure out how you got to such an inflated price, to the point where Gringotts became La Casa De Papel for every Tom, Harry, and Dick that stumbled here. Then I checked the exchange rates for other muggle currencies. Euros. Liras. Francs. Rupees. And then I found it."

"Found what?"

"The issue. You calculated the exchanges in American dollars, not pounds. Your first client of the day was American, so you busted out your American exchange rate for him. You must've forgotten to switch back to Pounds, as the rest of the day was calculated in dollars, including the Indian couple you gave 1500 galleons to." Ed said with finality to a gape-mouthed Celia, her eyes narrowing as she realized her mistake and grabbed the ledger back from her. "So yes, my brilliance can in fact, prove how your basic arithmetic is incorrect. Any questions?" he asked as Celia remained silent, poring over her chart.

"...Alright, you have a point, I screwed up, but what difference does it make? It's just a few Galleons in the end, they can take some out of Vault 1 if they need to." Celia said, immediately regretting her words as she saw Ed prepare for a tirade.

"A few Galleons?!" Ed exclaimed, slamming his hands on the desk hard enough to make Celia wince. "Celia, you were supposed to give the old Indian couple 20 galleons, not 1500! He's going to give Umbani a run for his money if you keep paying out your fucking nose like this!"

"Who's Umbani?"

"Never mind!" Ed said frustratedly, mentally reminding himself not to reference the Muggle world so often. "All I'm saying is, take this seriously, if anyone finds out that you're emptying out Vault 1 because you can't read the fucking weekly memo, you're going to lose this job as quickly as you got it."

"Oh, so you're a grass now?"

"What the f-NO! I'm not a grass, I'm just saying that Flornuk isn't stupid, you can keep sucking off his knobbly cock until hell freezes over, but eventually he'll have to fire you because you're incapable of counting to five!" Ed countered, both parties about ready to start fistfighting.

"Oh fuck off, Ed!" Celia yelled back, turning away from him. "You're a fucking uneducated kid who got here because nobody else wanted to do this job, you haven't even finished school yet! What makes you think you can talk to me like that!"

"I'm educated enough to figure out that giving 1500 Galleons to some walking skeletons from Mumbai is a bad idea, Celia!" Ed retorted with a pointing finger as he walked away, making a beeline for his desk, his desk where he had been happily eating lunch until Celia had barged in screaming her head off about how Flornuk had yelled at her. No shit, he had yelled at her. Ed would too if he had caught his employee handing out Galleons like a sidewalk preacher handing out New Testaments. Actually, Ed had yelled at her for handing out Galleons like a sidewalk preacher handing out New Testaments. It was his second week on the job and already he was yelling at his coworkers.

The job was supposed to be an easy one; he had applied during the school year to Gringotts, hoping to pick up some extra money now that the CD store at Piccadilly had closed. Despite only having an OWL-level certification in Arithmancy, they hired him as a desk clerk exchanging Muggle currency for the traditional galleons, sickles, and knuts. Apparently, having even basic knowledge of Muggle currency was considered as an asset, because half the goblins there had never seen a dollar bill in their lives. As soon as he mentioned he used to work Muggle retail, they were practically drooling on him, hiring him right on the spot during his interview. It was a good gig; he rented out a room at The Leaky Cauldron for the summer, spent his days working for solid pay and taking long walks through Diagon Alley, but Jesus was it infuriating. Idiot customers who didn't understand how wizarding exchange worked, taking coffee runs to Vault 712, and of course, dealing with coworkers like Celia, who couldn't tell their own head from their ass.

Yeah, overall, the CD store was a better gig.
yea bro idk

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Khasinkonia
Negotiator
 
Posts: 5970
Founded: Feb 02, 2015
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Khasinkonia » Sun Apr 05, 2020 10:13 pm

Astrid Toujouse
Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell Leicester Square, and Welcome to the Rock


Being a student at Hogwarts in some ways gave me the same Je Ne Sais Quoi of a Russo-Japanese War veteran who’d ended up drafted for the First World War, and then the Civil War, and then the Second World War. It was like one conflict after another. Another day in the trenches at Hogwarts, with our Gallipoli commanders against the newest lunatic trying to conquer the British magic world or whatever the case may have been. As a Ravenclaw rather than a Slytherin or any other sort of thing, at the very least I had had the fortune of not being caught in as much of a bind as some others. It would probably be nice. I ought to send and check in on Freyja and Henry and perhaps Raphael as well. He did invite me over for a visit, after all.

After departing from the train, I caught city. I had until the late night for my plane ride over to St. John’s, so I took it upon myself to enjoy a brief tour of the city of London, as I often did during these brief intermissions between school and home. I never had a great deal of muggle pocket change to enjoy, but my father was always diligent about making sure I had more than enough on my card to enjoy a decent few meals between my disembarkment from the Hogwarts Express, and my departure from the United Kingdom. I always had to take a moment at King’s Cross Station to appreciate the return of internet service. I always had these massive quantities of texts and emails to sift through. It was truly amazing. I first decided to send my stepmother and father a text indicating that I was alive. Of course, different, but nonetheless alive. My dad would want a video call when I found a quiet spot so we could touch base and make sure we had stories straight, but for the time being, I had the fortune of being a muggleborn all alone in a big city. I tried out a few different places to eat, wandered the city, and for just a moment, forgot about all the hullabaloo that was in the Wizarding World. To hell with Avery’s nonsense about loyalty to the Wizards and proving myself as some muggleborn. It drove me batty. Were the purebloods held to such ridiculous loyalty standards when they tried to usurp unity? Not to my recollection.

Stop thinking about that. Those are school problems. I have muggle friends, muggle family, and a muggle life outside of the Wizarding World. With my muggle schooling, I certainly could consider going to a normal university if I so desired. Yes, there were fish and chips and delightful muggle treats to enjoy. The wizards had magic, and the muggles had science, and it was, from my perspective, a unique privilege to be properly privy to both...

After a lovely time gallivanting around London, I finally took a cab to the airport, and then took time to video chat my father once I found a quiet corner to sit in. He was already in Newfoundland visiting our family friends, as this summer, we decided to start out the summer with the vacation rather than ending it as we had in past years, for there were tentative whispers of visiting our former minister in Oslo, or perhaps my father’s Bavarian friend. It was something to look forward to, but the present was of more distinct concern. My father and I agreed that we would be vague about my transition. As far as anyone was concerned, I had started while at boarding school. Really, it was a couple of technical truths stacked atop one another, but my father, stepmother, and I all agreed that they would defer to me. The question remained as to how I would explain this to my mother. I was clear that I would explain it by spouting off vague magical nonsense and only being clear that undoing it was not likely and then maybe use the Cruciatus Curse on my stepfather after he inevitably tried to use his little spiel about being a “black and white” dude or whatever. I jested, not that my father fully understood the implications of my joke, but I had myself a proper chuckle.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early, before the sun had even properly risen. It was going to be a full day of flying on airlines. Thanks to in essence being a wood stick with hair in it, my wand was fine to keep in my carryon. I always slept for flights as much as I could. I had my computer, but I hadn’t been able to devise a cheeky way to get extra battery power. It was a shame, but it was probably for the best. Can’t go wands out among muggles, after all. So I took some melatonin, and slept save for a few snacks. It was morning when I arrived in Newfoundland. After saying hello, the very first order of business was to take a bath. Just a quick shower to get the aeroplane germs off, and then I could enjoy the calm before getting down to business back in New Orleans.

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United Democratic Christian States
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1978
Founded: Sep 29, 2015
Father Knows Best State

Postby United Democratic Christian States » Sun Apr 05, 2020 11:19 pm

David

Today was the day, he finally got to see Isolde after the battle. He hoped she would be just as glad to see him, and that the battle hadn't broken her. Granted he didn't expect that to be the case judging by the letters. However his biggest worry was that she was having the same nightmares he was. But he decided he wouldn't try to give Isolde any therapy or anything and wouldn't press her unless he noticed something off.

Once he got up he sent a letter to Isolde telling her what time he would be there. Hopefully it would give her plenty of time to get home and to do anything she felt she needed to before his arrival.

The day did seem to grind to a halt however as time moved at a snails pace before he it was finally time to go.He said goodbye to his mother who gave a stern look of disapproval but didn't stop him.

He then walked to the fireplace, threw in the floo powder, said Isolde's address clearly and walked into the green flame.
Call me Greg (my IRL name) or UDCS. Whichever works best for you XD

"[28] He said to them: 'You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile. But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.' "
-Acts 10:28

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Miekzhemy
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1343
Founded: Sep 24, 2014
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Miekzhemy » Sun Apr 05, 2020 11:43 pm

Lucas Ackerley

There was a pause after Amelia spoke. Amidst the muffled celebration of their colleagues on the ground floor below, a tension hung in the air. But as Lucas' steel gaze bore into the nervous woman before him, his composure remained lax, hands clasped neatly in his lap as he lounged back in the chair.

"Well, not that it's exactly my business or anything..." he began with a shrug of his shoulders. "But it's come to my attention that your recent activity has...erm..." The auror pondered for a moment, but resigned to simply give it to her straight.

"Let's just say it can very easily lead to some catastrophic consequences."

"Look, Miss Grenwald, I understand your intentions," Lucas let out a light sigh, slightly hanging his head. "William Forester is a close friend of mine. And I question Highlord Grey's methods and detest that control freak of a Headmaster as much as the next man. But change must come slowly, lest we find ourselves right back where we started. A single slip could not only spell yourself a terrible fate, but you run the risk of condemning your family at the same time."

The auror looked back up, his face conveying a slight feeling of loss. "...need I remind you what happened to Mr. Recker?"
I'm just a guy that likes playing video games, drawing, acting/musical theatre, piano, rp, and impersonating people with a spunky disposition.

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