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(Anthony) Highs and Lows
Author: Beck
Date: 07-24-11 12:18
His morning having started out on a high note, Anthony had been certain that very little could bring him down, but the pressure of solving the Summer Solstice case and the knowledge that he'd had a hand, however small, in Desi's suspension had soon altered his disposition.
Anthony knew he shouldn't blame himself for Desi's absence from the Auror Office, but he couldn't help but feel bad for turning her over to their superiors. He'd done everything by the book, as he would have done in any other situation. The only reason Desi's circumstance felt differently was because she was practially family.
Bianca, meanwhile, had been extradicted to the United States. Anthony didn't know what, if anything, would become of her. Her fate was out of the Ministry of Magic's hands now.
As far as he knew, Xavier Schoonmaker hadn't yet dissolved their marriage. Anthony had very little information since he'd been dropped from the case as soon as he'd submitted Desi's statement, but he could well imagine that Xavier felt confused and conflicted about the entire ordeal.
"Earth to Anthony."
Anthony blinked and looked up, finding Bronwyn standing before him. She looked a bit pale, as if she'd taken ill, but not so ill that she needed to stay in bed.
"Sorry, I was––"
"Lost in thought. I could tell." Bronwyn cast a quick glance in the direction of Desi's empty cubicle and then sat down.
"Are you all right?" Anthony asked her.
You look a little sick."
Bronwyn sighed. "I was just at St. Mungo's. I recovered a memory."
"You did? That's great!" Anthony exclaimed, but then he frowned. "It wasn't a good one, was it?"
"No." Bronwyn hesitated. "I know how those girls were killed, and I'm almost certain now that I was one of the intended victims."
"What has you so sure?" Anthony queried.
"I had never felt so scared before in my life, not even when I was on the run from the RAC. I saw––" Bronwyn hesitated, and her eyes brimmed with tears. She continued in a shaky voice. "We were standing in a line. I'm not sure how many of us there were, but I don't think it was a very large number. Probably not much more than 10 of us. There were wizards standing in front of us. There was one standing in front of me, but I couldn't for the life of me see his face."
Bronwyn pulled a tissue from her bag and dabbed at the corner of her eyes. "There was a wizard sitting in a chair against the wall, the leader of the group, I suppose. Another wizard pulled the first girl out of the line and dragged her towards the leader. Her wrists were bound together. He––"
She hesitated again, and this time a tear cascaded down her cheek. "He waved his wand in the air and then she started bleeding. There was so much blood!"
"He cut her throat with a spell?" Anthony asked, taking notes.
"Yes. He didn't give an incantation. At least I don't remember if he did. I just saw him grab her by the hair to expose her neck, and then he waved his wand and cut her throat."
"So there was a lot of blood," Anthony stated matter-of-factly.
"There was, but none of it landed on the floor or splattered the dying girl or the wizard who'd killed her. It just filtered through the air into crystal bottles conjured to collect it."
Anthony had known of the possibility of human blood being collected and sold on the black market and wasn't the least bit surprised by Bronwyn's mention of the deaths involving the collection of blood.
"I had the feeling that our sacrifices were gifts for the leader," Bronwyn went on, shuddering. "After the first girl died, he said, 'Thank you, Hamm.' Does the name Hamm mean anything to you?"
Anthony immediately sifted through the parchments on his desk. He pulled out a file on Henry Hamm, one of the wizards allegedly associated with the group, according to Enid Eastwick. Anthony hadn't gotten very far into his investigation of Hamm because there wasn't much information on him in existence. The only photographic evidence he'd discovered had been an old newspaper clipping from Henry's Hogwarts days. It wasn't the most recent likeness, but it would have to do.
"Would you recognize him?" Anthony asked, showing Bronwyn the photograph. In it, Henry grinned at the camera and held up a certificate of some sort. He was around 16 years old.
"I see a resemblance, yes," Bronwyn said. "Unfortunately, I can't really see anybody else's face in my mind––except for the leader's. That's him, there," she said, pointing to a photo of Caden Eastwick.
"Remember anything or anybody else?"
"No, but I'm going to try. I know I don't have a lot of time left to figure it all out," Bronwyn said. She wiped her eyes again and brushed the tissue across her face before pulling herself together completely.
She stood up. "I've got to run, but I'll be back if I remember anything else."
Anthony stood up too. "Thanks for stopping by. You've been a huge help."
Bronwyn shot Anthony a microscopic smile and then left his cubicle. Anthony sat back down and studied his notes. Now he had confirmation of Caden and Henry's involvement. Caden was dead, but what about Henry?
Revisions
Author: Charlie Weasley
Date: 07-24-11 12:22
Charlie is reading over some of his lecture notes from last term, making a few revisions based on some new studies out of China on the Chinese Fireball, also known as the Liondragon. This particular lecture isn't for today but it is upcoming and he doesn't want to forget to put the new information down in his notes. Charlie's gotten to where he doesn't have to rely on his notes each lecture but he takes them anyway, referring to them on occassion, particularly when giving his students a direct quote or a reference source just so he can be absolutely certain of them having the information as it should be.
He looks up at a knock on his door. An Asian girl with long dark hair stands there looking hestitant. "Jorani, yes, come in."
Charlie isn't really surprised to see Jorani, a young woman from Cambodia, here to see him. He was half expecting her at some point and had thought she might have even been by first thing this morning.
"I want to speak with you about this, Professor Weasley," Jorana says in her only lightly but pleasantly accented English, pulling parchment from her bookbag and sliding it across the desk to Charlie.
Even though he's been teaching classes here at St. Emrys twice a week now for a number of terms Charlie still finds it odd to addressed as Professor Weasley instead of just Charlie or as plain Mr. Weasley. He doesn't have to look at what she's showing him to know what it is but he glances down anyway, picking it up and turning the face of the paper, along with its low grade and margin notations in the green ink he prefers to use over red. "You came to ask about this," he says, a finger tapping the D, which stands for Dreadful.
"Yes, professor. I don't understand. All my other grades in your courses, including papers I've written, have been Os and Es."
"You read the notes I provided?"
"Yes, of course."
"So, want to try again about not understanding, something you don't even need my notations for."
Jorani sort of wilts. If her skin weren't so dusky due to her Asian heritage, Charlie is sure her cheeks would be heavily flushed at this point, both from shame and embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, professor, I didn't mean to copy so heavily from other material. I was just feeling so overwhelmed from a full course load and several papers and exams all at once, working and worrying if I'd be cut in favor of someone wiht more flexible hours, pressure from my parents to accept a marriage proposal from someone who is settled with a good income but who I immensely dislike. I should have come to and explained, asking for an extension but instead I let everything get to me and allowed it all to affect my judgement."
Charlie leans forward and sets Jorani's paper in front of her. "The only reason this paper did not get a Troll was because there is some of you in it. You know I try to be fair but you've committed a serious offense. You definitely should have come to me before you reached the point of plagarism. The best I can do right now is if you revise this, writing it in your own words, I can up it to Poor. If this happens again on any assignment, even if it's one for someone else and I just hear about it, I will report you and there's a chance the other professor would do that as well even if it's the first time you were caught in that class doing something like this. Now, if work is a problem with your university schedule, let's get you an appointment with Student Aid. They will help you with a job that goes with whatever hours you have each term or they can assist you in filling out a grant or student loan request. There are scholarships. You're an excellent student and always have been so you would most definitely qualify for a number of scholarships. As for your parents pressuring you to marry, try explaining to them you'd like to finish your program here before considering marriage. If they argue, point out that it's to your benefit to have a career to rely on should anything happen to whatever spouse you end up with."
Jorani seems on the verge of tears, though from happiness at being given a chance to improve her grade even if slightly, embarrassment, shame, stress, or something else altogether Charlie hasn't a clue. She takes the paper and, returning it to her bookbag, says, "Thank you, Professor Weasley. I will have the revision to you on Tuesday. And I think I will speak with Student Aid. I should have done that when I first applied to St. Emrys. I will also try what you suggest with my parents. It seems a very practical solution when put like that."
After several more profuse thank yous but managing not to shed a single tear Jorani hurries from Charlie's office. He checks the time and sees he's got just enough to finish update those lecture notes before the next class he teaches.
Finally Meeting Esperanza
Author: Sage Porter
Date: 07-24-11 13:56
Savannah grins at the face Sage is making watching her pour the hot cup of tea she'd just bought over a large plastic mug full of ice and half filled with water. "You know if you'd just try it you might like it."
"Tea is not meant to be iced."
"You aren't a snobby or pompous person, Sage, but every now and then you sure sound it."
"But tea is meant to be drunk hot."
"Yes, well, next time you have one of your beloved ice coffees around me, I won't at all point out that coffee is supposed to be hot."
"That's different."
"Really? How?"
"Because."
"Because you've tried iced coffee and liked it but you won't try iced tea. Snob."
"Heathen."
Savannah laughs then holds out the large plastic mug she'd brought with her, now filled with iced tea. "Go on, taste."
Sage shudders and makes a face. "Pass."
"Coward."
"Savannah, hello. May I please be borrowing yesterday's notes?"
"Hi, Esperanza! Yes, of course, though I don't have them with me right now. I can get them to you later today or bring them tomorrow."
"Tomorrow will be fine, thank you."
"Are you all right. You're a little pale," Savannah says pushing a chair out and gesturing for the other girl to sit.
"I had food poisoning so missed all classes yesterday. I am much better now but still do not feel very well but do not wish to miss more as catching up is often difficult."
"I'm so sorry you were sick. Do you need anything? Sage, go get Esperanza some hot tea. Oh, I forgot. Sage, this is Esperanza de la Vega. Ezperanza, this is my stepbrother Sage Porter."
Sage is about to say hello to Esperanza then retort to Savannah that the only kind of tea is hot tea when Esperanza asks, "Sage Porter? Your father is Lohengrin?"
"Yeah, that's right. You know my father?"
"Yes, I am related to his wife."
"Birdie's cousin from Spain? She's mentioned you a few times," Sage replies, not mentioning that most of the mentions have been because Birdie and Da have long wanted Sage to go on a date with Esperanza. Still, he's polite and cordial. No reason not to be. "It's nice to put a face to the name."
"Yes, same here."
"Would you like me to get you that tea or something else?" Sage offers.
"I don't want to put you to the trouble."
"No, really, it's not," Sage says getting up. As he walks to the canteen line Sage glances back once over his shoulder thinking that on the surface at least Esperanza is not at all how he pictured this cousin of Birdie's to be.
(Ariella) Afternoon Classes
Author: Beck
Date: 07-24-11 15:30
"I see we've reached the end of our time together," Professor Guildford Littlesea stated, glancing at the clock on the far wall of the lecture hall. He taught various Charms classes at St. Emrys University, including Ariella's current course, Introduction to Charms III.
"Before we part ways, I would like you all to consider your patronuses. Why do you have the animal you do? Think about it and prepare to discuss it next time. Thank you."
Ariella got up from her seat and stuffed her notebook and quill into her satchel. She slung the bag over her shoulder and made her way to the exit. She had one more class today, History of Magic, and made her way to the classroom.
As she walked, she thought about her patronus. The only time she'd ever had occasion to use it was during Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts. Whereas some had used theirs for communication purposes or against the dementors during the relatively recent Pureblood Movement, Ariella hadn't needed to. If hers hasn't changed since Hogwarts, then it was a red panda. But she had no idea why that might be.
She didn't ruminate on the question for very long, because it only took a few minutes to reach her next class. Ariella expected the professor to be there already as was typical, but for once, Ariella had arrived first. She sat down, took out her notebook and quill and then relaxed against the back of her chair, thinking about her day so far.
It had started out early at the bakery. Ariella had made lemon custard fairycakes for the very first time. They had turned out deliciously. After work, she'd met Lawrence for lunch at The Three Broomsticks, where he'd gotten shepherd's pie with a garden salad, a slice of apple pie, and pumpkin fizz, while she'd ordered fish and chips, a cup of strawberry ice cream, and butterbeer. Although their lunch date had been brief, it had been nice. They'd talked about everything and anything and then parted ways all too soon, Lawrence for Hogwarts and Ariella for St. Emrys.
Ariella glanced at her watch. It was now five past the scheduled start of class and Professor Berenice Maidstone still hadn't arrived. This was highly unusual, but Ariella stayed put. Unexpected delays happened to everybody, even those known for their punctuality.
Ten minutes passed, and then fifteen. Some students had already gotten up and left. There was an unofficial rule that if a professor didn't show up after fifteen minutes, one could consider class officially canceled. Ariella was loathe to get up without knowing for sure, but the longer she waited, the emptier the classroom became. After twenty minutes, she gathered her things back together and slowly walked out of the classroom, as if expecting to run into Professor Maidstone in the hall.
As she wandered, she wondered if she ought to go to the library and debate the reason for her patronus or to go back to Hogwarts. Ariella ultimately chose the library. If she went back to Hogwarts, she was likely to get distracted. Better to stay at the library until suppertime so that she could get a fair amount of work done.
(Alanna) Too Nice a Day
Author: Beck
Date: 07-24-11 15:57
Although it had been somewhat cool when Alanna had woken up that morning, it had warmed up considerably throughout the day. It was so pleasantly sunny now that Alanna and Jared lay stretched out on blankets on the grounds of St. Emrys. Their books and notes were scattered around them, but neither seemed to be able to concentrate on their classwork.
"It's too pretty today," Alanna complained. She snuggled against Jared and rested her head against his shoulder.
He nodded. "I know. I wish it would just rain already so that we have no choice but to study." He grinned.
"I think you're being sarcastic."
"Who, me?" Jared feigned innocence. "I don't know the meaning of the word."
"Then how did you get into university, pray tell?" Alanna questioned with a grin.
Jared sighed. "Fine, I'll tell you. I cut a deal with the admissions office. In order to attend classes here I have to give weekly lap dances to the women on the board."
"For shame! And here I thought you were more than just good looks!" Then Alanna pouted. "How come you never give me a lap dance?"
"How come you never give me a lap dance?" Jared countered, waggling his eyebrows.
Alanna laughed. "I guess I should visit that place in Hogsmeade sometime so that I can learn some moves."
Jared became very serious. "I'd be happy to go with you when you conduct your, erm, research."
Alanna stuck her tongue out at him. "Why are guys interested in scantily clad women?"
"Do I really have to answer that question?"
"So if I can't get job at a law firm or at the Ministry after I graduate, will it be okay with you if I get a job at Petals?"
Jared shook his head. "No way."
"Why not?" Alanna asked with a laugh.
"Because I don't want other guys oogling you."
"That would make you jealous?"
"Does it make you jealous to see other women oogling me?"
Alanna said very seriously. "I've never noticed anybody else oogling you."
The look on Jared's face was priceless. Alanna started to laugh and then kissed him. "Yes, I suppose it would make me a little jealous," she admitted.
"But you don't ever have to be," Jared said.
"Same here," Alanna replied. She kissed him again.
He brushed her hair from her face and murmured, "Aren't we supposed to be studying?"
Alanna kissed him again. "What for?"
Jared shook his head. "I've forgotten."
They snuggled and kissed on their blankets, unmotivated and unwilling to do anything else.