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(Alanna) Protest outside Petals
Author: Beck
Date: 12-23-12 11:35
After following up on a patent issue with a new type of toilet tank recently developed and approved for market, Alanna stepped out of Vladimir Plot Plumbing Supplies to return to her office at the Ministry of Magic. She moved away from the doorway and prepared to disapparate, when she noticed a crowd gathered down the lane. The group appeared to consist of elderly witches, many of whom held up signs and chanted as they paced back and forth in front of one of the shoppes in the village.
Her curiosity peaked, Alanna decided she could afford to wait a few more minutes before returning to the office. She moved closer and gasped in surprise when she recognized Mrs. Hepplewhite, the witch determined to close down Petals, leading the other old witches in a demonstration outside of the strip club.
Mrs. Hepplewhite held up a sign that read, STRIPPING IS IMMORAL.
A witch with slightly blue hair held up a sigh that read, NOT IN FRONT OF OUR CHILDREN!, while another's sign read, GET DRESSED!
The witches chanted, "Close it down, close it down, we don't want strippers in this town!"
The protest drew a few onlookers, but it was still only morning and not exactly the busiest time of day for Petals. Alanna wasn't sure what sort of impact Mrs. Hepplewhite and her elderly friends would have.
She watched the old witches hobble around with their picket signs for a few minutes and then decided to go. Only, Mrs. Hepplewhite finally saw her. Her eyes lit up in recognition. She said something to the blue-haired witch and then walked over to Alanna.
"Since YOU won't help, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I told the ladies in my sewing guild all about my problem with that place, and they were all too eager to help me. I think we're going to successfully close it down, once and for all."
Alanna kept her face neutral and said, "I wish you luck."
"Yes, well, I don't think we will need it. I'm certain everybody will see things my way before we're finished here."
With that, she turned around and walked back to the old witches from her sewing guild. She hefted up her sign and fell into step with the other witches, resuming the chant.
Alanna waited a moment longer and then disapparated.
(Toby) A Break in Practice
Author: Beck
Date: 12-23-12 12:33
The bludger hit true, slamming into Lissy Rodan's nose with a sickening crack. Blood gushed everywhere, staining the front of her practice robes. A shrill whistled sounded, halting the match. Toby grimaced and looked to Stefan Longtree, the beater who had made the wounding play. He looked only marginally apologetic. It was well known that Lissy had recently dumped Stefan, and it seemed to be greatly affecting his comraderie and good sportsmanship.
"Let's all take a break!" Coach Moreland shouted. He pointed at Stefan, indicating he shouldn't go anywhere, and then went to help Lissy with her broken nose.
Toby touched down and went to the big orange water cooler set up on a folding table on the sideline. He poured himself a full glass and drained it in a singular gulp.
Practice had been going quite well, at least until Stefan's anger had gotten the better of him. Toby looked at Lissy, who seemed to be holding up well, despite the fact that her ex-boyfriend had caused her bodily harm. Stefan hovered nearby, ready to get an earful from Coach.
Toby turned away and decided to stretch his legs a little bit. The one thing about flying and having legs dangling meant they sometimes felt underworked and tingly. A jog up and down the stadium stairs seemed just what Toby needed.
He ducked into the nearest stairwell and started jogging. When he reached the top, he prepared to turn around and run back down, when a female voice called out to him.
"Hey," she said.
He turned and saw a young woman sitting in the stands quite near to the stairwell. She was moderately pretty, with long brown hair swept into a high ponytail. Her eyes were brown.
"Hey," he said. "Are you watching us practice?"
"Yes, I'm a big Falcons fan," she admitted with a smile. "I begged my cousin, who works here––Do you know Ramon Evans?"
"Sure, the maintenance wizard," Toby said.
"Right. Well, I asked him if I could come with him to work one day to watch you all practice. Me being here won't get him into trouble, will it?"
Toby smiled and shook his head. "I don't see why it would. What's your name?"
"Maybelle. Maybelle Evans."
"Nice to meet you, Maybelle."
The sudden shriek of a whistle indicated to Toby that break was over, much quicker than he thought it would be. He winked at Maybelle and said, "Duty calls. I'll see you around, Maybelle."
He turned then and jogged back down the stairs.
What's the News?
Author: Ethan Somerset
Date: 12-23-12 13:27
"Don't forget that your essays on how Reducio can be effectively used in defense against the dark arts will be due on Tuesday. We will discuss what you wrote in class, so be prepared!" Professor Somerset announced to his fourth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, as they prepared to depart from his classroom.
The mad scramble to collect belongings, even when class technically hadn't ended yet, had never bothered Ethan much. Although he had not attended an actual school himself, he imagined what it would have been like and believed he probably would have acted just as his students were acting now. They had done exceptionally well today and in his opinion couldn't be faulted for the excitement they felt at their double class finally ending.
"See you next week," Professor Somerset said with a chuckle.
Soon, only he remained in the classroom. He went to his desk, sat down, and nibbled from a box of cheesy crackers he had stashed in the bottom drawer. Ethan wished for a chilled butterbeer, or perhaps even another cup of coffee, but before he could summon one, one of the first year students from his next class appeared in the room.
Malden McGonagall was the younger brother of Madoc and the great nephew of Headmistress McGonagall. He came forward carrying a folded copy of The Daily Prophet under his arm. Ethan hadn't seen it yet, not had he been approached by anyone who may have read it already.
"Good morning, Malden," Professor Somerset greeted, putting away the box of crackers and wiping his crumb-covered fingers on his thigh.
"Hello, Professor," Malden said. He stopped short of Ethan's desk and held out the newspaper. "Is it true?" he asked.
Ethan blinked at him. "Is what true?"
Malden indicated to the newspaper with a nod of his head.
Ethan took it and unfolded it. On the bottom of the front page was an article entitled, CONVICTED MURDERER TEACHING AT HOGWARTS, accompanied by a photograph of Ethan, in which he looked a bit dazed, and which was clearly taken within the gates of Hogwarts.
Ethan felt his stomach drop.
In my investigations of Albus Dumbledore's dubious hiring practices, began Rita Skeeter, I turn to Ethan Somerset, once and current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Somerset was convinced in late 1997 of the murder of Taiwanese Taz-Marah Wong and for his part in recruiting dark wizards for none other than He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. This reporter questions why a respected wizard of reputed intelligence would allow a person like Somerset within the walls of Hogwarts at all. What parent wants a murderer near their innocent and impressionable children?
Skeeter went on to detail more of Ethan's background, highlighting all of the bad and none of the good. A great deal of the article also focused on Dumbledore and begged the question if he had gone senile before his death, if he had been secretly dark himself, or if he just had been too forgiving with those who didn't deserve any forgiveness.
When asked about the murderess Adriana Fairchild, Somerset became sympathetic, Skeeter wrote, as if Ethan supported what Adriana had done and didn't just feel sorry for the situation in which she'd put herself.
Ethan read the rest of the article, forgetting Malden was in the room with him until he lowered the newspaper and saw the boy standing there watching him.
"Is it true, Professor?" Malden asked again.
Ethan didn't know what to say. Much of it was true. Rita Skeeter just had a way of making everything sound much worse than it actually was. But was there anything worse than murder? That Ethan had done, and he still regretted it to this day.
He sighed and handed the newspaper back to the boy. "The article is skewed," Ethan said, "but she's not entirely wrong."
Malden studied him without saying a word. Ethan started to feel a bit uncomfortable, but then Malden said, "She doesn't seem very nice."
Ethan felt a smile crack on his face. "You're right about that."
Malden tucked the newspaper back under his arm. Other first year Slytherins and Gryffindors began trickling into the room. They didn't act like they had seen the article, but maybe they had and didn't care or didn't believe it. Malden said, "You don't seem like a bad person."
"Thanks," Ethan said. He wasn't a bad person, but he had done some bad things.
Malden trotted off to his desk. He sat down, opened his textbook to the page written on the blackboard, and waited for his professor to start lecturing.
Ethan felt understandably distracted, but with all the first years staring at him, he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand.
Lucerne Library Estate Auction
Author: Julian Valentine
Date: 12-23-12 17:38
Neither Julian nor Lysander had initially planned to attend a library estate auction in Lucerne, Switzerland. It was only be chance that Julian had glanced over the catalog when it arrived at Twice Told Tales. Two titles leaped out at him and a third, similarly named tome with a description partially matching portions of the descriptions of the other volumes had him rapidly changing his mind.
Geheimzinnige Goud is rare. The title is Dutch, meaning Arcane or Mysterious Gold, but the text of all known copies is written in Old English. Only ten known copies in existence. Or, there were only ten known. Julian knows some copies were destroyed.
Afton Carew and Julian owned two copies, which differed slightly from the other eight known. Geheimzinnige Goud is a book of prophecies by an exceptional, but anonymous, seer. In the copies Afton and he own, the prophecies were extremely detailed, very descriptive. In the other eight, the prophecies were written in the somewhat vague way most prophecies are. Afton had literally killed to obtain the copy she had, every prophecy in it to that date spot on accurate.
This copy up for auction isn't one of the known that Julian is aware. He's closely followed the location and provenance of those other copies over the years. If this one isn't one of the known, chances are it's like the volume Afton and Julian owned, very detailed and descriptive. If someone like Afton were to get hands on this Geheimzinnige Goud there's no telling what havoc would follow.
Worse still is the second title, Geheimzinnige Zilver. Rare in the extreme, this too has a Dutch title but written in Old English, as if it were translated from Dutch at some point. The book is spell after spell of dark magic, often very complex with many requiring potions and rituals. The entire volume is written in human blood. The copy Julian once was steeped with an obsession type curse. He had trouble thinking of anything but opening the book, reading it, performing the spells within it. Julian lost count of how many times he attempted to destroy the book. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to do it, ending up burying it deep in a hole then fleeing to his family's South Pacific island.
Even there he could hear the call, tormenting him constantly. Julian returned to Hogsmeade; however not for Geheimzinnige Zilver but because Grace had become ill enough to be rushed to St. Mungo's. Once back, though, the consuming desire for the book had him digging it back up, more intent than ever to destroy it once and for all. The effort brought wracking, searing pain. Julian was shaking so hard he had trouble pointing his wand. He had to fight against his jaw locking up, his throat constricting so he couldn't speak. When at least he was able to utter, "Incendio," he was brought to his knees with his head feeling as if it were about to explode and burning pain in his eyes. His copy of Geheimzinnige Zilver was destroyed but Julian was left blind. Most of his vision returned but to this day, five years later, he needs glasses for certain things and for when he's eyes are tired.
Julian has absolutely no yearning to be in possession of another copy of Geheimzinnige Zilver* and has no idea how the collector who's library it's been in handled the overwhelming urges to use the book. Perhaps only Julian's copy had the powerful curse on it or perhaps this collector was not the mild mannered woman known to so many in the world of antique books. Either way, he cannot let it fall into the wrong hands. Without or without the curse, the contents of Geheimzinnige Zilver are far too dangerous.
The third tome listed, Geheimzinnige Saffier**, is unfamiliar to Julian. He is sure, however, that it's part of what he now realizes is a larger set. That means that as with Geheimzinnige Goud and with Geheimzinnige Zilver, Geheimzinnige Saffier is not something that needs to be in the hands of just anyone. With a vast sum of galleons on him and more readily obtained from Gringotts Lucerne, Julian plans on buying all three volumes no matter the personal cost.
*Geheimzinnige Zilver - Arcane Silver
**Geheimzinnige Saffier - Arcane Sapphire
Azkaban
Author: Bronwyn Dewhurst
Date: 12-24-12 08:37
"Maybe this is a bad idea," Bronwyn murmured, as she gazed up at the impenetrable, black wall that made up one side of Azkaban Fortress. She and Desi had just arrived on the rocky crag on which the prison stood. Wind and sea spray battered them, penetrating the clothing they wore.
A guard approached them from the entrance to the prison and exchanged words with Desi, who had managed to turn the visit to Azkaban into an assignment for work. She had recently returned to the Auror Office but had been stuck on desk duty, something that didn't suit Desi very well.
Desi turned back to Bronwyn and asked, "Have you changed your mind? Do you want to go home?"
Bronwyn hesitated and then shook her head. "No. We're here." After a beat she added, "I'm ready."
They went inside, where they handed over their wands and submitted to the various security checks required for entry into the wizarding prison. Eventually, they were directed into a visitation room. A long table charmed with an invisible barrier separated the convicts from their visitors.
Bronwyn's heart started to thud. What was she thinking? Why had she agreed to meet with Theodore? What could he possibly have to say to her?
Desi shifted in the chair next to her, crossing one combat boot-clad foot over her knee.
"Orion's birthday is tomorrow," Desi said, out of the blue.
"Is it?" Bronwyn asked, grateful for something with which to occupy her mind while she waited for Theodore to arrive.
"Yeah. I have no idea what to do for him."
Bronwyn mulled over the idea for a moment. "You should jump out of a giant birthday cake," she finally said, smiling at the thought. "Somehow I think he would like that, especially if you're only wearing whipped cream in strategic places."
Desi shot her a look that said, We are not amused. "Would you do that for Toby?"
"Totally."
Desi rolled her eyes. "Of course you would. You like being the center of attention. I don't."
Bronwyn smiled. "I think Orion would be happy just spending the day with you, no matter what you do or don't do."
Before Desi could respond, a door clicked open. Theodore Nott entered the room, wearing drab prison garb and looking unshaven but not completely unkempt or unwell. Bronwyn hadn't seen him since his arrest well over a year ago and wasn't sure what she expected him to look like after all this time in prison. He still looked more or less the same.
He sat down across from her, sweeping his eyes to Desi for a moment before settling them back on Bronwyn.
"You came," he said. "I didn't think you would."
Beside her, Bronwyn felt Desi's whole posture change. Before, she had been somewhat relaxed. Now she seemed like a cat, ready to spring if the situation warranted it. Desi fixed an unwavering stare on Theodore, as if challenging him upset her best friend and face the consequences, which would mostly likely consist of a great deal of pain.
"I didn't want to," Bronwyn finally said, her voice uncharacteristically timid. "You did awful things. You killed a bunch of innocent girls… You kidnapped me and almost killed me, too. You…," she paused, feeling anger well up inside her, "You ruined lives."
Theodore didn't answer right away, and when he did he said, "I have no regrets."
Bronwyn's mouth fell open slightly. Desi's eyes narrowed and she began massaging her knuckles.
"Why exactly did you ask me here?" Bronwyn finally asked. "Did you ask me here so you could tell me how you would do everything all over again if you had the chance? I bet you do have one regret. You wish you hadn't been caught."
"If you hadn't recovered your memories––"
"Which you took from me!"
"––then I probably wouldn't have been caught," Theodore finished.
"So that's it, then. You blame me for your being imprisoned," Bronwyn concluded. "You asked me here to tell me that this isn't over and that you're going to get me back eventually. Well, I've got news for you, Theodore. I'm not scared anymore. Besides, I've got an extremely angry bodyguard sitting right next to me. She can kick your ass blindfolded and with her hands tied behind her back!"
Theodore actually smiled. "Actually, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."
Bronwyn wasn't sure she heard him right. "What?"
He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on his side of the table. Desi mirrored his movements, except that she wasn't smiling.
"I don't regret the murders done by my hand or on my behalf by my followers," Theodore said, "nor do I believe that you and I are equals. You're exactly the sort of person who is as expendable as all those girls killed over the years, and yes, you should have been one of them. But here's the rub," he went on, sighing. "Despite your familial flaws, you're likable."
Bronwyn shook her head. "You insult me and my family and then you say you like me? That's really twisted."
"Needless to say, the reason you didn't die after your kidnapping is because I couldn't go through with it. I didn't want to snuff out the life of someone who could have been a friend, if only she had been born into a better family."
"Thanks, I guess." Bronwyn paused. "So that's it then? You invited me here to apologize."
Theodore shrugged his shoulders. "Do you accept my apology?"
Desi turned her head and fixed her steely gaze on Bronwyn. Her eyes said Hell, no!, but Bronwyn said, "Let me think about it."
(Aralyn & Kristos) Revelation
Author: Lysander Stratford
Date: 12-24-12 09:52
Aralyn entered Petals from the side door the dancers and other workers normally used. The elderly protestors had dispersed a short while ago, probably to eat lunch and take afternoon naps. Frankly, Aralyn didn't see what the big deal was. Stripping wasn't the same as teaching or healing, but it wasn't exactly an unskilled profession.
She went to the communal dressing room and sat down at the small table marked as her own. A wilted bouquet of daffodils (Daffodil was her stage name) sat limply in a glass of cloudy water. Aralyn wished she knew a rejuvenation spell that would revitalize the yellow blossoms to their former glory, but she didn't and threw the flowers in the rubbish bin.
She sat for a long moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look very pretty today. Her dark hair looked unwashed, and there were bags under her eyes. She leaned closer to the mirror and gasped when she noticed the first signs of crows feet next to either eye.
"Aren't you getting ready, Daffy, I mean Daffodil?" asked one of the other girls, giggling. "I hear you're going on first today."
Aralyn didn't move at first, but then she got up and said, "I'm taking a sick day."
Without another word, she left the strip club and disapparated to the family home in Ashton-Hotwell. She found Kristos in the basement, running a cloth over the blade of the sword Voldemort had given to their parents.
"I thought you were going to put that some place safe," Aralyn told him. "It's been ages and it's still here."
Kristos carefully put the sword back into the cabinet and turned to his sister. "I'm still deciding what to do with it. For now, I think it will be safe here. As far as we know, nobody knows we have it."
Aralyn knew that Kristos still worried about the sword. It was why he hardly left the house anymore. He was keeping an obsessively watchful eye on it.
"Fine," Aralyn said. "Do whatever you want."
Kristos furrowed his brow. "What's wrong with you?"
"I didn't feel like working today, so I left."
"You quit?"
"No, I just walked out."
"Something wrong?" Kristos asked. He knew his sister needed the money and wouldn't walk out on her job if she could help it.
Aralyn mulled over the question. Was something the matter? Yes. She had a daughter and couldn't remember being a mother.
"Kristos," she began, "I found out something that has changed my life. It changes yours too, but to a lesser extent."
"Tell me."
She sighed and shook her head. "It's big, and it's unbelievable, and when you find out what it is you're going to react in a bad way."
"God damnit, Aralyn. Just tell me already."
She told him everything, and to his credit, Kristos listened without interruption. Only his facial expression and body language betrayed how he really felt. Still, when his sister finished, Kristos didn't fly off the handle the way she anticipated he might.
"That bastard," Kristos said.
"Yeah," Aralyn agreed. "I don't know why he did it."
Kristos didn't answer right away, thinking instead on how to deal with the situation. "She's old enough that she won't like it if we take her by force," he finally said, "and screwing over that rat bastard the way he deserves will only make us the bad guys in her eyes too. We need to play it right."
"What are you suggesting we do?" Aralyn asked.
Kristos looked at her dead in the eye. "We need to have ourselves a little chat with Lysander Stratford."
What If She Says No? (Hunter)
Author: Aaron Miller
Date: 12-26-12 18:08
Not finding art, wizarding or Muggle, all that interesting most of the time, Hunter isn't paying as close attention to the Muggle Studies discussion of Muggle Art vs Wizarding Art as closely as he should. When class finally ends he walks with friend and roommate Alan Birdwell to the floo back to Hogwarts castle with Alan doing most of the talking. Once back to the school proper, Alan switches gears from talking about his favorite pro Qudditch team - the Tutshill Tornadoes, to inquiring, "So, have you talked to her yet about something non-class related?"
The her in question is Sadie Mickle. Hunter shakes his head, "No, not yet. Wait, does asking her to pass me some popcorn in the commons count?"
"Sure." Alan is more than a little sarcastic.
"What if I ask her on a date, say meeting me for lunch on our first Hogsmeade weekend, and she says no?"
"You won't find out if you never ask and who knows? Maybe she'll say yes."
"Do you know something I don't?"
"What, like have I passed her a note in Charms asking, 'Sadie, do you like Hunter Rabnott?' Yes, I have done that but I'm not telling what she wrote back."
Hunter makes a light backhanded motion against Alan's arm. "Ha ha. Hysterical." He stops walking, reaching out to grab his friend's arm to halt his progress as well. "Tell me you're joking."
"It's more fun making you wonder."
"That means you are joking." Hunter starts walking again, extremely relieved. "Thank Merlin. I thought I might have a heart attack."
"You're too young to have a heart attack."
"A stroke then. Something that would make me pass out in fear of Sadie having a note from you proclaiming between the lines that I like her."
"Would that really be such a bad thing? She'd at least know you're interested. Okay, tell me why we just left our last class of the day and it's Friday but now it looks like we're heading to the library."
"To return books before eating."
"You have practice tonight?"
"Yeah, but we've got the second slot, which I don't mind for once because I'm really hungry."
Library reached and books returned, Alan and Hunter start the return trek back downstairs, their conversation back to Quidditch but this time how the Gryffindor team is looking this term.
Birthday Bash (Orion's Flat, London)
Author: Desdemona Diamond
Date: 12-26-12 21:24
I couldn't get the day off, or even half of it. However I was going to find some way to make the most out of it. I had to surprise Orion with something. Since I could not figure out what to buy for a gift, I figure I'd still get him a cake with a few trick candles. I'd at least get some good chuckles out of it. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough.
A quick stop at the supermarket, and I was on the way to Orion's flat. I let myself in and went to the kitchen. Orion walked in just as I got the candle lit on the cake. He stopped in his tracks and got a small smirk across his face. "Are you actually going to sing?"
"Not on your life. I don't even sing at Bronwy…" The room suddenly dropped 15 degrees, and the lights faded. It became damp, and musty. I could barely make out two figures in the distance, both in cloaks. One was tall, nearly regal in appearance, the other hunched over and old looking. The taller one suddenly looked at me and I felt like I was flung backwards.
I landed on the floor hard, I think my head bounced a little when it hit cause I certainly saw some stars. Orion appeared over me in a heartbeat, a worried look on his face. I put my hand on the back of my head.
"Desi! Are you ok!? What happened?" he asked.
"Yeah, told you that you wouldn't catch me the first time…"