October 20, 2018, 12:50:15 PM

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1
Diagon Alley / [tlc] blended by the lights [#quinn]
« Last post by Sorcha Coghlan on Today at 07:28:03 AM »
So, the Falcons had lost.

Everyone seemed so keen to rub it in and ask them the same questions over and over and over again as if they couldn’t easily have found what they were looking for from their other interviewer buddies. For Merlin’s sake. And however annoyed at the group interviews that she may have been, Sorcha obliged per manager request and showed up. Although ‘all smiles’ with the whole squatty man drawing a smile in front of his face in order to show Sorcha how it was done was entirely not needed.

Admittedly, everything regarding the Falcons team felt like it was slowly falling to pieces. At least that was the case in Sorcha's chaotic mind. And while her teammates were in a cluster jabbering on about whatever, it was also about nothing. Sorcha felt like something was off. Something or somethings were going on around her and she was going to put the pieces together soon enough. But that day was not today. So really, what else was there to do? Oh that’s right, nothing. Bitterness much? Definitely. And the girl needed to break away, just for a bit.

Sorcha pressed her lips together and let out a long breath, arching the airflow towards her bangs and deciding in that moment that she really needed a drink. She stopped mid-stride and pulled a 180 degree turn whilst simultaneously picking out Quinn’s positioning within the group and linking her arm through the Regan’s. She wouldn't mind, she was chill, she was... pretty much the only one who didn't make Sorcha feel like she was a total crazy person. “We have a – important – class meeting.” Sorcha mumbled aloud in response to any potential inquiring minds. She turned her wide-eyed expression to Quinn and stifled back a small laugh by biting her lips together lightly.

Sorcha guided the seeker away, away, away from the pack and instead she turned at a familiar corner! This would most definitely make their walk much shorter and meaningful. “… at The Leaky Caaaauldronnnnn~" Sorcha sang lightly, giving Quinn's arm another playful squeeze before disentangling herself from the other witch. "... with all of the other fine folk there at this hourrrrr!" The girls finished singing for a handful of reasons. A, it wasn't all that pretty. B, to sell the idea more, and three, because it was one of the best ways to introduce unplanned plans, obviously!

The good thing was that it wasn’t that late, but also it wasn't too early. It just may be the perfect time to drink because she wouldn’t get sleepy! “I don’t know about you,” the girl swiped at her bangs with her hand as she peeped the other girl’s abdomen and raised her brows in good fun, “but I could use a drink.”

@Quinn Regan
2


NPC; Referee Ronja Lindqvist

Ronja’s eyes grew wide as she watched the Professor’s Captain, Fisker, who had blown by the wind towards the stands, became engulfed in a sheet of fabric and proceeded to disappear into nothingness.

What was the protocol for this? Were there any rules forbidding such a thing? She lifted her whistle halfway to her mouth before deciding she could not recall any fouls concerning the disappearance of a player when caused by a member of the crowd. Ronja lowered her hand back to her broom, glancing only briefly at the Minister for Magic before avoiding his gaze entirely – this was not the kind of excitement she had wanted the game to have. She wanted player-on-player fouls, not for a Captain to completely disappear.

Her attention was brought back to the continued gameplay as Zelenkha dove for the snitch, but missed. Another bludger was fired from Pavlycheva towards Delchev, another shot at goal from the students—

And there it was, again—the snitch! Lazily fluttering around the center of the pitch. Ronja lost sight of it almost as soon as she had spotted it, but that was why she had never been a Seeker.



OOC: The snitch has been spotted for the second time. Seekers, please post your catches as if you have successfully caught the snitch.
3
Rémi sat on the edge of the table, his feet resting on the chair he probably should have been sitting on instead. He was surrounded by books in stacks of varying heights; one or two stacks came up to his shoulders. Supposedly, he was sorting through some returns, checking for damage, filling out paperwork. In reality, he was nearing the end of his "shift" and was chatting with a friend. Quietly, of course; they were in a library after all. The teenager stretched one leg out a little, scuffing the sole of his shoe against the chair as he skimmed the blurb on the back of a heavy tome entitled: Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul. Cocking one eyebrow skeptically, the teenager dropped the book onto one of the many piles around him.

Student service as a concept was an interesting one, he thought. The idea of contributing to a community of his peers was quite appealing to a part of him. An attempt to foster a culture of giving seemed like a worthy one, didn't it? The whole thing baffled his more libertarian side, though. When things like individual autonomy were compromised, his feathers were ruffled. In the end he found some kind of internal middle ground by being generally annoyed at the system of power that forced students to do it. Hating the system got him out of tricky internal dialogue sometimes. All parts of him could settle on this, at least. Quietly, though, he conceded that this solution was... inelegant.

"So... I had that date last weekend," he said nonchalantly, a minute or so after their previous topic of conversation had come to its natural end. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on two closed fists. The date had gone well. It wasn't as if he'd ever really had a "bad" date, but he supposed he was comparing to imagined potential scenarios. She'd seemed to like him, and he'd gotten to know a bit more about her. Donatella actually had a set of opinions about a wide range of topics, which he liked. She tended to state her opinions like they were facts - something that he (rather hypocritically) wasn't sure he liked - but she was also open to other perspectives. Rémi glanced at Anne, his dark eyes flicking to the space she'd carved out of his messy pile of books in front of her, then back to the girl. "It went well."
4
Her smile grew to show Miha a toothy grin as she pushed her hair back behind her ear. It was odd opening up to Mihaela, but she liked how their conversation was going so far. It was all going rather well. She nodded as she inspected Miha's face. She was pleased to see she hadn't misfigured her. Yeah, Lev may have really liked her bruise, but ruining her face was something Valda was ready to bet on that Lev would not have appreciated. She turned herself towards her as they continued.

"I healed up pretty well. Your healers know what they're doing. You wanna see?" The redhead didn't hesitate to lift her shirt up just under her bra to show Miha the scar. "It was healing just fine until you punched me in my gut," she joked. The scar was massive, running from her the skins just under her right breast, and down across her stomach, stopping inches away from her left hip. It was raised and still very pink, standing out from her usual fair, freckled skin. "The wolf did a number on me, didn't he? It doesn't hurt anymore, thank goodness." Valda lowered her top after Miha had inspected it. "As much as I should have been snatched up in the night, I don't believe Giorgio would have let them. The poor boy barely got any sleep it seemed. Even when he wasn't out on night patrol, I have a feeling he used those sleepless nights to protect the house. I could be wrong." She shrugged as her hands rested in her lap.

"Christmas break was insane, but I'm glad it's calmed down since then. Scoarta was nice. I appreciate you and your village being so welcoming to me." She leaned towards the fire to adjust some of the sticks to make the fire burn evenly. She would need to add more soon. "Your village is much different than my muggle city. I think I needed the change of scenery. Believe it or not, it helped with making mom's passing a little easier. I had fun at the festivities too. We have never done such celebrations." She laughed as she sat back on the spread out blanket, remembering how she had participated and the reactions that had come from the townsfolk during it all. Nothing dangerous and awful had come of it all, but her grandmother had made a rather big scene when she had fallen due to her weakened state at that time.

"What was it like growing up there?" This older village had always caught her fascination. She was intrigued by their closeness and how they acted as a big family. Everyone supported one another. It was the true definition of charity and living in a community. "Gio's told me how he's lost a lot of friends. It must've been rough. I don't want to focus on those sad things though. What'd you do for fun? How does the community work? What are some of your favorite memories? What's the craziest thing you've done or seen there? You know, those sort of things."
5
both of these threads at Hogwarts are still open btw <333

Herbology Extra Credit
Herbology Field Trip/Camp out in the forbidden forest
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"You're wand is really powerful." He told her as he passed it back in response to her question. The wow was a good thing, he was impressed by the wand, but it would be hard to not to be. It wasn't just some young wand trying to keep up with course work. That wand had seen things, done things, that neither of them had even began to consider yet. The magic was strong, it was obvious even to Phillip who had only ever held his own wand before. It felt distinctly different, almost like it was humming in his palm. He wondered if it felt that way when she was doing magic. He wondered what kind of magic the wand was used to. What kind of magic it was good at. He wanted to ask her more about it but he wasn't sure how to bring it back up once they had both agreed it was time to get going.

Maybe he would ask her tomorrow.

The thought occurring to him caused the smallest of smiles to pull at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly the idea of having something to talk to her about next time he saw her making him feel strangely warm inside. He never really looked forward to seeing anyone let alone actually talking to them. It was odd, but nice. He was already looking forward to it even if he was pretending it wasn't true. Pretending he didn't care was always easier. Helping her gather up her things he stood up and waited for her to be all set. "Sorry you didn't really get to work on your assignment much...." He frowned, chewing on the inside of his lip for a moment as he walked with her toward the door back to the castle and the long winding stairs ahead of them.

"When is it due?"
7
Drina was so done with all of this year, she was tired and ornery and she was sure she wasn't the only one. It had been tough. She tried to stay positive but at a certain point during the year she had just had enough. It was hard not to hate the giants after what had happened. It was hard not to blame the Headmistress, but she was trying. Drina could put up with a lot of things but one thing she couldn't handle was the way the giants had smelled. It would of been fine if they stayed outside, minded their own, and took a bath now and again but of course they hadn't. It was hard to keep up an appetite with a twenty foot stinker sitting next to you all year. She had even lost two pounds! Of course she'd still be sneaking snacks while hiding out in the potions closest claiming to be fetching supplies for students. Drina was a constant victim of afternoon hunger strikes but luckily she usually kept a chocolate bar or two in her apron for when things got out of control.

She felt like she'd been crying for days, her eyes were red and not even the best of witch cosmetics could hide how puffy they were. She was trying to keep it together, for the kids, for her paycheck, for all of it. She just had to make it through this dinner and then she could floo home and drink some of the fine wine that had been tucked away in her country home's basement all term. It was basically whispering to her on the back of hungry rumbling coming from her stomach. Dark black and purple robes wrapped her body snug and covered most of her skin with the exception of her hands, she was in mourning, of course.

Pointed black boots stuck out from beneath the long black skirt clacked against the stone floors as she followed behind some foul mouth students into the dining hall. She clicked her tongue at them and waggled a manicured nail, "Watch your mouth Mr.Marconi." She said sharply before she saw the headmistress sitting in her usual spot at the front of the table. "Son of a *****" she cursed, not realizing (or having the forethought) to mind her own language in front of the students as the awe of seeing Olympe struck her. She half assumed the witch wouldn't be around for this, half guessed she'd be hiding in shame some where but she had to give her props for making an appearance. It was bold if nothing else.

Drina took her seat and the fact that the one next to hers was decidedly empty was not lost on her. For longer than she used to want to think about she had sat next to the late professor and even though they rarely spoke and got along even less than that she had always kind of liked him. They argued, she was stubborn and annoying, he was petulant, it got out of control anytime there was whine, but she didn't want him to die. He was interesting to say the least, even if his cats got into her potions closet and made messes more times than she could count. And now he was gone. Forever. Gone Gone Gone. And she was left to look at his seat, empty and cold, no cheese on the plate. It was tragic.

When the Headmistress began to speak Drina did her best not to tear up but by the time Olympe said the sacred man's name she was balling. Tears were cascading down her face, trailing a mess of makeup and snot with them. She threw up her glass when it was time, wailing and crying loudly. "Why!~" She asked whoever was listening, staring up at the unveiled statue. "He was so young." He wasn't. "He was so friendly." Sometimes. "He was so great." That was true. "It's just...." she sniffled, knocking back a glass of whatever had been handed to her before using her wand to conjure up something stronger and downing that too. "It's just not fair..." And with that she howled again and let her face drop to the table with a loud clunk before she began balling into her sleeve.
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The Greenhouses / Re: goodnight bad morning [nazreen]
« Last post by Nazreen Ajay on Yesterday at 11:03:23 PM »
It was settled, Ravenclaw was cheating it was of course the Gryffindor's job to police them. Who else would stand up to such injustice, such blatant disregard for the rules? If not for the Gryffindors who else would uphold the letter of the law and keep the House Point competition fair and true? Nazreen nodded her head pointedly, proudly, as Fflur took points from the cheating little birdies and then laughed loudly at the other witch's comment about the professor. Louder than she probably should of, loud enough to grab the attention of any nosey little Prefect who happened to be doing their job that evening. Nazreen loved her students, she always welcomed them at the greenhouse, encouraged them to stand up and go against the grain but right now she really hoped none of them showed up.

"Truer-er words were never spoken..." She slurred slightly, taking the cup that was handed to her with both hands, just to be safe. She had to protect this cup it was the only one they had left between the two of them. Repairing the first glass had yet to even occur to the distract able Herbology professor. Sliding down to the floor to sit next to her friend she raised the glass to her mouth and finished off the liquid quickly. Wiping a bit of it off her chin with her sleeve unashamed she set the glass down on the floor, clearly not learning from previous mistakes, and turned to look at Fflur.

"Five points to Naz for graciously accepting gifts." Leaning her head up against the glass marble jar with bright golden yellow stones in it she stared up at a ceiling that seemed to go on forever. "And five points to whoever made the staircases move." Red gems fell into the jar. "And another five points to whoever hatched the Giant Squid." Never mind that she had no idea how Squids were actually born, red gems clinked against the glass. "And five points for....." She looked back down at Fflur... "What else for?"
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Runic Magic / To Irrigate Deserts (Margarita, Prof. Akyıldız)
« Last post by Birçan Akyıldız on Yesterday at 02:05:30 PM »
FRIDAY, 21 JUNE 2002, 5:27 PM

“The task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles, but to irrigate deserts.” @Margarita Gavrilova 
C. S. Lewis

Mzia, the cabin-classroom's diminutive domovikha (and the only female domovoi on Koldovstoretz' campus), entered the office portion of the cabin and was surprised to find Birçan still sitting at her desk. "Gospođica?" she asked with some understandable confusion.

Birçan looked up from her paperwork and quill with almost equal surprise. "Oh, Mzia. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"Gospođica, you don't need to observe me cleaning. I do my job. I protect the house," Mzia said stubbornly, her hands on her hips.

"Better than any domovoy in the school," Birçan placated her with a proud look. "I am not here to observe you, Mzia, nor to praise or criticise you. I have a late meeting with a student. Please disregard my presence, and hers when she arrives. I didn't intend to interrupt your work, but my own work requires me to use the desk space here."

"Reasonable. I'll set everything in order except your desk until your meeting is over, gospođica." And without another word the domovikha conjured up her broom and sponge and began the somewhat odd (to humans) but extremely efficient method of cleaning that she excelled at.

Birçan smiled fondly at her house spirit for a few seconds, despite Mzia not looking at her anymore, before her face turned to a sour frown and she looked back down at the gradebook she had been studying and the notes she had been scribbling on one Margarita Gavrilova, a first-year (ugh), Muggleborn (like herself), and Tigrova (they always seemed to be the troublesome ones) who was actually close to having completely failed her initial term of Runic Magic. For such a seemingly academic-minded and take-charge student, Professor Akyıldız could not understand why Margarita was performing so miserably in her course, which she taught in a very clear and concise style. She had instructed the girl to meet her in her classroom by 5:30pm, to determine whether remedial action was necessary over the summer or to hold her back into a first-year course of study, which would probably interfere with her other second-year courses in the fall. Assuming, of course, that she had not tested as dismally in her other classes as in the Runic Magic.
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Great Hall / [eot] tightrope [clementine]
« Last post by Lionel Sterling on October 18, 2018, 09:08:55 PM »
walk slow and low on a tightrope
hope it lasts but you know, you never know

june 2002

Were Lionel not a prefect--he could practically hear Kay rolling his eyes over the idea that his little brother could give him detention--he wouldn't be anywhere near the ball. The last time he had been at a ball things had been...different. The second years had been close, then, and young; no dome, no kisses, no arguments. Lionel had owned some old dress robes, once, but not after the fire; he stood alone in the Slytherin boys 5th year dorm, pinning his badge on his regular school robes. Peter had left already, a little earlier than he might otherwise have; neither boy wanted to be too close to the other when at least one of them was trying to look particularly nice. Best not to stoke any more rumors--Professor McGonagall probably would take poorly to any students showing up at the event unable to speak.

He made his way down to the Great Hall and leaned against the wall to one side, stoking the appearance, carrying absolutely no intention, of making sure that no one broke any rules. The music and chatter washed over him like waves, going mostly unnoticed. He started to pick people out in the crowd. His brother was immediately evident by the juice bowl, sticking out like a sore thumb--he should have had another thought and done what Lionel did, especially without Mark to normalize it. Síthmaith looked very pretty next to Peter, all glittering roses; and Jacqueline, in dark blue; Lionel closed his eyes for a moment. Both of his friends looked like star clusters; distant at the moment, elegant, refined. Lionel noticed Phillip in the crowd--where had he gotten that jacket?--with that younger girl he'd been talking to a lot this year. She was actually dressed in stars. A lot of people had put a lot of effort into this, he thought. For a moment he let himself wonder whether it was really his problem for not seeing what they saw, or theirs for seeing something in all of this rigmarole. If even Phillip was here...

Lionel pushed off from the wall abruptly, headed toward the juice, by which Kay was still hovering. "What did you do to it," he muttered as he picked up a cup, not actually making eye contact. "Try it and find out," his brother smirked. "Mm," Lionel grunted. He supposed it didn't really matter what he'd done; whatever it was wasn't killing any of the dozens of people who had already had some, and Kay himself was drinking some. He grimaced as he took a sip; there was a sharp undertone to it. Clearly it was alcohol, but bereft of other options, Lionel just rolled his eyes in his direction and walked off, taking the drink a little at a time. Squeezing through the crowd toward the opposite wall as a faster song came on, he headed for a slightly more sparse pocket opening up just in time to see Clementine gazing down at her dress, which had just acquired a rather messy spill. He stopped as people's attentions swiveled to the Gryffindor girl.

They hadn't talked since the breakup, but word got around, and not just to him; Lionel heard a few murmurs starting. Glancing to the side as a sixth year Gryffindor cupped her hand around a classmate's ear, Lionel sighed inwardly. There was a 50/50 chance she might start telling people off loudly for gossiping. Lionel cut through the open space and grabbed her wrist gently. "Not a good look on you, Clementine," he said for the benefit of the onlookers, pulling her to one side of the crowd and releasing. "Scourgify," he muttered, pointing his wand at it the stain forcefully. The stain blanched and vanished, to his mild surprise. His charmwork was better now after all the time he'd sunk into OWL planning, being undistracted by the majority of social events, but there was never a guarantee.

He stood back. Her dress hugged her figure, which looked better than before she'd said she'd quit. There was nothing distant about her. "You look like you could use a drink," he said wryly after a pause, holding his cup out in her direction.

ooc: Kay's line courtesy of Mickie
fun mentions for @Peter Willow @Elena @Jacqueline MacClelland @Billie Fay @Phillip Donnelly @Kay Sterling @Clementine Russell
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