Jump to content
Sign in to follow this  
Odette Sinclair

Healer Station #5

Recommended Posts

Odette Sinclair



Unfortunately, the cause for Odette’s return to Hogwarts was not for joyous celebrations or pizza parties (thanks for the invite, @Julian Trice). No, it was to quite literally take broken pieces and put them back together again, to heal mangled flesh and to hope beyond measure that one of the children she would tend to weren’t one of her own. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was waiting in Mungo’s alongside a team of Healers to be dispatched to Hogwarts in order to meet an unknown number of tiny patients. As each second passed by, Odette processed a tiny bit more of what was happening around her. She also began to form more detailed fears and visions of what they would be walking into upon their arrival.


Not even 15 minutes prior, she’d been preparing to leave work, her shift having ended and an evening of kid-free dinner and movie watching on the horizon. And then the news bulletin followed closely by the announcement throughout the hospital, one that Odette couldn’t recall having been used in her many years employed within the walls of the famed establishment. She’d sent Atwell off, telling him to get in touch with her mom to make sure Adam wasn’t listening to the radio, to go to Hogwarts and she’d contact him as soon as she knew more. That hopefully the WWN was wrong about werewolves and that this calling of available Healers was simply a coincidence. It had been evident on both of their faces that they both didn’t believe that, not even for a second.


When the debriefing occurred, Odette had stood in silence, paralyzed by fear that had formed deep within her core and was permeating outward in the form of trembling fingers and all color draining from her face. There were werewolves. And they were attacking and maiming children, children who could be her flesh and blood. She didn’t pause to think when they asked for volunteers to help with triage. She didn’t need to. There was no alternative except for to go. Not because of the children as a whole but because of her children. Her babies. Her yes was every bit a yes born out of selfish concern for the son and daughter she had carried for 9 months, that she had labored over, that she had hoped for, that she had placed Band-Aids on when they’d skinned their knees wiped away tears as they cried out in pain.


In the moment, the responsible decision likely would have been not to go. She was far too emotionally involved. They weren’t typically allowed to treat family members for this very reason. But that wasn’t going to stop Odette. She needed to go. She needed to see. She needed to find out if they’d been hurt. And if they had, she needed to tell them it was okay and put on the Band-Aids. Because she was their mom, and that’s what mom’s did, even if Band-Aids weren’t going to fix these wounds.


After what felt like an eternity, it was time. Aura had arrived back with supplies and in a line they tossed in their floo powder, stepped in, shouted their destination, and a moment later arrived in the Headmistress’s office. The floo experience did little to settle her anxious stomach and she momentarily considered barfing in a nearby receptacle. She recovered, withdrawing her wand and grabbing supplies, following the group down to the great hall, Odette looking for signs of the struggle, for clues as to if Maggie and Jack were safely in their common room where they belonged. As they neared the hall, signs of the evening’s events began to appear. There were crooked paintings and scuffmarks, tattered banners and droplets of blood. Large droplets of blood.


She was going to be sick.  


Correction, she was sick. Odette stole away from the group, removing the helmet off of a smaller suit of armor, and depositing the contents of her stomach within. She wiped her mouth, inhaling deeply, and closing off that moment of weakness by putting back the helmet. She could do this. She had to do this. She had a job to do. Her yes came with a responsibility to do what she could to salvage what could be salvaged of tiny maimed bodies. Getting sick in a suit of armor wasn’t saving anyone.


However, Odette nearly ralphed again upon actually entering the great hall. It was chaos. There were children everywhere, some conscious and some not, blood smeared on the walls and floor, tables turned over and windows shattered. But what was worse than the images were the accompanying sounds, a chorus of cries and screams for unavailable parents, hysterical crying over fallen friends, and the sounds of scrambling staff attempting to bring order into a situation that came without order. There was no order in a world where children were savagely attacked and maimed. There was no cause, no readily available reason. No, this was chaos and disorder and there would be no making sense of it. 


Odette’s name was called and she was pointed toward a table in order to prepare her station. She moved quickly, eyes moving quicker as she scanned her surroundings for any signs of her children. She paused, catching glimpse of a blood shock of hair with blue, lifeless eyes beneath and for a brief moment she could only see Jack. But then Jack was gone, replaced by what was real and not what her mind had briefly tricked her into believing was accurate. Odette shook her head, moving forward, stepping over splintered benches. She ignored the urge to shuffle through the small minds around her in search of any image or memory providing clues to Jack or Maggie’s fate. One simple muttering of a spell and she could be in. But there was no guarantee of results, the number of small minds to root through too large, and the promise of severe repercussions too great. She tossed her supplies onto the table, quickly moving, her fingers nimbly opening packaging she was sure she’d need. It was time to bind up wounds, mend broken limbs, and selfishly pray that the children who needed her help were anyone’s except her own.





This thread takes place in the Great Hall on the evening of the attacks. 


The Healers have been summoned to Hogwarts to tend to the injured. Whether your character is conscious or unconscious they can be taken to any of the Healers in the Great Hall. First years and those who were on the grounds and injured during the attacks will be escorted to the Great Hall from their respective Safe Zones to be tended to by the Healers. 


Please include a summary of your injuries at the end of your post. 


This thread is now open. ❤️ 


(This ooc portion shamelessly stolen from Eppy who is a queen.)

Edited by Odette Sinclair

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Julian Trice

Continued from here


Julian knew, even before he’d taken the time to search around the chaos of the great hall that looking for Odette Sinclair was a bad idea. Not simply because it was unprofessional and every conflict of interest he’d had drilled into his head to not compromise on. Extenuating circumstances and all that. It was something a little deeper that made Julian’s foot falls heavy for an entirely different reason. He’d watched the kid in his arms grow tall as a weed, been run into at the knees and even picked him up to dust him down and tend to scrapes when his father was too far away to catch him first. Jack was the child of a pair of good friends he enjoyed ribbing in various ways and knew that this would change that. 


Hell, he’d gotten her husband arrested several times (it was a work thing ), and even brought Atwell home falling down drunk and banged up pretty badly and Julian was still sure this would not be received as well as that had, and knives had gotten involved. Hell, he still had the scar to prove it. It was for all of those reasons and his 100% conviction that she would absolutely tend to her son while somehow simultaneously kicking him in the balls that had him rethinking for just a moment that he would be better off with some other healer.


But then Jack’s shaking grew more violent, and Julian realized like he’d realized in that semi-circle with Ryker Yeet, that his own well-being paled in comparison to giving a kid a chance to grow and get to the point where they could make crazy morally compromising decisions too and suffer the consequences. The point was that they would live to do it or not.


 Julian wanted to spare her this like any decent man would, but knew his sparing of it could also be seen as cruel too, another check mark on the list of things that were steadily making him an awful person. But then he was there suddenly, at her little corner of the hall, a nearby jogging witch pointing her out when Julian inquired and now was not the time for overthinking things. The boy in his arms had left half his blood on the stones back there. His internal crisis could wait.


Without looking her in the eye, Julian moved into her space, laying Jack across the bed as gently as he could, pulling up a mask of professionalism despite the panicked words rushing out of his mouth.


“He’s bit.” He told her immediately, because he would have wanted to know if it was his child…god. His kids were NEVER going to this hell school. 


“Maggie’s not. He’s Clawed at the gut but nothings out…he’ll need some blood replenishing and I-“ here he began to waver, pointing along the bloodied mess of slytherin ties at Jax’s thigh. I'm sorry didnt ' seem like quite enough so he swallowed and attempted to back away, ignoring his own injuries. 


 “Numbed the area, but it’ll be wearing off soon…”




Just dropping off a patient! Will leave shortly ❤️

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jaxon Sinclair

Numbing spell or not, it didn't completely take away the ache that had set down into his bones and it did nothing for the raw anxiety that was clawing at his throat.  He was finding it more difficult to breathe by the second, a fact that seemed to concern his sister more than the actual bleeding did, but he would find out later that the more he panicked, the faster his heart was beating and the faster his heart was beating, the more blood he was likely to lose.  He was fighting off the urge to puke in Maggie's lap, break down into hysterics, and choke on his tongue.  All at the same time.


It was somewhere around the point of entering a full blown panic attack that Julian Trice showed up.  Initially (and most importantly) Jack was beyond relieved to see his sort-of uncle.  Later, when he put thought into the entire series of events and reorganized his scattered memories of the entire traumatic ordeal, he would develop a certain element of fear for the Aurors and, in particular, for Julian.  He had, after all, watched him so casually use the cruciatus curse on the very wolf that had bitten Jack and that was just minutes after one of them dropped dead and turned back into a scarred, blond haired corpse with vacant, hollow eyes.  He would recognize, or at least come to believe, that they—and by extension, he—were not even people to them.  They were nameless, faceless, rabid monsters.


For now, however, all he could really feel was relief that he was no, in fact, going to die here on the floor of the Great Hall while his sister frantically tried to keep him alive.  He was actually going to see his mother.  


"Mum?" he mumbled the word, disbelief setting in like a blanket around already foggy thoughts.  He looked down when Julian lifted him, saw the puddle of scarlet he'd left all over the stone and smeared over his sister's face and arms, watched them walk away from her and leave her standing in the ruins of Study Hall with a heaping serving of survivor's guilt and emotional trauma that she hadn't woken up with.  It didn't make sense for his mother to be there.  His mother was not a cop.  His father was a cop.  It made sense for Atwell to be there, though he suspected Daddy dearest would have skipped torture and gone straight to cold-blooded murder if he'd seen all of...this.  He'd heard the stories.  He'd seen the scars.


He'd have his own now.


Jack was deposited, with careful consideration of his injuries (numbed to a bizarre tingle that felt like limbs that had fallen asleep) on a table or a cot or a bed (he couldn't tell—the shaking from the shock was making his teeth clench and grind and he was so goddamn cold.)


It was his mother though, standing over him, and it was almost funny (in that—if I don't laugh, I'll cry sort of way) because he knew, in that instant, that Julian Trice was about to lose his ability to ever reproduce again and Jack nearly snorted, delirious from blood loss, shock, panic, and a variety of other horrific things up to and including the fact that he was now a probable character in an angsty YA book about broody teenage werewolves that his sister would inevitably fangirl over in the worst possible way.  


Unfortunately for Jack, the humor was short-lived.  Reality sank in when Julian spoke.  Bit.  Bit.  A single, monosyllabic, life-changing word that made the floor beneath him feel like it was going to split and crumble and let him fall into the belly of the earth.  He was dizzy.  Likely to vomit.  


It was at this point, despite having put on a stoic face for the sake of his sister, that Jack finally (finally) felt the tears that had threatened him since the teeth hand been driven down into his thigh, spill down over his face.  "Mum," he managed to choke her name out, remembered when he thought it was her real name, and that only made all of it that much worse.



Injuries Sustained:

1. A pretty ravaged bite to the left thigh, currently fixed with a tourniquet made of two Slytherin ties (Hi, Mom, I'm a werewolf.)

2. Claw marks to the abdomen from left hip to the belly button.  Fairly deep, not deep enough for inside stuff to become outside stuff.

3. Claw marks to the shin, down to the bone.

4. Minor head injury from being bitten, dragged to the floor, and treated like a chew toy.

Edited by Jaxon Sinclair

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Nox Bordelon

Nox was fairly sure of a few things:


1. Anita was never going to let him come back to school, so he had some serious conning to do if he was going to pull the wool over his mother's eyes. (This was obviously the most important point, thus labeling it number one makes sense.)

2.  Ethan Smith was useless.  Also, probably emotionally scarred for the rest of his life.

3.  The aforementioned point did not mean that the Head Boy did not deserve punched in the face.

4.  The girl he was carrying was probably dead. (This is the real most important point.)


He was also sure that Miss Lushia, bless her heart, was not likely to be back in the Hospital Wing because holy flacking flaming balls the Great Hall was a cesspit of death and destruction and when Nox said death, he literally meant death.  There was a dead body in the middle of the carnage, casually chilling there like it was part of the decor.  Thank god (skipping right over Merlin this time) he was going to graduate next year and he could say goodbye to this castle of horrors.


Before he could reach the wing where he had no idea what he was going to do with a bleeding, unconscious, presumably silenced thirteen-year-old abominable snowman girl, he was greeted by the too-familiar green robes of the St. Mungo's healers, who were clearly better at their jobs than the Werewolf Capture Unit.  Just saying.


Among the healers was Odette Sinclair, who he recognized as his girlfriend's mother (his girlfriend that he was supposed to be looking for, okay, not carting around a dead body.)  He did, in fact, witness her puke into the head of a suit of armor, but considering the fact that the Great Hall had recently been repainted with the literal blood of children, he thought it was probably a really minor thing to worry over in the grand scheme of things.  


So he wasn't going to tell anyone.  Don't worry, Odette.  Nox has got your back.


He turned quickly on his heal and followed along beside them, which (of course) included stepping over the dead guy that nobody seemed to be addressing (much more important than vomit in a helmet, if you asked Nox) and being nearly run over by half a dozen adults who, for whatever reason, had chosen to crawl out of the goddamn woodwork after the werewolves had mauled Jack and, oh, hey, the other Jack.


Nox blinked.  First at the boy, then at the Auror, then at Odette.  Well, that was some post-traumatic stress he was going to have to sort over with Maggie when he found her.


With no time to spare (because, really, what help was a sixteen-year-old kid who had barely been a Hospital Wing Assistant for six weeks) he dropped the girl (yes, dropped) onto the closest upturned table that he could find beside Odette's station that was not occupied by her (potentially also dead) son.


"I brought you a dead girl, Mrs. Maggie's Mom," he said rather cheerfully, all things considered.  Was this what emotional shock felt like?  Probably.  "Gotta go find your daughter.  BYE!"


Just dropping someone off.  Nox out!

Edited by Nox Bordelon

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jacqueline Frost

This was not the Teenage Angst™ Jacqueline Frost signed up for. Not that she ever signed up for anything of the sort but while she knew being a teenager was a time frame to experience more issues than Witch Weekly, finding herself on the brink of death from a werewolf attack wasn’t something normal teenagers had to worry about. It wasn’t something she ever worried about. In fact, she’d once said that anyone who was stupid enough to get attacked by a werewolf probably deserved it.

Maybe she did.

Maybe this was a punishment for the awful things she’d said in DADA days earlier, for going through life harboring hatred for someone… something… cursed to spend its life as the monster mothers told their children about to get them to behave. Monster. Sweet irony. That’s what she was — what she would be — if Nox didn’t become the next victim and managed to get her to safety. Everyone would know, everyone would judge. Her only alibi was the chaos, maybe no one noticed she’d been bitten, maybe she could delude herself into believing she could live a normal life; as normal as a human teenager could be whose concerns would only be acne, mood swings, gossip, and dating. Human problems. 


And not the complications attached to the thing she would become: stigma, full moons, wolfsbane. She didn’t want that; anything but that. 


Perhaps, if Jack had been conscious, she would have thought about those closest to her, those who she would never be able to have a proper relationship with. Who would ever want to be friends with a monster? When was a monster not a monster? There were so many things she would have wanted to say to Malcolm, Ethan, Addy, Sinclair and probably never would be able to.

If she survived this, she’d be destined to a life isolated from the rest of her normal, human peers. Doomed to life of us vs them and she would no  onger be a part of them


And even if she could say these things to them where would she even start? 


Would it be with Addy? 


@Adrina Althaus-Valerio: Sorry I tried to mess with your relationship, sorry I blamed you for getting hit with the Furby when I shouldn’t have thrown it in the first place. 


Or with Ethan?


@Ethan Smith: I don’t blame you for this. I could never blame you. 


Maybe Sinclair? 


@Jaxon Sinclair: When I said I wanted you to suffer the most tragic, slowest, painful of endings I did not mean this. I would never wish this on you. I don’t hate you. Maybe in a parallel universe we could have been friends. 


Or should she have started with the most important person she knew she could never be with after this? 


@Malcolm Mercer III:You must have wondered if I liked you back. I did. I do… but It doesn’t matter anymore, you deserve better than a half-breed. 


So many things Jack wanted to get a chance to express, but being able to do so meant accepting her fate. Accepting her fate meant accepting that she was a danger to them, she couldn't be near any of them. She'd already lost Sinclair. She couldn't risk anyone else. 


Perhaps when she awakened, she would undoubtedly feel the pain in the back of her head from Nox unceremoniously dropping her onto a table but that was a future worry. For now, she remained unaware of that fact as well as the fact that she was inches away from the one person she desperately wanted saved but believed it was too late.  



Injuries sustained: 

1. Deep bites on both shoulders as well as minor bite on her right hand from being used as a chew toy :c

2. Claw marks on both forearms, deep enough to break skin but most blood loss is from the bites (talk about being symmetrical lol)

3. broken index, middle and ring finger on right hand

4. possible minor head injury because your future son-in-law is an unchivalrous caveman and dropped me on a table ._. 

5. wake me up inside ;-;


Edited by Jacqueline Frost

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Odette Sinclair

As Odette began to move around her quadrant of the hall, staff members and faculty began conjuring beds, children filling them with varying levels of injuries. It felt wrong. The Great Hall looked like something out of a war scene, not where only hours prior children had joyfully enjoyed dinner together, laughing over practical jokes and mourning the essays still to be written that evening. Odette found it difficult to reconcile that these were in fact the same two places. But they were, and as much as she wanted to abandon her post and search for her children to ensure their safety, there upon a bed was a small girl who couldn’t have been scarcely older than Adam. And suddenly, the automaticity of what she had done for the past 13 years kicked in: Assess, prioritize, stabilize, and move onto the next.


She was finishing with the child whose wounds were rather minimal. A large splinter had found its way into the flesh of her forearm. It had been bloody, but wounds such as that were easy to fix. There was no magic involved. Wounds caused by magic and magical beings were far more difficult to manage. She was thankful to have started with something easy, to calm her nerves over missing children and regain her focus. The kids were fine. Jack and Maggie were fine.


Or, perhaps Maggie was fine. She didn’t know. What she knew was that Jack was not fine. Odette had turned from the first child to move onto the next at the exact moment Julian moved into her space cradling her middle child in his arms. Jack who normally appeared so big, especially in comparison to his mother, looked small and shrunken in the arms of the Auror and oh-so-fragile once laid upon the vacant cot before her. Her mouth was dry, her stomach clenched and her heart pounding in her ears.


“He’s bit.”


Her hand went to her mouth and a small shake of her head was the response that he received. She closed her eyes when he said that Maggie had not been, a momentary wave of gratitude washing over her before she opened her eyes back up to the reality, moving quickly toward her son, her child. Luckily for Julian, Odette was more concerned with Jack’s wounds than maiming and destroying Julian’s reproductive system. Of course, that would certainly come. It was only a matter of time. But for now, Julian Trice was safe because he was forgotten.


It was Jack’s tears, his voice joining the chorus of his peers crying out for parents that broke her. She crouched down, reaching out one hand to grab his and the other finding its place to his cheek. “Oh Jack,” she choked back, tears to match his gathering in the corner of her eyes as she cleared her throat to continue. “It’s going to be okay. You’ve been so brave. And you’re going to be okay. I promise.” They had learned in training to never make promises to a patient. But then again, they’d also learned to never become involved in personal cases. It looked like Odette was breaking all of the rules tonight.


Unbeknownst to Nox, he had in all likelihood saved the day by arriving at that very moment, rather unceremoniously tossing an older girl onto a nearby table rather than a cot like a proper gentleman. It brought Odette out of mom mode and back into healer mode, to the reality that Jack needed his mom but he also needed medical help and he needed it fast. As did this… dead girl. Odette wiped Jack’s cheeks once more, blinked away her own, and stood quickly, clearing her throat.


“Trice. Check to see if she’s actually dead. And don’t you dare say you’ve got “auror” things to do. You may not have done your job properly today but I’m sure as hell going to do mine. And you’re going to help.” Or else she would provide that swift kick to the balls he’d been worried about earlier. “Jack, I’m going to need you to be brave, okay? You’re going to begin feeling things. And it’s going to hurt. But you’re going to be back to normal in no time, okay?” The word ‘normal’ had slipped out automatically in spite of the situation and the near guarantee that normalcy had shifted forever for the boy.


Odette’s hands moved quickly, withdrawing potions and freshly mixed powdered silver and dittany. “Update, Trice?” she barked, as she handed Jack a potion (blood-replenishing potion) and encouraged him to drink it before moving toward the bite. “This is going to hurt but it’s going to help… I’m sorry.” She bit her lip, applying as gently as possible the silver and dittany mixture to the bite, the bleeding slowing as she did so. She moved down to the gashes on his leg, inhaling sharply at the site of bone within the wound bed. Quickly she applied a cleaning solution before moving her wand tip above, muttering under her breath as the wound began to close. It was imperfect. But it was the best that could be done. “I’m going to remove the tourniquet and…” And, well, they were going to hope for the best. “… And you should feel better.”


Jack: You've got more blood! Yay! And some fancy neosporin applied to your wounds. Because, never go anywhere without your handy dandy pocket-sized neopsorin!


Jack 2.0: Ju is trying to figure out if you're alive. Excuse him if he takes a while. He hasn't got a heart himself so locating pulses is something he has minimal experience with!

Edited by Odette Sinclair

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Julian Trice

He’d thought he’d backed out of her space. Been far enough away that she couldn’t 1, kick anything anywhere and 2, demand answers he didn’t even know how to begin formulating.  Turned out there was no easy way to escape a maze of suddenly conjured up cots and trolleys overflowing with bandaging, and Julian, despite everything in him telling him to run as far away as he could manage, stayed.


And promptly effing regretted it on two counts. The first being Odette’s brutal dismissal of the job he’d performed that night, by turns immediately swamped with guilt because he knew what she meant, but also livid that anyone on the planet could say what she had without having had boots on the ground herself. Sure, Jack was her son, but she hadn’t been in the thick of it, with an overgrown wolf’s hot breath stinging her eyes and deciding that traumatizing them with a curse was favorable to the others watching their friends die.  She hadn’t stood stuck in the grass while he watched what he’d thought at the time was his longtime partner and friend Richard Fowler be shaken like a ragdoll.


But he swallowed it down because despite all appearance and write-ups to the contrary, Julian not only understood where she was coming from as a parent himself. He was also a consummate professional.




The second reason why he regretted it was because the second he turned his attention towards Jaqueline frost, his jaw hard again while he reached towards her throat to feel her pulse,  the presumably dead girl let everyone in the vicinity know that she was not, in fact, dead with extreme prejudice and a bony little fist that shouldn’t have hurt or snapped his head back like it did.


He could already feel the blood trickling down his nose. Goddamn his face hurt.


“FLACKING HELL!” Julian swore colorfully, his own hands immediately shooting out to grab her own, pushing both down on the cot in a reflexive move that he immediately regretted and let up on, hands up and flapping to flag down someone who was far more equipped for this than he was.


“Well, she’s not dead.” He snapped, regretful but still a little pissy he’d been knocked for six by some scrap of girl. Honestly, except for that one slice of pizza he’d managed before Harry effing Potter walked in and firebombed all their hopes and dreams, this night was hands down, one of the worst of his life. He dared to move in a little closer to note what he could see of her robes and scowled further. It was always the goddamn Hufflepuffs😒


Julian swiped at his nose, wincing hard at the twinge not only in his face, but his side as well. That jerk away from the girl pulling his own wounds in all the right ways to floor a weaker person. He was holding it together pretty well considering he would probably be developing a BLACK EYE @Jacqueline Frost. 🤬i'm arresting your parents in the near future. If he made it out of here, @Astrid McManus was going to kick his arse. 


“Odette.” He tried, a little nasally as he stomped around, head tilted back as he reached out like a zombie to locate some gauze or something. Jesus flacking Christ, that girl hit like a mactruck. ._.



Hellbeast 1. As you know, I watch medical novellas, but a healer this does not make me. I'm bouncing, fam. 🤬 ...or not. *shakes fist at*


Hellbeast 2🤬 


(I had @Jacqueline Frost permission for the Gm <3)

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jaxon Sinclair

Normal, Jack heard her say.  Normal.  Or, conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.


She had released his fingers and though she wiped his cheeks, the tears kept coming.  He hadn't cried like this in years, not since he was something like eight and broken his nose trying to fly a starter broom down the staircase.  She'd wiped his tears then, too, but her careful administration of first aid had come with a heavy dose of lecturing about safety, why they weren't allowed to ride brooms in the house, and general common sense.  She'd said he would be back to normal, too, as soon as she fixed the crunched cartilage of his nose.  That, however, was a vastly different injury than the one currently still slowly seeping blood that soaked through the shredded remains of his uniform.


Nothing about any of this was normal, so when she said the words, he nearly choked on the potion she'd given him.  It was oddly warm, for having coming out of that emergency kit she had with her, and had a distinctly tangy, ferrous flavor that coated his tongue.  It was gritty, grinding on the surface of his teeth, but the threat to pass out like Frost was quickly draining away.  A bit of energy returned to his limbs.  Enough energy to laugh, at least, though it was distinctly lacking in anything even close to actual mirth.  


Because normal?


Jack looked down at the bite that ravaged his leg and, with the numbing spell that Julian had cast slipping away like sand through fingertips, he felt the silver and dittany and, more importantly, he knew what it meant.  It hissed when it made contact with the wounds, stinging and searing like it was made specifically to cauterize and he squirmed, the tears coming faster as he clenched his teeth.  The empty bottle slipped through his fingers and he dug them down into the cot instead, frantically scraping and clawing at the fabric, trying desperately not to scream so that his mother didn't break down into actual hysterics.  


The tourniquet slipped free though and the bleeding...well, the bleeding on the bite, at least, had stopped, but he had to put one hand back up onto his stomach to stop that mess.  His leg still burned and ached—everything ached, actually, and what he wanted most was for his mother to just take him home and fix this.  


"Mum," he opened his mouth to tell her that she should.  He didn't want to stay here, not in this place, not where this had happened, but he kept staring down at his leg—at jagged teeth marks and the revulsion of knowing...knowing what it meant.  "It bit me."  He shuddered, horror evident on his face when he finally looked up.  


It was around this moment that @Jacqueline Frost became the hero that everybody wanted.  Unconscious and probably frightened beyond reason, his Hufflepuff nemesis reeled back at the touch of someone she didn't recognize and straight up punched Julian Trice in the face.  From where he was sitting, Jack heard the cartilage crunch and saw Julian exclaim in very colorful language that Frost was most definitely alive.  He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath for her, but there was a visible slump of relief in his shoulders when he was certain she was breathing.


That meant the only casualty had been on the side of the werewolves.  On their side, and while Jack could not excuse (or even completely understand what such a psychosis felt like—yet) or rationalize what had happened, he did flinch away when Julian came a little bit closer.  The bleeding in his leg had stopped, but his stomach was still torn apart and Jacqueline still looked like the prop from a horror movie.  If he'd been in better shape, he would have gotten up and walked away, gave the bed to someone else and got away from Julian.  Julian who, it seemed, had no problem tormenting the monster that shared Jack's skin with him now.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jacqueline Frost

The first thing Jack registered were unfamiliar sounds, voices, an indication that either they were saved or a new threat loomed the Great Hall. What could have possibly been worse than werewolves? Vampires. Were she awake, she might have chuckled at that; the thought of the perfect twist to complete the YA novel in the making by adding interspecies battle. Whether whoever arrived came in peace or not was to be determined, but as she regained consciousness she recognized the name uttered. Jack. The stranger wasn’t referring to her, she’d never heard that voice in her life and it was evident that by Jack it was Jack Sinclair. A name, a sign that he wasn’t dead, a choked sob, and a woman… Sinclair’s… mother? 


Was it wrong to feel envy? Was she in a position where she could be envious that his mother was tending to him, comforting him in a way only mothers knew with whispers and promises and it’s going to be okay’s when everyone knew it wasn’t but you almost believed it. Jack wouldn’t know what that was like, any memory she had of her mother came with a question attached: was it real or did I make it up


Her eyes fluttered lightly, specs of light appearing in her field of vision as she attempted to focus on anything past the destruction in the Great Hall. They were still in the Great Hall. It sparked the question if this was real or if this was some twisted life-after-death fantasy, the type where she was supposed to see the light flash before her eyes but instead of nostalgic childhood memories there were paws and claws and teeth shredding through her skin, muffled screaming and crimson stains on the stone floor. 


Something… someone inched too close into her personal space. Too close. A cold touch against her neck was all that was needed to snap back to reality. Her heartbeat raced again, flight or fight triggered instantaneously and Jack had it in her to fight. Whatever energy was left in her, what hadn’t been drained from the blood loss and the emotional toll from realizing what she would become — the thing. had. bitten. her — was used to send her left fist flying towards the stranger’s face with as much force as she could muster, colliding against his face and she wasn't sure if the crack of bone was her hand or the man's nose or both.


 “Step the flack away from me... what the flack... LET ME GO!” 


Under any other circumstances she would have given @Jaxon Sinclair a droll stare, after all he was the one who'd said she wouldn't be able to hurt anything with her twiggy snowman arms. Who had snowman arms now? FIGHT ME, MOON MOON.



“Is he going to be okay?” The question had been directed at Sinclair’s mother, not at the Auror (who didn’t have to worry about Odette being the one to kick him because Jack wouldn’t hesitate to kick him if he tried getting near her again without proper identification and explanation).  Odette was the qualified one, Trice was the reason any of this happened — werewolf capture unit YEAH FLACKING RIGHT.

Jack?” she winced, turning her head to get a better look at the Slytherin, far more concerned with the healing injuries than the fact that she’d called him by his name and not his surname or any of the other nicknames she’d come up for him (usually foul, vile, creature of the underworld but that technically applied to her too). She wanted to say something to him, but the words hung on the tip of her tongue, her mind wasn't able to form a coherent sentence. 


I thought you were dead

“It… bit… you too?” 


An unspoken apology: 


Sorry I couldn’t get to you on time.



injuries sustained: 

5.5 check my left hand pls bc Trice is the worst :c 

Edited by Jacqueline Frost

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Odette Sinclair

Gingerly, she untied the shoddy workmanship, returning bloodflow to the appendage. She breathed a sigh of relief when the wound held, the dittany and silver doing its job. “See? It’s going to be okay,” she said to Jack, attempting to convince herself of that just as much as him as she wrapped the wounds in bandages with a flick of her wand. Which I guess means she also cut off the bit of pants he didn’t need so much just then. Don’t worry.  Decency was kept. But just in case, and also to help with the shock, Odette covered his lower extremities carefully with a blanket.


From there she moved to his abdomen, applying a disinfectant to the wound, attempting to see just how bad it really was. “It’s really not so bad. I’ve seen worse. Probably feels worse than it looks.” But also possibly not. Gingerly, she cut away strips of clothing, moving aside the fabric that impeded upon seeing the full magnitude of the wounds. “I’m going to numb it, okay?” she asked as she began the process, ensuring that this most tender of areas wouldn’t feel the dittany and silver that would come next.


“Jack?” she replied, looking for the mixture and at his abdomen rather than at him, at least until he finished his thought. She paused where she was, handful of silver and dittany ready for application to the wounds. Odette dropped the handful back into the bag, using her newly freed hand to reach for his hand. “I know,” she began, heart breaking as he looked up at her with a horror-stricken face. This was without question the worse moment of her life. All she wanted to do was pick him up as she had when he was little and make everything better with a kiss and a band-aid. But she couldn’t fix this, not really, and there was nothing worse than having to look her child in the eyes and know that she was incapable of saving him.


But, she had to be strong. For him. She had to push through that pit in her stomach, the thoughts that threatened to run rampant in that moment if she allowed them to. She cleared her throat, at the same time pushing clearing away the grieving for her son that was threatening to begin at the most inopportune moment. Grieving wouldn’t save him. And neither would guilt.


“But I love you. And your dad loves you. We all do. This doesn’t change any of that. Do you understand? Now let’s worry about that later and focus on getting this patched up, okay?” She gave his hand one more squeeze and attempted a reassuring smile before focusing back on his abdomen, handful of powdered silver and dittany ready to go. “I’m sorry if this hurts. You should be numb… but… I’m so sorry.” She inhaled and went back to work just as a loud crack from the new hero of this story punched Julian Trice square in the face.


And everyone laughed.


She looked back over her shoulder at Julian, who was currently screaming his head off, and the girl, doing a quick scan over her injuries since apparently, she was alive. Maggie needed a smarter boyfriend. “Get a grip. Don’t be such a drama queen. Episkey. There. Can’t believe I just wasted my time fixing your nose when people are dy-needing help.” Not dying. Best not to say dying in front of wounded children. “Make her drink that potion on the far right… that one,” she ordered, nodding her head toward another blood-replenishing potion. “He’s going to be okay… and so are you. You’re safe. Just… let him give you the potion, it’ll make you feel better and I’ll be right there,” she said to Jack 2.0.


Odette looked back toward Jack 1.0, continuing to apply the mixture as it began to do its work. She could feel his innards pulsating beneath her as she worked. Where was her good ol’ suit of armor? “Almost finished… there.” As good as, well, not as new. But as good as it would be for right now. “I have to help her. I’m right here, but I have to help her now, okay?” She ran her fingers through his hair once more, offering a squeeze of the hand and a kiss to the forehead before turning around to her hero. Seriously. Anyone who punched Julian Trice in the face was basically royalty in Odette’s eyes.  


“I’m Odette. I’m a healer and I’m here to help. That was a nasty upper cut you’ve got on you,” she said with a nod, assessing and prioritizing, focusing her attention instantly on the bites to her shoulders. “I’m going to numb the area, okay?” she asked as she worked, cutting away shredded clothing as she went, grabbing yet more of the powdered silver and dittany mixture. She hoped she never needed it again. She paused for a moment, looking back toward Julian, the worry, anxiety, and grief apparent on her face. “Julian, I need for you to stay with Jack. I need for you to make sure he makes it to the wing and that he’s safe. I need you. Do you understand?” It was the kind of pleading that came from a mother who had lost so much in one evening. Who, in spite of all of Julian’s fatal flaws, needed a known entity to be with the child that she had almost lost. Anger toward the Auror would come later. For now she was simply desperate.


She looked back to her current patient. “This may still hurt. The bites are… they’re deep. Here’s my hand if you need one to hold.” Odette grimaced as she began the application process.


Jack: Your wounds are full of powdered silver and dittany, which probably hurts because that just sounds terrible. You're numbed a bit, but heh, might still feel a twinge. Odette can do nothing to heal your heart though. So she offers hand holding and kisses. :(


Our Hero (aka Jack 2.0): So glad you're alive! You've been given blood-replenishing potion, been numbed at the shoulder area, and are also being treated with powdered silver and dittany. While Odette encourages you to allow Julian to help, I am also 100% okay if you kick and/or punch him. He deserves it.


THE LITERAL WORST: I fixed your nose. You're welcome. Don't ever say I didn't do something nice for you. Might eventually fix all your scratches if you stop being a wimp.

Edited by Odette Sinclair

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Sir Forrest of Orange III

If there had been a commotion in the castle Sir Forrest was none the wiser.  He was old and grumpy and as such had been catching up on a well deserved nap until the moment when a rattling and a very horrible retching sound startled him awake and his consciousness stared alarmed through the slats in his own helmet towards the suit of armor that stood, currently helmet-less - directly across from him.   


It wasn't helmet-less for long.   


Just long enough to receive a gift in the form of the stomach contents of a woman who looked like she'd seen happier days.   


"Disgusting." He grunted, and went back to sleep.   

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Julian Trice

If it had been anyone else, he would have left. Just hopped over the body of one punch woman   and quit the great hall, the castle and even the grounds because the lines he specifically put in place to give even the most obnoxious mark room to grow as a person were no longer visible. And Julian got it, he really did. Got Odie’s snappish tone, Frost’s panic laden punch and even the wariness he couldn’t help sense in the students who either wondered into Odette’s space or kept it moving once getting a good look at him. Getting It wasn’t the same as feeling every single look and word like stabs to the kidney though, but then she’d gone and flipped his world upside down by pulling out the one card he’d damn himself for denying her.


She needed him, and any other time he would have crowed like the obnoxious overgrown fratboy that he was over it until the point she banned him from the property for as long as it took him to come bearing gifts on his knees in the form of Coldestone gift certificates and offers to babysit Adam. The former a guarantee while the latter remained perpetually up in the air with constant ‘we’ll see’s’ because he wasn’t stupid or a masochist.


Despite his mounting frustration, the pain in his side, the terror of it all that still gripped him and everything that came with it, If he left now, he’d be everything she was making him feel about himself.


Not to mention the plethora of beat downs he’d catch off Atty for abandoning his harpy of a wife in her time of need. In Jacks time of need to be fair. Jack needed every ounce of magic and sheer tenacity in his presence that he could get, even if some of that came from a guy the kid didn’t seem to want to be any closer to than he already was.


Julian caught the flinch when he’d stumbled forward from Odette’s rather abrupt fix.  The sudden rush of fear for Jacks prognosis turning into realization that Jack didn’t want him there kind of made him want to throw up.


Had he seen? Had they both sat and watched as he’d held the spell like it was as easy as breathing? Because it had been…but right now, not so much. Especially if people were trying to move away from him for it. Still, he had a job to do and he would do it. Mostly because getting epic stink eye off a 13 year old boy was preferable to being roundhouse kicked for trying to get some color back into Jack Frost’s cheeks.


Odette could deal with that particular hell-beast in training. For Real.


 Julian turned his attention back towards Jack and found that despite the kids flinch away from him, Julian had nothing to say to the kid. That would be listened to anyway. So he sort of loitered, attempting to look busy in a place that was completely out of his element. He came in for the rescue and got the hell out of their before field healers swarmed the place. Not stay and attempt to offer healing spells he wasn’t sure would help anyway and…he’d been right. Even going to pull his wand sent Jack flinching so hard Ju was sure the kid would fall off the table and bring the wrath of his mother down on everyone’s heads. 


Thankfully nothing of the sort occurred, but Julian backed up all the same, hands up in surrender.


“So that’s a no on the numbing?”



@MOON MOON Jack I'm sorry fam. 😭😭 you're making me feel bad. Just let me hoover and, you know, don't mention it. 

@ Jack " I am actually Donnie Yen in a Hufflepuff's body' Frost: Hard Pass

@Odie Destroyer of WORLDS: Thanks for the assist. Not letting you at my delicate areas tho. I am not that sort of wizard. on the clock

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jaxon Sinclair

He'd pushed himself up, managed a sitting position while the dittany and silver burned like a cauterizing tool.  It was a better pain than the ones he'd been suffering since the attack, but it did little to contain the urge to vomit that was building in his throat.  Someone had moved the body.  Where to, he didn't know, but it was gone, and all he could think about were those dead eyes staring lifelessly out into the hall.  Somewhere, someone had cared for him.  He'd mattered to somebody once, he had to, because everyone always mattered to someone.  Even if it had been years since anyone cared...the point was that someone had, the way that Jack's own mother cared for him, and while Odette was likely reeling with the reality of a condition he only barely understood himself, she wasn't burying him.  She could be grateful for that.  Whoever that man's mother was, if she was even still alive—she wouldn't get that tonight.


If he closed his eyes and shut out the sound of the Great Hall in that moment—the sound of healers rummaging in bags, the crackle of magic, the unfolding of conjured cots—he could not only see that body, but he could hear the screams and, somewhere in his periphery, Julian Trice was the cause of them.  Uncle Julian, who had taught him that bikinis, bacon, and beer butterbeer made the world go 'round, how to curl his fist without breaking his thumb so that when the muggle kids in the village called them weird he could show them what their petty insults purchased, and that he could probably stand being a little bit nicer to his parents—they were doing their best....


Julian had been the very last person that Jack thought he'd ever see hurt someone.  His father?  Absolutely, yes.  Atwell Sinclair was not a man known for his patience, tolerance, or his ability to forgive and he knew that anyone who crossed his father came out worse for wear.  In this situation, he would have expected this from Atwell.  Perhaps it was because Julian wasn't his father that he'd always seen the good in him and been able to ignore the bad.


He saw the bad now.


When Julian came close, he flinched, cringing backward and away from the wand that he'd seen commit such an atrocity (because he couldn't call it magic—magic had always been good to Jack and this wasn't good...this was ugly and wicked and heinous.)  "No," he ground out between his teeth.  "Don't touch me, Julian, and you can shove your wand up your a—."  He stopped short, suddenly hyperaware that his mother was standing beside them tending to a girl who had tried valiantly to save his life.


His attention shifted focus, hate interrupted by the quiet, hoarse voice from the table beside him.  Her eyes were on the bite on his leg and his moved over the one on her shoulder, a ravaged wound in the shape of a muzzle.  He didn't speak, only nodded in regard to her question.  "I think if you splint the leg, Mum, I can find Maggie and get to the wing without him.  Wouldn't want to step out of line and earn myself an Unforgivable."  He shot Julian a LookTM.  I'll take Frost, too."

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jacqueline Frost

“Hi,” the blonde greeted softly, feeling herself regain some composure from her previous meltdown over Julian Trice and his invasion of personal space. “I’m Jack… like your son…” That wasn’t weird AT ALL. “Frost… almost like the snowman.” It was a miracle she managed to make jokes when she felt weak and on the brink of passing out again.


She stared at the potion, a weak grip around it that if she got lost in her thoughts for a minute longer there was a chance she would have dropped it and the scarlet liquid on the great hall floor wouldn’t just be her own blood. She hesitated to bring the bottle up to her lips and took another look at Sinclair, observing the damage and wondering if she was better off giving him the bottle rather than being the one to take it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and chugged the potion, aware that if she took sips of it her stomach wasn’t going to be able to handle the iron taste, and would end up having to take another one to make up for it. 


“Son of a banshee,” Jack yelped, and it was at that point that she wished she was unconscious again. At least she wouldn’t feel like Luke Skywalker during his confrontation with Vader (no not when he finds out Vader is actually his father, the part where he loses his hand to a flippin’ light saber though both were met with whiny dramatic reactions so was there really a difference????). The series of expletives had yet to cease and her grip against the potion bottle tightened, the fear that she would drop it was replaced with a fear that she would accidentally break it in her hand.

In the midst of crying and swearing, Jack caught part of the conversation between Sinclair and his… uncle (so this was the uncle he’d mentioned) and she needed to interfere. “Hold the flacking phone… FLACK! OKAY I’m fine NO I’M NOT MERLIN FLACKING FACK! Okay I’m fine.” And even if she wasn’t she forced herself to act as if she was.

“First off. I was going to apologize for punching you but you did what?! You used an Unforgivable?! O
n a werewolf!?!? A week ago I would have agreed you did the right thing. Hell an hour ago I would have said lock them up and exterminate them all but now?!”

Things differed now and while punching Julian the first time had been an accident now he posed a threat. Jacqueline Frost did not respond well to threats. 


“Now I think it would have been unnecessary if SOMEONE—” *cough* Mr Werewolf Capture Unit *cough* “—had done their flacking job in the first place. Why were there werewolves in the castle? Aren’t they supposed to be monitored or tracked or whatever it is you people do to keep track of them? So who’s incompetence is to blame for the fact that we,” Jack paused, nauseous again not from the potion or the excruciating pain of the mixture on her wounds, but from the realization that this was an us  vs them situation and she was no longer a part of us


“That we” she hissed, keeping her voice low just for that word as to not draw more attention than what they probably already had. “Are now a part of them. Who is to blame? The aurors, the werewolf capture unit, you? All three? Am I stepping out of line as well? Are you going to Cruccio me too? I’d like to see you try. Maybe Imperio me into apologizing? Maybe the third Unforgivable instead. Do it. All of them. Do it. Is this the new trend? Aurors acting like the very thing they sworn to protect us from?” JACK SAW THROUGH THE LIES OF THE JEDI!

Maybe the Sith were right and anger did make you stronger, she still had it in herself to fight.

“Thanks I guess for what you’re doing,”Jack managed after calming down (yet again) from her outburst towards Julian, and turned to Odette, whispering “Jack’s lucky to have someone there for him.”


She gulped, returning her attention to the Slytherin, and mouthing an apology. At this point she didn’t know what she was apologizing for — was it for not getting to him on time or was it a sorry you’re related to that — not like it mattered either. 


“Jack, if you want to go... I’ll go with you.” 





Edited by Jacqueline Frost

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Odette Sinclair

Odette missed the flinching and shrinking away from Julian that was taking place behind her. She had done for Jack what she could in the moment. He was safe. And while Julian Trice would have many questions to answer over the coming days, she had no knowledge of the intimate details of the evening. Odette had no cause to believe that Jack’s loving adoration for his uncle would have turned to shrinking fear. And even if she had of known, she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Jack alone while she continued on with the other children who needed her. What alternative did she have?


She gave young Jack 2.0 a soft smile as the exchange between Julian and Jack 1.0 occurred behind her. “It’s safe. I promise,” she said, encouraging her with a nod to drink the potion she’d provided. Odette had tried the potion once before and knew it was less than desirable. But it was necessary. “I’m sorry, I’m doing it as quickly as possible and then it’ll be over,” Odette said, grimacing as the young girl writhed and cursed. Which, she had quite an impressive mouth for a young thing. She even threw in a few new ones for Odette, which was saying something.


This right here though, the crying and the screaming was why Odette had never enjoyed pediatrics, that and the sticky hands and inability to sit still. But, really, it was heartbreaking. Even knowing that she was healing jack, that the temporary pain was the best course of action and that it would be to her eventual benefit, Odette felt a coursing of guilt tear through her. “I’m so sorry,” she said again, moving from the bites on her shoulders to those on her hand as well as the claw marks on her forearms. So much blood.


So much screaming.


Odette attempted to grab the girl without touching the bite areas, looking back toward Jack and Julian with slight panic. “Jack, I’m going to need for you to calm down! You need to lay down… you can’t be moving this much. You’ve got to lay down!” But Jack 2.0 wasn’t listening. And, admittedly, Odette wasn’t either. At least not at first. She was far more concerned with getting her to relax than focusing on the potentially delusional screams of a child who had just been put through hell. The screaming and the anger were understandable. However, the damage it was doing to her wounds, the fresh bleeding that was occurring… that was unforgivable.


Which, funny enough, that was the word that Odette first stuck to: Unforgivable. She continued to gently coax Jack back into a position of lying down, but she was no longer looking at her patient but back toward Julian Trice. The bane of her existence… but also a dear friend and a member of the family. Her blue eyes scrutinized him, studying his features, the level of guilt or innocence he gave away, all the while considering the mop of blonde hair covering vacant blue eyes she had seen upon entering the Great Hall. Certainly, the unforgivable in question couldn’t be that unforgivable.


“Trice, I need for you to go. I don’t know what you did out there… but you’ve got to go. And you need to lay down right now!” she exclaimed, whipping out her stern!mum voice, turning away from the auror and back to the child who was getting far too excited for her own good. “You’re entitled to be angry. You’re entitled to yell. However, you are not entitled to impede upon my healing you because you are not my last patient.” If only. “I need for you to calm down so I can help you, okay?” she said, softening. “I’m trying to be here for you, too, but I can’t make this better if you aren’t relaxed.”


Which. Ironically enough. Odette was about to go from preaching relaxation to, ‘OH HELLZ NO’ real fast. Because, apparently, Jack thought he could just hobble off to the hospital wing like it was a normal day in the life. Which was funny. Only not. “Have you lost your mind?” Have. You. Lost. Your. MIND? “You’re not going anywhere on your own. You’ve just been…” What? Mauled by a werewolf? “You’re hurt. You’re healing. You’re…” not allowed out of adult supervision until you’re at least 42? “You’re not going anywhere.” She’d almost lost him. There was no way in hell she was taking that chance again. “Neither of you are going anywhere.” Children. So dumb.


“Jack, let me fix those fingers for you,” she said, first wrapping up the healing wounds with bandages and then fixing the broken bones with a flick of her wand. She then looked back toward her Jack, toward the broken boy she had come so close to losing. Who, she realized, while she hadn’t lost all of him, she’d certainly lost a piece of him. The same could be said for Maggie. Gone was the innocence and naivety that life would forever be rainbows and butterflies. That had been shattered at far too young an age, just like their parents. And, as a parent, it was heart wrenching to consider that your every attempt to shelter and protect had been destroyed in one fell swoop.


“If you won’t let Julian take you then you’re coming with me.” Insert Odette levitating Jack’s cot.




Jack 2.0: I don't even know. Fixed your fingers. Gave you some more silver/dittany fun-stuff. Contemplated whipping out some blood pressure medication because GURL U GOTTA WATCH THAT STRESS LEVEL. 


Julian: I did nothing for you. Except for tell you to leave. Which considering Jack 2.0's current level of anger might have actually saved you from a swift kick to the crotch. So. You're welcome.


@Sir Forrest of Orange III: SORRY ABOUT YOUR FRIEND. Will maybe clean him up later. But also probably not. Just being real.



Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Julian Trice

Julian couldn’t help but flinch. Well, that answered that. And he would have taken it, the dismissive look and the deliberate way Jack talked around him, and much more if not for lady teen wolf and her screechy little words like twisting knives to the gut.


What made it awful was that this wasn’t the first time he’d been on the receiving end of a tongue lashing for either not getting somewhere on time, or saving the day at the last possible second without much attention being paid to insurance claims for destroyed property or simply asking the householders permission before kicking in doors to get the bad guys.


And without fail. EVERY. SINGLE. EFFING. TIME. They’d be Irritated at the damage he and his team had done in pursuit of saving their arse, but somehow lacking in the appreciation for it department. He’d talked about the thanklessness of the job with plenty of his coworkers, and the feelings it inspired, and had mostly gotten a handle on the annoyance it usually brought him to have someone scream in his face that he wasn’t doing his job while he stood there having recently finished it either dripping in his own blood, someone else’s, or under the effects of some horribly inconveniently itchy burning hex he’d have to get discrete brown parcels in the mail to cure before Astrid even thought about shenanigans. HIS INSURANCE DIDN’T COVER THE CREAMS, OKAY?! But this? And after the night he’d had? There was just no way he was going to stand and listen to some kid tell him he hadn’t done enough when he was still reeling from it his goddamn self. When he was still bleeding for putting himself between her peers and certain death.


And there was just something about having your life choices questioned by a barely minted teenager that hit all the right rage buttons too. Especially when they went the way of throwing everything at the wall hoping something would stick. Because nine times out of ten, something usually did, and this time was no exception and happened to be the truth. Would he crucio her if she got out of line? If she started trying to make people burritos out of her classmates? Absolutely. Hell, he kind of wanted to crucio her now so she could sit and rethink her bravado in screaming questions at him she couldn’t hope to understand the answers to.


Miraculously, Ju didn’t respond, choosing instead to grind his teeth to dust and keep his post because Odette had asked him to stay despite both Jack's clear dislike of him-and now she backtracking. Right. He did not need to be told twice, and with one last look at both children, Julian ducked beneath Jacks’s suddenly floating cot to navigate his way out of the maze of students and healers.



@ Moon Moon & Snowball: thanks for taking an axe to my heart. 😭😭😭😭

@ DESTROYER OF WORLDS: Have a blessed day. 🤬😒




Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jaxon Sinclair

That was a tantrum for the ages.


Jack watched, wide eyed, while Jacqueline lit into Julian like nothing he'd ever done in the entirety of his life had ever been right.  It was the sort of attitude he'd learned the hard way to never cop with an adult because the likelihood of it resulting in you being grounded for the rest of your damn life was pretty high.  Shock swept through his system, combining with horror and the drying tears on his face, to make this entire situation even more dreadfully uncomfortable than it already was.  

Yes, of course, there were things he wanted to say to Julian, but he hadn't processed enough of what he felt to give words to the emotions yet.  Later, he would realize that yes, of course, they were dangerous.  Precautions had to be taken to prevent incidents like this exact one and werewolves, no matter how hard they tried or what they did or how they ended up the way that they were...would always be a risk.  He was a risk now, too, and he would eventually come to terms with the fact that sometimes...sometimes there would always be limits for him that weren't there for other people.  


But murder?  Torture?


No.  That he couldn't stomach.  There was always a choice.  There was always an alternative.  Even murderers got the benefit of the doubt when they did something—an investigation was launched, inquiries were made, statements were taken...and those were people who were in a sane state of mind (usually) when compared to the werewolves in the Great Hall.  Nobody had asked them how they'd gotten through the wards, how they'd ended up without wolfsbane on a full moon, how they'd been bitten in the first place—


They'd just killed one of them, tortured two or three others (he couldn't even count anymore—the horrified yelping and screaming of the werewolves when the cruciatus curse hit them was still ringing in his ears and he could still see the one that had bit him, crumpled and howling in pain before he limped off through the window.


"I'm not going anywhere with him!" he insisted eventually, wiping tears off of his face and setting his jaw.  He made an indignant noise, surprised and a little bit nauseated when the cot lifted from the ground.  "Mum!  Mum!  MOTHER!  THE OTHER JACK!  YOU HAVE TO BRING THE OTHER JACK!"  Good lord, how had he survived into his teenage years intact up to this point?



@ Mom: How could you forget her?!

@ Snowball: You're coming with me.

@ Uncle Julian: You've been disowned.  Next!


I suppose this means Jack is out!



Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Jacqueline Frost

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 


Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this  


Important Information

We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue.