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Jack Dare

A Conspiracy of RavenBoys

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Jack Dare

The summer holiday was nearly spent, and soon Jack would be packing his trunk and heading back to Hogwarts. Before that could happen however Jack would celebrate his twelfth birthday, a milestone that would be reached on August 27, just days before the Sorting Feast. Jack had asked for something a bit different this year, a sleepover, something that up until now Jack had only had with cousins (which hardly counted). Jack was aware that sleepovers were considered juvenile for some (Pippa made sure to point that out) so he thought that was all the more reason to have one before he and his peers had become old and jaded. 

 

The event itself was scheduled several days before his birthday on August 23, both because it was the last full weekend before sorting and because it was long enough before the full moon to encourage all of Jack's guests to attend. For Jack had invited all the Ravenclaw boys in his year (Jeramie included). He wasn't positive Jeramie would attend given their distance over the last year, or in fact that any number of his roommates would attend since he wasn't close with all of them. However, Jack was raised with the if-you-don't-have-enough-sweets-for-everyone-don't-offer-them-to-anyone school of thought. He simply couldn't invite one Ravenclaw boy without inviting them all. 

 

Which wasn't to say this was a huge issue as it might have been if they were Slytherins. Ravenclaws, Jack was pleased to observe, were a mostly civilized lot. Even so, there had been that touch of bother just before holiday, and Jack was a nervous enough person to be concerned about arranging Jasper & Jeramie's sleeping arrangements on the opposite sides of the tent. This was assuming that both of them arrived. Jeramie had been conspicuous in not returning his RSVP, and at the moment the group clustered in front of the the Dare's over-sized 16th century hearth was not yet at full compliment. However, Jack's parent's encouraged Jack to get the party started, and still feeling a bit nervous about playing host Jack addressed his guests.

 

"So, why don't we begin and the others can join us? I could start by showing you about the house and grounds, but most everything we might need is out in the garden. We've got snacks and games and later on Pompey and Pongo will be building us a bonfire. They've already set up the pavilion where we'll all be sleeping. Does anyone have any preferences for what we do first?"



OOC: as you post tell me your tags and I'll add them

Edited by Jack Dare

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Manny Kwon

Having lived with these boys for a year now, hanging out in the same sleeping space with them wasn't a great change by any means. Manny still felt a little out of place, however, if only because of their surroundings. He hadn't fully bonded with his year mates, not in the way some of them already had, so it was just a tad awkward to be standing here in Jack Dare's fancy house preparing to party with everyone. Still, a party was a party, and it wasn't like his social agenda was booming or anything anyhow. 

 

He wasn't the shy type, so any nervous feelings came down to normal things like figuring out where the bathroom was - and to that end, using someone else's bathroom without making a mess. Adding to that the heightened energy from his excitement and the boy was bouncing just a little. Hopefully no one noticed. 

 

Manny didn't have a preference for their activities, but he did see a benefit in getting an idea of where to go once he realized he'd had too much juice, so he spoke first. 

 

"A brief tour would be good," he suggested. "And I can't wait to see the pavilion." The Ravenclaw couldn't imagine what they'd set up out there, given the house was ginormous as it was.

 

My tag is mannequin. I just made that up just now.

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Box Tree

Box had been very surprised to get an invite to Jack Dare’s birthday sleepover; he’d never thought Jack liked him that much (nor did he think he liked Jack all that much either, to be quite honest). But of course, he wasn’t going to say ‘no’ and miss out on it, so there he was, a few days later, unfashionably early and standing awkwardly next to Manny Kwon. He hadn’t known what to bring, so he’d brought everything he could think of, from his guitar - which was dangling off his shoulder, constantly pushing on his backpack - to a stuffy sleeping bag he was cradling in his arms.

 

Jack’s house was large and much fancier than his own, and he had house elves. It made Box feel a little self-conscious and out of place.

 

He glanced nervously around him at Jack’s question, and shrugged. “Yeah, a tour would be nice. And maybe a place to drop… stuff?” He blushed a little at that. He’d obviously over-prepared.

 

 

(My tag is ‘boxingday.’)

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Richard Stafford

During the first quidditch game in first year, Jack had made a comment that Ringo believed to mean that he and Jack came from the same lot in life: poor, working class, constantly worried about doing this chore or that pile of laundry. But, as it stood, Ringo had been entirely alone in that regard. This he now knew as he stood in Jack’s huge 16th century home (that Ringo did not know was 16th century because things of that nature—the money having sort—were lost on him) with his dirty trainers and tattered blue jeans (that had now taken on a dark blue hue).

 

Ringo felt awkward.

 

He’d only been able to be as open around Jack because he believed Jack to come from the same background as himself, but now that he knew that that wasn’t the case he didn’t know how to be around Jack. Granted, he’d thought that Jack’s family did a little bit better than his own, but not by this much. His eyes searched the high ceilings, and the low, perfectly polished floors, and then finally settled on Jack.

 

“This place is nice, mate,” Ringo complimented, hoping that his jealousy and out-of-his-elementness didn’t come across in his words (he was sure Jack would be able to notice it regardless, though). When the other Ravenclaw boy in attendance mentioned a pavilion—Ringo didn’t even know to spell that, never mind knew what it was—Ringo could only hug his arms closer to the body and get quieter. He only wordlessly nodded along with Manny and Box’s suggestion that they take a house tour first.

 

He hoped the other boys would take the spotlight tonight.

Edited by Richard Stafford

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Prometheus Saintcross

"It's just, you see, I don't care whether they give me permission, I'm going," Prom explained to his beloved house elf with half a scone hanging from his mouth as he headed toward the massive fireplace of the Saintcross library, which was about as tall as he was. He had packed a shabby bag with a boy's needs for a sleepover, which was to say a single pair of clean underwear and a fresh shirt. And another scone. And three books. (In case the rest of the boys went to bed early.)

 

He might as well have tied a handkerchief to a stick and set out toward the highway, for the way Whimsy was acting as she bobbed nervously around his feet. "I left a note, I told you. When they get back from France they won't even notice I've gone. And if they do--unlikely--it's not going to be your fault, I've got friends they should be pleased by this development."

 

The lean boy turned in the fireplace as Whimsy miserably stuffed a tin filled with more scones into his hands. He paused, shoving the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and swallowing hard before kneeling down to look the family servant--his friend--in the eyes. "If they ARE mad at you...if you're scared... come to Berwick Hall. That's an order," he said somewhat stiffly, uncomfortable giving a command even if it was to protect her. "You know you'd be welcome there," he added, softly.

 

Finally, he stood up. "Anyway, it's only one night. You'll hardly know I'm gone!" He reached over his head to collect a handful of Floo powder from a jeweled box on the marble mantel and tossed it into the flames at his back. "Berwick Hall!"

He left behind his beloved family friend for the thing he was most excited for-- a night surrounded by the Ravenclaw boys of Hogwarts, before school began. It would be like getting into a themepark early. He was so starved for the company of his peers that he was practically giddy at the thought of being surrounded by all of their awkwardness. So when he catapulted face first out of the fireplace and knocked all the other boys down like bowling pins, he couldn't have been happier about it.

 

"I'm here!" he announced into someone's leg, lifting his arm out of the dandelion puff of curls that obviously belonged to Jack. "Happy birthday, old man!"

 

Prom's tag is prom-iscuous.

 

 

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Jasper H.H. Alexanders

Jasper was under no illusions about this invitation. He’d read it over multiple times, asked his siblings to dissect any social cues within that he might be missing, and could come to only one conclusion—it was a proverbial participation award.

 

He knew that he hadn’t made any friends last year, not even among his roommates, though whether this was by accident or design he wasn’t sure. The incident near the end of first year hadn’t helped, and thinking about it even now filled Jasper with a complex prickle of feeling that he couldn’t dissect.

 

One thing was for certain: Jack Dare wasn’t the kind of boy who invited only 99% of the room.

 

Another thing, certainly: Jasper HH Alexanders didn’t pass up on opportunities to try new things, even if they were clearly offered out of obligation. If he went to this event, he could observe his dormmates in a more natural habitat, free from the pressures  of academia. Being in someone’s home was a whole new world, and would likely open up some fresh avenues of conversation. Maybe he could even right his own missteps and mend some fences.

 

“—and that’s why I should go to Jack Dare’s birthday sleepover even though the invitation was just a goodwill gesture.”

 

He’d prepared a slideshow as well, but his mother had only looked over at him from where she was still wrist-deep in some unidentifiable experimental goop, and said, “Jassy, your father packed you an overnight bag an hour ago.”

 

That's how he'd found himself here, dropped off by his older sister on her way to a much more mature party for thirteen-year-olds. Aura had rollerskates with her, because retro had been in and out and then back in and out and now it was in again, and so they were going to be at a roller rink.

 

Call if you need me, squirt,” she'd said, but Jasper couldn't imagine expecting his sister and her rollerskates to fix the problem if he were desperate enough to ask for help. Regardless, he nodded, hefted up the overnight bag that was nearly half his size, and moments later had been ushered into the home and into the room full of boys.

 

--Most of whom were on the floor in a tangle underneath Prometheus, but Jasper had heard of this 'roughhousing' thing boys did sometimes.

 

Not his activity of choice. He'd rather just not be touched, if he could help it.

 

Jeramie hadn't arrived yet, so Jasper put any grand apologies on hold—no sense in doing it twice when it would probably seem contrived enough the first go-around. Instead, he adjusted his goggles and asked, “What other sort of games do you have?”

 

Did any of them involve the aforementioned bonfire?

 

Thirteen-year-old parties had nothing on this.

 

I guess his tag will have to be... jas-hhands? I might change it, hahah

Edited by Jasper H.H. Alexanders

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Jeramie Slater

When Jack's invitation had arrived in the mail Jeramie had been absolutely shocked. 

 

After everything that had happened last year, what the heck was he doing being invited to Jack Dare's birthday party? Anybody's birthday party...He'd been sure that none of his classmates were ever going to want to be friends with him again. A whole six months of tension had all come to a head with Jasper, but it hadn't been just him that Jeramie had lashed out at. Why would Jack have even wanted him to come? Had he just forgot to cross his name off the list or something? And even Jack had to know that there was no way that Jeramie was going to go, even if he had been invited. 

 

The 12-year-old lay down on his bed, reading the letter over again. He just had to think about it logically. Jack was exactly the type of person that was going to do everything by the rules. If he was having a birthday party, then he wouldn't even NEED his parents to tell him he had to invite everybody or to not leave anybody out. He would just do that all on his own. He couldn't invite everybody in the school of course...but where were most of Jack's friends? Ravenclaw. The same tower Jeramie lived in. Jack wouldn't want everybody to come back to school talking about some party that others weren't invited to. That would definitely be out of order.

 

Half, Jeramie decided. That was the magic number. Less than half of his room-mates was just a small get-together. But any more than half, and it was a party, and Jack would have decided that he had to invite them all. So he had probably wanted Ringo, Prom, and Dante, and that just about covered it. The rest of them had just been the pity invites. The ones that Jack hoped were gonna say no, but he had to invite anyway to be nice. Well, Jeramie didn't want to be anybody's pity invite, and Jack wasn't even his friend, so he had thrown the letter carelessly to the bottom of his trunk, and ignored it and that had been that. 

 

Almost.

 

As the month went on, for some reason Jeramie's thoughts kept drifting back to that letter. It was like it was cursed or something. He'd just lie in his bed and feel its presence. Why did he even still have it? Hadn't it made much more sense to throw it out? On August 22nd, for no real reason, Jeramie went digging around in his trunk and pulled it out once more. He looked down at it pensively, and after a while the small Ravenclaw hopped off his bed and made his way out of his room to find his parents.

 

"Mum...? Dad...?" he said, walking into the sitting room. "I uh...I got this invitation...uh...just now," the boy said, holding up the crumpled thing. "It's er...it's just for some sleepover. Not a big deal. Uh, it's just some kid from school. We're not even friends really. It's Jack, you know...Jack Dare? he said. His letters home had used to mention his classmates, even though that had stopped after October. "I think it's like a birthday thing." he said with a shrug. "He probably invited everybody."

 

"I dunno...it doesn't really matter, it's just I figured...well I've been kind of bored. So...I guess I'll go. If that's okay." he said with a shrug. 

 

It was ok. His parents had been very receptive (to say the least). They had helped him pack his bag and helped make sure he had a present to bring, and his dad seemed eager to do more if he hadn't stopped him ("No Dad, I'm not gonna bring your new broom, I don't think Jack even likes flying,") His dad's final offer to get him some Honeydukes sweets was almost rejected too, but after giving it some thought it did seem the type of peace offering that maybe would be appreciated. People did things like that, right?  

 

On the day of the party, Jer found himself dragging his feet as he got all of his things gathered by the floo, a bit past the asked-for arrival time. It must have been too close to the full moon or something, since he found himself feeling sick. Maybe this really wasn't such a great idea. He sighed.

 

But in he went, and out he popped, into the manor that belonged to Jack. It was fancier than he'd expected, but that was the extent of his observation. He was much more focused on the other boys. His theory had been right. It was all of the Ravenclaws (though half of them were now on the ground). Maybe it was his imagination...but Jeramie was sure that he could feel the mood change. 

 

"Hi," he said, looking at his classmates and giving a small wave. He felt strangely shy and very uncomfortable. He did NOT look at Jasper. Instead he awkwardly held out a platter. "Uh, here. I brought chocoballs. So uh...thanks for inviting me," he said quietly.  

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Dante Agretera

Dante hadn't grown up as a wix of means, he hadn't actually grown up as a wix. Technically, and no one really knew this, he grew up as an almost priest...ess? All of the women back from his mothers lines did that and he learned from them primarily doing services and living in the cool houses next to the temple and all of that. So it wasn't that he didn't know luxury, it just usually wasn't for him. As it was it took a bit to actually find the place (and there had been public transportation involved and a whole bunch of walking. But it was fun :) )

 

When he arrived, a pack slung across his back and flower crowns for everyone covering his arms, he grinned at the others.

 

Yes this was good.

 

Hey, Ευχαριστώ για την αναμονή.” He obviously assumed he was late, but he had arrived.

 

---

Ευχαριστώ για την αναμονή = Thank you for waiting.

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Jasper H.H. Alexanders

Jasper was definitely staring at Jeramie, despite the other boy's pointed efforts not to engage. Whether or not he had any plans to actually speak to him was less clear, even to himself. Things hadn't gone well the last time they'd actually interacted, and he wasn't certain whether it was worth the energy to fix it.

 

Fortunately, Dante arrived on the scene just in time to divert Jasper's attention to a collection of flower crowns instead. Or maybe they were just very large bracelets. He focused on them now, wondering whether the colours meant anything and whether there were any aphids or caterpillars or ticks on them.

 

Lyme disease was a serious health hazard.

 

Instead, he just asked, “Did you make those yourself?” No wonder he'd been late.

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Dante Agretera

Dante immediately put a flower crown on Jasper's head, not waiting to ask if he wanted one, because of course he wanted one. “Yeah totally made them myself. See.” Dante held up his hand to show the various bandages.

 

I made a rose crown for my mom but I did that one last.” Dante wasn't sure if the fact that he maybe bled on some of the crowns would be an issue. “I picked off all of the thorns though.” He walked further into the house handing out flower crowns as he went, even to @Richard Stafford.

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Jasper H.H. Alexanders

Jasper's shoulders hunched up to his ears as the featherweight of the flower crown appeared to make his posture wilt beneath it. His eyes drew up in a futile effort to get a look at it where it sat upon his dark mop of hair, a struggle he only endured for a moment before reaching up to pluck it off, pinched between two fingers.

 

He gave it a cursory sniff and a thorough visual examination. The weaving was passable work, though the flower selections were common and hardly worth the effort. Spots of red spotted the stems--not aphids, nor ants, but blood. Far more valuable than the flowers themselves, after all.

 

He put the crown back on his head and made a note to clip the bloody stems into a sterile bag later. "I see," was all that he could say.

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