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Professor Nawton

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

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Professor Nawton

For the record, she was so not paid enough for this.  When Professor Nawton had accepted for this job, she had been under the impression that she’d be giving a few lectures, grading a few papers, and be free to ignore the the general student populace.  This crowd-control, semi-PR business was not what she signed up for.  Admittedly, the students probably didn’t sign up for a mass attack either.  In Nawton’s opinion, Health and Safety really dropped the ball on this one.

 

The trek towards the location had been a fast-slow-slower one.  While Nawton had been eager to escape the pandemonium which was the unravelling situation, the prospect of speaking with worried (and possibly angry) parents was not one she had been looking forward to.  Upon reaching the place where students boarded the carriages at the start of term, Nawton paused.  Now what?  Gather the crowd?  Make her voice louder?  Yeah- Nah.  Nawton was not keen for that kind of scrutiny.  

 

Raising her voice to barely a yell, Nawton started with what was likely to be a long day/night. “Uhh hi everyone.  I’m Professor Nawton, I teach Divination at Hogwarts.  So as you might already be aware, there’s been an incident at the school.  It’s being managed as per contingency planning protocol-“  did they even have these?  “-rest assured that a full investigation will be undertaken for the purposes of quality improvement.”

 

She was totally qualified for this.  

 

- - - - -

OOC Notes: 

This is where onlookers and parents of students (+/- nosy media) will be able to group.  

Location: where students board the carriages, but no further (Hogwarts is roped off).  

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Madam Banagher

When she and Tara arrived near Hogwarts, she was surprised to see that it had been roped off. A crowd of on-lookers had gathered, and a quick survey of the situation told her that there would be no way to get inside. "Merlin, this is ridiculous," she grumbled to herself. The grumbling became louder when a Divination professor made an announcement to the parents and on-lookers that had gathered at the gates of the school. 

 

"What contingency plan?" Silvia shot back. "I was tortured by Death Eaters when I was seventeen! There wasn't a lot of contingency then!" 

 

Silvia usually didn't let her emotions get the better of her. She had a reputation for handling some of the toughest dark wizards out there, the ones that most other hit wizards and aurors didn't have the stomach to face. 

 

But Julian--troublemaking, petty, argumentative, utterly ridiculous Julian. He was her baby. And the thought that he could have been trapped in there, waiting injured for some auror to stumble upon him was too much to bear. 

 

"This is completely ridiculous," Silvia said to Tara. "They honestly expect us to just stand here." 

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Tara McQueen-Trengrove

Continued from here.

 

Tara was thankful that she'd been with Silvia. The woman was right that they should just go right to Hogwarts. Why shouldn't they? Their children were there and there was supposedly an attack! She wasn't going to sit around, either. She was going to do something about it. So when they arrived at the school and saw it roped off, anger swelled inside her. How could they do this? Why couldn't they go inside and see their children? She had every right to see her son. She was his mother. He was her baby. She had birthed him, for Merlin's sake! How could they keep her from him?

 

Silvia spoke up and Tara nodded, saying, "Seriously! This school has never had a contingency plan! How is this place still open?" Why had she sent @Dale McQueen-Trengrove there? She should have home schooled him. Or sent him somewhere else that wasn't attacked every other week. She had thought that Hogwarts had changed and that the security was better but clearly she had been wrong. She felt guilty for putting Dale in danger and wondered if he would ever forgive her for it.

 

"I can't just stand here," she said. She pulled her wand from her pocket, not sure what she even intended to do with it. She was a hit witch. She was used to having her wand at the ready and taking down the bad guys. Why didn't they just let her in? She'd take care of the problem in no time. "Think they could be persuaded to let a couple of hit witches in to deal with the problem for them?" While she said it, she looked at the ropes keeping them back. "Think they're charmed?" Her mind was formulating plans.

Edited by Tara McQueen-Trengrove

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Professor Nawton

Olivia had had the whole five lines of her speech rehearsed many times on the way over.  Her mantra of ‘fake it until you make it’ had worked in her years of teaching, but this felt different.  This time, she was talking with adults, who questioned things rather than accepting what she had said.  This was new and disconcerting on many levels, particularly given her level of knowledge (zilch) around the current situation.  And just as many would do in a situation of uncertainty, Nawton tried once again, to ‘fake-it’.  

 

“There are definitely contingency plans in place.  I understand Hogwarts has been attacked before, so each time the plans are further developed, and action plans are developed to minimise the harm-“ she, personally, had never read said plans (whether this be due to the lack of existence, or otherwise), but appealing to the rationality of emotional (worried?) parents sounded like the best way forward.

 

“Oh, Ma’am, so far there has been no evidence to suggest that Death Eaters are involved-“ Nawton added in an attempt to reassure the lady whom had been tortured by Death Eaters at school (@Madam Banagher) “-it’s completely different this time, and rather unexpected.”

 

And when the other woman ( @Tara McQueen-Trengrove) pulled a wand, Nawton took a step back.  As a Professor of  the least practical branch of magic (in this situation), she was not equipped to deal with this.  “Ma-am, please put that away.  The incident is currently being managed.  The protocol around escalation and notification of the incident has been follow.”  Probably… who even knew whether these actually existed.  For the record, Nawton secretly agreed with the question of how the school as still open.  

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Aggie Price

Aggie's parents Gwen Cromwell and Clinton Price:

 

For two people that only had conversation when needed over their daughter, Gwen and Clinton were now spending more time together in the past hour and the hours that were to come then they had in years.  Gwen heard the news at home in London on the wizarding wireless.  By the time she had gotten what little information she could and apparated to Clinton's home in Wales, a Ministry of Magic representative was already there explaining to Clinton what little he could (or would).  When Gwen arrived, explained she was Aggie's mother and that she was going to be there until something was heard, the representative said he would go as they had other Muggle families needing to be contact.

 

"I want to go there," Clinton said quite matter of factly (which was his usual speaking voice).  Gwen explained that they could only get to Hogsmeade and even that only by magical means.  Clinton looked at her straight in the eye and simply said, "Well."  

 

Which is how they were now landing on their feet, thanks to Gwen's hanging on to Clinton as she side apparated them to Hogsmeade where it seemed a crowd was already forming.  Not one to sit and wait but to get done what had to be done, Clinton worked his way to the front of the group where a woman was trying to calm people and provide information.  It was when someone pulled a wand on the woman that Clinton stepped in front of her and stood between the two.  "Leave her be.  She's the one who can get us information."  Probably not one of the smartest moves of Clinton Price's life but then neither had been hiding the fact that Dafydd had a half-sister was either.  "My daughter's in there, too," he told the wand holder.  

 

Turning to @Professor Nawton,  he asked her, "You all right, ma'am?"  And then pulled a hip flask out of his inner coat pocket and offered it to her.  "Might want to take a sip of this after that."

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Evanna Nevin

It had only been luck that Evanna Nevin had been listening to the news at the time the broadcasts happened, otherwise she would have been totally clueless until @Professor Corelli-Rose had reached out to her. But no, Wand Direction had been waiting for an announcement about some nomination for some award they needed -- it had been important, at that moment, but anything as trivial as a music award was lost to Evanna the moment they announced attacks at Hogwarts. She had taken one second to reach out to @Carson Corelli-Rose -- a message that simply said "have you heard from Arcite?" -- before she was making her way from the hotel they'd been boarded at to the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

 

She was glad that she hadn't been the only parent that made their way to Hogwarts, more than happy to push her way past the story-hungry journalists and stand in front of the Divination professor who was, apparently, playing damage control with the whole situation. As someone whose entire career was made out of playing damage control, Evanna was thoroughly unimpressed with her. She smirked as someone shouted about the Death Eater attacks -- Eves didn't recognize the person but something about her did seem familiar -- and rolled her eyes at the professor's response. "There are no Death Eaters this time, but there are werewolves. Dangers, uncontrollable, primal dark creatures, which are so much worse than a group of wizards with a solid agenda. Do you know where they came from? How many children were bitten? Have you contacted their parents? When will we get to see our children?" she asked in rapidfire, hands on her waist and an eyebrow quirked accusingly. Those were the answers she would have had for a crowd if this was her situation to deal with. 

 

The urge to get angry was bubbling inside of her, but if the woman could answer her questions, then she could appease that anger. It just depended on @Professor Nawton and her answers.  

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Brooke Duke

It had been years since she had returned to the cottage at Hogsmeade but Brooke Duke had returned, however briefly and if only for the purpose of seeing it one last time. Raul had decided that it was time to let it go, and as the head of the house she couldn't really argue. I mean she could and she did, as all Duke women were known to do, but this time she had lost. 

 

She'd only been to the cottage a handful of times since finishing at Hogwarts 20-something years ago. Back then it was more of a child care centre where she and her siblings were shipped off to during breaks while Tynan and Moira Duke went about their very important work with the Wizengamot and whatever else they did to avoid actually raising their children. Typical pureblood Slytherin stereotypes!

 

But I digress. She had a few days free, had returned to Hogsmeade and while wandering down memory lane (or rather just the main street of the all wizarding town) she'd heard rumours and whispers of an attack on the school. This wasn't really new to her, the school having been descended upon twice in her time there by Death Eaters, but this sounded very different. 

 

She made her way towards the school and found herself in the congregation of concerned parents and nosy onlookers like herself. There were a couple of parents already accosting the Professor who was like a lamb to the wolves (see what I did there?!) but of course Brooke couldn't help herself.

 

"Well if it's not Death Eaters, who was it?"

 

So what if she didn't have any children at Hogwarts. Or any children at all. Oh gosh what had she accomplished in her time since leaving school?

 

 

((It's a bit long and unnecessary but I just felt like bringing her out for old times sake))

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Professor Pichardo

It had been Aida that had come to him with the news, her face full of panic and her words rushing out of her faster then he had heard her speak in a long time, perhaps even since they'd been teenagers.  But she wasn't one for being dramatic, spirited yes but overemotional wasn't her style, at least not that he could remember.   

 

He registered the word 'Hogwarts' first, and then 'attack' and it hardly mattered the order that she had actually spoken them in because he was already up from the kitchen table with the sound of the mug he'd been holding meeting an abrupt end by way of the kitchen floor rising through the sound of his sister switching tongues into Italian to tell him to move faster.   

 

Charlotte had barely gotten a step through the arch that connected the room with the hall, her expression confused.  "The school.  I have to go."  He managed to say, feeling around for his wand on his person and  not really feeling much of anything at all.  

 

Seeley.  Nico.   

 

Twenty minutes later he was staring down the backs of a growing mod of people at the path that led from Hogsmeade to the school with Aida (who'd refused to stay behind) a pace behind him and he realized he hadn't even thought to kiss his wife goodbye.  Of all the days he hadn't stayed late, of all the days he would have been there at this time of day and he wasn't there now. 

 

The masses may have been blocked, Aida in all her worry and the man with the flask who maybe had more sense then any of the rest of them, but he wasn't.  The line on his resume that listed his employer as Hogwarts would land him one notch higher then the horde.    

 

Weaving in between wherever he could the man passed a grim look towards @Professor Nawton and kept moving.  he probably should have stopped and assisted when he noticed wands drawn but he was undeterred.   He'd apologize later, maybe, but right now he needed answers.           

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Professor Nawton

Nawton couldn’t really put her finger on the reason why, but everything about this ‘crowd-control’ business was feeling like a terrible idea.  It may have had something to do with the fact that she knew very little about the majority of students (given she only taught fifth and seventh years), or perhaps it was to do with the fact that she knew very little about the whole situation.  The briefing she had received had lacked depth (likely given the unravelling situation), and Nawton felt very ill-equipped at present to deal with parents, and nosy-people.  And then there was the man (@Aggie Price) offering her a drink from a hip flask.  “-Uh….. Thank you?”  Nawton replied, accepting the flask but not drinking on the job (yet).  She was 90% sure that appearing to drink in this situation might be a little frowned upon in some societies.

 

All was not lost though.  Many years ago, Nawton had read a piece of work on communication*.  As wishy-washy as it had felt at the time, she felt that maybe this was what she needed at the time.  She decided to practise some active listening when addressing the lady that knew too much ( @Evanna Nevin).  “So what you’re saying is, that you’ve heard there are werewolves involved-“ they had a leak? “-and that you’d like to know more information.”  Didn’t they all?  Now, this was the real clanger - Nawton had answers to none of those questions.  And it was her job to try and convey that, without causing too much liability to the school.  “Ma’am, the situation is currently being managed as we speak.  We’re not able to release details until we’ve notified the parents of the children involved.  If your child has been involved in the incident, you will be notified, but after their life is not in immediate danger.”  Apparently that was a thing - making sure students were actually safe, before notifying parents (who knew?).  

 

And when another voice piped up, Nawton exasperatedly turned her attention toward the source ( @Brooke Duke).  “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to disclose that information due to privacy reasons-“  she was so not in the mood to get sued by werewolves for defamation or something “-nor can I give information that might compromise the integrity of the investigation.”  Yeah, that one probably sounded marginally more professional.

 

Also, ( @Professor Pichardo) was the worst colleague ever.  

 

*except not really b/c I got bored/tired halfway through.

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Cassidy Kinsella

After a long day of work all Cassidy had wanted was to head home, and have a nice glass of wine with her husband, but unfortunately she had made the mistake of listening to the wireless as she readied herself for home. Her whole body froze as she heard about an attack at Hogwarts, a place where her oldest had only just graduated from in the spring and where her two still resided. She knew the rational thing was to go home to Rory and wait for news, and pray and hope that her babies were okay - that Lindy and Robin were also but true to her core, the blonde was a Gryffindor to the bone and the whole act first think later had never rang any truer for the woman until now.

 

In a split second decision, she apparated as close to the school as possible, hurrying as fast as she could, finding a decent crowd of people hovering around what appeared to be a barricade(???). It was simply just one lone woman standing guard against all these people, and honestly her first thought was that she could easily overtake her and get by and make sure everyone was okay.

 

Her second thought was realizing her sister @Evanna Nevin was among the mass.

 

"Evvie! Oh thank Merlin. Have you heard from Arcite? Are Lindy and Robin ok?" She realized she could internalize her own concerns for her babies for the moment. "I came as soon as I heard." Cassidy rolled her eyes as she listened to the woman speak. "Then when?? Those are our kids in there; our families. We deserve a real answer."

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Crispin Dare

Crispin was having a lovely evening--Idyllic really--the sort of evening that made you glad to be independently wealthy and to have an occupation that was more like a hobby than work. Crispin wasn't working now though, or "working" either. He was laying on the sofa on the den listening to the game on the WWN, while Stella puttered in the kitchen doing something...wifely duties, he supposed. 

 

It was that phrase--passing through his mind ironically-- that made Crispin chuckle and call out, projecting his "manly" voice toward the kitchen.

 

"Stella! Stelllllla!" he called without budging from his prone position on the couch. "Stella! Summon me a beer!"

 

There was a long pause, before he heard her long suffering (and very sarcastic) answer. 

 

"Why? Have you broken your wand?

 

Crispin chuckled at his own joke and pushed himself up onto an elbow, to get a better view of the doorway. "Stellllllla!" he called out, this time weak and pathetic. "Steeeeellllaaa! Summon me my wand."

 

She appeared in the doorway moments later, wiping her hands on a dish towel and giving Crispin that LOOK she did with the raised eyebrow. "I'll summon you some whoop-#####," she threatened, though her lips curled into a smile.

 

"Oooh! Beatings!" Crispin said joyfully. He sprang from the couch and made a grab for her, which she dodged.  Both were laughing, she flipping him repeatedly with the dishtowel as he tried to snatch it away. "Harder! Harder!" Crispin laughed. At last Crispin was able to disarm her.  When he threw his arms around her pulling her into a close embrace she let out a squeal before allowing herself to be kissed. 

 

"Smoochies," Crispin giggled, planting several more on her face and neck. With the game on the wireless long forgotten, Crispin was wondering if he could still throw Stella over his shoulders and carry her up the stairs like the old days, when Stella began slapping at him more forcefully. It took him a moment to realize she was no longer playing.

 

"Cris, the wireless!" she said. "Did you not hear? Hogwarts! They said 'Hogwarts'!  

 

"What about--" but Stella shushed him. Crispin only caught a few of the last words before the game resumed. "'Bitten?'" he asked. "Bitten by what?"

 

"Werewolves," Stella answered tersely. She was already trying to contact one of the kids on her mirror. 

 

"Werewolves? Holy fu--" Stella silenced him by smacking him the mouth, she was trying to hear.

 

"Pippa? Pippa sweetie?" She nodded confirmation to Crispin, happy tears in her eyes, and in a moment told him verbally that their oldest was safe. Stella switched gears then, calling for their baby, Crispin's little man. "Jack?" she said. "Jack? Jack honey? Jack, pick up... Jack?" Over and over and over and over as Crispin's feeling of dread and panic grew.

 

"I'm going," he said. He began collecting his gear from where he had tossed it unceremoniously about the room after coming back from his earlier flight. 

 

"I'm coming too," Stella said, following close behind.

 

"Yeah, er.. no...you wait... one of us has to stay," Crispin said, turning back. He looked shaken and confused (mostly because he was shaken and confused). "He might call. Tell us where he is. He might be hurt somewhere-- scared--my little--- my little boy---" Crispin's voice broke with emotion. He was in tears now and Stella embraced him stroking his face, though her eyes were also brimming.

 

"Maybe I'd better--" she started to say.

 

"No!" Crispin ripped himself away, almost violently. "I can do this! I should do this! God, I ought to be able do something for him." (Something right, he thought.) 

 

Stella nodded, conceding. Take a mirror though," she said pushing hers into Crispin's hand. There were others in the house she could use, but she knew good and well if Crispin had to find where he'd left his it might take several minutes.

 

Crispin nodded, and they exchanged a look that wordlessly conveyed every emotion that both of them were feeling. "I love you," Crispin said, and then he was out the door, tightening his the chinstrap of his aviator helmet as he left and summoning his fastest broom.

 

Crispin was barely in the air before he saw the crowd assembled below on the station platform. He landed in the midst of them, with practiced skill, though possibly still startling those around him. 

 

Crispin listened, confused to the 'update' they were receiving from the official looking witch. Crispin had always been more of a follower than a leader. Sure he flew off the handle from time to time and punched someone, but normally he was content to do what he was told. However, this was sort of a special case. Nothing that was being said was even mildly reassuring. His youngest was still unaccounted for. His baby. His little man. Jack, who could silence Crispin and make him feel small with only a single word, but who was also frail and uncoordinated and easily broken. The kid couldn't even make a fist with his thumb in the right place. He'd be nothing more than an appetizer for a wolf.

 

"Hey!" Crispin shouted. "Why don't we all just go in as a group? There's lots of us. All with wands. We could take out a werewolf together." And also-- "Oy! Where's that bloke going?" Crispin shouted, pointing at Professor Pichardo's retreating figure. "How can he go in, if we can't?"

 

 

 

Edited by Crispin Dare

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Atwell Sinclair

(continued from here)

showing up as a dog to a werewolf attack

troll level 900

 

This was one of those moments where he didn't want to see people that he'd graduated with—like those times in Diagon Alley when he'd see a familiar face, one that he'd never been friendly with before, who suddenly wanted to know all about his life, his family, what he was doing these days, and Atwell, for the most part, would grind his teeth and force a smile.  He'd suffer through the questions and the answers and the inevitable baby pictures for the sake of human decency and pretending that he'd grown into a much better person than he actually had.  In reality, he wanted to either vomit or tear the pictures up because, really, he didn't care.  He'd never been an inherently altruistic or philanthropic person when it came to time or energy.  Help people on their very worst days?  Absolutely.  Listen to stories about little Damien and how his head turns three hundred and sixty degrees because magic?  Not so much.  Probably want a member of the clergy for that.

 

Atwell didn't have the patience for any of it now, not when his stomach was rolling and threatening to send the contents back up his throat and out into a steaming mess in the cold air of Hogsmeade.  That was why, when he'd arrived, he'd quickly done away with his typical form and sat, tucked into the shadows of the nearest house, on four canine legs.  As a human, he wouldn't have been able to hear the conversation happening where the crowd of livid parents had congregated, but as an animagus—as a husky—he could and he recognized some of the voices.

 

He worked with Tara and Silvia.  If they saw him, they'd recognize him, even like this.  The scar on his chest, mottled into a swath of red when he was shifted, gave it away.  So, too, did the human that lingered behind the eyes.

 

There was a part of him—a very large part of him—that wanted to bolt right past that professor and up the road to the castle.  Like this, they might not notice until he was well beyond them.  Then again, they might mistake him for a werewolf and stunning hex his arse back into sixth year.  When he thought about it though...beyond the terror and the sick feeling and the numbing dread that sank into every one of his bones...he knew what it was like to be those kids.  He, too, had stared down something horrid beyond the wards that protected the castle and he, too, had been fractured open, bloodied and battered in the snow.  He could remember it vividly, like it had all transpired mere moments ago, and he knew that after looking down the barrel of a metaphorical gun, the last thing they would need to see was a horde of angry, shouting parents trying to hex their rescuers and their professors.

 

Atwell recognized more voices, though their faces were a washed out blur with canine eyes.  Evanna Nevin, Oliver Pichardo—several years older than  him, one of Jack's friends' fathers.  Seeley, he remembered the name from a letter home, wondered if he'd ever get more, fought the urge to vomit again.

 

Someone argued about going past her, all of them possessing wands.  They could take a werewolf.

 

The Slytherin alumnus rolled his eyes and finally, finally, stepped out of the shadow he'd been lurking in, claws digging into soft dirt for one, two, three, four steps and then up, up, up back into two legs without so much as a flinch or a ripple.  What had it been now?  Twenty years?  That amount of practice would smooth anyone out.

 

"He's a professor," Atwell answered curtly, dusting his clothes off, acting as if, to all present, he'd been there the entire time.  In all fairness, he had.  "And the best thing any of us can do is stay calm for the sake of our children.  When the dust settles, they'll need us."  He certainly had, anyway.  "Not that anyone's calm exterior should be mistaken for forgiveness that this happened at all."  He cast Nawton a withering glare.

Edited by Atwell Sinclair

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Professor Nawton

“Uhm…”

 

There were so many people - adults, even, whom were much hard to ‘manage’ than a bunch of students.  Many of these adults had wands, and were likely a lot more capable than she in the practical sense.  There was too much noise, too many emotions flying, and TOO MANY QUESTIONS (❤️) just too much going on in general.  On top of barely knowing anything about the incident, Nawton also had no idea who the children being referenced were.  She also had no idea who any of these parents (or nosy-bodies) were, but Nawton considered to be less important.   

 

“Right.  Well…. The school will release those details when it’s safe to do so-“ Nawton tried answering the lady ( @Cassidy Kinsella), “-the situation is currently being managed as we speak, Ma’am, so if you could please just -” not completely lose your …. “…..” Yeah, she was just going to let that one trail off.  They all wanted a real answer.  But before she could ponder the causality of any of the day’s events, her attention was diverted by a truly horrendous idea.

 

“Please don’t -“  Nawton directed rather exasperatedly in the direction of the man ( @Crispin Dare ) “- the school has requested the assistance of the Ministry-“ whether they’d come or not, she was still a little hazy on “-the more people on site, the bigger the pandemonium,” she tried to reason.  And then came the question around why @Professor Pichardo was allowed in.

 

“He-“ Nawton cut herself off.  Somehow ending that with doesn’t trust his colleagues didn’t seem like a very wise idea.  Nor did any of the other responses that she’d been running through her mind.  All of a sudden, trying to control the crowd and not completely incriminate the school became a little too impossible.  She let out a sigh and shook her head.  “Just….No.”  

 

Grateful for the answer that @Atwell Sinclair gave, Nawton gestured in his direction before declaring “what he just said.”  She responded to his glare with yet another exasperated sigh, before a weak “the school will send word when it’s safe to.” 

 

It was probably unreasonable to tell them all to go home… 

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Behati Gadot

RPing as Behati’s parents, who are both Muggles.

 

The call came in while she was at work.

 

Gugu had been paged at her hospital that her husband needed to speak to her urgently on the phone, and the woman had ran to her office to make the call home. Joseph was frantic—he told of the same woman who’d brought Behati her acceptance letter from Hogwarts coming into their home, a grave look of regret and horror on her face. She’d demanded that his wife come home immediately because the news she’d had to give them was not one that only one of them could hear. She’d had to call out of work early, hoping one of the other doctors would be able to cover her as she raced back home to see just what the hell was going on.

 

The whole drive home she was manic and frantic. It was a wonder she didn’t crash into any other cars on the road. Her mind spun with the worst-case scenarios. As a mother, when a call is made regarding one’s child, the instant place the mind goes to is imminent harm and danger. When she’d heard the news, Gugu, for once in her life, wished that she’d been wrong. Her husband was stock-still next to her—it didn’t even seem like he was breathing. When she finally chanced a glance at the man she’d been married to for over twenty years, tears were running down his cheeks. After the initial shock of horror had gone through her body, Gugu had quickly moved on to the mentality that any good parent could recognize: she wanted answers and she wanted them immediately.

 

“What the hell are you doing with our children at that school?!” She shouted, getting in Marlene’s face. The younger woman backed away nervously. Of course, she could’ve easily used magic to hold the older Muggle woman back, but she knew that right now was absolutely not the time to demonstrate the destructive powers of magic. She kept her wand away, but still within easy reach in case the other woman got physically violent. Gugu was looking angrier than ever and positively heartbroken. “Bloody werewolf attacks on children?! We trusted you to keep her safe! You promised us that you would keep her safe!” The older woman’s voice broke, and all Marlene could do was stare helplessly down at her shoes. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Gadot. Nobody saw this coming. Hogwarts has wards. This wasn't supposed to happen, ma’am.”

 

“Wasn’t supposed to happen?!” Gugu had never been so enraged. She was usually a level-headed woman. “So how the hell does it happen, then? Huh? You lot go on and on about how magic is so much better than what us Muggles have, but now you’re telling me that magic wasn’t strong enough to keep our daughter safe?!”

 

Marlene didn’t have anything else to say. Mrs. Gadot had a point and they both knew it. She tried to stammer out a pathetic apology, but upon seeing the darker skinned woman’s face, she shut her mouth and went back to staring pathetically at her shoes.

 

“We want to see her,” Gugu demanded, arms crossed over her chest in a defiant stance. “We want you to take us to that school and let us see her. You lot will be answering to me now.”

 

“I—okay,” was all Marlene could say. She didn’t have kids of her own, but she could feel the anger and fear pulsating from the Muggle woman. She knew that if ever did end up having kids in the future, she’d be just as angry about something like this happening.

 

The young Ministry worker apparated Mr. and Mrs. Gadot to where concerned parents and nosy media were expected to gather. She looked apologetically at the two parents as she said, “I’m sorry, but this is as far as I’m allowed to take you both. There are other concerned parents here if you want to talk to them. I don’t know anything else so I won’t be as much help.” The young woman stood off to the side looking around awkwardly. She wasn’t an Auror—she didn’t even work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was kept in the dark about pretty much everything.

 

Gugu stomped past all the other angry parents and shoved herself to the front of the line. She looked @Professor Nawton in the face and demanded, “Let me in. Now. Let us all in. Our children are in there!”

Edited by Behati Gadot

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Aggie Price

NPC as Aggie's Muggle Father (who's already there)

 

"And what good will that do?" he asked the irate mother that suddenly appeared in front.  Clinton Price was ready to put himself between this lady and the overwhelmed in numbers professor.  "What good will it do for us to charge up there and end up possibly injured as well?  Can't help my daughter that way, can I?  Or you?"

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Aster Darling

Rping as Jessica Darling, Aster's muggle mother.

 

The day had started out normal. Since Aster went off to that school (A school she didn't approve off, but had no say over it seems) Jessica has settled down in Sussex. She wasn't fond of living in one area, but she thought it was nice if she got a job, maybe went to school and provided Aster with normality when she came back from Hogsorts.

 

Just because Jessica settled down doesn't mean the home was normal. It was one of those tiny homes. She had a garden, and chickens and goats. She grew organic vegetables, and was working in her compost garden when she heard a familiar pop and spotted a man she learned to loath from the moment he arrived at her door and informed her that he daughter would be going to that bloody school.

 

"Mr. Rupert." Jessica said softly. Like her daughter, Jessica Darling was small, blond and petite. Unlike her daughter she had this glare about her. Only twenty-seven, Jessica Darling seemed older than she was.

 

"Ms. Darling. Dire news—" He fiddled with his hat as he told her of an attack at Hogwarts, and how werewolves attacked the children and it was a huge ordeal. Jessica listened in horror, paling at each word.

 

Finally when he stopped speaking she found her words. "So you are telling me." She said through gritted teeth. "That the school you said my daughter will be safe in was not safe?" Her daughter. Thoughts of Aster flashed through her mind. Aster has always been small for her age. Her Thumblina. "Where is Aster? Is she okay?! Was she hurt?! You need to take me to her now!"

 

Rupert paled. "Ms. Darling I assure you your daughter is under the best car—"

 

"She's hurt?!?" Jessica shouted gripping her shears wishing she could throw them elsewhere. "Take me to my daughter now before I shove these shears—" Mr Rupert grabbed her and with a pop she was suddenly standing in a crowded area with what looked like other parents in her gardening clothes clutching sheers like a mad woman.

 

"This is as far as I can take you." And with a pop he was gone. 

 

"Wimp." Jessica said rolling her eyes. She was going to steal a bloody owl and get them someone else. That is if she even sends her daughter back. Putting her shears back in the case, Jessica glanced around trying to figure out what was going on. Finally when she spotted @Professor Nawton and stormed over to her. She wasn't the only one there. "Excuse me?" She said standing at her tallest height. "My name is Jessica Darling. My daughter Aster is in there. I demand to see her now. As her mother I have a right to keep my daughter. If you refuse it's kidapping. I can get the police involved." She could, right? Let them know her daughter was attacked at some crazy school? They would have to do something.

Edited by Aster Darling

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Behati Gadot

The man (@Aggie Price) was right, she had to admit. She could do nothing helpful for Behati if she stormed in there and, possibly, ended up hurt herself. But, and this was a huge but, she felt completely helpless standing out here among a whole bunch of other parents who also didn’t have any information regarding their own children. “So what do you suppose we do, then, while we’re all stuck waiting?” Gugu asked.

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Dorjee Shire Sherpa

Posting as Dorjee's parents, Dolka Pankarma Sherpa (mother) and Dawa Shire Sherpa (father)

 

It started as an unremarkable and particularly uneventful Friday evening. Dawa had worked a little later than normal while Dolka ran some errands and picked up fish and vegetables for stew that night. The weather in the London area had been turning cooler, so the temperature had put Dolka in the mood for something warmer to eat. As their dinner was nearing its completion, a pop echoed in the hall shortly followed by a series of sharp knocks at the door.

 

Dawa carefully made his way over and peered through the peephole, a confused grunt escaping his throat as he pulled the door open to admit the vaguely familiar man waiting outside with a highly concerned look on his face. This was the man who had come to tell Dorjee he was a wizard. He'd shared that their son could do magic all those years ago. What could have brought him back tonight, of all nights? Dawa shut the door behind him and invited the man over to their ratty couch. "How I can help you tonight?"

 

Dolka looked over from where she was standing. "You would like some soup, yes? Water? Bread?" She immediately shuffled along the counter to pull out more bowls, as if this unanticipated visit was little more than a minor change in plans rather than unplanned and off-putting.

 

"Mr. and Mrs. Sherpa," the man began finally, collecting his thoughts. "I'm Mr. Watford, I don't know if you remem-"

 

"Of course you are remember us," Dolka cut in. "You are saying Dorjee he is magic. He does great in school." She ladled soup into a bowl and handed it to Mr. Watford. "Eat, eat!"

 

Dawa noticed the look on Mr. Watford's face as he took a small sip of the stew to satisfy the tiny Sherpa woman. When he had made his first visit to their flat in Harrow, the same thing had occurred. He'd shown up over lunch on a Saturday and nearly been accosted with food and beverages before he could get a single word in to the young boy - eleven and so innocent at the time - about his special abilities and Hogwarts. The news this time would not be so good and the nerves in his stomach prevented him from eating much at all. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, sir. Ma'am. There's been an attack, a werewolf attack-"

 

"WHAT?! You tell me Dorjee is magical and that this school is safe, but now you tell me that there's been a WHAT? You did not mention werewolves originally or we would never have permitted our son to go away," Dolka ranted, screaming in Sherpa at the man who sat on the couch clutching a bowl of stew to his chest. She snatched it up and dumped the full thing back into the pot as Dawa took a much-needed seat in his wheelchair. "You will take us. We must get to Dorjee. If he is hurt-"

 

With that, Dolka covered her husband's lap with a blanket folded over multiple times and several pot holders, then place the vat of stew on his lap. She turned to Mr. Watford wielding a wooden soup ladle menacingly. "Take us now."

 

The wizard immediately complied, taking the wheelchair in one hand and the angry Sherpa woman with the other. With a pop and a squeezing sensation, they arrived in the midst of a growing crowd of very upset parents. Dolka immediately began to push her husband's wheelchair through the crowd as he gripped the vat of stew on his lap to prevent it from tipping over and spilling everywhere. His wife was angry enough without losing a week's worth of lunches for him to take to work.

 

"What happened?!" Dolka immediately snapped at the professor (@Professor Nawton) as she raised her ladle. "I need my Dorjee to come. He go home now."

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Behati Gadot

“We don’t really know anything yet,” Gugu cut in when another mother (@Dorjee Shire Sherpa) asked. She shot a glare at @Professor Nawton for not giving them anything substantial. “We’re all still trying to get news.” The woman’s raised ladle reminded Gugu of her own cooking habits.

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Aggie Price

Clinton wasn't sure what he would do if the woman (@Behati Gadot) had not reacted as she had to his words.  As for an answer to her question, his face took on a  sad look.  "Hope," he answered.  "Hope and, if you're that kind of person, pray," he added.  "That's what I'm doing.  The last time I spoke to Aggie, we had words.  I hope I get to change that."  A tear ran down the gruff man's cheek.

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Madeline Slater

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."

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