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Last Lesson
Author: Coco Nutt
Date: 04-16-08 17:44
Coco steps out of her hoop and walks back to her starting position, ignoring the evil eye that Gertie Crouch is giving all those who successfully apparated just now. With this being the last of the apparition lessons and with most of the students being able to apparate each time, though some still with splinching, the evil eye expression is one the woman has been wearing since the lesson began a short time ago. If the repurcussion wouldn't be God awfully painful, Coco would tell the woman her face is going to freeze that way.
Coco focuses on her hoop and feels the now familiar pull on her body that seems to be part of disapparating. Less than two seconds later she's once again walking back to her starting spot as are pretty much everyone else, much to Crouch's disgust.
A figure moving just beyond where the Carrows, Pansy Parkinson, and Willard Flume are observing the lesson catches Coco's eye. Cuthbert Mockridge is standing where he can lean against a tree and watch the apparition lesson. Coco's found him to be all right, especially when compared to some of the other newer professors, but that could be only because Professor Mockridge quickly learned that Coco is an asset when it comes to dealing with animals. Then again, he isn't as harsh to students during class or outside of it that Coco's seen.
On the other hand, Professor Mockridge being selected to replace Hagrid means he must agree with Snider and Smythe-Jones about the superiority of purebloods. Maybe he even agrees with the way the Cruciatus Curse is used so lightly these days. Coco likes the professor just enough that she hates to think he might be a pureblooded snob who thinks nothing of injuring those he considers beneath him.
Giving herself a mental shake to clear her mind, Coco resumes giving full attention to making it through this last apparition lesson.
Cold
Author: Minerva McGonagall
Date: 04-17-08 17:25
A shiver passed over Minerva's spine. She struggled to pull the too-thin blanket to her neck without revealing her socked feet, ultimately curling herself up into the fetal position. Although it was mid-morning, she didn't really have a sense of the time. She had even less idea what day it was, or how long it had been since she'd first come to Azkaban. Minerva guessed she'd been imprisoned for over a month, but just how accurate she was, she wasn't sure.
One thing was for certain, though. Azkaban wasn't the place it was when she'd first arrived towards the end of March. Although a dreary, miserable place, it lacked the main feature of old: dementors. Despite not wanting to be enclosed in the fortress' walls, Minerva had been glad to know that she would not get to experience the horrors Sirius Black had faced when he'd been a prisoner for twelve long years.
Her luck was not meant to last, it seemed. The dementors arrived some time ago, she couldn't say when, and brought with them the terror and sorrow they thrived upon. Minerva had always been a strong-minded person, but even she wasn't immune to the dementors' ability to suck the happiness from a person. If her wand hadn't been taken from her and destroyed, she might have had a chance against them, but she could do nothing in her helpless state.
She lamented a great many things, most of which was Dumbledore's absence. She feared he'd died and pictured him suffering needlessly before death. Minerva could see him, a frail old man and not the vision of strength he'd always been. She didn't like what her imagination conjured, thanks to the influences of the dementors. Unfortunately, telling herself that it probably wasn't real didn't help. The more the dementors hovered nearby, the more depressed she felt. If Minerva could pull the blanket over her head and close out the evilness around her, she would. Too bad such a simple act lacked the desired effect.
She lay on her cot, eyes squeezed shut, and waited for the coldness to pass. Only when it did, would she feel a trifle better, though there was nothing in Azkaban for which to feel better.
Past Mistakes
Author: Marzipan
Date: 04-18-08 12:20
The mostly cloudless sky allowed the sun's rays to warm the air without obstruction. Marzi, carrying a thin cloak over her arm in case she nonetheless happened to get a little cool, walked lightly over the cobbled path towards Madam Puddifoot's, where she was to meet her mother Georgia of all people. It had been Georgia herself to had made the arrangements for brunch. Puzzled and intrigued, Marzi had agreed to the meeting. She now found herself outside the door to the tea shoppe and hesitated. The last time she'd seen her mother was at Constantius Ravenscroft's funeral in October, over half a year ago. Georgia had blamed Marzipan for Constantius' murder-suicide and had estranged herself from her eldest daughter for that very reason.
Marzi took a deep breath and expelled it. She placed her hand on the door knob and squared her shoulders. "It's now or never," she told herself, as she yanked the door open.
It was noticeably darker inside the tea shop, though not so dim as it would be in The Three Broomsticks of The Hog's Head. Marzi allowed her eyes to adjust to the change in light and then roved her eyes across the room, searching for her mother. Georgia sat alone at a small, round table that was draped with a deep red tablecloth. A thin crystal vase had been placed in the very center of the table and held a single snow-white rose.
Marzi picked up her feet and crossed the room. "Hi," she said, stopping in front of her mother's chair.
Georgia, having spotted Marzi the moment she entered to the tinkling of the doorbell, nodded to the seat across from her. "Please join me." She spoke kindly, which came as a surprise to Marzi.
She sat and folded her hands together in her lap. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again," Marzi began.
Georgia ran a perfectly manicured finger over the rim of her teacup and didn't look at Marzi when she first began speaking. "I've done a lot of thinking over the past half year. Not just about what happened to my husband––" Although she and Constantius hadn't been legally married, since Georgia had technically still been married to Marzi's father, she'd considered herself Constantius' wife. "––but about everything, from before the time you were born." She raised her eyes to Marzi and looked saddened.
"I made a mistake in giving you up so easily. I don't regret what I did to Percival, but I do regret wronging you. If I would have raised you with Constantius as your father, you would have seen him for what he truly was, a good man."
Marzi sat back in her chair. Her hopes had risen high in the beginning of the conversation, only to have fallen in a heartbeat. "I probably would have never known my true father, had you taken me with you when you left us, and I probably would never had known Constantius for the man he truly was." Her voice caught. "He murdered my father," she said, feeling tears beginning to sting her eyes. "Perhaps if I'd never had sought you out, none of this would have ever happened, and for that I am sorry, but ultimately, I am no to blame. The only person at fault is the coward who killed himself after killing my father."
Georgia looked very taken aback. Then her eyes clouded with anger before filling with tears. "How dare you speak of him like that!"
"Your love for him clouds your judgment," Marzi snapped.
"Can I get you some tea, dear?" an elderly waitress asked, seemingly unaware of the tension at the table.
Marzi shook her head and stood up abruptly. "I'm sorry. I was just leaving." She shot a parting glance at her mother. "Perhaps it was for the better that you left me when I was barely born. How might I have turned out under your care?" She bit her lip from saying anymore, knowing that anger guided her words and not sense. Carolina and Marius were anything but trouble and had been raised by the same two people for which Marzi had no fondness nor respect.
She swept away from the table and burst through the front door of the tea shoppe, hoping the sun and fresh air would help clear her head.
Almost Done
Author: Fritz Schnackenpfefferhausen
Date: 04-18-08 13:41
If the Carrows, Professors Parkinson and Crouch weren't up to their usual tactics, Fritz could claim it is a very nice day. The sun is shining, the air is warm, and summer is just around the corner. For once he is glad that the apparition lessons are occuring outside and not inside in the Great Hall like it is for the pureblood students. He can enjoy the outdoors and his lesson, as much as such a downer of a lesson can be enjoyed.
Unfortunately, it's hard to keep one's spirits up with horrid professors breathing down one's neck. Fritz tries not to pay any attention to them, but it's hard not to notice how twitchy Amycus Carrow is when he's holding his wand. It's as if he's just itching to use the Cruciatus Curse on somebody. Fritz hopes it won't be him, or anyone else attending the lesson.
At least it's the very last apparition lesson. On Monday, he's due to take his apparition examination. He hopes he passes, but has a sneaking suspcion that the Ministry of Magic won't hand over his license no matter how perfectly he apparates from one side of the room to the other. Maybe he's in for a most welcome surprise, though. He supposes he'll find out soon enough.
He notices one of his shoes is untied and quickly bends down to retie it. As he does so, he gives his mind a chance to wander to the fact that today is his cousin Otto's birthday. He hasn't heard from Otto in months and has no idea what's going on with him, but he hopes that despite the lack of news, Otto is having a wonderful birthday. Fritz quickly rises and continues practicing apparating and disapparating, and as he does so counts down the minutes until the end of the lesson.