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  2. Post #002 - 240 words He attempted to calm his nerves as he wandered into the sanctuary. He did not know why he already felt like this. Kermit knew that this was what he wanted to do. He wanted to be one of these persons one day - a researcher, a carer for creatures whom were misunderstood and often misrepenstated. With a final inward push he made a mental vow that he would be confident from this point on. “The sanctuary is staffed twenty four hours a day.” Amelia said, as they walked through the first corridor. Out the corner of his eye he spotted a map on the wall. He had read up on the sanctuary before he had arrived. Although they focused on the upbringing of kappas, they also were involved in research on other and smaller creatures. They did not harm them - and that was what caused Kermit to agree to come in the first place. “We have three kappa habitats here. The one you will be observing houses those whom were mistreated whilst in captivity. This has made them very hostile towards humans.” Kermit nodded as he wandered through a set of doors. They were plunged into a low light straight away, and he heard the sound of water in the distance. This was the experience he wanted. He wanted to be able to say he has seen a kappa in their natural habitat. This… this was the best of both world.
  3. Today
  4. Arwa was actually playing this game, so Julian felt like the thing to do was to go down to the stands and show some support for his friend. He wasn't exactly sure how to do that, however. Yelling felt unnatural and he was unwilling to add to the racket around him, which already verged on unbearable. His solution? Flashing @Arwa Hashmi-Andrada two thumbs up every time she flew close to the stands. That was encouraging, right?
  5. Fern's mouth dropped open, literally, when she heard Desmond's reply to @Selena Watkins. With wide eyes, she immediately turned back to her friend as Desmond soared away, not even bothering to pay attention to the game anymore at this point, and instead searching for Lena's eyes with a confused look on her face. "Did- did he- Desmond just- he-" she stammered for a moment before taking in a breath and spitting out her sentence. "Did he just call you sweet?" she asked in a bewildered tone. What was going on? "Is this.." she lowered her voice a bit, though it was completely unnecessary given how loud it was up here anyways, before finishing her sentence. "Is this from spin the bottle or something?" she asked slowly. The two had kissed then, after all, and Fern knew all too well that you could develop some type of new feelings after playing that game.
  6. "Clayton babe! Come down!" Her voice rang through the few archers of open grass. Clayton was hanging meters above the air on a homemade broom. A girl and her father sat down and made it for him, giving it to the broom racer when he was a 9-year-old. The other child had told Clayton she was his biggest fan so she wanted to help him be the best broom racer in the world. Gwen had told Clayton he wasn't ever flying on the broom the two made because it was most likely trash. Instead, his mother kept it as decoration in one of the sitting rooms since she liked the colours. He didn't know back then how to appreciate gifts. "It's dinner time!" He'd never admit she was right. The broom flew like absolute crap. It was uncomfortable so heaven knows what type of comfort charm they cast on it. He wanted Gwen to be wrong so badly, but his mother had never been a fool. She had a lot of negative traits and stupid just wasn't one of them. He slowly stared down at the blonde woman who was waving her arm in the air frantically to get his attention. He had not spoken a word to the woman yet. He was still livid with everything she'd done and lied about. Gwen told Clayton to be sure he came in soon then turned inside and went back to their dinning room.
  7. Behati was blissfully ignorant to the wreckage she'd just caused, and the horror she'd left in the wake of her too-loose lips. Upon Emmett's dash from the Great Hall (and her subsequent journey where her bum and the floor of the Great Hall became close friends) Behati's head began to clear up. What had previously been a foggy haze of confusion, and she'd, seemingly, been acting on pure desire, now turned into a clear glass of proper acknowledgement. Immediately, she was aware of Isobel's and Zsuzsanna's existence, and she'd blanched once she saw the look on Isobel's face which just screamed "you're a bloody idiot, Gadot". Perhaps it was better that she'd been utterly unaware of the complete mess of things she'd just made, for if she'd been anything more than blissful in her ignorance just a mere few seconds ago, she would have smacked herself---hard---in the face and resigned herself to the privacy of the Hufflepuff Common Room for her to sulk and live out her Hogwarts days as the hermit she was obviously destined to be. (And if she'd been the wiser to the fact that Zsuzsanna intimately knew of her involvement in Emmett's little nap in the Forbidden Forest that night, well, then she would've taken the first train back to Manchester; for she would be afraid that Zsu would attempt to murder her in her sleep.) "I--what?" Behati attempted, stupidly, to grasp at what in the world Isobel was getting at. Her head was clearer now, thank God for that, but she was still dazed and confused. The last thing she really remembered was sitting at the Hufflepuff table eating her cupcake. How and when she had managed to sit on the floor felt like a fever dream. "Hi Zsuzsanna!" She greeted emphatically, completely ignorant to the mess she'd just made and the truth behind Zsu's cryptic words. "Yeah, I do think I should go to the Hospital Wing. I do feel a little lightheaded. But I wouldn't really say I feel vulnerable. Or helpless, really." Oh, Behati. Just shut up and follow Isobel. The end.
  8. "Really?" Emmett said dryly. "I'll keep that in mind.. may need to feed it to certain people." His eyes flashed: the like you was implied. Her tears continued to fuel Emmett's frustration. He wanted her to fight back, to dole out acidity with a vehemence that matched his own. If she did that, then he'd feel vindicated in bullying her, in continuing, but now.. now, he only felt like a lesser person for it, and yet, this did not make him soften, because there was nothing worse, nothing more likely to inspire him to act-out, than when he felt insecure with himself. This was a balancing act. He couldn't figure out what to do. As much as he wanted to say more, to continue to hurt her, this was just.. pathetic. Her tears were flooding. She was flailing. How could he continue to bully someone like her? "Don't," he finally breathed. The last straw was when she said she had to make it up to him. As if she had something to make up to him. He abruptly stood up, stuffing his book and papers back into his satchel. "I'm going. Just stay away from me." He turned. He didn't need her flowers and cookies and hearts and general goddamn kindness. He needed to get away.
  9. Some time had passed. Not much: the pain was still there, a concept alive, electric, and now intrinsic to who he was. He'd been hurt, scarred, humiliated. And he'd forced himself to avoid these people, which hadn't been hard with Juan, which would always be hard with Isobel, which wasn't necessary with Zsu, since he believed that she hadn't been responsible. It wasn't until yesterday, when he'd discovered that Behati had been directly involved in what happened to him, that the memories hit him again like a battering ram, and he was forced to relive the forest for the hundredth time. If someone as insignificant as Behati had been part of it, then who else? Had Zsu known after all? But no, she couldn't have. She'd seemed so oblivious, and he'd decided to believe that she wasn't lying. He didn't think he could accept the situation, could fathom anything else, if he were wrong. No, he wasn't mad at Zsu: he merely avoided her because she was associated with the event, because he wanted to somehow white-out that part of his life. Emmett wrote more than ever these days. He brought his diary to different places for inspiration. The quill scratch filled the room in front of fire-drip, outside in the sharpness of the air, in the Great Hall among many others (disguised, of course), and in the library. He'd made a hobby of discovering new places in the castle to write. That day, he was lost in his head, thinking of what Behati told him, after she'd bloody kissed his numb lips. He'd ventured up many flights of stairs, resolved to write under star light, under darkness and flashes of crisp color, in a world that felt a little less like his own. Right now, he hated his own. It was then, upon entrance, that he saw Zsu. Emmett's first reaction was to wince, to turn around and make a bee-line out. Avoidance, running, always struck him as easier than taking the confrontation head-on, particularly when emotions were heavy. But he didn't go. Something distracted him. His gaze fell upon the dispersed light, the blasts of colors, the fire-crackle that burned words, each sharpening. Was she writing to him? An odd sensation burgeoned within him. It was something akin to feeling as if he may have been mistaken, as if something he thought he'd fathomed was, once again, a lie. He thought she realized he believed her. Why did she want to apologize again? "Zsuzsanna," Emmett finally spoke slowly to her back, his voice loud but smooth in the stillness. "What is this?"
  10. Seraphine did not like quidditch so she was unsure how she had ended up in the Hufflepuff stands to cheer for @Margaret Schoenberger. Perhaps it was due to the time they had spent together, somewhat awkward lunches with her and @Kieran Wells, occasionally walking to the library together (Margaret didn't need help with her homework so they did their homework together but separately unless there was no room for Sera because of all of Margie's books so then Sera had to sit at the next table), and sometimes they ventured to the dueling chamber to practice spells. Misery was written all over Sera's face but when she spotted Margie in the sky, she couldn't help momentarily lighting up as a scream tore from her throat, "GO MARGIE!" Could Margie taste her screams? Hopefully they tasted like victory.
  11. "Yes, Emmett, you got me. I'm obsessed with you." You're not the only one, Emmett wanted to say, yet somehow his typical snarky line died in his throat, ashed, as if somehow the sharpness of her sarcasm muted his desire to spit back with arrogance. There was something knowing about Molly, to the point that even his usual bragging lacked bite. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was the state he was in, worn-down to a point where he didn't have the energy to brag. He waited for more, harsher blows on her part. He'd been there. He could suffer them: he'd braced himself. And yet, nothing came. If anything, she seemed to soften. A flicker of surprise crossed his expression. The surprise grew, transformed into shock when she handed him the Sneakoscope, when she explained the implication of the device. "Why the hell are you giving this to me?" he hissed, unwilling to believe that after what she'd just done, what she'd said, she was suddenly being nice to him. "What? Is this some sort of damn trick? You see a guy who's obviously been in.. a bad fight.. and have to taunt him further?" Emmett's anger grew at the thought, twisted and burned inside him. He took a step closer to her, eyes darkening. "So this is the Molly that everyone loves, huh? A role-model, an inspiration?" Emmett resisted the urge to spit on the ground. "Passing around poisoned or prank devices to those who are already low?" In a swift motion, he grabbed it from her, and then he threw his arms in the air and raised his voice so it echoed through the corridor. "Look, everyone! Molly Stone just gave me a poisonous object! Your hero has a dark side!" Emmett felt his breath shortening at that point, a mixture of ire and desperation and general need to get away. In his state, he almost forgot that nothing had actually happened from the point he'd grabbed the 'Sneakoscope' to now.
  12. It was one of those awful grey rainy days in Great Britain. The bespectacled boy spent all morning glancing sadly at the windows, his only solace watching the ‘racing’ raindrops dart across the glass plane. It was a boring way to spend the whole morning and was made worse knowing that the teachers wouldn’t allow the eleven years olds out for recess. Winston hated being bored more than anything in the world and he could think of nothing more boring than spending his favorite part of the day in the classroom. An hour later, recess officially began and it was as awful as Winston thought it would be. It seemed that the rain had the whole class depressed. Rather than talk or play games, most of his classmates opted to nap or quietly read. This was Winston’s nightmare. The gawky brown haired boy had way too much energy to nap in the middle of the day. Without any other option, Winston perused the small but colorful bookshelf in the back of the room. Being raised in the muggle world, most of the titles were completely unknown to him. This was one of the only times the halfblood thought the muggles beat magic since h would have killed to watch television or videos on the internet. But reluctantly, he made his way to the back of the classroom where a large pink beanbag sat and plopped down into. A few minutes passed and the normally energetic child was deeply engrossed in The Tales of of Beedle the Bard. An excited smile quirked at the end of his lips, his glasses needed to be adjusted constantly to sit on top of his nose, but his eyes blue eyes darted across the pages taking everything in. Maybe reading wasn’t too bad after all.
  13. One side of Leonid’s lips upturned into a half-smile at Morgi’s grumbling, quipping, “Good thing we don’t know anyone who would try such dastardly things.” Of course, he knew very well just who Morgi was talking about, and she entered the conversation fully in the next moment. Sad thing was that it sounded entirely too reasonable for Darcie to be brewing blood wine for profit right about now, despite his wife’s jesting tone. “Even though she tried to make nice, I wouldn’t put it past her to try to use me as the first blood sacrifice for that,” Leonid commented with a shake of his head. The subject changed from concerns about the outside world (and Darcie Dracel’s would-be blood wine brewery), to something much more pleasant quickly, thankfully. Leonid smiled as Morgi began her list of things they could raise, his hand lightly combing through her hair before he paused at other things. Leonid could sometimes be somewhat thick when it came to implications behind words, but he knew precisely what other things Morgi was hinting towards. “Mmm, like kids?” Leo asked, not shying away from the subject in the least. He’d always wanted a family. After a beat, he added, “…and I don’t mean baby goats.”
  14. Jo listened to the lecture with a certain amount of skepticism. Her nose wrinkling at the thought of people being divided by defining traits, wasn't variety supposed to be the spice of life? How could that be achieved if people were separated into four groups. Separation of groups never ended well. Didn't these Wizards learn anything from non-magical History? Of course Jo didn't mention this though, she remained silent with her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. She was almost tempted to raise her hand to ask why and how they determined which house you belonged to but another boy beat her to it. She recognized him from the table incident, the one that put too much faith in magic and it's capabilities. He was quickly shut down by the teacher though and Jo's brow furrowed, incredulity spreading onto her features. "Who are they to deprive of us this information?" She hissed under her breath. There was the option to ask one of her classmates that had magical parentage but she didn't trust those bastards as far as she could throw them, especially after what had happened to her in Diagon Alley. With the bell signalling the end of the lesson, Jo hung back and let everybody else file out of the classroom. She'd stay behind, The Count of Monte Cristo was burning a hole in her backpack just begging to be read and she was busy digging for it when the boy who'd been shot down by the teachers approached her and – much to her dismay and surprise – spoke to her. The most shocking part? She actually sympathized with him. "I don't much appreciate them trying to keep an aura of mystery around it." Jo responded. "I'd like to know so I can be prepared for it."
  15. Misty Leaf VH37 PHP Lesson 2 Assignment: Misty Leaf Pre-Hogwarts Primary, VH37 I don't know what to put on this line. Extra Credit: Sneaking out past curfew was breaking the rules. Misty knew this perfectly well, yet as a "good student" she did it anyways. Most other people would have dedicated their first rule breaking to something more dramatic or important, but to Misty, getting this book was important. On her way back from the library Misty stopped in an empty hallway. Someone was approaching, possibly multiple people judging by the footsteps, so Misty hid behind a stand of armor, careful not to make any noise that could notify them of her presence. The footsteps ceased, and Misty could hear two voices talking, right beside her it seemed. They didn't seem in a rush to go anywhere, and after a while, Misty was starting to get impatient. Daylight would be here soon, and if they didn't leave before then, she risked getting caught. She thought back to the famous Harry Potter and how he had an invisibility cloak. Misty wished she had one of those at that moment, even if it was a faulty one that only worked for a short while, just so she'd be able to escape this area. Fortunately, the two voices started fainting, as if they moved down the hall. Misty waited a bit, and carefully peeked out. Upon seeing that no one was present, Misty charged out and ran all the way back to the common room.
  16. Winston’s jaw had been dropped to his desk for the whole morning. The Pre-Hogwarts Primary teachers had brought up the topic of what to expect from their first day of Hogwarts. They went on and on about getting to King’s Cross Station, how to access Platform 9 and 3/4s, what the train ride was like, etc… But when one inquisitive student, in the sharpest of glasses and possibly the greatest mind of his soon to be Hogwart’s year, asked for more details regarding the famed sorting, he had been unceremoniously shut down. Unceremoniously shut down multiple times because Winston Hughes refused at first o not have one of his question answered. But despite his best arm raising, most pleading voice, and his saddest puppy dog eyes, the teachers’ resolve held strong. Winston was outraged. He was distraught. He was desperate to know. So when the bell rang signaling lunch and recess, Winston had planned to stay behind momentarily. Maybe the teachers would be more willing to tell him alone rather than in front of the whole class since it was apparently that huge of a secret? It was only him and one other girl in the classroom remaining when he approached their desk. Before he could even open his mouth however, the teachers sternly told him no and that no matter how hard he tried, they would not answer how students got sorted. He was left there with a hanging mouth when he turned to the girl. She never talked much to him, or anyone in the class really, but Winston didn’t have any qualms in speaking to strangers. “Can you believe that? What’s the big secret behind getting sorted?"
  17. Oh snap. People. Atlas didn't have time to explain a damn thing to Clayton. Instead, he was thrusting himself forward and slamming the stall door shut when he heard people coming. He slammed his finger against his own lips giving Clayton a silent SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH as not-loudly but loudly as he could pretend. “Yo? We gonn’ snog in here?” JGI#JI@JIOG%#. IT WAS JUAN. JUAN WAS IN THE BUILDING. Atlas hopped onto the toilet, throwing his arm out to grab some support against the stall. With his free hand, he dropped it over Clayton's mouth just to double-check the older Slytherin wouldn't start yapping back to his mentor.
  18. L E S S O N NINE H O M E W O R K tba
  19. A doe? He looked over and shrugged, not too affected by the presence of the light. The reality of it was that at this point, he’d seen a lot of magic stuff going on at Hogwarts to be relatively unaffected by most new things. Unless it was seeing Margaret Schoenberger actually enjoy dancing. What was this? Was that… a smile? But despite how unobservant Juan was when it came to physical cues, he wasn’t that lacking when it came to noticing verbal cues. Was that a Freudian slip or just an indication she’d been thinking of Henry A. Kissinger? Did Margaret want him to kiss her? A slight reddening of his ears followed this thought and he decided to turn the topic to something he knew for sure wouldn’t make him blush. “Gotta say, you’ve got a ways to go before you match my sisters, though. They’ve got a few years of experience on you. But they’re old,” he laughed, “One’s got two kids already and my other sister is about to have her first. Surprised us all when she told us. Pretty sure she was surprised too.” He was actually enjoying himself, which was more than he’d expected when he’d invited Margaret to the dance. She’d been the LAST choice on his mind, especially because the terrible crochet dress she’d chosen had appeared to give him an indication of how this dance was going to go. But… she seemed to be enjoying herself, and he wasn’t doing too bad either. Maybe next time, he should take a chance on the frumpy girl again. Margaret’s sudden hesitation brought him out of his thoughts and he was pulled away from the dance floor. Oh, she wanted to leave, basically. Juan shrugged, trying to find a clock on the walls before he remembered he wasn’t a regular school dance. There would be no forlorn looking at a clock. Instead, he’d be forced to assume it was just getting late. His feet were a little sore… How long had they danced? Juan nodded with a little smile, “It’s fine. I’m a little… tired anyways. All danced out and stuff.” He offered her yet another smile when she reaffirmed that she liked dancing with him, and that she liked her little corsage. It was the only thing he could’ve done with a textbook. “Of course…” he said, hesitantly leaning into her. She hugged him, and Juan took the proximity as a chance and delicately brought his hand up to Margaret’s chin, pulling her closer to his lips and offering her a small but quick peck on the mouth. “I had fun. Thanks.” He pulled away and took a deep breath before turning away and then looking back towards Margaret, “Should I… change your dress back?”
  20. homework 101 Brooklyn would be interested in taking Divination, because she enjoys horoscopes/astrology/the idea that certain things in life can be predicted or foretold. She would find it fascinating and invest a good amount of belief/time into the subject. It would also appeal to her more than the others, because she doesn't like numbers (Arithmancy), she would find Ancient Runes sketchy, and she would deem muggle studies pointless. For a second elective, Brooklyn would take Care of Magical Creatures. Although there are many creatures she'd consider weird/disgusting, the occasional awesome creature like a unicorn would inspire her to ignore the negative.
  21. Chuck let out a rare genuine smile at towards his friends. It was moments like this, when it was just the four of them, that he really appreciated them. He couldn’t imagine Hogwarts without the three. No one else understood him in the way they did. “True. Bloody History of Magic and Astronomy? Might as well be dead than listening to any of those lessons.” His spirits were raised with the comment from his friends. Ham and Chuck never really talked much about liking lessons or classes, mainly because they never had before, so it was a relief his cousin wasn’t crapping on him for his excitement. "Care of Magical Creatures will be awesome. You guys see those hippogriffs outside? Wicked.” “Yeah I know. Maybe we’re getting soft.” He smirked and rolled his eyes. They definitely weren’t. Chuck knew he just wanted to make sure to get the best of them. “We gotta get them good and hard. I hope they aren’t picking on any of the new first years.” He scowled at the thought. “Those tossers.” With the talk of their home towns coming up, Chuck shrugged. He got it. As much as he loved his friends back home, he knew it wasn’t the greatest place to grow up. “I get it. Back home isn’t the best. Even London forgets about us West Ham folk.” It’d be nice to have newer apartments, nice streets, better public transportation… but those sort of privileges never seemed to come to Chuck or Ham. “I don’t know about slumber parties. Ham might like wearing dresses and doing each other’s hair and nails, but I don’t.” He ribbed his cousin with a grin. What a scary sight that was. “Being able to do anything we want though, now that sounds cool."
  22. "Oh! Dragons are pretty cool," She agreed. "I like those viper ones. They're so pretty," She had only seen them in pictures, anything that breathed fire was probably best to be kept out of Brigit's vicinity. "As long as they don't show us those boring creatures like the worms," She made a face, not out of disgust but rather annoyance. "That would be such a lost cause." "Revenge on who?" It seemed so long ago. Hell, it was. "You mean you haven't beaten the pulp out of them yet? I thought you had." But come to think of it, Brigit never did see any of the students a year above them sporting any bruises or cuts. She hadn't even really paid much attention to them at all. "You should put dung in their oatmeal. That'll teach them." "This year you can win it! Chuck and I will make you the best signs, so bright that the other team will keep forgetting they're playing!" "Yeah, I wish i didn't have to live with my mum and her stupid husband on breaks. No offense," She glanced at Ham and Chuck apologetically. "My dad's place in Scotland is really neat and he lets me do practically whatever I want. You all can come live there! It'll be like a never-ending slumber party."
  23. preparing for hogwarts The worst thing about Hogwarts, in Brooklyn's correct opinion, was that students were not eligible to bring puppies or dogs. She'd known this for awhile and it bothered her every time she visited the Magical Menagerie, and yet, every time she entered the shop, she was hit by the same spark of irritation. Because, Brooklyn did not want a cat or an owl or a rat or a toad at school. She wanted to bring her puppy: his name was Padfoot and he was a black lab. Each time she visited the shop, she hoped that perhaps she'd have a change of heart and fall in love with another pet, but her hoping was futile. Each time, she left pet-less.
  24. “SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!” The screeching of the third year’s voice was probably even more screeching than it should have been. The entire thing all stimmed from something that Damaris had let slip, and that was something that she would not let slide. She started her search for Seeley straight after the conversation with Damaris after practice, but she wasn’t sure exactly where she would be. She had looked seemingly everywhere before deciding on the Great Hall as the most likely place to find the Huffepuff that she was looking for. She had her wand gripped tight in her fist as she stormed through the door of towards the Hufflepuff table. “SEELEY PICHARDO, WHERE ARE YOU?” Her nostrils were flaring as she turned to finally see that Hufflepuff sitting at the table, “WHAT ON EARTH, NO. WHO ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” She had seemingly no control over the volume of her voice because it was seemingly just full of rage and disdain for the Hufflepuff, and to a much lesser extent Damaris, “WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? HUH. HOW DARE YOU TELL DAMARIS THAT.”
  25. L E S S O N EIGHT H O M E W O R K OOCly I'm looking forward to learning about both Quidditch and Dueling indepth. It seems like a really unique part of VH that other roleplay sites don't have. ICly Josephine would be eager to learn about dueling, so like it's legal to fight other kids with magic as long as it's supervised? Bloody wicked. Quidditch she'd be keen on, as a spectator. She doesn't really fancy the idea of being on an enchanted broom that high in the air. She doesn't trust magic that much yet. E X T R A C R E D I T "I am not signing up," Jo looked at the piece of parchment that was pinned up on the common room noticeboard. "My feet," she pointed at them. "Will firmly stay on the ground." A broom was a magically enchanted objects, enchantments and spells didn't always go as planned. This was something she had quickly picked up on since joining this Wizarding world. Did she like adventure? Yes she did, but she also liked living and plummeting to her death because an enchanted cleaning product decided not to cooperate was not the way Jo wanted to die.
  26. "Nah, her hat probably was stupid. That was no reason to push you, and you should punch her back next time," Molly informed Brigit. "People care way too much about where you come from. No way am I letting anyone judge me for anything but me," she added vehemently. Molly nodded along with Hamish and Chuck. Come to think about it, there was no one else in their year whom she really got along with. There was Kaleb, who Molly only saw eye-to-eye with with half the time, and Damaris, who was her enemy for the longest time, and Casper and Petey, who were obnoxious as hell, and then the immature children like Jack and River who Molly simply did not connect with. All in all, her true friends besides the Blood Demons were older or younger. She began jotting down each of their goals, quill-scratch an echo that pulsed through the air. Ride a unicorn, meet a dragon, beat the crap out of those older kids... "Yeah, hey dude, you're right," Molly suddenly said to Chuck. "We never got proper revenge on those idiots, have we? It's like they're intentionally avoiding us. Cowards," she said bitterly. Molly brightened, however, when Hamish mentioned winning a Quidditch Cup. "Yes!" She scribbled that goal sharper and larger than the others. "We've gotta win this year, too. Alright, I'm gonna add something." Molly had so many goals: a lot of them were big secrets, although she'd slowly gotten less cautious about hiding her private aspirations, less careful about not letting people know how much she planned to do. "I want to move the hell out of Enfield. I hate it there. I don't want to live somewhere super rich like privileged losers, but just.. not Enfield."
  27. Zsu was completely trusting Atlas and a small part of her wondered if that was err on her part, but she dismissed it. She had made sure to keep herself hidden away, having caught sight of Atlas and Clayton as they went into the bathroom together, internally promising herself that no, the older Slytherin would not actually harm her year mate regardless of any shenanigans Atlas could cook up. As time began to slip by, however, she began to get a bit antsy –what if Juan didn’t show up? What if by the time he did show up, Atlas had been magic’d into some sort of creature or inanimate object? Groaning internally, she had been about to make her way into the bathroom to check in when Juan the Don strolled right up and into the bathroom. Soundlessly, she stepped from her hiding place and followed after him, exhaling quietly as she slipped in behind him. It was a bit ironic that she now had a trio of Slytherins in one place. A badger in the presence of snakes –we all knew how that went. “Hello Juan, ” She started, straightening up as she tilted her head and looked up at him, “what a treat to see you here.”
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