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Showing status updates, topics and blog entries tagged 'plot' and 'the uprising' and posted in for the last 365 days.

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  1. Today
  2. Jacquetta Rosewood

    Healer Station #6

    She was very stressed out over everything but at the moment, she was focusing on her arm. What if breaking it twice meant that it couldn’t be fixed? What would happen? She needed that arm! It sounded silly but she did. She didn’t know if she would be able to survive with only one. Would she have to give up fencing? If so, her life would be over. Fencing was a big part of her and, without it, she didn’t know what she would do. She might be able to duel with one hand but… no. It was her right arm. She used that one to hold her wand and right and drink and… everything. She couldn’t live without it! Etta felt like she was going to explode from the stress but then she could breath better. And her arm was fixed. And she handed something to drink. Her eyes were wide as she wondered how it had been so easy. She quickly gulped down the potion (not even noticing the taste, which was probably for the better) and looked at the healer. She hadn’t noticed how he had looked before but now she realized that he was quite handsome. A blush bloomed on her cheeks that matched her bright red hair. This was embarrassing. She had been worried about nothing when other students had been harmed much worse. She had been selfish and that was not okay. How could she have been so focused on herself? Her arm now bandaged, she was good to go. Or she thought so, at least. Looking at the other students around, she knew that she had made it out easy. The healer left and she was alone with the other man who wanted her to drink something else. With a look towards the other patients, she took it and drank. Then she was taken to a bench where she was given candy and a warming blanket. She loved sweets and was happy to have something familiar. “Thank you,” she managed to get out before the man left her. She watched the adults around the Great Hall taking care of all of the injured and wondered if they would be quick enough, skilled enough, and brave enough to help them all.
  3. Jeramie Slater

    Healer Station #9

    Jeramie inhaled and exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes tightly at the pain that was still radiating inside of his arm. It had come and gone in its severity. Now it seemed to be coming. He didn't have a chance to object as his sister gently removed his arm from around her shoulders. Instead, he clutched his arm, sat on the edge of a nearby cot, and tried to stop his face from expressing, especially when his sister was looking in his direction. He would be ok, and he didn't want her thinking anything different. Dully he registered Angel talking to the Healers, telling them about Prom. Prom...Jer's roommate. He hadn't liked him much, hadn't trusted the boy though he didn't know why, and he'd worried when he had started getting all close with Angel. He'd been suspicious, but now it was Prom who needed help. Prom was much worse off than he was. He had watched him, sure that he was going to die, and he knew he didn't want that, yet even the thought had seemed unreal. None of it seemed real. None of it COULD be real. He didn't know how he felt about any of it. He didn't feel anything at all. He swallowed and stared down at the floor. Time was moving at a speed that was impossible to quantify. It felt like it'd been an eternity, and yet it felt like it had just begun. He barely remembered moving from the Quidditch stands to the Great Hall. The Great Hall, a place that had once felt familiar yet now felt like somewhere he'd never been. As his sister finished reporting on Prom, she looked to him, and the healer looked at him, and he felt a deep-seated and nameless fear, deep in his belly, and he felt his breath quicken. He did not look at the Healer, and he did not look at Angel. "I'm fine," he muttered, his voice cracking. --- Jeramie is not fine. He has been bitten by a werewolf. He has not really admitted this yet, to himself or others. It is not obvious, as the bite is on his shoulder where it has been wrapped tightly in his sister's jumper, as she attempted to stop the bleeding. It is obviously wounded, however, due to the blood. He will resist any attempt to look at it, because deep down he knows. (If you don't look at it, it won't become real and he won't have to face it.) Otherwise he fell off his broom and hit a tree, and landed badly on that same arm. Its hurting him and he's scratched up from the fall, but the only severe injury is the bite.
  4. Madeline Slater

    It's going down, I'm yelling timber.

    Continued from here The crowd was growing, as the tensions were rising. It was easy to discern which were parents, and which were curious onlookers. She wove her fingers in with Everett's, afraid to let go the one thing cementing her to reality. She watched, observed the questions, the demands. Brawn would get them nowhere, she knew that much. Meek and overwhelmed as the Professor seemed, attempting to storm the castle with metaphorical pitchforks was only going to worsen their position. She wanted so badly to place trust in the aurors, in the Ministry, to keep the children... her children, safe. She had a feeling Everett was much more skeptical, and much more likely to try to break his way in, consequences be damned. And she couldn't blame them. She pleaded with the Professor. "You need to tell us something, we can't be left in the dark here. There has to be some way to communicate with the aurors, or someone inside, in real time now. You're going to have a mob on your hands," and she gestured to the growing crowd. "And it's only going to get worse." Her voice began to falter, and she held the woman's gaze. "Those are our children, and we'll do what we have to, to ensure their safety."
  5. Madeline Slater

    Until I wrap myself inside your arms I cannot rest

    Apparating in this state left her dizzy, with palpable nausea. Maddie never considered herself an overbearing parent, or spouse, for that matter. Everett had his fair share of injuries, of long term bruises. It had done a number on his body over the years, but she accepted it as part of the gig that was life with a Quidditch player. It was a choice, one they consciously made. Sending their children to Hogwarts had also been a choice, but it was an informed choice. Despite what they'd both been through in their time there, Everett more devastatingly so, they had trusted those warded walls with what was most precious to them both. And all three of those lives were potentially at stake. It was a wonder she didn't lose her dinner on the sidewalk. The street had barely come into focus as she found herself swept up in familiar arms, and she clung to him, burying her face in his shirt. His question rumbled in his chest, and she couldn't find the strength to lift her head, merely wrapped her arms around him tighter, afraid to let go. "I don't know," she admitted, the words muffled in his shoulder. "They aren't going to let us in, I... I don't know anyone there now." She finally extracted herself from her husband's arms and reached for his hand. "We need to get as close as we can and see if there's a way. Or someone who can help. I..." and she met his eyes now, her own filled with equal parts fear and determination. "I don't know what else to do." A quick jog brought them to the border where only a few shorts months ago, Abi would have taken the carriage to Hogwarts. Jeramie and Angel would have boarded the boats to cross the lake, to take in the first glimpse of Hogwarts over the glassy waters, full of hope and promises and aspirations. She found every instinct to cry out, to tear through all the onlookers and hope that sheer force of will would be enough to break down whatever wards and barriers were now in place to prevent them from getting to their children. More parents, and some gawkers, were joining by the minute.
  6. Angelique Slater

    sooner than later I'll need a savior

    Time had allowed Angel the opportunity to reflect, as she often did. She was cautious sort, not prone to actions out of impulse or without due consideration. But she'd been forced into just that, into the hurried acceptance of their situation. And while she'd done what she was able, she couldn't help but think, now, that she could have done so much more. She occupied her mind with simple movement, going from bedside to bedside in an attempt to comfort those she cared about. Thankfully, many of her classmates suffered only minor injuries, and were able to be escorted back to their Common Rooms in short order. But the graveness of Prom's injury, and the uncertainty of Jer's, meant those most important to her were here for an indeterminate amount of time. The discussion with her family was bleak. There were tears, pleas, denial. Her eyes stung at the memory. She'd never seen her parents like that, the total helplessness. When you admired your parents as she did, to see that bleakness in their eyes brought a new low, a renewed fear. But they'd stayed at her brother's side, and Jeramie had finally fallen into a restless sleep. She quietly left his bed, if only to put some distance between her and reality. She cleared her throat quietly as she reached Prom, and Prom's house elf startled. She raised a hand in surrender quickly, not wanting Whimsy to fret anymore than she already was. She entered, brows furrowed, as she saw Prom raise one corner of his bandage, then lower it just as quickly, flopping back in defeat. She bit her lip, struggling to block her own emotions, for Prom's sake. "Hey," she offered, voice hoarse. She swallowed thickly, each breath a struggle. She reached for a chair and lifted it to position herself at the head of his bed opposite Whimsy. "I don't know what Whimsy's making, but it's lovely," she continued, eliciting a grin from the elf. "I'm glad she's here for you. Jeramie... finally fell asleep, I think, so I wanted to check in." She paused. "Did you get some sleep? It must be really hard to sleep back here, it's still bright and loud and..." She realized she was babbling, which was such a strange reaction for her in any situation. It seemed to happen around Prom more often than others, but this was so much heavier than anything else she had witnessed. Maybe this was her version of denial. Talk fast enough that you never have time to think about what's going on around you. She felt her lip tremble, powerless against it. "I'm so sorry, Prom."
  7. The Great Hall had quieted as magic potions took anxiety and tension from injured students and replaced them with dreamless sleep, but Prometheus Saintcross had already been sleeping much of the night without the aid of any such elixir. He'd slept through being lifted into the sky, healed, checked on by aurors and nurses alike, and through much of his own pain. He'd slept through the prying eyes of students with lesser injuries who'd been approved to leave, and had tried to peek behind his curtain as they walked by. He'd also slept through the arrival of the small, brownish-grey figure that was now bobbing around the foot of his makeshift bed, the tips of her fern-sized ears occasionally visible as she straightened, rumpled, and re-straightened the bedding just for something to do with her hands. It was while she was surreptitiously trying to fluff his pillow without waking him that Prom woke up, turning his head on a sore neck and cringing when a tender jaw scraped against the pillowcase. When he looked into the house elf's massive eyes, her ears flattened back against her head in sadness and worry, which nearly made his own eyes brim with tears. "Whimsy," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep (and likely from all the screaming, which he did not remember). "Yes, master," the house elf said with obvious relief--whether at his knowing her name or that he wasn't angry for some reason, he didn't know, but she clasped her hands together, the overly long fingers lacing like branches. She wore an old pillow sham with a pattern on it and something inside it crinkled occasionally when she moved. "Whimsy came immediately," she squeaked as quietly as possible. "The Missus was here, they came to see young master, afraid he was--" she gulped, the words too horrible to say. "t...transformed," she managed. "But he is only injured, and sleeping, so they return home and leave master in good care." She smoothed his bedsheets again. Prom wanted to be hurt, angry that his parents had come only to see whether he had been bitten, but he found that he was purely grateful to see Whimsy and felt comfort in the care she both provided and represented; having to deal with his parents would have been so much more exhausting. "Thank you," he said quietly, resting his head back on the pillow. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."
  8. Yesterday
  9. Prometheus Saintcross

    Hufflepuff Stands Safe Zone

    Prom was marginally aware of the world around him, shifting, but he tried to shut it out. It was easier to shut out all sensation than to ignore some and not others. The ability to focus had left him. He'd clung tight to thoughts of Whimsy as long as he could after his housemate had come to his side, but once he had started slipping in and out of consciousness it became easier to just ebb and flow with the darkness. It was for this reason that he slept through Jessica's healing spell, and through her gentle wandwork that lifted him into the air and into the safety of the stands, as it would have been impossibly painful to drape him over a broom for transportation. He dreamed of floating, too, when healers and aurors began transitioning the injured to the Great Hall in the castle, where he would awake some time later.
  10. Gray Samson

    Minister of Magic Official Press Conference

    While Gray perfectly understood why emotions were so high at the moment, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around @Isabelle Costantini‘s comments. He thought of Kay, and how small and frightened she had looked; he thought of Damian, and the way the other man had been reduced to tears at the mere thought of his daughter in such pain. It filled Gray with an all-encompassing sadness, and it was all he could do to not let the feeling completely engulf him. This wasn’t the best moment for that. “If you don’t mind my saying,” - that was a lie; he didn’t care if she did mind - “but do you realise that those werewolves are also humans and not ‘wild animals’ as you so callously put it?” He said to the lady in question, adding quotation marks in the air with his free hand. “So many of them are either children or were turned as children, against their will, might I add, and you’re suggesting we turn our backs on them and save our own hides instead?” He scoffed, doing his best to keep his voice even. Gray could clearly see the small girl attached to the woman next to her, but the idea of dragging an innocent child into an adult’s debate, just to prove a point, went against every basic instinct he had. It was pure irony, of course: Kay had been dragged into this, too, and they had failed to protect her when she’d most needed them, but he refused to fail her now. “There are ways to help werewolves. Don’t turn a blind eye to them in your anger,” he said, now, voice slightly lower. He turned back to the front, aiming to address the Minister. “The question that needs to be asked here is what were the motives behind such a planned attack, and how do these things keep happening at Hogwarts?” He was fully facing the Minister again, and speaking loud enough to be heard over the cacophony. “Werewolves isn’t the only kind of danger to have entered Hogwarts in recent history,” he added, squeezing Damian’s hand as he spoke. “First it was Death Eaters, and now it’s werewolves - have our children ever been safe at Hogwarts, Minister?” He asked, voice harsh. It was a question he’d asked himself constantly over the years, agonising over his decision to not work at Hogwarts, every time a similar attack occurred, where he could have done something to protect the innocent lives that were put in constant jeopardy for reasons far more selfish and malicious than the average mind could come up with. 35
  11. Cora Ives

    Healer Station #2

    As quickly as the attack began, it ended. The wolves disappeared and were replaced by kinder, more human forms that flooded the Great Hall. Cora found herself once again on hard, damp stone, wishing she could simply clap her hands over her ears and close her eyes and just be done with it all. Her head was pounding and a quiet numb sat atop her heart and squeezed it nearly too tight for Cora to breathe. Would a healer be able to fix that? The Ravenclaw couldn't quite find it in herself to move toward help, or at all, even though she ached to reach out to those who had saved her. Her vision was flashing—red, green, red, green—and she felt sunburned and raw to her very bones. She was carved out, gutted. @Ava Winchester, though—brave and princely even with her tired eyes and bloodied body—was still going, levitating @Anton Hunter—equally brave and equally princely but well and truly unconscious and spouting blood from his wrist like he meant to water the entire Great Hall—from where he laid and securing an arm around Cora to drag her forward. Cora could have built an altar to the girl's strength and bravery then and there. A few half-steps—Ava was talking, instructing, but Cora's ears were roaring and drowned her out—and Cora managed to get her feet beneath her. Ava had to be struggling and Cora wasn't so drained that she couldn't find a way not to hurt the process. She slung her (better) arm around Ava's middle, tried to find some sort of rhythm in their steps to keep as much weight off of the other girl as she could. It wasn't much. Cora knew that she was a waning flame; she put as much energy as she had left into helping Ava help her. The healer the girls made it to was barely further than the healer Anton made it to—as they dragged forward, step by torturous step, Ava's magic seemed to falter and skip and the boy was left in the jurisdiction of the closer of the two. Maybe Ava and Cora would have made it further than they did—though Cora wasn't completely sure why they hadn't all just stopped at the nearest source of help—but Ava's body seemed to give the moment they crossed into the next healer's territory. Cora untangled their limbs and dropped beside her, tried to find a way to cushion her from the cold floor. “Don't move." The Gryffindor had done more than enough. She deserved to rest, now. "Just lay here, okay? Let someone help you." Cora didn't trust herself to do more on a good day, let alone at a moment like this, so she settled on simply keeping close to Ava and keeping an eye on Anton at the other station. She was in no state to do much more, anyway. Just within reach, if Cora s t r e t c h e d and ignored, there was a blanket. She caught it between her fingers, pulled it down around Ava as though the weight of the fabric alone might keep her from trying to run off again. Fully exhausted now, Cora flapped a limp hand to catch the healer's attention. "Not to interrupt anything, but could I possibly have some help getting her somewhere more comfortable?" There were younger students that needed more immediate assistance; if the seventh years could just rest, Cora was sure they'd be fine. ----- Cora has: -1 (one) broken right arm from a puppy playing tug o' war -2 (two) paws worth of scratches down her back -1 (one) very bruised side from being yanked down by said puppy -8 (eight) decades of emotional trauma
  12. Anderson Potter

    Healer Station #1

    The healer saw right past him and he sighed. He should have known that, even if the woman hadn’t, @Aggie Price and @Avery Potter would have make sure she had known it. He made sure to keep back so that she was forced to take care of the girls first. He knew that they were injured worse than he was and he could wait. He, at least, could stand. Ish. He had dropped down onto a bench so that he didn’t suddenly collapse and take the attention away from them. He would never let himself forget that, either. He would never forget any of this. It had been awful and he couldn’t understand how or why it had happened. He watched the healer take care of them. She was swift, kind, and clearly knowledgeable. She was good at her job and he admired that. He wanted to go into healing himself, but not the kind this woman did. He wanted to make potions to cure people. He wanted to be a potioneer and an apothecarist. He also found muggle pharmaceuticals interesting and had been reading up on them lately. He had been thinking about muggle university once he was done at Hogwarts. By the time he was done being lost in his thoughts (which was helping him cope), it was his turn to be healed. He did everything the second healer told him to do, wanting this to be as quick as possible so that he could check on Avery and Aggie. Soon, he was as good as he could possibly be considering what he’d been through. He had seen Aggie moved to the side so he peeked his head around the curtains and saw his sister on her stretcher. He wanted to go to them both so badly but he hadn’t been given the go-ahead and he didn’t want to upset the people who were trying to save them.
  13. Dorjee Shire Sherpa

    Your head is hangin' and you still got some fight

    No sooner had he spoken than the number one person he wanted to be safe showed up. "Alyssa! I am happy you are safe. You should be in Hufflepuff Common Room though." It didn't matter. None of it mattered. She was there, she was approaching... she was... Their lips met. Stunned at first, Dorjee responded quickly and returned the kiss, holding her to him for just a moment, grateful that she was safe and unharmed. He could feel his heart beating faster as his face flushed, the pounding in his chest almost enough to distract him from the pain that was intensifying. Almost. His head began to spin and Dorjee broke away from the kiss, wishing it didn't have to end but knowing he needed to breathe for a moment. As he pulled in one breath, the pain became undeniable and before he could register what it meant or that his shirt was bloodier than ever, the Gryffindor had collapsed in a heap on the ground.
  14. Last week
  15. Maya Castelo

    I've been sent to torch the palace down in broad daylight

    continued from here The quiet was surprising - and disappointing; she'd have liked a face to punch, or a target on which she could test just how much humanity Roseclaw had stripped from her with his sugar water. Everywhere she looked, the ground was scored with magic, as is some creature too large to imagine had raked its terrible claw over the earth, burned it with its breath, and tumbled their pariah existence like so many cast-away stones. The air was rank with the charge of magic and it made her scrunch her rose at the stink. What was missing, were the voices - no, the wind howled and whistled, and the waves roared below them, but the voices of the others... theirs was a haunting absence. She would have liked to hope the other had escaped, and perhaps Wylan and Olive were safe elsewhere, but that hope was grim. Maya forced herself to steel herself against the worse possibilities. At the end of the day, Lola and she were alive, and they will fight tooth and claw to remain so. No matter what. Not wishing to waste time - she can think on the move - Maya struck out across the landscape, towards the homes. "Do you have a change of clothes?" she asked instead. Maya didn't bother to keep her voice down; if any of the wizards that had attacked the place remained, they would have set a perimeter, and if some did remain and hadn't, well... Lucky Maya. She marched on with purpose. "We can't be seen like this." She meant Outside the Reserve. "I had a pack at my place, I was going to leave." She gave Lola a sidelong glance, allowing dryness or a different sort to colour her voice for the first time. "That panned out well." If Wylan had found Olive, Maya liked to think he'd have found a way to get off the Reserve in the first place, follow their original plan. She was resourceful, but Wylan had always been the cleverest of the three of them. Now two, she corrected bitterly. The likeliest thing was that Wylan and Olive had remained within the boundaries and were holed up somewhere. "He wouldn't have gone down without a fight," she went on. Again, not the answer to Lola's question. How long would have attack have gone on for? What were the wizards after? They wouldn't have stood a chance against wolves under the power of a full-moon - not unless they, too, used the Killing Curse - so they probably wouldn't have stayed that long. Get in, get out... But what if they didn't? Maya's nose twitched on a familiar metallic smell and it turned her belly. Blood. Her pulse picked up. Her pace quickened. "We stay together," she snapped. "See a wizard, put them down. Wylan and Olive would have covered his tracks - the woods are too obvious and Thaddy's office too risky, he would have jumped from house to house as they were searched. They'll be in one of those." It wasn't long before they came across the first body. Maya knelt, searching for a pulse, found them unconscious. Better let them play dead. Not who they were looking for, anwyay. "Wylan!" she called over the still air, standing. "Goddammit, it's me! We watch each other's backs," he whirled on Lola. "Olive! Lola's here, too! Come on!"
  16. Hatty Hambeldon

    Healer Station #3

    The auror had dragged them to a safe zone and later, they had arrived at the Great Hall somehow, without any further incident. Hatty held on to her boyfriend tightly as they made their way through the throng of injured people. As Hatty did so, it made her all too aware of the number of students that had been affected. "This is bad," she whispered in Ryan's ear. "How are you doing?" They had to get to a healer - and fast. Hatty noticed that Miss Lushia was not in her usual spot in the hospital wing and that there were other healers too. For that to have been necessary ... Well this was big. "I'm not injured," Hatty said. "But I want to stay with him. Can I? Please?" She didn't want to be sent away to the common room. Hatty wanted to make sure that her boyfriend was okay first. "What happened? Was this all caused by that were -" she started to ask but didn't dare finish her words not really wanting them to be true. Her and Ryan had been relatively isolated in the rose gardens until the auror plopped them on Professor Santiago's ship. But even with that -- They had not really known what had occurred at the pitch or the Great Hall. Until now. And her heart ached with the pain of everyone that was injured who she passed by.
  17. Maya Castelo

    We shall suffer to our last breaths

    It was a chore to stand up - on thing she could thank her wolf body for, bitterly, ironically, was the it gave her better balance. She wavered, stumbled, then stretched towards the wan November sun, pulling out the kinks in her body. The bone-deep ache, however, wouldn't leave for some time and made her feel older than her years. Not that it would stop her. If anything, it was a revelation. Her muddled mind recalled the papers and the discoveries they had managed to piece together in the tick-tock of confusion: they had never been on Wolfsbane. Thaddeus Roseclaw had them off it, like his live-in experiments, and all this pain and madness was because of him. Not normal. Maya had survived this long without the benefit of Wolfsbane. Prior to her short life on the Reserve, she'd been too wild and transient to ever linger long enough to find a source she trusted. Besides, the agony of transformation reminded her that she was human first and foremost, and alive, and yes, it had cost some nameless person their humanity when, years ago he'd strayed into her path... But she'd come to the Reserve on the promise of relief and sense. Perhaps it would't have been so terrible, to drink and keep her wits about her? She'd trusted Roseclaw - they all had. Turned out his potion was little more than sugar water - probably. Maya would ensure he choked on it the next time she saw him. First, she had to get back to the Reserve and pick up the trail. "You don't have your wand, do you?" she asked Lola, gravel in her throat. She cleared it, and glared against the bleak light of the sun at their unpromising landscape. "How the..." she started, impatient already, absently patting her hips; where was... There. Against her calf, like a dagger. She pulled the wand out and stared at it. She'd called them 'deathsticks' last night, and she wasn't wrong. Death had come from a wand, in a brilliant flash of green. Could she cast it, too? Could she, when the opportunity presented itself, point it at the wizard that had felled Gwynthr, and cast death upon him? Only time will tell, she thought, arching a brow and filing that sidetrack for later. She'll find his name, and where he lived, and who he cared for, and then she'll have the cards in her hands. But first... "Here," he held out her hand to the younger woman, and bruisingly clasped their fingers. "We go. Hold on, and don't let go, no matter what." She focused on an outcrop of the island, away from the populated areas and away from danger, and with a crack! they were gone. continued here
  18. Dorothy Harness

    Under a falling sky, the terror is real this time

    Arms warmed her as Ryker painstakingly joined Dottie where she had curled up in their cave. While they were never as strong as she remembered following transformation, she sank into the comfort they provided regardless, reveling in the familiarity of his touch and smell. She didn’t need to see him or hear him to know that it was him. He was home for her. Home. Could she ever return home again after that night’s events? Surely there’d be enough negative press regarding the attacks, the escape from Taith Coch, and the fall-out from the events of the night before that before long it would no longer be safe anywhere in England for any of the surviving werewolves. People didn’t tend to side with werewolves on things like public safety during the full moon, even when ample amounts of wolfsbane had flowed in the week leading up to it. She could only imagine that it would all only get worse from that point on. And what of their families? Dottie’s parents, both Muggles, lived on a farm in Cornwall and she could only hope there weren’t Ministry Officials on their doorstep now, at this unfortunate hour of the morning, waking them up with the worst kind of news. While she had written home as soon as she could about what had happened to her and why she’d be living on a random island with Ryker following their attack, she had been purposely vague. It was a wildlife sanctuary, she had written, dedicated to England’s little-known growing wolf population. The irony of those words struck her as she lay with her head in Ryker’s lap. Would her efforts to protect them lead them to harm instead? There were so many questions which needed answers, but there was nobody she could trust to provide them. The media, sensationalist as it was, would put their own spin on the events of the previous night and she and Ryker would have to figure something out. They had to eat to survive and, above all, they had to stay safe while they tried to find shelter. Dottie bolted upright at that thought, her eyes wide as she cringed from the sharp pains in her rib cage. “Ryker, my wand. Where’s my wand. We should ward this place till we can leave.” She felt wildly around her dress, reaching into the special wand sleeve she sewed into the pocket of every dress and skirt she owned. It wasn’t there. Her beloved Cedar and Unicorn Hair wand was missing, dropped as she had attempted to break them out of the confines of the wards guarding Hogwarts against the exact threat she represented. “Ryker, I dropped my wand. We have to go back. I have to get it.”
  19. Jacqueline Frost

    Healer Station #5

    Addressing an adult, an Auror, in the way in which someone addressed their peers was an evident disrespect but that was an etiquette lesson Jack had missed out on and by no fault of her own. It wasn’t like she refused to learn any manners from @Lance Frost, if anything she was the only one in that household to have any manners, it was simply a case of being the only adult in that household. She was a child. She wasn’t an adult regardless of how many years spent pretending to be one. It was Jack who had been the one to set order, the one to check on her siblings homework (and lord knew if any answers were ever right when she wasn’t sure she knew what she did for her own work the first place), sign report cards, ensure her siblings didn’t murder each other and during winter, she had to check that Jasper hadn’t accidentally been left inside the chimney at night before they lit it up. That was her life before Hogwarts and it left her with a misconception that all adults needed to be spoken to in the way in which she spoke to her father — that that was the only way in which they listened and took you seriously: through yelling and swearing and threats of bodily harm. Unbeknownst to her, most adults would call that a tantrum, something an immature child would resort to, and those weren’t the actions of someone who considered themselves to be at their level. Still, Jack didn’t regret it. Perhaps getting worked up like she did to give an Auror a well-deserved earful was the third most idiotic thing she’d done tonight (the first was engaging in a staring contest with a werewolf when “DO NOT HOLD EYE CONTACT” is like the second thing any wilderness survival guide tells you when it comes to surviving predators and the second being her willingness to fight the creature to begin with) but she did not regret it. She’d never seen Jack Sinclair affected by anything and the sight of that switched her into auto-pilot, she let her mouth run, let anger find its way through every word spat, and she did not regret it. It wasn’t what she was supposed to do, she knew her actions had dire consequences. She could feel the warmth of blood seeping through the mixture of silver and dittany but she would do it all again if she needed to. Her silence after Julian's departure wasn't regret, it was called being more scared of Odette than a trigger-happy Auror with a wand. In fact, Jack flinched when Odette raised her voice at her, like a parent would do with a small child, and she wasn’t sure if the tears were from realizing she’d never experienced this and that she really wished she had experienced this growing up and maybe she wouldn’t have been in this situation if her parents had given a single flack about what she did so she didn’t grow up as this impulsive, human equivalent of a flacking Pomeranian, or a direct result from the pain that followed the additional treatment she wouldn’t have needed if bloody Julian Trice hadn’t flacking used an Unforgivable to begin with. Point being: This was all Julian Trice’s fault and Jack was an innocent victim of his inhumane actions. #TriceSux #not a hypocrite #totally did not believe werewolves needed to go extinct before this #loljk still do At least her hand was better now but when the other Jack was floating off in his cot she blurted in between sobs, “JACK COME BACK! CAN’T I GO TOO?!!?” ------- @ Odette: I'm sorry I'm the worst DON'T MIND ME AND MY UGLY SOBBING @ Worst Auror EVER: You suck BYE FELICIA @ MOON MOON: COME BAAAACK ;___;
  20. Gray Samson

    A single loose thread, and it all comes undone

    The winter air in London always proved to be chillier as each year went by, but this year, there was something else in the air. Gray frowned as he stood staring out the window, trying to leech off as much warmth as he could from the radiator underneath. Muggles had had the right idea of it, and Gray hadn’t wasted a single second in getting the flat fitted with everything that was best for the human habitation of a single person. It wasn’t enough anymore, he knew, as he thought fondly of Damian and Kay. The flat would have to expand just the way his life was growing. That thought still didn’t help with the odd feeling that was crawling up his spine, but Gray let it comfort him for a second or two. Noire always used to scold him for being so serious all the time, and it was the one thing he’d tried to change in his life in the aftermath. He’d just finished cleaning up for dinner, and was thinking of going over the brand new lesson plans he’d elaborated earlier, when the buzzer sounded. Turning towards the door, Gray frowned, wondering who it could be at such a late hour. It was worrying; even though he lived a lot closer to most of his friends now, it was still unusual for anyone to turn up without first letting him know (usually several hours earlier). With that thought in mind, Gray picked up his wand and had it ready for a potential intruder. “Hello?” Gray said, pressing the button by the door. It was silent on the line for a few seconds, causing Gray to tense even further and his hand formed a firmer grip around his wand - but then a familiar voice poured through, and everything in Gray’s body felt like a release. “Damian?” He asked, almost breathlessly, as if all the air had just let out of him, but it instantly threw him into action. Without even hesitating for a moment longer, Gray buzzed him up, and a minute later, Damian was standing in front of him. Carefully closing the door; Gray’s eyes instantly fell on Damian’s face. Something was wrong. The worry grew in his own eyes as he tried to deduce what was going on, but instead of fretting and instantly asking about it, he led his boyfriend to the sofa. Two seconds later, and he’d pressed a glass of water into Damian’s hands. ”Now, tell me what’s happened,” he said, speaking softly. Gray was sitting to Damian’s left, a hand planted firmly on his arm, almost reminiscent of an attempt to keep him steady and in one piece.
  21. Harmony Granger-Weasley

    Healer Station #7

    Harmony allowed herself to relax as the healer worked on her. The healing potion she took earlier was starting to make her feel much better than before, and she was also taking a blood replenishing potion which would eventually make her feel better as well. Her arms were now painless with the numbing charm, so she didn't feel any of the disinfectant that Aura was putting on her. It was a relief compared to a few moments ago, when her arms were aching from the bite and deep piercings the werewolf gave her. With fresh bandages and a dreamless sleep potion by her side, Harmony knew everything was going to be okay in the end. She wasn't going to take the potion quite yet, she wanted to see Avery and talk to her after all the chaos was finished. Equally, she didn't want to fall asleep in the middle of all the healing action and miss making sure her other friends were okay too. Where's Ralph? I haven't seen him yet. Is Atticus alright? What about the others?
  22. Shiloh Paige

    Healer Station #8

    Everything was hazy, it was like being inside a blur effect. And then things started to change slightly. She could feel the pull of blood being removed from her mouth leaving that weird near copper water taste before suddenly all of the pain came rushing back. Shiloh screamed, or tried to. She could barely make a sound as her back arched in the pain. She was nearly blind with it for a moment as @Aoibhe Rowan carefully tried to hold her in place as the shock rushed through her system. Close to instantly there was a potion at her lips, but the pain was in her throat. The panic started to set in as the healer poured the draught into her while Shiloh gasped for air. It was like drowning having something being poured into her like that. Near instantly she started to heave as the pain that laced across her throat reminded her that she was probably going to try to breathe the potion. But Healers know their job, she was kept upright, and the potion stayed down (although there was a minute or so of hacking and coughing for the small amount that went down the wrong way). Shiloh was shaking in both fear and pain, one of her arms wrapped around her legs as she curled up into a ball, the other reaching for someone she knew – reaching for @Stella Peabody. She was starting to calm down, but she wasn't at the point where she could just take potions without the burning pain of her throat reacting to them.
  23. Rayya Borage-Brown

    They Say the Danger’s Gone Away, But a Fire’s Still Alive

    “Of course I have it...though I did kind of step on it and it crunched...probably into smaller pieces as it didn’t feel whole when my foot landed on it,” Rayy replied. Wrecking evidence was high on the list of things not to do but since it has been covered in wind-blown leaves it was going to have to be considered an extraordinary piece of bad luck. And she had every intention of examining it but not before taking care of the matter to notify the others to up the security of the injured students. Rayy conjured her sparrow patronus and recorded the message as succinctly as possible, “Attention: Security detail on all students injured by a werewolf, suspected kidnapping plot.” She then tapped her badge and sent the same message to the rest of her colleagues. The silvery patronus was gone before she’d even finished notifying the others. Hopefully they were wrong and this wasn’t a plot to gain more test subjects and she’d just ordered a grand waste of resources because risking the alternative was unthinkable! ”Now onto the glass eh?” She asked, pulling it out of her warded pocket. It looked woeful, there were several larger pieces but the vast majority consisted of small splinters and dust. “Too bad I didn’t see if before I made it worse.” It took several minutes of complex spellwork before the broken glass had given up all its secrets but the magic indicator showed she hadn’t finished. Okay, so she hadn’t checked for a runic matrix but when she did, that came back negative and still the glass showed that there was more to find. This was one time she wished she’d been dumped in Ravenclaw because they were brainy people and she was missing something...something quite big...but what? “I’m missing something...my brain is...oh! Thank you Merlin!” She exclaimed and went back to work on the glass. Sure enough after doing one last check the indicator light went out and left Rayy with more questions than answers. ”Well there’s good news and bad news and sticky news. The good is that the glass was a vial before being broken and it’s a definite clue. The bad news is the vial contained a good portion wolfsbane potion and it wasn’t taken but was made into a portkey. The sticky bit is did the werewolves touch the vial with the intention of drinking it and unwittingly being brought here or did they want....know and willingly went along with it?”
  24. Raven Ashcroft-Weasley

    Healer Station #4

    As time trickled on, Raven wondered if she'll see Alayna today. She had half a mind to visit the other stations in case her daughter managed to wander over to any of them, but abandoning post is out of the question. She already told @Marius Constantin to be on the lookout on their way from St. Mungo's and her old school friend @Miss Lushia has been given the play by play long before this chaos ensued. There wasn't much left to do but wait and hope for the best, pouring herself into work in the meantime. By some miracle, a wild Alayna appeared, levitating toward her before the spell's hold ended, unceremoniously dropping her to the ground. "Layney! Thank Merlin..." Raven was about to rush over and engulf the girl in a tight embrace when she noticed the limp. Upon closer inspection, the scratches on her shin became more pronounced, deep and raw where blood still flowed freely from the gaping wounds, the only consolation is that they weren't bites. She was about to spring into action when Alayna brought the boy to her attention, pale from blood loss and unconscious, levitating slowly to her station, not unlike the way her daughter was delivered. Except the similarities ended there. The young man's injuries were far more extensive, shooting him up the triage line. She needed to act now, or risk losing him. "Here, drink this and lie down." She handed Alayna a dose of blood replenishing potion, waving her wand to numb the affected area and motioning toward a free cot. Another wave of her wand and bandages wound around her shin, serving as a tourniquet in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. Raven ran over to Fluke, easing him down on another cot, noting how clammy his skin had gotten from shock. "Rennervate!" The boy's eyes fluttered open, "Please drink this, to help replenish the blood you've lost..." She watched as the potion was slowly consumed, "It's okay, you may rest. I am here to help you." She waved her wand over his chest and shoulders, numbing the area that was marred with deep scratches. Another wand wave got him out of the ravenclaw robes as a drizzle of disinfectant solution was used to clean the area. The indispensable mixture of powdered silver and dittany came next (she wondered if summoning a refill from St. Mungo's was necessary with the amount needed), finishing off with activated soothing bandages. His blood-stained clothing was replaced with a comfortable hospital gown for good measure. The young man has some recovery ahead of him but at least the worst is over. She turned to her daughter, reassuring that her friend has been taken care of and will be looked after by Ms Lushia for the days ahead. Raven removed the tourniquet and started disinfecting Alayna's wound, applying the same topical mixture given to Fluke except in less copious amounts, the soothing bandages followed and only then did she manage to sigh in relief. She was okay, everything is going to be okay. The hug that she had been holding back was finally given, gently, for she had no intention of aggravating any injuries. "I'm glad you're safe." ( Son-in-law @Mason Fluke, Raven gave you a blood-replenishing potion, cleaned your wound, applied a mixture of powdered silver and dittany, and wrapped everything up in activated soothing bandages. You will need to take daily doses of blood replenishing potion and have salves as a supplementary treatment in the days to come. Pumpkin @Alayna Weasley , Raven gave you a blood replenishing potion, applied a tourniquet on your wound while she tended to Fluke see, your Mum is a professional, disinfected it, applied powdered silver and dittany and wrapped it in soothing bandages. You too will need blood replenishing potion and salves later.)
  25. Wizarding Wireless

    Use Caution When Traveling

    IK: Hello, this is Isla Kelly with your nightly news. Continuing coverage from the attack on Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic has issued a news bulletin urging wizarding families to be careful when traveling. The wolves that escaped from the Taith Coch Reserve have yet to be apprehended by the Werewolf Capture Unit, and the Auror Office reports that their whereabouts are currently unknown. If approached by a werewolf, please report their location to the Werewolf Capture Unit. All of the escaped werewolves are considered extremely dangerous and you should not attempt to interact with them. Now to Michael Santander for the latest news on this year’s Quidditch season.
  26. Delilah Gorse

    I guess you are afraid of what everyone is made of

    Veronica, tilted and guilty, departed with a growl that was a half-promise. Delilah did not take her eyes of the human to see her charge safely to the tress, but she did not need to: her ears would hear the rustle of Ronnie’s legs crossing the brambles at the treeline, her nose would not catch her scent any longer. Her gaze was forward. A glance away could mean defeat. So her bright eyes bore a hole into the Auror and Delilah tried to tamp down the plateauing motherly concern within her as she lost sense of Veronica, but it was impossible suppress that instinct in either of her iterations and so she rode it as it rose, parting her lips into a snarl, showing her clean, cold teeth. You won’t hurt her again, that snarl said. The droplets of water on her clean clean fur begin to crystallize and turn to gems in the chill. They glimmered in the moonlight: diamonds to combat the human in the coal-black coat. Stay back. She could hear the human’s heart beating in her chest, such thunderous thumping, blood pushed and pulled through veins, red red red. She swallowed, felt a slash of pain on her tongue where she had bitten deep into it back in the Hall, when the girl had kicked her in the jaw. She growled louder. I bite. She could hear the breath going in and out of the human’s lungs, vortexes of wind and wheezing, uncertain where it belonged. I have bitten. She could hear the muscles in the human’s hand tighten, creaking, crass, around her wand. Could hear her arm shaking in its sleeve. A rustle like cattails, a whisper like weeds. I was bitten. Delilah was about to take a long step forward, to bark and sneer until the woman lost her nerve and took to her heels, when she spoke: “Go.” Delilah’s ears perked. Her muscles went suspicion-stiff. She narrowed her eyes and dropped her head low, shifted her weight forward, got ready to catch the lady in her lie, but something felt…safe. Something felt like trust. Like a promise or a swear, with honest softness to it. It was so fair, so human, and Delilah could not deny it. She took a step back at first, and another and another, eyes still on the woman but not very wary. She backed away another few feet, each step crackling some of the frozen hairs on her haunches, her back, before turning and taking off. Now a glance was alright: she looked back over her shoulder at the Auror, held her gaze for a glimpse, then sped off faster, on the trail of Veronica’s scent.
  27. Earlier
  28. Shay Weber-Li

    Get To The Ship!

    After leaving the rose garden, Shay arrived at the ship with one injured student floating along in front of her and another uninjured student walking. She understood the importance of getting the children to safety, but she was itching to join the fight she could still hear raging on the Quidditch pitch. Her colleagues were in danger, other children were in danger, and all she’d done so far was narrowly miss several escaping wolves. “Broken ribs and injured knee,” she said to the professor aboard in a short, clipped tone, nodding at @Ryan Buratsche. “No bites.” Then she dropped back into her animagus form and ran down the gangway, back into the darkness.
  29. Kay Wickham

    Playin' dead I'll never do, gotta keep an eye on you

    "You’ve been very brave, and it’s almost over." 'Almost' had never seemed so difficult. Kay would use 'almost' as a way to keep going, to keep pushing herself until she’d reached her goal time or target reps. She would use 'almost' as a way to celebrate a risky near-miss, a word shot full of adrenaline. 'Almost' belonged to the moment before a victory, or a close-second that meant next time FOR SURE. It didn’t seem to fit here, when Kay felt wrung out and rag doll limp, without her friends and feeling the kind of pain that meant her body wasn’t going to be better for it. So what was on the other side of 'almost' this time? Kay tried to nod, to let Miya's mom know that she would be alright, but her body felt heavy and the movement choppy. Her uncle’s coat warmed her, and his tiny dragon golem tucked against her throat reminded her of the way Robin's face had pressed there not even an hour ago. A sudden fierce bolt of longing struck her, and it made her wish that he hadn't let go of her braids, and that she hadn't released his hand, and that when the wolves had come in packs that they'd faced them together. But regrets were pointless, and her uncle stroking her hair reminded her of home. They would see her best friend again soon, and then the adults would help her find Fran, and nobody else would be in danger tonight. The Gryffindor watched Arcite's expression waver, and if she'd had the energy to put thought to it, she might have worried about the way his brow creased--but everything was soft and swollen around the edges now as the adrenaline drained away. "I'm going to call your dad now, alright?" he said, and Kay murmured in understanding, though she comprehended less the way he stuttered around the word 'bit'. She wondered if her father was working right now, and she hoped this didn't cause trouble for him, because he worked so hard to take care of her by himself--she could take care of herself, too. 'Tell him not to rush', she wanted to say, but her mouth was too weak and her heart was much weaker, breaking beneath the thought of waking up without him there to call her silly names or make stupid dad jokes. Her breath hitched, and then her uncle was at her side again, trying to smile and telling her that she was strong. Kay smiled back at him, the barest pull of lips that were even paler in comparison to the splash of blood across the bridge of her nose. "Don't worry, Uncle Arsey..." she told him, her voice thin but edged like a papercut, sharply certain of her words. "I'm good. I'm always 'kay." She refused to be anything else.
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