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Alayna Weasley

Guilty? I’ll Stand Right Before The Jury!

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Alayna Weasley

An expression of pure horror had washed over Alayna’s face as herself and her teammates were confronted by both their own and the Slytherin Head of House. She hadn’t really any idea why she was being included in the current dishing out of punishments- had she done something wrong? Were they mad at her for bludgering those Slytherin players? She really hadn’t meant to! – but even for as confused as she was, she was even more terrified at the prospect of being forced to work together with someone she’d almost knocked out not all that long ago. Never had the redhead been the best conversationalist and the thought of working with any one of them now made her want to vomit.

 

What in Merlin’s name was she supposed to say? ‘Hello! Nice weather, eh? Sorry for the bludger… it was an accident! Honest!!!’

 

They wouldn’t believe her. Then she’d either have to admit that she was a horrible person (and… really, she probably was), or succumb to silence, of which both options would undoubtedly lead to awkwardness and horrible and dear Merlin from above, why?? The more time that passed, the more anxious Alayna became, until eventually all that remained was a pail-faced fifteen year old standing among a sea of red and green, wishing with all her might she knew how to make herself invisible.

 

It wasn’t until she was actually approached by a member of the Slytherin team that the girl was pulled out of her own head. She recognized this person. This was… she’d accidentally bludgered her, hadn’t she? Merlin.

 

“I’m sorry…” Alayna spewed, an automatic reaction, and somehow those two words led her to later be standing before a very angry, very loud, very terrifying suit of armor with the seventh year. She’d almost been murdered by one of these once… twice now? Why did she always wind up back in a situation like this?!

 

Her eyes nervously flicked from the armor, to the Slytherin, to her wand, and back again. “Um… I… we…” STAR CONVERSATION SKILLS, ACTIVATE. “…Mr. Armor, sir? Are… are you okay?”

 

“FLACKER.”

 

Nope. It was not okay....        

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Abigail Goodfellow

Abigail had been livid to get the notice of their team detention. Now, she was even more upset because she was told it was going to be a joint team detention and they would have to work with a Gryffindor. Even worse, a Gryffindor Quidditch Player. Ugh.

 

There had only been two that Abby had decided to not find offensive to her on the pitch, but Olwen's cheating streak had made Abby want to hex the half-giant. But because Abby had learned a modicum of self-perseverance from being friends with @Grover Penn for so long, she knew fighting a half-giant was far from a smart idea.

 

So, the tiny redheaded thing that looked way too nervous to actually make use of a beater's bat it was. 

 

"Hey, you," which one was this again? Abby didn't even know for sure, not having paid attention to the girl's jersey on the pitch -- for the past four years, apparently -- "we're going to do one of these," she said, grabbing a random task from the Heads of House. She ushered the girl in the direction they were told to go in and stopped right in front of the suit of armor. She tilted her head as she read the task, handing it to the tiny redhead so she could read it too. 

 

She glanced over as the girl apologized, and Abby grinned. "Quidditch is as Quidditch does, right?" she assured the girl, patting her shoulder as she pulled her wand out as well. Sure, Abby had picked Alayna to partner up with because she was, in fact, holding grudges against the rest of Alayna's teammates for taking the cup away from Abby Slytherin with cheating, but Alayna didn't need to know that. "Oi, the girl is asking you a question. How about you stop being a tosser and give her a straight answer?" she shouted back at the armor, giving it her most intimidating look. She had strong beater arms -- at least, that's what Grover always told her -- so she was sure she looked more intimidating than she did at thirteen.  

Edited by Abigail Goodfellow

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Alayna Weasley

Curses of many different varieties, some of which she’d never actually heard uttered aloud, seemed to erupt from the armor before her in an ocean of expletives. Whatever had happened to anger it must’ve been… really bad, but though their assigned task was apparently to calm it down Alayna simply couldn’t find it in herself to try and reason with it now. She stood watching it with a widened stare, horrified that if she said anything else it might lift its sword and try and stab her. And that was when the older Slytherin stepped in and… shouted right back at it. “…you’re going to make it madder” the redhead squeaked out alarmingly at the scene.

 

The look being aimed at the suit was one of challenge; certain to warrant retribution if she did something worse. They could get stabbed. Speared straight through their hearts.

 

And this would be a problem… if she wasn’t already buried under a pile of backlash for just saying what she had. To. A. Seventh. Year. Alayna instantly began to backtrack. “I mean… what if… someone had… done… yelled… at it?”

 

She winced, then looked back toward the armor and cautiously moved forward a step. She was in full blown in the danger zone now and she knew it, but probably there wasn’t much chance of reasoning with the armor if she tried talking to it from twenty feet away. “I’m… I’m sorry if someone hurt your feelings?” she quietly offered. “I’m… I’m sure they didn’t mean to… but… if it makes you feel any better… I think you’re… really shiny?”

 

“SWISH AND FLICKER!” the armor screeched, “YOUR MOTHER IS A BLAST ENDED SCANK.”

 

A perfectly harmful and damaging insult… if her mum weren’t dead. Alayna turned back to the Slytherin with an expression which undoubtedly read: ‘I tried?’

 

“Do… do you know any binding spells? Maybe… if we make it safer…”

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Random Slug

The slug slugged out from under the suit of armor's visor, making sure to leave a very sluggy trail down his face as he made his very slow escape.

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Sir Forrest of Orange III

Blasted slug. 

 

This thing was getting slime everywhere and Sir Forrest was getting nothing but angry.  He hadn’t paid any mind that there were even students in the armor gallery because - who came in here to see old piles of tin anyway? 

 

He only came in here to get peace and quiet from the drama. 

 

There seemed to be a lot of it this year. 

 

It wasn’t until he had already called out ‘flacker’ and numerous other highly inappropriate snarks in a presences of young maidens before the slug slurked it’s way out of his visor and he noticed the two girls.  

 

A jolt and a rattle snapped everything to attention and the old knight was suddenly still, and silent as a statue as the @Random Slug irked down. 

 

Could he pretend none of that had happened?  Maybe he could try. 

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