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Drusilla Greengrass

You may not be qualified for this.

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Drusilla Greengrass

Pouting, Drusilla kicked open the door of the hospital wing. It probably wouldn't have disturbed anyone even if she had any strength in her legs - it was more of a, 'I'm too emo to use my hands' sort of a pushing open of the door. And who wouldn't be emo in her condition?


This was it. The end of days. She had so much to do in life and yet it would all come to naught. You see, Drusilla had just been informed that she was an infectious plague upon humanity. An oozing secretion of the worst the world had to offer and other assorted insults her tiny brain couldn't be bothered to remember. The only thing she knew was that her end was nigh.


With a dramatic sniff, she flung herself on a hospital bed and then rearranged herself to be more artfully draped across the spread. Then she decided that wasn't very comfortable, and a person should at least get to be comfortable when they were dying, so she sat up and adjusted her pillow before looking around. Just then she made an important discovery - it was a slow day in the hospital wing, there was no one else but her.


Maybe her infectious plague had already killed everyone before she got there. Damn and BLAST. How could anyone help HER if they were already dead? D: Clearly Hedwig's horrid prophecy was coming true. There was only one upside to this that Drusilla could see: Pillows.


Hopping off of her self-assigned bed, Drusilla scampered and skittered around the wing, quickly picking up all the pillows she could find and then arranging them into a nest of comfort on her own bed. When she was good and settled then she began moaning in her obnoxious nasally voice, which would annoy anyone. Secret: sometimes her voice was annoying even to Drusilla.


"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh. Unggghghhhh. Ooooooooooooh. Maaaaaaan. Koo-koo-ka-choo." "Hmm, no. aaaaaaarg. wooaaaaaah." Drusilla quickly forgot what she was moaning about and became distracted amusing herself with different sounds that she could make. Which obviously led to spit-bubble blowing, "<motorboat noises>".


"I'm dying! <motorboat noises again>." "Someone save me! Glug Glug Glug. Ah-OOOOOOOOOOOOh-GA."


Out Of Character Form:

Patient Name: Drusilla Greengrass

Current Year: First

Gender: Female

Blood Type (if applicable): um, Witch? /Pure? This is a racist form. I approve.

Species (Human, Veela (part or full), etc: Human; apparently debateable though.

Allergies: Hufflepuffs

Damage Location (Entire body or certain parts, please specify) (BE SPECIFIC): That's a little hard to explain, Someone else told me about my blight, and they gestured to all of me. D:

Damage type (Spells cast, Potion/poison, Fall, etc.) (BE SPECIFIC): Plague

Summarize (what exactly were you doing when you got your injury?): Minding my own business. QQ

Other (Is there anything we should watch out for?): This is not a real injury, Drusilla is confused.

It is all Hedwig Lane-Foley's fault.

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Petronilla Quirke

Petronilla Quirke liked order. She liked it so much that she frequently took points from students for replacing books on the wrong shelves in the Library, for raising their voices in the corridors, and for wearing their shirts untucked. Among a myriad of other offenses, of course. She seemed to be the only school prefect who cared a whit about these things, so she had taken it upon herself to keep the halls of Hogwarts tidy, peaceful, and unobstructed by hooligans.


Now, in her new job as a Hospital Wing assistant, Petra had decided she would maintain the same standard of excellency. So she was in the middle of methodically organizing the potions that she had access to, and greedily eying the restricted ones (to SORT them), when she heard a strange sort of moaning, groaning, and... gurgling coming from the main room.


Petra's first thought was not someone is choking to death. Rather, she thought: SOMEONE IS DISTURBING MY PEACE WITH HORRID SOUNDS.


She hurried into room, eyes bugging out when she saw that the girl had appropriated all the pillows. The pillows that she had straightened, fluffed, and smoothed perfectly not an hour ago. She couldn't really dwell on this development for long, though, because the Slytherin seemed quite convinced that she was dying.


And it would totally be bad for Petra's résumé to have a patient die on her watch. But they could die on anybody else's watch, that was fine.


“What happened?!” Petra asked urgently, hurrying over to the deranged girl's bedside. "I'm Petronilla. Don't worry, you're not going to die." Not that she had any clue. The girl could very well be dying, for all Petra knew of these bizarre symptoms. But she knew from observing the adult staff that she was meant to be calm and reassuring in a situation like this.

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Drusilla Greengrass

Hey! Wonderful!! Drusilla's face instantly brightened before she remembered that she was dying. Someone had followed her noises and come to pay attention to her! What a joyous occasion, if not for the fact that she WAS DYING. "Am too!" She whined pathetically to the Ravenclaw prefect as her face crumpled again.


"I have a plague, and a blight, and oooze." She ticked off her fingers obediently and sniffled pathetically before reaching out to grab the conveniently at hand robes of Petronilla and wiping her face all over them. "There's no hope for me. That stupid Gryffindor said so." She all but wailed.


"I have so much life left to live." Her now water-filled eyes glanced up from the Ravenclaw's robes to latch on to her eyes. Such pretty blue eyes, they were almost grey! How cool was that? Drusilla had always wanted something other than her own poo-brown ones. "Make it go awaaaaaay." I dont want to be a pie "You have to save me."


Drusilla pulled a pillow up from her bed that was littered with the fluffy things and hugged it tightly. She would have hugged the girl, because she was quite seriously concerned for her own welfare, but in her previous experience- people did want Drusilla to hug them. She probably really did have some kind of people-repellant disease. Her mother certainly thought so.

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It was a new day and with a new day came new opportunities. The Boggart had worked hard to find his way up to the Hospital Wing; it had been years since he'd last visited and he'd lost his way during his travels. Slinking through the corridors wasn't any fun because of how busy they were. There was very little vulnerable prey around... but in the wing... well, that was a different story. There were dark spots under beds to hide under with sick ( and hopefully dying) students laying atop them. Vulnerable and clearly just anticipating the Boggie Monster leaping out at them.


Boggie had found his spot under one empty bed during the night. The wing seamed afully dead, so when a loud noise echoed the room and a girl took his bed, he couldn't help but grin a scary toothy grin in the dark. However he didn't have time to connect or pounce just yet because of the other human that joined in.


So Boggie lurked, waiting for the right moment to work his magic.


OOC: Miss. Greengrass, You've been chosen to be attacked by a Boggart! You can simply accept or decline by sending me a PM with your worst nightmare or by posting here! Miss Quirke, you can choose to help the poor ickle or flee. ;) Happy horrors. <33

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Petronilla Quirke

“You have the plague?!” Petra asked disbelievingly. She leaned away from the girl, just in case. She was just too young, smart, and pretty to die of the plague! And as far as Petra knew, they didn't have anything in their cupboards to treat it. She thought about running for one of the adult healers, so that they could expose themselves to disease in her stead.


This plan seemed like an even better idea when the girl reached out and wiped plague boogers all over Petra's pristine robes.


Petra gave a little shriek and jumped farther back, out of the girl's reach entirely. She whipped out her wand to cast a cleaning spell over her robes, only daring to breathe again once they were spotless. She couldn't believe she had just come so close to catching the plague. She could have died. She could still die, if the symptoms were slow to manifest themselves. THAT WAS IT. SHE WASN'T DEALING WITH THIS DISGUSTING, DISEASED CHILD.


She was about to sprint for Aurora when something the girl said next caught her attention—that a Gryffindor had been the one to diagnose her, apparently. Petra relaxed slightly and took a tentative step forward. “Gryffindors are all imbeciles,” she explained kindly. “You really shouldn't believe anything they say.”


Ah, enforcing house stereotypes upon young, impressionable minds.


“You're going to be fine, I promise,” Petra said. She gave the Slytherin a slightly phony smile, because she wasn't positive yet that she was telling the truth. (But she was inclined to believe it, because now both their lives depended on Drusilla's illness being imagined). “What's your name?”


She was still a bit twitchy about getting germs from the girl, so she put on a pair of gloves before drawing out a magical thermometer to check the girl's temperature. She sort of wanted to put on a surgical mask, too, but she didn't want to add to the patient's paranoia if it really was a Gryffindor-invented illness, as she suspected.

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The little girl was apparently going to be fine. Funny. Boggie rolled his bright neon eyes from under the bed and crawled closer to the edge of the bed, trying to peak at his surroundings above. He had hoped that the older human would have run off to get some sort of potion... instead she stayed put. It was a terrible inconvenience to the Boggart, simply because his young prey wasn't so deliciously vulnerable anymore.


Nevertheless he was starving, he could feel his mood dropping as he went through the first stages of withdrawal. Fear was his drug, his food and his energy. He couldn't wait around any longer because his life was clearly in danger and so edging back into the shadows boogie climbed up the back of the headboard and hid covered by the pillows.


His mind focused on the younger girls and it was as if invisible sort of tentacles sprouted from his brain to hers and within milliseconds he was in her mind. Searching through her thoughts, which itself proved to be rewarding with her worrying already (she seemed to be an overdramatic hypochondriac.) So he fed off the worry she already felt until he found her dark terror, and Boggie clung to it. Her worst fear was deep water


His body quickly evaporated into a smoke-like substance and scatted half itself into a painting near the girl and half just a few feet ahead of her bed. The once calm scenery of the Black Lake turned dark and windy, the water creating high waves that crashed against the back of the painting. Drops of water slowly leaking through (or at least the Bggart made an impressive illusion of water) the painting. The dripping water met with the rest of him as he quickly transformed into a deep whirlpool, slowly growing in depth, sinking below into the floor as he crept closer.


He wanted to see how close he could get to the bed before the girl fled or he was banished.

Edited by Boogie

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